Consistently curious, honestly open: a response by Sarah Stearn

Image captured by Ricardo Adame

The Invitation Situation

Performed on February 23-24, 2024 at Links Hall

Choreographer: Jeanine Durning

Performers + Collaborators: Heidi Brewer, Clare Croft, Andee Scott, and Mary Williford-Shade

Technical Crew: Ale Favila, David Camargo, + Giau Truong

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In Links Hall’s brightly lit and intimate space, Jeanine Durning and dancers Heidi Brewer, Clare Croft, Andee Scott, and Mary Williford-Shade move fluidly, softly, with curiosity brimming at each gesture, each pass, each choice, inviting us into The Invitation Situation. Starting from scratch, from movement, and evolving by inviting new elements into the score(s): wall and floor interactions, vocalization, and various household items such as a chair, a pole, a plant. The dancers’ exploration of their environment at hand created a soft, smooth, curious relationship to the space with their bodies. What a joy to witness creative exploration in real time - I wanted more and didn’t want it to end. 

At first, I didn’t know what to expect. How would this situation unfold? Dancing and exploring softly in silence for the first moments while audience members trickled in, the five dancers established a curious, attuned, connected world for themselves. A metronome beat signaled a change - entrances and exits are invited into the situation. Some dancers leave, some stay, one stays, many leave, one leaves, many stay. One faces a wall. One explores the floor space. All linked with the metronome, they have an unspoken bond holding them together as the score builds. 

My ears perk up when one dancer begins to vocalize and move. The voice is now invited into the situation, opening up another element for the dancers to explore in their time and space together. Openness begets openness: the more elements are invited into the space, the more the dancers are able to explore, the more open they can be with themselves, each other, and the audience. 

Something about vocalization and movement brings an emotional (often comedic) element. Now, not only do we see the dancers move, but we can hear them, too. “I’m leaving,” says a dancer as they walk toward the door. “Stay,” exclaims another dancer, who’s standing with the rest of the group across the stage. The first dancer turns around… then turns back, “Nah I’m leaving.” I can’t help but chuckle. They repeat in this vein – vocalizing “do doing did, do doing did,” entering and exiting, emotion now unfolding into the mix. 

Reverberations from the vocalizing and the audience’s reactions made the space feel more supportive as the dancers re-entered with movement, making the movement breathe easier. Consistency gives the performance space to breathe. Consistency in movement, connection, curiosity… sticking with it, with each other in the space allows for ease and breath within, allowing the unconscious to unfurl. Durning’s use and practice of this methodology, known as nonstopping, invited the audience into the whirlwind of the world that was emerging outward into the space from deep within the dancers. 

Image captured by Ricardo Adame

Eventually, various props are brought into the space, including a plant, a pole, a chair… now the dancers explore setting and resetting these items while stating what they want. Something like, “I want green I want green grass I want grass I want to smoke all the grass I want you to be green I want green grass I want green,” as they hold a pillow on a chair and the other four dancers move around and with the set. Each dancer gets a turn exploring their desires through an associative stream of consciousness as the set and props are set and reset, almost revolving about the space from downstage, stage left, upstage left. This revolving and taking turns gives the feeling of a revolving door… time is passing, constantly moving forward, but the repetition almost reflects a feeling of stuckness – stuck in a loop perhaps. Stuck inside (literally, as I understand these dancers worked together while the world was in lockdown during the covid pandemic.) Stuck inside their spaces and their own heads. However, the practice of nonstopping together, communally, inherently opens their minds and allows the “stuckness” to “unstick.” With consistent practice together comes breath, relief, expression, and, ultimately, a release to move forward. 

The sound speaker set on stage left was constant the whole time, but set and reset throughout the last section. It played the metronome, and later played some soft classical music… for some reason it added to the randomness of the situation, and somehow felt human and logical - a grounding element in their world. Not only was the practice consistent, having this grounding prop centered their world. Seemingly random, perhaps not random at all, the speaker’s purpose set the stage by centering all of the dancers as their internal worlds unfolded in the space together. 

