Zendora
nature and nurture at Chen Dance Center
March 10, 2011
Nancy Zendora took Himalayan Art from the Rubin Museum as inspiration for her new Demons of Our Bewilderment. It premiered March 3-5, 2011 at Chen Dance Center. Marie Baker-Lee performed the solo, Part 1:The Spiral Universe, wrapping a smock-like cloak around her (by Sascha). It acts as an impetus for her descent into a whirlpool, the archetypal and fatal spiral. She draws imaginary forces around her with her finger and then ends on the floor, legs up in a position of least resistance, like an infant. This potentially unbecoming pose evokes elemental emotions; ultimately, "Spiral" traps us too in its indelible, compelling theater and the music of Jose Luis Greco.
In Part 2: Demons of Our Bewilderment Baker-Lee returns with Stephanie Schwartz and Dawn Yuster. The later two support in modern steps and butohesque open-mouthed expressions, making Baker-Lee’s conviction all the more evident. (She has worked with Zendora for twenty years.) Nevertheless, their six lyrical arms swimming in bell sleeves wonderfully evoke undersea life. They kneel low to the ground and sway in purplish, diaphanous dresses. Then, ending with fantastical land creatures Schwartz and Yuster convincingly crawl forward like a tandem pair of cats. Baker-Lee stands behind them, pointing a finger at us. Their phallic formation and the scolding is at once giddy and sobering. We have intermission to come to our senses.
otherworldly...
The three dancers look otherworldly, dressed in chiffon with small tassels for the next Landscape with Visitors. It invokes an alien community, to gongs and didgeridoo in Mike Fisher’s and Korean traditional music. They carry and drop pebbles; the kind used to mark visits to a grave. Baker-Lee leads, setting them on a circular path. They glide with the sound, which includes water. The silent suggestion is that we slow down and see them take the longest route to arrive. Finally, they sit at the side as Zendora enters about halfway through. She brings an element of delight when she solos in small circles in the center of a splash of gobo light dots, like a flower form. She wears a great headpiece (by Ralph Lee) with small white evenly-spaced diamond shapes that reiterate the lights. She moves with satisfying counterpoint and contrasts the others’ muted colors in black with one long red glove. Her hands are then puppets conversing with each other.
These ritualistic, atavistic dances invoke a curious combination of images. They match the musical phrases to a fault, but Zendora’s fluidity overcomes this. The highlights I've described do imagine otherworldly visitors — nature, ocean, animals, and the sacredness and vulnerability of life.
Zendora also cites Nazca rock carvings as inspiration. They are monumental incisions depicting animal life, drawn over many years. She is not alone among choreographers drawing with bodies in time and space. The carvings speak of permanence, and there is a steadfastness and obstinacy to the Zendora dances. This is especially so considering her 34 years choreographing over eighty dances inspired by Eastern and modern forms. It is one survival strategy for art amidst the distractions of urban contemporary life.