"spirited, earthy, sensual...breathtaking"

June 26, 2002 performance reviewed by Jocelyn McGrath

As the curtain came up on the Ronald K. Brown/Evidence, the dancers’ sheer physical presence—powerful and magnetic—was breathtaking. An immediate second impression was that this was dancing that looked like a pleasure to perform—spirited, earthy and very sensual. For this company, who clearly take African dance movement as their core vocabulary, undulation was a part of the form, along with whirling arm motions, often swooping behind the back, feet and hands held at angles, not pointed or elegantly draped, and gesticulating head motions.

Indeed, this dance does not “come from” the same place where much modern dance developed. The source and inspiration for Mr. Brown is the people of Africa and the African diaspora. But these are not recreated ancient “tribal dances.” These are living and breathing responses to current human condition.

In the first piece "Upside Down" (1998), an excerpt from the longer work "Destiny," we are introduced to the exuberance and almost continual motion this company is capable of. The theme of impermanence is a counterpoint to the energy and commitment of the dancers—as each of the two parts of the piece, though different in tone, ends with a funeral procession. In the ending of the second part, the female dancer, who will eventually “die,” performs a solo at full speed while a line of men behind her slowly walk-in-place. The contrast of pace seems to emphasize the relative nature of time and our portion of it.

The next piece, "Water" (1999), is also an excerpt, and though the work as a whole explores our relationship to water, this segment seemed to refer to the water that was crossed by slaves en route to this hemisphere. The simple white costumes and the somber lighting made the mood focused and ritualistic. At first, there is a periodic frenzy of motion that is formed against the slow music of a man chanting in mournful tones, which created an uncanny emotional tension. Eventually the music escalates and the pitch of the motion and the voice unite. The piece ends with the dancers in a row, facing offstage, a light of possibility shining on them.

The final piece, "Walking Out the Dark" (2001-2002) is the most eclectic and exciting in the scope of its vision. Its second part is a world premiere and its creation has been supported in part by Jacob’s Pillow. In the first part, four dancers face each other in a circle and the opposite pairs commence to have dancing “conversations” while the other pair bears witness. This is a device that is found in the other pieces, but not used with the same focus as in this one. Bearing witness becomes an active role, a crucial role, when we share it with the dancers, and the moments of stillness when even the “talkers” pause, when all of us are still and quietly watching together, are charged with a sacred quality. The “conversations” are intimate and emotional. Every now and again a gesture is so commonplace as to be startling, and it seems that we should all know exactly what was “said.”

The rest of this piece included dancing to poetry, dancing with no music, only the sound of the dancers feet and breath, and for a very special treat, dancing to a magnificent drum solo. But the most striking moment of this piece, and indeed of the evening, occurred when the dancers laid themselves down evenly in a row, heads to the audience, and suddenly a shower of soil fell to the stage, and then the lights dimmed. The soil rattling to the ground seemed like earth being thrown on a grave, or death falling out of the sky. In his mission statement, Mr. Brown clearly describes his responsibility to create art that expresses our pain and aids in its healing. And in the next moment he demonstrated his belief in rejuvenation when the lights came up and the dance went on, even though that act seemed so final.