The last vignette was particularly striking to me. A dancer clad in black coveralls with short blonde hair explores the back wall of Links Hall. Top lights illuminated their body so that at different points within the movement, it looked like this dancer had wings. Perhaps the wings signified the dancer finding freedom from continuously entering and practicing in this ever-evolving and revolving situation. 

Image captured by Ricardo Adame

Ultimately, this situation was grounded in humanity. Through the use and practice of nonstopping, Durning invited the dancers to externalize their internal worlds, find release and relief within stuckness, and laugh throughout the process. The whole spectrum of human emotion is inherently available through this practice, and what I witnessed on this night was curiosity, confusion, joy, and humor. Allowing the unconscious to unwind, being open and available to possibilities of expression from deep within, The Invitation Situation reminds us of the importance of our innate humanity and collective conscience.

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Sarah Stearn was born and raised in Chicago, IL. She supports the performing arts by attending dance classes and shows, producing and administrating for the J e l l o Performance Series, and writing responses to performances. Her movement practice includes dance, yoga, walking with her Grandma Sunny, and playing with her cat, Luna.

super nothing: a response by adanya gilmore

Image captured by Maria Baranova, Courtesy of New York Live Arts

Super Nothing

Performed on March 28-30, 2025 at Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago

Choreographer: Miguel Gutierrez

Dancers: Wendell Gray II, Jay Carlon, Justin Faircloth, & Evelyn Lilian Sanchez Narvaez

Composer: Rosana Cabán

Lighting Designer: Carolina Ortiz Herrera

Costume Designer: Jeremy Wood

Production Stage Manager: Evan Hausthor

Manager: Michelle Fletcher

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Empires collapse suddenly, but they die in a slow, bleeding out kind of death. 

The four dancers in Super Nothing (2025) communicated a kind of arduous process. It builds and it dissipates, like an exasperated sigh. 

It takes time to make dances, as it takes time for something built to last and endure and seep into architecture and institutions. Miguel Gutierrez, who is warm and generous in sharing insight into the scaffolding that took place, made something lasting and durational. The piece was like a container of progression and regression, one that made similarities to what I see people going through every day. There is a section in the middle called “the working material” that took eight months to get it to where it was on stage. Gutierrez is usually in his own work, but decided not to perform in super nothing meaning all that time he was using his brain differently– having to understand the structure, not as a performer, but solely as the choreographer. The skill of being able to communicate with the body so intricately is an incredible gift, one that should be funded and more widely recognized as one, not just in Gutierrez, but by all the dancemakers who give that to us.

Image captured by Jeremy Lawson, Courtesy of Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago

The dancers: Jay Carlon, Evelyn Lilian Sanchez Narvaez, Justin Faircloth, and Wendell Gray II show the audience how to show up. They show us in many ways what it looks like to sit in confusion and discomfort with someone for a long time. They brought out the tenderness in each other when there was frustration. They gassed each other up and brought each other out of different waves of passion, grief, and hopelessness. I was reminded of the sharp, harsh reminders in everyday life through their bodies’ generosity and vulnerability. I related to their ability to tap in and out of what was silly and sexy and funny. I was moved by their depiction of what it’s like to maintain presence as a community member and uplift others in a way that is impressively embodied and performed. 

In recent months, the social landscape of my home country and more largely, Planet Earth has me in a perpetual state of what feels like despair, and then deeper despair again, and then fear and more despair. It’s funny because these concepts may not be something you would think could be performed so perfectly and gracefully before your eyes, but movement has that unique ability. Dance pulls me out of the swirling anxiety and degradation. Amidst cruelty and destruction of the innocent and sacred, dance reminds me that I am normal, and I do, in fact, need to dance, because it has a purpose for the world. I need to do it with other people. My idiosyncrasies are my strengths, and it is part of why I belong in the world with everyone else. 

