Nicholas Sciscione The energy outside of The Joyce Theater is often buzzing before a performance, but this time there was anticipation for the performance outside, scheduled to take place before the performance inside. But…there was also another pre-performance event happening inside—the anticipation was
fantastic. Go into the theatre and there, under the slightly raised curtain, lying corpse-like on his back with the bottoms of his feet painted gold, was Petronio in a black suit. Then look up, and on the other side, just above the audience is visual artist Janine Antoni as a “living set,” lying incredibly still in a helicopter stretcher, task light hanging from her left arm and a sculpture of body parts above her. Rush back outside because there is still more that hasn’t happened. Outside there are upwards of 30 members of The Young People’s Chorus of New York City dressed in all black singing their hearts out. They are then followed by musician Son Lux and his live ensemble (one holding a New Orleans style, second-line umbrella) who eventually parades the band and the singers into the theatre. Lux and his three-member band stop at the base of the stage, and the choir surrounds the audience, more members appear from seated posts inside the theatre, filling every possible open space—a coffin? Then, without a microphone, Lux begins to sing ever so softly “I wanna die like Lazarus did,” and swaying from side to side, the choir would
join in with “come out…come out…hallelujah.” Soon Petronio and the chorus slowly disappear, the band moves to the orchestra pit, but Antoni remains in her hanging post where she stays for the entire performance. When the curtain rises all the way, the dancers appear in all white, shifting forward and back from a straight line, and begins to explore the space one body part at a time: palms slowly opening to face the audience, a foot brushes up a leg, standing stoically on the balls of their feet, then they spin, curl, contract, or cut the air in controlled chaos. Sumptuous and supple shapes are matched by Petronio’s ode to resurrection when stiff bodies are passed over on onto another body, or when in staggered zombie-like movement the dancers are lugged, joint-by-joint deep into the floor; falling or being taken over by gravity. Standout performance was given by Davalois Fearon in a quartet with three men whom she commanded to assist in her every move as she is manipulated from one lift to another. To close, Nicholas Sciscione a stellar performer throughout, is alone on stage, and for this final movement, by way of languid and peaceful shapes that takes him to the floor, he dies, poetically. The other collaborators for this fantastic Petronio event were: Francisco Nunez , director of The Young People’s Chorus of New York City, costume designer H. Petal, lighting designer Ken Tabchnick, and the terrific dancers: Julian De Leon, Joshua Green, Gino Grenek, Barrington Hinds, Natalie Mackessy, Jaqlin Medlock, Emily Stone and Joshua Tuason.
fantastic. Go into the theatre and there, under the slightly raised curtain, lying corpse-like on his back with the bottoms of his feet painted gold, was Petronio in a black suit. Then look up, and on the other side, just above the audience is visual artist Janine Antoni as a “living set,” lying incredibly still in a helicopter stretcher, task light hanging from her left arm and a sculpture of body parts above her. Rush back outside because there is still more that hasn’t happened. Outside there are upwards of 30 members of The Young People’s Chorus of New York City dressed in all black singing their hearts out. They are then followed by musician Son Lux and his live ensemble (one holding a New Orleans style, second-line umbrella) who eventually parades the band and the singers into the theatre. Lux and his three-member band stop at the base of the stage, and the choir surrounds the audience, more members appear from seated posts inside the theatre, filling every possible open space—a coffin? Then, without a microphone, Lux begins to sing ever so softly “I wanna die like Lazarus did,” and swaying from side to side, the choir would
join in with “come out…come out…hallelujah.” Soon Petronio and the chorus slowly disappear, the band moves to the orchestra pit, but Antoni remains in her hanging post where she stays for the entire performance. When the curtain rises all the way, the dancers appear in all white, shifting forward and back from a straight line, and begins to explore the space one body part at a time: palms slowly opening to face the audience, a foot brushes up a leg, standing stoically on the balls of their feet, then they spin, curl, contract, or cut the air in controlled chaos. Sumptuous and supple shapes are matched by Petronio’s ode to resurrection when stiff bodies are passed over on onto another body, or when in staggered zombie-like movement the dancers are lugged, joint-by-joint deep into the floor; falling or being taken over by gravity. Standout performance was given by Davalois Fearon in a quartet with three men whom she commanded to assist in her every move as she is manipulated from one lift to another. To close, Nicholas Sciscione a stellar performer throughout, is alone on stage, and for this final movement, by way of languid and peaceful shapes that takes him to the floor, he dies, poetically. The other collaborators for this fantastic Petronio event were: Francisco Nunez , director of The Young People’s Chorus of New York City, costume designer H. Petal, lighting designer Ken Tabchnick, and the terrific dancers: Julian De Leon, Joshua Green, Gino Grenek, Barrington Hinds, Natalie Mackessy, Jaqlin Medlock, Emily Stone and Joshua Tuason.
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