To say that Stacy Sperling’s new work hot dark matter should be seen is a serious understatement: it should also be smelled, heard, and touched. Designed as a site-specific project at JACK, it takes full advantage of the space’s quirky surroundings. At the beginning, I was concerned about the seating: arranged in rows on house left, it seemed like the setup was misconceived as from where I was I could not have a full view of dark space where everything was happening. It quickly turned out, however, that this precarious arrangement was as carefully thought out as the rest of the work.
For what seemed like a long time we all sat in the dark, listening to Messiaen’s music seeping from the speakers and waited for something to happen. And it did. An armless, long-haired creature in the corner (who later turns out to be the perfectly human and amazing Tuva Hildebrand) started moving in a spastic, tense way that suggested something being born or released from a dormant state. It was a strange, animal, primal kind of movement, only made even more bizarre by the fact that the performer’s leg was locked in an orthopedic shoe. Things started going “boo!” in the dark. One could not see exactly what, but the more room to play with was opened to one’s imagination.
It’s not just about seeing, mind you. Strange thumps, rattles, incomprehensible murmurs, sudden shouts and heavy breathing, intense smells coming from no place in particular, objects and figures that beg for touch or really touch you – all this constitutes the dense texture of this piece, which suggest things rather than showing them in the open. Scenes appear like in a dream – surreal figures, movements, noises, aromas. Before any certainty sets in, they’re gone. Three human sculptures (Dana Florin-Weiss, Monica Hunken, Kadence Neill) appear and shuffle back and forth across the stage, wearing nothing but big, black, shiny, mushroom-like collars. Silver-clad dancer (Rebecca Warner) performs a strange gymnastics. The hooded figures (Joomin David Hwang, Darren Liff, Kevin Luparello, Stephen Zuccaro) hidden in the back step in and do their shady work, only to reappear as a small army of suits later in the piece. Two performers completely covered in black (Stacy herself and Rebecca) except their pale-white hands and feet and faces join forces in a strange, disembodied crawl.
The writeup available on JACK’s website suggest that the piece was inspired by stories of physics of subatomic particles – and whether it is true or not, I am convinced that the world where Stacy’s stories take place cannot be seen with a naked eye. If you ask me, I do hope the world of neutrinos and quarks is as amusing as portrayed in this humorous, hectic and surprising choreography. I also hope the nano-world is as stylish as Jeremy Lydic costumes, reminiscent of 1970s space movie as dreamed out by Salvador Dali. And that is as ingenious as the movable set, and it is as exquisitely lit as JACK was last night, flooded in Joe Levasseur’s mysterious chiaroscuro. If this curious visualization indeed reflects what happens on a subatomic level, the absurdity of the visible world suddenly makes perfect sense.
I’m not trying to tell you all that’s there; one, it’s impossible, because everyone will experience something different, depending on one’s own memories, fears and sense of humor; two, it would spoil the surprise. One thing that is worth noting is, when it was over (and I am not even going to mention the hilarious last act, one of the best uses of the space and video I have seen recently!), the head remains open. I was walking down Fulton Street on a preposterously gorgeous spring evening and gathering smells and flashes of light and noises and sights in the twilight. And when I finally got home, I was waiting for any faint rattling sound that could possibly indicate there is a beautiful monster hiding in the closet, and it will emerge from there and dance for me.
Go see the show.
[photo by Maria Baranova-Suzuki]