As the National Endowment for the Arts cuts funding to the arts, experimental dance in Chicago and widely in the U.S. is being defunded and threatened. These are not the only actions by the government that lead me to believe that the people who have recently risen to power would be happier if I were dead. In a way, I felt Gutierrez was communicating that feeling to his audience and then telling us in a way, “us still existing together is kind of cunty.”

I left Super Nothing thinking about how learning to be a dancer prepared me for being there for other people. Growing up going to rehearsals and sitting through tech runs, hours of running dances, then taking care of my body for the next day made me a person who can show up and be in my body when I really do not want to. I became someone who can rebound, bounce back, get back up stronger, observe, be patient, someone who can hold the weight of another person when they need me to. I can provide the strength of my body for what is necessary. 

I was thrown by their commitment and way of showing to each other the work at hand and what felt like a feat of exactitude. They gave all of themselves to each other, effortfully delivering a vision of possibility. 

I was reminded again what brings out my love for being all in something with people, and why I chose the path I chose. I’m reminded why I love dance and why I love to watch dance. 

When the revolution comes I hope dancers will be there, because I know we are needed.

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Adanya Gilmore is a teacher, writer and movement artist born in Washington DC and currently living in Chicago. Drawing from multiple intersections of histories and experiences she investigates different forms of divergence from the perspective of being a Black femme. She recently graduated with an MFA in Dance from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, where she met incredible people, performed in cool dances and learned how to teach. They have worked with artists such as Jennifer Monson, Tere O'Connor, Dr. Cynthia Oliver, Gina T'ai, Christine Johnson, Ching-i Chang and jess pretty. Her writing has been published by the Chicago publication Sixty Inches From Center and the Humanities Research Institute at UIUC.

Digging through Softness: a response by Tianjiao Wang

Images taken by Tianjiao Wang with courtesy of Taitai x Tina

Digging through Softness was a performance by TAITAI+/-/x/÷Tina, presented as part of the program of Alana Ferguson’s exhibition SLAPHAPPY at Comfort Station on Friday, April 25, 2025.

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The objects in the show may appear to lack practical function, yet their textures, colors, shapes, and even sounds and incidental physical mechanisms seduce viewers into lingering. TAITAIxTina’s performance is both a response to these works and a new layer of interaction, coexisting in harmony through similar elements and a shared sensibility.

I felt myself drawn into the performance through a delicate and unconventional use of a familiar, functional object. It was a common floor lamp—the kind often found in domestic spaces—typically composed of three or four tubular segments stacked vertically, but Taitai had disassembled the lamp. The electrical cord still threaded through all the pieces as one continuous line, but the segments were laid out horizontally on the floor, each one suspended just above the ground, trailing along the wire in a straight line. My relationship with Taitai's performance resembles that of a stretched and restructured floor lamp—still retaining a certain ‘floor lamp-ness.’ I found myself unexpectedly and continuously discovering elements that felt both familiar and unfamiliar—narratives, gestures, perceptions, sensations.

Images taken by Tianjiao Wang with courtesy of Taitai x Tina

Taitai’s performance kept me on edge. You don’t know if the lamp’s bulb, submerged in water, might suddenly electrocute her. You don’t know if the fruit knife in her hand might slip, if she’ll forget for a moment which side is sharp and which is blunt. You watch as she closes her eyes and runs the dull side across her skin. It’s sensory—deeply so. Beyond the psychological tension brought by the visual shocks, there’s also an unwelcome olfactory layer. The gelatin jellies—shiny, seductive, slippery as they appear—carry a repelling scent, a byproduct of processed animal bones. And then there’s the sound. The aluminum foil screeches underfoot. The gelatin jellies hit the floor with a thud, over and over, a violence you can hear.

