I'll spare you the "why I haven't blogged lately" speech - you've read those before. I caught the prequel to Rumpus Room Dance's new show, "Resa," at Ace Cleaners tonight, thanks to my friend Gina who's apparently on the "cool people" list I'm not. And thank God for the forward button, because Stephen Laks and Rachel Tess' modern dance troupe is as good as Tim DuRoche promised me - buncha Julliard grads quixotically united in Portland for a piece about journeying (translation of Resa, apparently). If you didn't happen down to the Ace Hotel's ultrahip extra gallery space tonight, catch them at Disjecta starting July 24th.
It was like watching five really good dancers doing Viewpoints, which could be torture for some but exactly the antidote to several hours of gnashing through the budget for my upcoming project and its associated grant. Thanks to a quick vent with Betsy Cross over the stress induced by large sums of money, and the responsibility that comes with it (and coincidentally her paying my way), I was ready to observe outlan
dishly dressed dancers interacting with a space - a beautiful space, I might add, that reminded me of what Trisha Mead told me about weddings: entrust your friends with jobs, because even if it isn't pro, it will be artful and beautiful.
Rachel Tess started out stretched lengthwise on a table encrusted with leaf-filled glassware, under bunches of branches tied and hung upside down. Her journey was to scooch down the table without breaking anything, and by the time her upper body was upside down, they had begun. Luis Rodriguez was mystifying as he struggled to hide under fabrics, either inside a dress-up trunk or half submerged under a rug. Stephan Laks is just beautiful. The literature said they'd be doing a piece every 20 minutes - and maybe it was that length of time when Tess told everyone watching they were welcome to stay. But nothing stopped and nothing started over - and if you're planning a five-hour movement improv, well, I'm gonna stick around to see how it goes.
It reminded me of tripping with my friend Melinda, except in a much more beautiful environment than we'd ever had the chance to - relationships formed and dissolved, people worked out their own shit, people took breaks and disappeared, became fascinated with objects, got engaged in repetitive motions, such as writing the same sentence over and over - and the space offered furniture which eventually blurred the line between audience and performer, as observers (including myself) became emboldened to cross to different vantage points in the space, as well as lights to get under and desks to get inside, wherein lay pieces of paper which when read from, revealed odd prop lists with lots of lamps and pillows. Mary Oslund looked on with bemusement and what looked like pride.
At one point two men found an entrancing duet on either side of the Ace Cleaners' plate glass windows. Rodriguez began telling a story about dating in Stockholm, introducing humor into the piece along with his description of the dislocation of a professional dancer's life: many countries, many people, much alienation. Later, Issac Spencer spoke of Portugal, and Rodriguez chimed in unexpectedly; the two bantered in high vowels. All accompanied by dancers reacting to the voice, to the music, to the space, and to the audience, which included an adorable little girl who tried to join in.