The Oxford English Dictionary defines divining as an intuitive, sage-like form of discovery or a power for seeing the future. It often refers to the practices that people rely on to navigate the unknown. In her notes, choreographer Katie Faulkner references these definitions, suggesting that within them “the body becomes a conduit for felt or intuited knowledge.” It is here - with the body - that Faulkner’s Divining explores human power and fragility within a stark landscape that seems to be everywhere and nowhere.
Photo: Stephen Texeira
The dance opens in stillness, in silence, in fragments. A slow humming sound accompanied various tableaus that sculpted the dancers' bodies into shapes with hands supporting or resting on each other as if to signal future intentions. Once the dancers start moving, Faulkner’s suburb movement vocabulary is on display - articulate, intimate gestures and rhythms. The dancers - Alex Carrington, Chinchin Hsu, Tara McArthur, and Suzette Sagisi - moved diagonally across the floor, mostly in unison, with feet pounding while arms and heads moved sharply. Their hunched over bodies suggested a reverence of sorts, perhaps for the practice of seeking or devotion. This reverence-without-object was a frequent tópos in Divining, a common reference point throughout the full-length piece. The dance kept drawing the audience into such moments that seemed almost other-worldly due in part to the superb music composition by Ben Juordvalkis that incorporated both familiar and unfamiliar soundscapes. Did I hear the cracking of wood burning; the sound of an airplane, crickets at night?
Carrington, Hsu, McArthur, and Sagisi danced with committed grace, displaying the complexity of Faulkner’s choreographic thinking. At one point Hsu moved in large steps around the stage, clasping her hands together, never letting go. Her body appeared both in and out of control, reflecting how it feels during times of not knowing what to do or where to turn. Similarly, Faulkner’s use of the breath reminds us of how we experience the unexpected as felt surprises. In another diagonal movement, the four dancers move backwards, holding the breath and slowing down as if caught by something. This kind of repetition is also reflective of practice - if we keep doing the same thing again and again can we gain new knowledge or perspective? Can we change? Will something else change? Divining included many of these repeating moments that played with the multiple sensibilities of being human or other than human. All four dancers scampered across the stage in crab walks that ended up with ears to the ground, slowly moving - suffering? searching? waiting?
Photo: Stephen Texeira
As Divining came to an end, stillness returned and with it a single note. Hsu slowly goes to each dancer, looking for a way to connect. She finally does - her hand to an elbow. As this sweet moment evolves, Hsu doesn’t let go. Can an elbow be enough? Following this question, Hsu, Carrington, and MacArthur witness, along with the audience, Sagisi's bursts of laughter evolving into an overwhelming display of how an emotion, like joy, which is not singular but multifarious. Taken to the edge of uncomfortableness, this section leads into the last tableau with all four dancers leaning back on their forearms, staring up at the sky with expressions of wonder. This last scene offers hope. Hope that our bodies, for all of their faults and fits, know something about being in the world. Faulkner’s faith in the body’s resilience offers a way of seeing the future not as an object, but as a process of discovery.
The work on display in Divining - choreography, lights, music, dancing - raises important questions about how we we face the future and offers hope in the form of moving, breathing, and wondering bodies. We are definitely not alone - all we have to do is find a welcoming elbow, look up at the sky, or just breathe.
Michelle LaVigne is a dancer, writer, and teacher. Currently she teaches rhetoric at the University of San Francisco. Her writing/research focuses on the intersections of dance, rhetoric, and performance. Michelle is interested in how practices of rhetoric might be rethought from the movements of dance and choreographic praxis. Her current project on The Nutcracker explores what its multiple repetitions over time say about the cultural present and contemporary ballet. Michelle often presents at national and international conferences and has published reviews in the Quarterly Journal of Speech, Text and Performance Quarterly, Theater & Drama Review, and Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism. She was also a guest writer for the ODC Theater Writer in Residence Blog, Triple Dog Dare, in 2014 and 2016. Since 2018 she has been a guest scholar with San Francisco Ballet. She blogs about dance in San Francisco at sfdancematters.
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Related posts:
One Good Quote: Katie Faulkner's Divining
Artist Profile #1: Katie Faulkner
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One Good Quote: The most moving scene for me was the laughing portion. The main dancer displayed so much emotion that it was easily a standout in comparison to the other parts of the piece which seemed much more one note.
Posted by: Kyara | 02/20/2019 at 09:36 PM