Performance differs from film in that it is open—unframed. It allows for gaps in vision. Like a temporary sculpture, it is impossible to see from all angles at once. There’s no room to zoom out—each gesture unfolds so quickly you’re reluctant to look away, even briefly, even when nothing is “happening.” It is unlike film also because the performer knows you are watching her—not just an abstract “audience,” but you, specifically. The act of witnessing is mutual. I’ve been trying very hard to recall this performance as a durational work—what it resembles and what it truly is. I am an experienced long-haul flyer. Flying is a purposeful durational thing. The relationship, I think, between Taitai and the concept of durational work is this: I need to follow Taitai’s practice, especially the practices she will undertake in the future, in order to gain insights that can illuminate past moments. Or perhaps, it is in the interval between this performance of hers and the next that I will naturally obtain more lived experiences—ones that retroactively inform the past and open up new anticipations for the future. With Taitai, durational doesn’t seem to describe a single performance’s unfolding, but rather a broader stretch of lived time—time in which I must carry the memory of this performance forward, letting it subtly shape the days to come.

Images taken by Tianjiao Wang with courtesy of Taitai x Tina

In the end, I must admit—
there is a struggle in remembering.
To recall what happened,
what truly unfolded,
eludes the neat clarity of description.

So I offer this instead,
a small poem within my capacity—
to recount,
however faintly,
what it was that happened.

She wore a mint-green silk dress,
with what seemed like a nude-colored swimsuit underneath.
She stepped into the bathroom and rinsed a transparent bag under cold water.
She bathed with the gelatin jellies.

Her entrance was marked by throwing the gelatin jellies onto the floor of the main room.

A soft gelatin jelly—
Could something soft cause damage to a hard floor?
No.

That soft thing seemed to hold a strange resilience.
It wasn’t deformed, though small fragments chipped off its edges.

Would bending the gelatin jelly with one’s knees cause damage?
Maybe—if you also dug your fingers into it.

It was a clawing motion.
The last time I thought of this gesture was in giving birth,
when a doctor separates the placenta by hand.

Inside the gelatin jellies were embedded a dollar bill, a coin.
The mouth works better—like spitting out a fishbone—
to expel the coin encased in jelly.

Are the jellies still of use?
Perhaps—they’re still carefully wrapped in aluminum foil.
Tucked with the discipline of a soldier folding a blanket.

There are still jellies in the pool of the bathroom.
They must all be taken out.
They rub against the body, soft to the touch.

It feels as if one might stand atop them.

As if they could absorb the weight.

The knees become independent fulcrums.

She enters the bathroom again,
retrieves the last jellies from the pool.
By now, the mint-green dress is completely soaked.
By now, her hair is drenched too.

A jelly clamped between her lips—
Her limbs are then free to wriggle.

The aluminum foil on the ground is both path and bedsheet.
She lies on it, writhing.
Her feet kick the foil like tossing off a blanket.
Both hands pillow the back of her head.

At last, she can close her eyes,
meditate,
listen to the sound of air,
listen to the sound of her own breath.

She spits out the gelatin jelly from her mouth.
Finds the previously folded jelly-blanket.
Continues—flips it, folds it tighter.
Adds this new one in.
All of them, folded in.

Ah! The mint-green wax that's been heating—
she hasn’t yet enjoyed it.
Now is the time.
She pours it out, bit by bit—like thick, sticky honey.
Applies it to her feet,
fixes one foot to a plastic lid,
the other on artificial grass.

It dries.
It sticks.

Shoes!
She puts them on.
She strides—
bold, unbothered.
Foil flies.
The room explodes into a storm.

The foil becomes a dress.
The space re-forms.
The beginning?
Gone.

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Tianjiao Wang is interested in acknowledging the presence of things. She is a practicing artist focusing on photography and film. She was born in Beijing and now lives in Chicago.

Response to Lauren Warnecke’s Review of Deeply Rooted Dance Theater’s Season Opener by Kevin Iega Jeff

Nyemah Stewart as "Sister Soul'Jah" (dancer) in Flack, choreographed by Kevin Iega Jeff, photographed by Jennifer Jackson, provided courtesy of Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre

Deeply Rooted Dance Theater’s season opener was performed on November 16, 2024 at The Auditorium Theater featuring choreography by Artistic Director Nicole Clarke-Springer, Emmy-nominated director and choreographer Jeffrey Page, Ulysses Dove, and Co-Founders Kevin Iega Jeff & Gary Abbott.

