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Flash Review 2, 1-8:
Screen Test
Cathy Weis's Slam-Dunk
By Terry Hollis
Copyright 2001 Terry Hollis
Cathy Weis is ready for
her close-up and you better be too. Sunset Boulevard notwithstanding,
the affect of seeing yourself on screen can be pretty damn incredible
and the affect it has on the folks watching better still. It makes
you untouchable and condenses everything into one neat little package
that can be carried around, distorted or repeated over and over
again. In the hands of this Bessie Award-winning artist the screen's
images or their intentions are not so tidy. "Show Me," seen Friday
at The Kitchen, combines live performers with Ms. Weis's wacky world,
shrunk to fit the screen, but it also drags you in with it. Soon,
techno-reality blends right in with the proceedings. As Ms. Weiss
sits, taunting the audience, above a carnival dunking booth filled
with virtual sharks, it becomes clear that the predators are a nasty
metaphor for society. Soon the audience warms up, and more and more
volunteers try to knock her in. We know the sharks aren't real but,
well, we just can't help it....
You never know just where
the lines of "Dunkin' Booth" are drawn. The piece is already in
progress as we walk into the theater (when did it start?). As Ms.
Weis informs us with a wink and a nod, "You know how to play this
game," volunteers pay one dollar for the chance to feed her to the
sharks. Zane Frazer and Scott Heron form an unlikely pair of accomplices
and keep the atmosphere deceptively light while the constant up/down
of the house lights make the whole thing a little disorienting.
When someone does get lucky and hits the bullseye, Ms. Weis lets
out a wail as the larger screen in the rear shows her swimming under
water (no sharks this time). It's great to see the sequence repeat
over and over because, like life, the clowns come out and get the
room going and before you know it, Bam! You're dunked! It was hard
for me not to get up and take a shot myself, but then again, the
reviewer throwing objects at the artist is probably one metaphor
too many.
"Face to Face" should
be subtitled "Nowhere to hide." Performing in almost unbearable
silence, Jennifer Monson confronts the image of herself and is alternately
captivated and rebellious. She begins at the corner of the stage
in almost complete darkness while a monitor upstage casts the only
light on the back wall. Ms. Monson's movements are detailed and
sinuous as she makes her way towards the monitor and become more
energized and even violent the closer she gets. The tone changes
when Ms. Monson is directly in front of the screen; she seems to
be fascinated and unable to tear herself away. At one point she
waves her hand frantically just outside of the light, begging to
be let out of the grip. When she finally does break free she executes
an incredible series of violent crashes into the floor and rips
into her dancing as if it's the only thing that can keep her from
going back. Eventually she becomes at home in front of the camera
and even cradles the monitor itself while the light sinks down into
her stomach. In the hands of a novice this moment could end up as
gooey sentimentality, but Ms. Monson makes her passion very functional
and it's obvious that she really needs to do this. The distorted
image of her face on the back screen makes it impossible to write
her off as "everywoman"; her body may be an anonymous shape but
every line and feature lets you know she's flesh and blood.
The interesting thing
about "A Bad Spot Hurts Like Mad" is that you have two people who
are clearly concerned with each other, obsessed even, but never
manage to connect on-stage. Mr. Heron and Ms. Weis are possibly
lovers divided by time or some other obstacle who seem to be making
their way back to each other. Using small round discs, they project
images of themselves while the real thing remains just out of reach.
As Mr. Heron talks of the 1930s and his times with Ms. Weis, she
remains in the back and constantly adjusts the size and shape of
her projections. They do come together at times; while one pushes
a projector on a very cool cart (created by Janet Clancy), the other
holds a disc that reflects an image. If we could see them acknowledge
each other's presence on-stage we might get a sense of what that
connection was and understand the urgency to get it back. The wonderfully
creepy lighting was provided by David Herrigel.
I love cartoons, especially
the simply drawn, boxy figures used in "Not So Fast Kid." Even more
fun was the way Ms. Weis limited the movements of her performers
to complement the animation. Using a live Internet feed from Skopje,
Macedonia the piece includes virtual, live and animated performers
that create three sets of families. Jovica Mihajlovski begins by
explaining the piece to the audience, with Ms. Weis as his interpreter.
The only problem is he is speaking in accented English and she still
takes liberties with his meaning. This theme is carried on throughout
the piece. Patricia Hoffbauer, Ms. Frazer, Erin Cornell, and Ishmael
Houston-Jones carry out their peculiarities as do the "Internet"
family and those great cartoons. But each one gets more and more
distorted. Though the piece doesn't stick to a linear path, comparing
the three groups keeps you occupied. Ms. Weis works in some nice
movement, including an opening solo for Ms. Cornell and a beautifully
danced solo for Ms. Hoffbauer. The overall effect is like a post-modern
tennis match that has your attention bouncing from place to place.
Artists are constantly
trying to condense meaning into a digestible package and video definitely
helps with that. Cathy Weis shows us without a doubt that meanings
can get larger while the pictures get smaller.
"Show Me" continues at
The Kitchen January 9 to 13 at 8 p.m. For more information, please
visit The Kitchen web site.
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