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| ABOUT TRaC |
Dance TRaC Spring 2005
Yin Mei at Dance Theater Workshop "We are the children of the revolution." A child s voice echoes timidly across the awaiting audience. Someone shifts in the darkness, and a pale light is cast on the stage. Figures are seen rolling on the floor, grasping desperately at their pelvises, vividly brutal images already beginning to swirl in this horrific fantasy. "Nomad: The River," which consists of one man and three women, is Yin Mei s attempt to resolve the experiences of her childhood during the Cultural Revolution of China. She chooses to do this not through a linear depiction but through a strange and twisted work, which is put together as if it were a dream, or perhaps more appropriately, a nightmare. Although Yin Mei s work may not stand the test of time for the sheer choreographic aspect, the performance will most likely remain imprinted in the minds of those who saw it, for better or for worse. The use of devastating childhood memories creates a feeling in Ms. Mei s audience that her piece is their own personal nightmare, the kind that will always remain lurking beneath the surface, evoking bewitching imagery that is simply too disturbing to turn away from. Although it seems as if during the piece the world has temporarily taken on an antic disposition, this is what adds that last dimension of horror. Awareness that these images, although abstract, are not phantasmagorical sends chills up and down the spine. Haunting visuals of desperation, pain and sexual exploitation fill each moment of the work, eliciting a repulsed and nearly nauseous feeling. In the middle of the piece, the dancers pause, sitting on the floor and taking in a deep breath, suddenly awakened from their dark state of despair, reminiscent of that heart-wrenching feeling when all of a sudden a dream of falling becomes a reality. Somehow control has been lost. Standing up the dancers exit their world of disaster for a moment to stare at the audience. Then with an outstretched arm they beckon tauntingly, "Come." Their eyes seemed to demand, "Enter into this realm of abstract reality. I dare you." By far, the most intriguing aspect of the dance was the use of partnering. Several movements clearly indicated that a woman was being taken advantage of. Her bare legs were exposed and spread open, glimpses of red cloth falling from beneath her uplifted skirt. Throughout one particularly explicit scene, the woman wearing a white mask that exhibited an extremely calm, almost pleasured expression, disarming in contrast with the forced and rough movements of her body which wordlessly scream out to the viewer. At one point in the piece, the women stand in a line and the single male brings out a bowl of blood red paint. Meticulously and shockingly he begins to paint the exposed legs of the women with his brush. The audience and choreographer alike are aware that this is completely over the top. However, if that is all that can be drawn from this, perhaps there is something missing in the perception of the piece. It does not exist for the purpose of being polite, respectful or even enjoyable. On the contrary it exists to make the very skin on a person's back feel estranged, as if it doesn't belong. The piece terminated with an eerily beautiful image of the three female performers walking, bright light shining behind them, disturbing expressions on their faces. Recorded text repeats and a woman sings, "Don't say a word &This is the end of me." As the theater is once more flooded with light, the audience sits still, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, an almost crazed look on previously placid faces. Did that really just happen? Leaving the theater one feels violated, stripped to the core, as if something precious had been stolen; perhaps one's innocence.
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