David Zambrano
Danspace Project
Through January 23
Horacio Macuacua in Soul Project. Photo: Anja Hitzenberger
Performances at Danspace Project at St. Mark’s Church are always a community event; the intimacy of the space and its mission to present international avant-garde dance practically guarantees a social affair. When artists integrate the sanctuary’s unique performance opportunities into their work, this communal aspect is magnified and becomes a transformative part of the experience. Such is the case with David Zambrano’s beguiling Soul Project, a series of solos to soul music.
Dressed like a maser of ceremonies in tails and slacks made from vibrant African fabric—a green, blue, and red pattern with repeating microphones—Zambrano explained to the audience that the work is designed to be seen up close, and people are free to move around the performers. At first, this jockeying for position mode threatened to undermine the viewing potential in the crowded opening night house, but the group quickly self-regulated, a fascinating and reassuring social phenomenon that completely reflected the positive vibe of the whole shebang. (Of course, nearly half of the audience were performers themselves, and the others professional dance goers.) A solo would start in a pool of light, the audience would move to surround the performer, and when it was over, everyone would look around for where the next dance would begin. Zambrano and his performers played with these expectations throughout the evening, moving through the crowd with knowing smiles.
The selections of music, most of them sensational live recordings, heightened the emotional tension. The closeness of the audience to the performers put us inside of this with them. Most often instead of riding the emotions of the music, the dancers trembled with force of holding that energy in their bodies, releasing it with quick stabs, drops to the floor, rushes forward, and loud vocalizations. But each of the six performers had their own charm and charisma, not to mention their incredible capacity for communicating through their bodies. The cumulative human expression of these very individual dancers provided the capstone.
Edivaldo Ernesto, tall and lanky, from Mozambique opened the performance and ultimately parted the viewers with his contortions and thrusts of energy projected out through his extremities from a deep trembling within. Later, in a shaggy white hat and lace gloves, his visage transmitted that of a medium, a master of the possession of spirits.
Slovakian Milan Herich, compact, muscular, shirtless and dressed in loose-fitting harlequin pants and a necklace of large and small wooden tiles, directly engaged the audience with his beaming open-faced grin and playful tumbling, spinning movement, and hopping from one foot to the other. His lunging, stretching movements often exhibited a martial arts quality. During one solo, he popped into a classic ballet attitude, a moment of ironic incongruity that tickled laughter from the knowing watchers.
Nina Fajdiga from Slovenia, in polka dots and a collar of brightly colored puffs used humorous facial expressions, firmly planted feet, and trembling outstretched hands—and, in particular, an uncomfortable looking split—to evoke soulful longing.During her first solo, I became acutely aware of a woman on the other side of the viewing circle, who seemed to be disengaged, as if the music were too personal, historically inscribed, and iconic for her to accept this new translation. This kind of cross viewing continued throughout the evening, adding to the already rich sociological and emotional textures.
Zambrano, dancing to a live version of “I Will Survive” by Gladys Knight & the Pips seemed to move in slow motion, upright, head held aloft, his outstretched hand trembling. Like all the rest, his physical interpretation of the song augmented the words, changing it from an anthem of defiance into one of noble transcendence. Later, he slowly ascended the altar, removed his jacket, and fell, repeatedly to the carpeted floor in a sideways sitting position, one arm reaching out.
The stocky and majestic Horacio Macuacua, also from Mozambique, similarly interpreted a James Brown song with a tour de force held-back shaking, eye-popping, creative eruption of a whole emotional history. He literally embodied the music, not as an imitation, but as a deeply rooted invocation. Dressed in a collared skirt with a vest adorned with what looked like bottle caps, every movement produced a rattling.
Slovakian Peter Jasko, small and lithe, dressed in a blue unitard with gold sequins and gold eyelashes tumbled, twisted his limbs, and seemed to lift his body to standing from the floor with magic. When he first appeared, his movement stood out as distinct from the rest, more flowing, lyrical, not held back. If the evening could be said to have a highlight, Jasko’s solo to Patti Labelle’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” mostly floor-bound and in physical dialogue with the words of the song, was it. The wonder and awe on the faces of the audience surrounding the vulnerable dancer in his quest to rise, to fly, was itself a glory to witness.
After the performance, Zambrano explained that the work, created in 2006, is supposed to have twice as many dancers, but because of economic reasons he had to limit the cast for this tour. While I can imagine the piece with 12 would have doubled the pleasure, I enjoyed the chance to become more familiar with these incredible six.
