High Brow Meets High Brow

On Thursday, September 13th I went to The Kitchen, buzzed on Aragon Guatemalan coffee from Café Grumpy. I was back from Burning Man and ready to skip into theater spaces with high hopes. The performance on the bill was Elad Lassry’s, sold out, Untitled (Presence).

Before the show began, viewers were invited to roam the gallery space on the second floor. Equipped with austere yet simple photos of Elad’s subjects in naturalistic settings, I couldn’t grasp if or what the photos were trying to tell me. Omnipresent glares gave away little to nothing. The gallery was bleak enough to make me wonder if the subjects were going to reflect their digital demeanor on stage.

[cut to 8:30pm]

Untitled (Presence) opens with a set of structurally blocked props creating a visually appealing look. The structures are movable (via wheels on the bottom), oversized like a set for a children’s TV show, and bloat the space with a colorful frame. Light brown complements baby pink; sea foam green offsets yellow. The mood was tranquil yet stark. 1980s color blocking.

As stated in the program, Elad’s work brings forth “the question of when the photographic image obtains presence.” Once the audience had a moment to take in the blank canvas, dancers emerged adding more color and depth to the overall image. The male dancers were clad in uniform yellow top and pants, the females were wearing the same outfit in blue. Their ensembles were form-fitting, crisp and had a formal air to the stitching. As they walked stiffly in silence, the overhead lights turned quickly on for a moment and then off. The dancers would pose, regal yet deadpan, and the light pattern repeated. Observing this opening sequence was like watching a photo being taken and then spark to life within the camera. Think Harry Potter. The objects of the photographer moved purposely within the contextual image. I felt as if Elad was taking the audience through a simple, vague image, making it vulnerable to us for a brief moment, and then letting it dissipate like sand through our fingers.

 (And by “vague” I mean that the snapshots of Elad’s world brought forth questions I tend to ask myself when I see photos at any varying array of exhibits. Who are these people? Why am I watching this? Do I want to know more?)

What intrigued me about this program initially was that Elad was using ballet dancers from two of the most well-known ballet companies in the world, NYCB and ABT. Being presented at The Kitchen suggested that these primas would be outside their comfort zone. I was excited for a change in port de bras and flicks of accentuated toes. However, after a few minutes it was quite obvious that the ballerinas would only be dancing classical movement (whether that was demanded from the choreographer or not, I do not know); the choreography was just ballet-simplified. The movement was more basic than warm-up class. I've labeled it, “Ballet Hand Placements 101.” The leap and spring behind grand jetes and petit allegro combinations were gone -- what was revealed was the stagnant yet important classicism of refined arms and delicate fingers. Level 1. The simplicity of something like the wrist rotating allowed the viewer to catch the gracefulness of a ballerina that is often lost within a corps.

That being said, choreographically this piece was a bit of a letdown, however, I sense that it was not meant to be the next great Taylor piece. Untitled (Presence) is an installation, a moment into a moment where we get to see photos expand and saturate the space. So that changes things.

As this realization became more and more prevalent, I could appreciate the rigidness of the male ballet dancers’ walks and the nonchalant faces of the females as they faced front without a care in the world. When a foursome of men moved in unison for eight counts, the females would follow suit, repeating the exact pattern. This cutesy game went back and forth and would abruptly finish. Whether it was two female dancers moving in sync or in groups of four, the choreography was always matching something or someone. The lack of individuality made the whole experience very high brow: Ballet dancers executing simple movement and not giving a shit whether you liked it or not. Not to mention the audience: gallery hopping, fancy Manhattanites packed like sardines and drooling at the mouth.

By manually shifting the space via wheeling the blocked props, their landscape expanded and revealed more options for sundry photographic opportunities. Our perception shifted with the performers, making way for new suggestions. There was one ballerina who gave us a little more insight into a realm outside of Elad’s creation. While pushing one the props shaped like an “&” symbol, the wheels slipped out from underneath her. Her reflexes were quick and she caught the prop without hesitation, however she smirked and broke the barrier just enough to make a difference. As Untitled (Presence) was entirely in silence and the symmetry of color and choreography worked in harmony, it was difficult not to notice when the performers’ eyes flickered to the right -- making sure they were still in unison -- or when somebody was a millisecond behind everybody else.

That vulnerability of this installation is what made it unique for me. Its exactness left plenty of room to discern non-exactness. Elad allowed those moments of anti-accuracy to happen by generating an uninviting canvas set within a curious space, permitting the audience to decide what we thought when someone or something was out-of-place in a model frame. Elad quotes to Art in America magazine, "[The dancers'] movement in space keeps reestablishing that focus." "The human eye has to make choices, and distinguish the human subjects from the props."  

Untitled (Presence) runs through October 20; $10 tkts, thekitchen.org