Weird lumps of plant are jumping out of the windows at Disjecta. A white car peels out of the parking lot by the ground floor entrance, it’s tail sliding sideways as the tires scream and smoke.
Inside people are standing and looking in different directions. Little plastic ball radios murmur half tuned sounds. Their perky antennas show love for the people by piping up louder and truer with human contact.
A few dancers are dancing with the wall, standing in a pile of pebbles, dancing to the paint splashes and the hole in the floor. People are milling around talking about other things. The loud sound of many people running up the stairs. Then, after some time, an official beginning on a smooth dance floor.
Jennifer Monson’s performance both imposed itself on the space and collaborated with what was already there, building, passing sounds and light.
At one point rays from the setting sun snuck in from behind the audience, laying glowing strips across the dance floor. Each dancer partnered with a full sheet of plywood, their bodies sliding against the boards filled the space with the rhythmic rasp of deep sleep breath.
It seemed at times to try to ‘become nature’ but was most natural and moving when it engaged human junk.
posted by publicwondering