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Lauren Warnecke’s November 2024 review of Deeply Rooted Dance Theater’s season opener at the Auditorium Theatre, titled “Deeply Rooted Dance Theater need not cling to the past when its future is so bright,” offers a perspective on the evening’s performances that warrants a thoughtful response. While I appreciate the attention given to our company’s work, there are significant points in the review that require clarification and contextualization, particularly regarding the nuances and historical underpinnings of Black Dance and Deeply Rooted’s mission.

First and foremost, I must express my deep appreciation and respect for the gifted leadership of Artistic Director Nicole Clarke-Springer. Her brilliant choreography, tireless leadership, and impassioned vision were evident on that stage. In taking on the artistic mantle of the company, Nicole has not only upheld Deeply Rooted’s mission and values, but has also infused the company with fresh energy and innovation.

Also deserving of recognition is Makeda Crayton, Deeply Rooted’s new Executive Director. Working behind the scenes, her leadership has been pivotal as the company continues to grow, including the expansion of its artistic programming, the breaking of ground for the new Deeply Rooted Center for Black Dance and Creative Communities, and the cultivation of community engagement efforts that deepen its impact in Chicago and beyond.

Deeply Rooted’s work is grounded in authenticity, shaped by the enduring legacy of Black Dance, and propelled by a mission that extends well beyond the stage. My intention in responding to Warnecke’s review is not to engage in a contentious debate, but rather to open a respectful and collegial dialogue with valued colleagues. This is a cordial attempt to set the record straight, particularly where certain inaccuracies were expressed in the review. While we welcome and value critical discourse, it’s equally important to address misconceptions in order to offer a fuller and more accurate picture of the company’s journey and vision. This response is expressed in the spirit of honoring our legacy, the truth of our work, and the best inspired interests of the Chicago dance ecosystem at large.

On Jeffrey Page and the Black Dance Ecosystem

Warnecke opens with a sense of incredulity about how Deeply Rooted secured Jeffrey Page’s commitment to create a world premiere for the company. She writes, “It’s tempting to wonder how Deeply Rooted got Page to say yes.” This sentiment reveals a limited understanding of the interconnectedness within the Black Dance ecosystem. Page himself has expressed how profoundly inspired he has been by Deeply Rooted’s legacy, noting our company’s role in influencing his artistic journey. His collaboration with us reflects the mutual respect and deep ties that exist within the Black Dance community—a network that often goes unrecognized or undervalued by critics and the broader dance world.

This lack of awareness underscores a larger issue: mainstream critics frequently lack the curiosity or initiative to learn about and appreciate the histories, relationships, and aesthetic values of Black Dance. Without this knowledge, reviews such as Warnecke’s fail to fully capture the depth and significance of what they critique. As someone who has dedicated over fifty years to this art form, I see this as a missed opportunity to honor the vast contributions of Black Dance and its progenitors.

The “Underdog” Label and Structural Inequities

Warnecke’s characterization of Deeply Rooted as a “bit of an underdog” reveals a broader misunderstanding of the systemic inequities Black Dance companies have historically faced. While we have never seen ourselves as underdogs, we have strategically navigated a funding landscape that has disproportionately favored white-led institutions.

The 2019 report Mapping the Dance Landscape in Chicagoland highlights stark funding disparities, noting that over 56% of grant dollars go to just three majority-white institutions, while only 9% support dance rooted in non-white or ethnic traditions. In this inequitable environment, many smaller, Black-led companies are left to operate on shoestring budgets—making the achievements of organizations like Deeply Rooted all the more remarkable.

Despite these challenges, we have consistently upheld impeccable artistic standards, nurtured world-class talent, and maintained a commitment to cultural integrity. Our work is not about competing with the so-called “big dogs” but about aligning with our mission to educate, uplift, and inspire through dance. This is our form of “big dogging,” rooted in service to our community and the preservation of our artistic legacy.

