Merce Cunningham Dance Company
“CRWDSPCR”, “Second Hand”, “eyeSpace”
Harman Hall, Washington, DC
March 27, 2008
by George Jackson
copyright 2008 by George Jackson
“Second Hand”, Merce Cunningham’s 1970 dance, was revived tonight. Its title is evocative. Old objects and already used items come to mind. Once the John Cage piano score starts, one wonders whether “Second Hand” isn’t a musical reference - might one hand suffice to play the seemingly simple note progressions? Cage himself, however, was known to have performed the composition using both his left and right hands. First on stage in the cast of ten dancers, and quite alone during Part 1 of “Second Hand”, was Robert Swinston. Concentrating on placement and balance as he maneuvered carefully and slowly, Swinston looked senior. This opening section isn’t short and the dancer’s stamina was admirable as he strove to be clean and precise in Cunningham’s version of anatomy-lesson choreography. Yet, Swinston also appeared vulnerable and a little lonely, immersed as he was in movement that dissects and in lighting that exposes. This role intentionally seems to be about the effects of time on the body and the “Second Hand” title could well refer to the dance’s leading character who is neither young nor inexperienced but is very human.
A woman joins Swinston for Part 2 of “Second Hand”. She, Holley Farmer, was vital. Her dancing surged and flowed. Cunningham has even given the woman’s role climax steps – a full arabesque, a total arch and not his deflected, segmented sorts. If Swinston represents age, then Farmer stands for youth – but is this particular young woman truly present or someone remembered as in a dream? Farmer made the part seem very real!
The other eight dancers enter for Part 3 of “Second Hand”. At first they move slowly, haltingly, heavily. Perhaps they aren’t real but represent gradually returning memories. Yet, once fully established on stage, they behave as young people do. Swinston is the sole senior. He interacts with others and joins the group, but not for long. Ultimately he is an outsider and remains so. When he strikes a Buddha pose, is he accepting his status? At the end, the Outsider’s body breaks and seems to fragment as it falls to the ground.
Four decades ago when “Second Hand” was new, Cunningham was ruminating creatively about the age gap that had opened between him and his company. If I remember correctly, “Second Hand” wasn’t the only dance in which he explored the theme. Today though, “Second Hand” seems less objective than it did in 1970. Would other works that dealt with the passage of time such as Antony Tudor’s “Shadowplay” or Leonide Massine’s “Harold in Italy”, if revived, also emerge with a patina of sentimentality? Nostalgic now or not, “Second Hand” has gorgeous passages, especially in its middle section, the duet.
The program’s opener “CRWDSPCR” and closer “eyeSpace” weren’t quite bookends. In the opener, Mark Lancaster’s blue backcloth gave a refreshing spaciousness to the games Cunningham plays with his dancers’ disciplined bodies. They are sturdy modern dance bodies for the most part by today’s standards, even when the Cunningham technique is at its most balletic. In the closer, Henry Samelson’s multicolored notations for the stagespace and dancewear complemented Cunningham’s articulations – such as the lively duet for Daniel Squire and Julie Cunningham with its arms-hands conversation that concludes the piece. The sound in both the opening and closing work is more independent of and separable from the choreography than is the stage design.
Merce Cunningham used to take his curtain calls like the Martha Graham dancer he had once been, bowing from the pelvis, not the belt line, and doing so with weight and ceremony. At the end of this performance he was wheeled on stage, into the assembly of his dancers. Sitting there, looking comfortable, he responded to the applause, bravos and standing up of the audience with a huge smile.