Even before “Black Hole: Trilogy and Triathlon” kicks off, it’s still in motion. As you sit in New York Live Arts, you might spot a bumpy mound on the floor of the dark stage. The points of light hitting this blob rotate and swell, so it appears alive. Is there something in there?
Yes, it turns out. As if from a cocoon, a body protrudes first from the canvas – Shamel Pitts, the choreographer of this Afrofuturist, had its New York premiere on Thursday. Two other agencies followed: Tushrik Fredericks and Marcella Lewis, members of Tribe, the multidisciplinary artist collective that Pitts directs.
These bodies are assimilated and created. These are dancers of strong presence and control. As if evolving, they slide, then crawl and corner, then stand and run. Progress is slow and collective. The three hinge bodies are usually linked, stacked, and interlocked. They stopped together and looked up at the light, out into space, as people in sci-fi movies do.
That light, video showing by Lucca Del Carlo, is the moon. You may feel as if you are watching through night vision goggles. Sci-fi soundtrack, by Sivan Jacobovitz with editing by Zen Jefferson, hints at the humming and rumbling of a spaceship with a choir (snippets from John Tavener’s “Funeral”) blaring from the surrounding system – until the thump turns into one beat, one beat. That was the birth of the club.
At this point, lights were swirling like aurora borealis and naked dancers were waving in the air as if they didn’t care. A supernova causes them to spin together like on a teacup and then out of each other’s orbits. Isolated, each with a different color (red, blue, green), they move alone. Nina Simone’s hopeful radio fragments pierce – “new dawn”, “new day” – but the dancers face down, hand to hand.
In the end, they came together in a series of sculptural hugs, huddled in space and the cold of the universe but also cleverly arranged for a fashion shoot. The hour-long work, the final installment in a trilogy with “Black Box” and “Black Velvet,” has a strange and sincere style, cool and gentle polish. Always visually impressive, never dull. But it happens at a distance.
When all three get into the cocoon is not over yet. With the canvas as a cloak or cloak, they become other synthetic creatures. Lewis, losing the others, for a moment looked like the prey of a spaceship. The star-shaped points of light appear to be sucked into the center of the back wall, the black hole where the three stand embracing each other. That’s where we lose them in the dark.
Shamel Pitts | Tribe
Come Saturday at New York Live Arts; newyorklivearts.org.