Cultural Integrity and the Weight of Legacy

Warnecke describes Deeply Rooted as a “late bloomer,” citing the upcoming $20 million South Side dance center as evidence that we are no longer “underdogs.” While I celebrate this milestone alongside our co-founders, new leadership, staff, and board, it is important to provide deeper context about the foundational work that made this achievement possible.

The vision for the Deeply Rooted Dance Center took shape in 2018—first during my tenure as Artistic/Executive Director, then evolving as Creative Director. As is often the case, the company faced a dual challenge: upholding artistic excellence while building the infrastructure needed to support a growing organization and envisioned institution. Wearing both artistic and executive hats, I worked tirelessly—fostering relationships with key stakeholders who shared our vision, and securing initial funding to help bring that vision to life. This effort laid the groundwork for establishing a permanent home for Deeply Rooted and its partners on Chicago’s South Side.

By the time I completed my tenure in 2022, the vision for the dance center and the foundational funding to support it were established. This strategic groundwork positioned the new Artistic and Executive Directors to work alongside the development team, board, and capital campaign committee—on which I continue to serve—to bring this project to fruition. The dance center is not simply an infrastructure milestone: it is the culmination of years of visioning, planning, and overcoming systemic barriers to ensure that Deeply Rooted and its partners have a sustainable home for future generations.

Our work has always been grounded in authenticity, shaped by the lived experiences and teachings of Black Dance pioneers such as Bernice Johnson, Lee Aca Thompson, and Alvin Ailey. These foundational influences inform my commitment to cultural integrity and the deliberate pace at which we build our legacy. Achieving sustainability in this framework requires patience and resilience, especially given the systemic inequities that delay access to funding and resources for Black-led organizations.

Warnecke’s suggestion that we are “no longer underdogs” because of a single capital achievement oversimplifies the decades-long effort it has taken to establish a foundation for Deeply Rooted’s growth. Although essential, our trajectory has never been solely about reaching financial or infrastructural milestones; it has been about aligning every step with our mission to preserve cultural authenticity, uplift our community, and create opportunities for the next generation of artists. This is a legacy built on more than buildings: it is built on the values, teachings, and perseverance of a community committed to artistic and cultural excellence.

On the Misrepresentation of Aesthetic Values

Warnecke’s description of Jeffrey Page’s Lifted is telling in what it omits. While she highlights the gospel-infused music and elements of vernacular jazz, she fails to acknowledge the African aesthetic at the heart of Page’s work. This omission is significant as it reflects a broader tendency within mainstream criticism to overlook or minimize the African roots of contemporary Black Dance—and its profound influence on both classical and contemporary mainstream dance forms in every sense.

Critics should share what they know with knowledgeable clarity—and approach what they don’t know with genuine curiosity and a willingness to learn.

Similarly, her evaluation of legacy works like Gary Abbott’s Desire and my own Flack misses the mark by failing to contextualize their African aesthetic within Deeply Rooted’s broader mission, the ways in which these works contribute to the artistic growth of the company’s dancers, and the value our audience places on them. Warnecke dismisses these pieces as “dated” while praising Ulysses Dove’s Urban Folk Dance for its timelessness. This comparison reveals a bias that elevates so-called minimalist Western forms—such as those associated with George Balanchine and Alfred Hitchcock, both referenced in Warnecke’s review—while overlooking their foundational connection to African aesthetics. Additionally, should critics be the ones to determine which elements of a company’s repertoire are deemed worthy of preservation or celebration?

On the Audience and Community Response

Warnecke’s critique of the evening’s “long night” overlooks a crucial detail: the audience’s overwhelming enthusiasm. The joy and energy in the Auditorium Theatre were undeniable, with nearly 2,000 people fully engaged and deeply moved by the performances. This response speaks to the community’s connection to our work and their recognition of the authenticity and integrity we bring to the stage. Kathy D. Hey’s review in Third Coast Review offers a more insightful reflection of the diverse audience’s experience that night.

The Need for Informed Criticism

In closing, I’d like to address the broader implications of Warnecke’s review. While critics are entitled to their opinions, they are not entitled to misrepresent or minimize the historical record or significance of Black-led institutions. Black organizations deserve to be reviewed by writers who understand our aesthetic values, honor the communities we serve, and approach our work with curiosity and respect.

