Culturebot contributors Stormy Budwig and Tara Sheena explore the dialogue-as-criticsm form of performance review. In their conversation, they speak about the work of Alex Rodabaugh and Rakiya Orange in a split bill curated by Miguel Gutierrez for the inaugural DoublePlus series at the new Gibney Dance: Agnes Varis Performing Arts. A critical conversation meant to convey their unique experience, they touch on Rodabaugh’s absurdist politics in his new work for eight performers g1br33l; Orange’s shifting identities in her solo Aziza; and how form acts as both a clarifier and complicator of dance work. Excerpts of their conversation, edited for consistency and taking place two days after witnessing the performance, are below.
Tara Sheena: [On Alex Rodabaugh’s work] It was impressive how they made so much out of so little space. The performers were so enclosed in the space, contained by this hexagon. You know how sometimes you see the space and it either looks larger or smaller than it is? That space looked small, even when no performers were in it.
Stormy Budwig: I couldn’t really figure out what was going on the whole time so I stopped trying to figure it out. When Craig [Cady, the poet and speaker] left the microphone halfway through the piece and went to the performers as they were rolling on their stomachs, that was the first time I felt compelled to pay more attention. It felt like whatever they were saying was the truth or anti-truth of what Alex was trying to do. It was from the mouths of the bodies rather than the narrator.
TS: Yes, I felt I trusted the piece more at that point to guide me along this experience.
SB: Totally. They [the performers] were the enactors, not just the talkers, not just a voice. From what he said at the beginning of the work, this shift into action seemed like something Alex was interested in.
TS: His language was very dense in his monologue at the beginning of the piece. It just kept going and when I didn’t think it was going to keep going, it kept going. The one thing that stood out to me was his tone. It had both a 700 Club, evangelical Christian, late-night talk show tone and also a motivational speaker tone. It was somehow earnest and conversational at some points and how I would imagine he speaks to people in his everyday life.
SB: It was a very frank way to communicate lofty, heady ideas without the self-deprecation. I think that’s why I really was compelled by it. Normally, if someone were to say the sentences he did, it would be punctuated by, “You know?” or “I don’t know.” Or, the things that we say to reel ourselves in.
TS: And, to justify everything we are saying.
SB: Justify or not speak for the absolutes. He didn’t do that so I was constantly thinking, “Oh, he’s really saying that.” It was totally not qualified.
TS: The actual language was sort of veiled by his soapbox moments but the content of it wasn’t that. The lines that stuck with me are actually just very empowering statements, like when he said, “It’s time for courage.”
SB: That’s one I wrote down, too!
TS: I think he emphasized that line and I believe repeated that statement but the line that precedes it is: “Show me, I am okay with it.” I think what you said about not having to qualify statements is relevant. There was a lack of one-sidedness, oddly enough, that made space for him to say these really beautiful, eloquent words that I believe in.
Alex Rodabaugh, foreground, with Ashley Handel. Photo by Alex Escalante.
SB: My question is: am I the person who he is speaking to or am I the person who is allowed to question the people he is speaking to? I think it toggled back and forth. He started saying, “We don’t like surprises.” So I thought we are the people he is trying to speak to or speak about.
TS: Ultimately, I felt, he did want to bring us in to it. Maybe not make us “believers” but definitely bring us in to this world.
SB: If the performers had started with the fractal, hexagonal crossings [a part in the second section of the work where the performers moved across tape lines in the space within a marked hexagon shape on the floor], the dance would have been less approachable. They were in that world and we were watching it and that’s very clear. We [as an audience] are sitting, digesting. When Alex was speaking to us, he asked a question along the lines of, “Are we living in black and white or are we going to allow ourselves to see in color?” Because of Ashley Handel’s presence [ as a soloist at the beginning of the work], my instinct was to question whether she was the one allowing us to see in color. She complicated my relationship to him but that worked for me.
TS: I feel the same way. And, slightly more than that, in this weird, liturgical dance way, she was his apostle. She was the product of the system he preaches. But, I also don’t think he was assuming that we [as audience] are all the opposition to his views, both in his character and as a maker of this work. Perhaps, consciously or subconsciously on Alex’s part, the piece made me think that he knew the audience in the room would be predisposed to the revolution he was explaining.
SB: I feel like it was intentionally kitschy, especially in terms of the costumes. But, also, the fact that they gave out gifts [towards the end of the piece], which were folded one-dollar bills. And, when they ran out, Alex said, “I am sorry that’s all I have,” that was important in physically and situationally, showing us the limits of the presentation of that kind of power; and the limits of that presentation: look at what I can offer you to transcend. And, then, I am sorry I ran out, I don’t have enough supplies.
g1br33l. Photo by Alex Escalante.
TS: “We can’t change government but we can change our reaction to government,” was one of the lines that stuck with me. Looking back, I think I was projecting absurdity on to this performance more than it called for.
SB: Really? I think it was calling for it.
TS: Was this irony? Is the joke on us? That is still what I am parsing through. Apart from that, the dance was well-crafted and every performer seemed to be on the same page and very much portraying a member of this tribe in a similar way. However, they did face each other for the majority of the performance, which I think helped with that.
SB: It was very focal point oriented. I feel like a lot of dance that I see allows my eyes to wander. With this piece, I feel like we were all watching the same elements of the stage. Did you feel that way?
TS: I did! But, my excitement was still there.
SB: Right, it still wasn’t predictable.
TS: Well, even when it was predictable, my anticipation was still there. You knew the inner workings of the hexagon structure because there were the clearly marked lines connecting all sides and the performers walked along these lines. But, they stayed on these pathways we could see so clearly and did it so seamlessly. That was really exciting to me.
SB: The lack of predictability for me came from the extra choreographic stuff. At one point, one of the sounds was the AOL sign in white noise and dial-tone. Also, I have it built into me now to expect costume changes, so I was expecting their onstage costume change as well. [When they disrobed] they revealed the silver unitards with nude pasties on their nipples, which was expected in one way but, in another way, even if you anticipate a choreographer’s use of some formal device, you don’t know the particulars of what it’s going to be. Just because I expected a costume change doesn’t mean I expected nude nipple covers.
TS: In my notes at one point, I wrote, “Are we preparing the apocalypse? Is this government collapse? Are they the same thing?”
SB: When [one of the performers, Craig Cady] gave me the gift, he whispered in my ear, “The revolution is here.” So, I imagined the arc of the piece—assuming there is one—is that of gearing up for revolution. In the end, though, when Alex was holding up the flags, I was not sure about those references. What are those flags? Are they used in specific contexts? [Alex covered all of the performers with the same flag before wrapping himself in a different flag at the end of the work.]
TS: The flag that Alex was wearing was the bald American eagle and it was red, white and blue, and it said Welcome.
SB: The ones the performers wore read Don’t Tread on Me.
TS: With the Welcome flag, I thought it was just a big joke. It looked like this weird flag that people in lesser suburban towns would wave and display from their front doorsteps. It was kitschy commercialism of these American ideals just pasted on this nasty, nylon flag.
g1br33l. Photo by Alex Escalante.