SHORE: Performance | Part 2 of 4: Catalyst Artistic Director: Emily Johnson Oct 17, 2015
by Natasha Marin
I can see the creator humbled by herself. The drums, the billowing red, the blinking eyes, the harmonic.
This is a dialogue of moving bodies. The swish of arms in coats. Frozen fingers. Pantylines. This is real.
In profile, I can feel how heavy Emily’s eyelashes are—the catalyst, whose body moves as if commanded to.
Bad dum bum is the sound of two dancing bodies—arms flailing and then together in sync. Heads making an apex, then silence. Is this a love scene? Their breath says it is.
And suddenly, I feel lonely—I feel how apart I am and I remember the together times. But then a voice comes to lift the pain away—pry it away and replace it with a green square of hope that hangs as if from the sky, to promise me something.
I am still not convinced that this is a dance—it feels more like a conjuring with the huh huh huhah stirring me on the inside. What if I decide that this is a healing ritual and not a performance at all?
I won’t mention that the three focal bodies are wearing the colors of the sunrise and the sunset. Three draped bodies that pant and comfort and frolic and walk in slow unison as a guitar plucks nostalgia out of thin air with startling accuracy.
Something is summoned here.
Orange. Red. Yellow. The bodies onstage teach us how to listen. I notice some of the white people in the audience have their eyes closed. Maybe that is respect? But the black woman beside me has her eyes wide open and her hands are like soft cups, or petals in her lap.
Someone coughs. Humanity prevails.
NATASHA MARIN is a local writer, artist, and community organizer. By day she is the Community Outreach Coordinator for Resource Media, a non-profit PR Firm, and after work she tears holes in the space-time continuum to run an international experiment called Miko Kuro’s Midnight Tea (www.mikokuro.com) while single-mothering two awesome kiddos. Follow her on Twitter @mikokuro.