The fact that Deeply Rooted is in the process of achieving a significant capital campaign, continues its legacy in commissioning works by celebrated choreographers, and actively inspires new generations of dancers is a testament to our resilience, vision, and enduring impact. My hope is that critics approach these achievements with an understanding of their depth, rather than filtering them through personal or cultural misinformation or biases.

Deeply Rooted’s legacy is not only about presenting inspiring, life-affirming dance—it is equally about advancing equity, preserving cultural integrity, and catalyzing meaningful change. These are the values that guide our work, and they deserve to be understood, honored, and uplifted.

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Kevin Iega Jeff is an accomplished dancer, award-winning choreographer, acclaimed artistic director, respected dance educator, and innovative executive leader. He creates transcendent works while inspiring those around him to foster extraordinary lives, onstage and off, through dance/art-making.

Hot, live and otherwise: an interview & response by Rachel Lindsay-Snow

Image captured by by Robbie Sweeny

Hot, live and otherwise

Performed on November 16-17, 2024 at The Drucker Center

Creator + Performer: Sophie Minouche Allen

Sound Designer + Performer (Chicago): Chien-An Yuan

Lighting Designer + Technical Director: Arabella Zurbano (Chicago), Del Medoff (San Francisco)

Prop Designer: Arabella Zurbano

Costume Designer: Sophie and Karin Minouche Allen in collaboration with Crimson Moeller

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I was first drawn to Sophie Minouche Allen when I saw an image advertising her forthcoming dance piece Hot, live and otherwise: Allen is leaning back, holding a cinder block, balancing it on thigh and chest. Years prior, in my own movement and studio-art practice, I had also worked at length with a cinder block: thinking through concepts of weight, tension, precarity, and grief. When Allen agreed to my writing about the work, sent over a description of the piece, and we had a post-performance interview–the threads of connection in our interests were delightfully overwhelming. 

Hot, live and otherwise is a dance solo by Sophie Minouche Allen with soundscape collaborator Chien-An Yuan. A first draft was shared on May 17, 2024 in bim bom’s TIN CAN (Chicago). The solo officially premiered at the ODC Theatre in FACT/SF’s 2024 Summer Dance Festival Program 2. An extended, second iteration was shared November 16-17 at the Drucker Center in Chicago, IL. The work is inspired by the 1981-2000 anti-nuclear protests in the Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp in Berkshire, England and is catalyzed by divergent familial tracings and other unsettled life fragments that get stuck between rocks and hard places. The work navigates degrees of separation and holds spontaneity, grief and pleasure in proximity to disaster (from the project description). 

Image captured by McCall McClellan

Allen and I began our conversation discussing the use of objects and materials in Hot, live, and otherwise, their function as placeholders, and this concept as a throughline throughout the piece. “I’m a gatherer”, states Allen, “The cinderblock began as a stand-in for the hourglass object (which was being fabricated by collaborator Arabella Zurbano). I’m really bad at pantomiming and there was a cinder block used to prop the door open in the space I was rehearsing in and I looked at it and thought, “oh this’ll work”. …[Then] it became integral to what I was doing…and weight became more important in the piece as a thread.”

Image captured by Gabriela Chavez

The cinder block functioned literally as a placeholder, but also conceptually. The porous, coarse, heavy block taught Allen’s body how to hold something else. I began to see parallels of the ways our experiences of love and loss can function as teachers to help us hold future desires or trauma. Allen also brought to Hot, live and otherwise the recent passing of their maternal grandmother: Yvonne Hulscher Bernstein. Oma (meaning grandma in Dutch) is someone Allen described as both a lover and a fighter, a trinket lady, and a survivor. The cinder block materialized a weight of loss that Allen had already been holding within herself, and also served as a portal to learn how to hold that same weight differently. Allen states: “There were lots of opportunities to placehold. [My grandmother] donated her body to science, so we don’t even have her remains. …When I was in rehearsals, I had this realization that the cinder block is around the size of an urn. When I am really cradling it, and spinning with it, there are even moments of joy in the motion of the spinning–this is when I was like “every object is Oma, every object is weight, every object is grieve, every object is time.”. …When I would start the spins [with the cinder block], I would actively think “oh good, I’m hugging my grandma.”

