Well, actually, not many. At least none that I have yet bothered to explore in detail. But both the east and west 30s have been the locales of two recent performances which have left me feeling inspired, with a new take on both love and puppetry.
On Thursday I attended, or rather I participated in the organic experience of Dark Space at Chashama, a unique performance/store front gallery space located in midtown east. The piece, to put it simply, involved the transformation of a what appears to be a rather tired, drained woman into a giant caterpillar, concluding with her metamorphosis into a butterfly which manifests itself outside of the store, on a pedistrian-strewn midtown sidewalk. (The audience sits in the dark on the other side of the glass.) The premise sounds simple, and was heavily tinged with a feminist vibe (even the cast included all female puppeteers, and I swear the moth "puppet" looked like an ovary...) but the performance itself is not so transparent. The "audience," which is more of a roving crowd, spends time in individual rooms, each a piece of transformation, each a visual experience. My personal favorite was a "cocoon" of what appeared to be rubber and spandex, made to look like glistening larvae, with actors sporadically poking their heads through nylon covered gaps in the cocoon wall, stretching the material out towards the audience, all in rhythm with a dripping, echoing soundtrack. The show involved a type of puppetry that I was not quite used to; when Sophia told me "puppets," I was somehow expecting a forlorn Avenue-Q-type performance. Not quite. The puppetry involved was far too artistic, far too fluid, and there was only one stereotypical "puppet" (with a face and arms that is, looking quite like Yoda) leading the group through the Dark Space. Visually, it did border on mesmerizing, the visual work, the silk figures, the movement of wall paintings and window panels adorned in glass tapestry, the talents in those manipulating them.
Dark Space was created by puppeteer and performance artist KateBrehm, and was inspired by pieces from Roger Callois 1935 essay on insect mimicry.
To these dispossessed souls, space seems to be a devouring force. .. [She] tries to look at her self from any point whatever in space. [She] feels herself becoming space, dark space where things cannot be put.
Sophia sharing a moment, and space, with puppet Sanderson. Her interest in the manipulation of inanimate dolls and animals goes as far back as Dark Crystal.
Moving from the abstract to the somewhat more tangible, Friday's performance was The Torture of Love, which included a variety of performers--monolouges, music, a dancer--all working within the thematic boundaries of love, but not quite the sugary kind. It touched upon letter writing, the neurosis of Facebook, odd meetings of ex-lovers with the new, lesbianism and finger *&^%*ing. (Eventually, I will gather the confidence to curse.) The venue, Stage Left Studio in midtown west. Most importantly though, my own Colin Dempsey diverted from doing stand-up and performed two originals and one very obscure cover, receiving major applause. Click here for a sample of Mr. Dempsey's blues/folk/rock infusions.
Colin strumming, at home in Astoria.
Performances, thoroughly enjoyable. Otherwise? On Friday we were at a loss for a bar, and finally found an empty saloon with last call at midnight. So, unless you're for the theatre or friends (most likely who are involved in theatre), nothing beats downtown.
Photo credit:
Photo of Midtown Manhattan taken from www.midtownretail.com
