Photo: Yvonne M. Portra

Sensing Habitat in Precarious Pod

By Garth Grimball

Imagine wilderness. Is it near or far? How do you access the wild?

For some “wilderness” is a curse word. It implies that the natural world is wild and separate from nature we interact with daily. It allows a magical thinking of boundaries determining land stewardship. I recycle over here. I camp over there. I escape from regular responsibilities out there. In the wild.

Nina Haft’s Precarious Pod is a “Yes In My Backyard” response to the interconnection of nature, wild and tame. A call to awareness. Premiering over two weekends (Nov 15-17, 22-24) at Joe Goode Annex, Precarious Pod is inspired by nature in Haft’s everyday. A diversity of birds once perched and migrated through her backyard. In the span of several years she’s witnessed the volume and variance decline. This noticing led to investigating animal responses to humans and human habitat. What thrives and what dies? How can humans act with empathy and responsibility?

Haft welcomes the audience with a declaration of her intention. I appreciate the clarity. Yes, the beauty of art is in nuance and interpretation, but sometimes it’s refreshing to be told, “This is what it is.” Especially if the goal is engagement with a specific issue.

We enter the space in small groups to find a performance installation of sorts. Taut awnings cut through the overhead space with projections of ecosystems transforming into a forest canopy or an underwater cave. Dancers are clusters of low level positions, barely lit and easy to stumble into. Walking around the space I hear animal sounds – crow, wolf, vaquita – the triptych focus of the work.

The prologue ends. We sit. Jennifer Twilley Jerum and Jesse Weiner enter. The beginning of the duet is improvisational in an almost too obvious movement language. Like how in movies you can tell when the actors are improvising because of the sparse cadence, the lags between the words. But then the movement shifts to distinct. Twilley and Wiener jerk and shuffle like crows, but it’s not pretending to be the animal. It’s exploring a context. The duet feels like I’m seeing a familiar animal with new eyes. The routine improvisation at the start is necessary to get out of the routine and see what’s in front of you afresh. 

Next the wolfpack. Rebecca Morris, Rogelio Lopez and Andrew Merrell tumble into the space. Similar to the crow duet, the movement took time to land on me. Due to our intimacy with the wolf’s domesticated cousin it’s challenging to see the movement vocabulary and not three humans being wolf-like. What about the other senses? Seeing may get in the way but hearing draws me in. Within the choreography the dancers master the rhythm of canines. The collective patter and swish and unpredictable halts. Rose Huey enters the trio. As a quartet the spatial complexity heightens into a struggle of allegiance and territory. A familiar struggle indeed.

The program informs us there are fewer than 10 vaquitas remaining on Earth. We are killing them, drowning them. We the creators of precarity. Haft and dancer Mallory Markham create a sublime solo of isolation. The choreography is beautiful and tightly constructed. Bathed in a large down pool of light Markham wriggles on the floor, slowly makes her way to standing and articulates every movement and every body part with clarity. She radiates a bodily awareness born out of solitude. Her costume (design by Andrew Merrell) showcases the most successful use of sequins outside of Dolly Parton’s wardrobe. Adorning the top of Markham’s shirt, from sternum to shoulders, the sequins bring us underwater with their power of reflection. 

Every design component excels in intention and theme. Rogelio Lopez’s lighting creates an intimacy both unsettling and comforting. The light plays on our spatial proximity to the performers. We are so close but are we seeing the forest from the trees. Gretchen Jude’s soundscore is a synthesis of mimesis and abstraction. Ian Winters’s use of photo negative in projections is striking, so evocative of absence and the space left behind.

The vaquita solo ends with Markham venturing beyond the pool of light. Is the exit the conclusion of peril? We witness the end of a fellow species. Or, can it be hopeful? A return to power in numbers. Either way, it’s up to us.

 

Garth Grimball is a writer and dance artist based in Oakland, California. He is the co-director of Wax Poet(s), company member of Dana Lawton Dances, and performs regularly with Oakland Ballet.

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Related posts:

One Good Quote: Nina Haft & Company in Precarious Pod

Dreaming/Preparing/Dancing: Catch the Final Weekend of Nina Haft & Company's Precarious Pod

Dreaming/Preparing/Dancing: Opening Weekend for Nina Haft & Company's Precarious Pod

Blog Series: Studio Practice/Studio Time (Nina Haft)

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