Image captured by Gabriela Chavez

The cinder block was a placeholder for the hourglass object, which in turn was also its own type of placeholder. “There was something about the silhouette shape…that reminded me of a nuclear explosion’s mushroom cloud and also on its side looks like an infinity symbol. …One of the direct actions that the women in the Greenham Common Women's Peace Camp did was to make fake blood as partial commentary on what bloodshed looks like during conflict and also challenging the public and private sphere through references to gender and menstrual blood. They would throw this concoction (red paint and/or a mixture of flour water and food coloring) onto the windshields of vehicles leaving the base. The sand/gravel in the hourglass was meant to reference the red from that.” At the same time Allen states, “my relationships to the objects and what they mean and what they could mean is very fluid, even through the moment of performance.” This expansion of symbolism exists for Allen at a moment when a portion of the audio shifts to a poem Allen had written that Chien decided to include in the soundscore. Allen had given the poem to Chien, thinking it would be distorted, but when full portions were included, with a reference specifically to ashes, it is at that moment that the dust and rocks filling the hourglass object become for Allen like the ashes of her grandmother. “Hearing my voice saying those words made those moments of picking up the hourglass even more charged for me,” states Allen.

Image captured by by Robbie Sweeny

Allen ends our discussion with this final, lovely sentiment: “when I first started thinking about the piece, Oma was still alive, but had memory loss, and now has passed, so [Oma] is haunting the work: in the most loving way.”

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You can read the full interview between writer, Rachel Lindsay-Snow & performer Sophie Allen here.

Rachel Lindsay-Snow is a Chicago-based artist and writer working in performance, installation, drawing, poetry, memoir, and essay. They received an MFA from UIUC in Visual Arts, with a graduate minor in Dance in 2020. They are a Luminarts Fellow with select solo shows at Krannert Art Museum, Swedish Covenant Hospital, North Park University, and The Front Gallery New Orleans. They are a member of Conscious Writers Collective and Out of Site Chicago Artist Collective.

Khecari's TEND: a response by Deidre Huckabay

photo by Kristin Weinberg of Tend directed by Julia Antonick - pictured performers Helen Lee - audience member pictured Robin Davis -  furniture by Jonathan Meyer & Heather LaHood - costumes and upholstery by Jeff Hancock

Tend directed by Julia Antonick - Khecari

when : Jan 10th - 26th 2025

where : John Michael Kohler Arts Center

and

August - October 2023

where: Nature Play Center & Gunder House -  Chicago

photo by Kristin Weinberg of Tend directed by Julia Antonick - pictured performers Enid Smith, Helen Lee and Gina Hoch-Stall - furniture by Jonathan Meyer & Heather LaHood - costumes and upholstery by Jeff Hancock

photo by Kristin Weinberg of Tend directed by Julia Antonick - pictured performers Gina Hoch-Stall and Helen Lee - furniture by Jonathan Meyer & Heather LaHood - costumes and upholstery by Jeff Hancock

photo by Kristin Weinberg of Tend directed by Julia Antonick  - furniture by Jonathan Meyer, Heather LaHood, Jeff Hancock

photo by Kristin Weinberg of Tend directed by Julia Antonick - pictured performers Chih-Hsien Lin and Gina Hoch-Stall - audience pictured Deidre Huckabay - furniture by Jonathan Meyer & Heather LaHood - costumes and upholstery by Jeff Hancock

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Deidre Huckabay (they) is an artist, writer, and flutist. Their artwork, work-for-money work, lifework, and everyday habits and rituals flow from a belief that liberation is possible in every lifetime, for every living being. They are a Co-Artistic Director at Mocrep and co-owner of the record label Parlour Tapes+.