This site has limited support for your browser. We recommend switching to Edge, Chrome, Safari, or Firefox.

By the Water

On a sultry day like this, it might be easy to imagine we’re somewhere in the south, rather than the urban confines of Hearst Plaza, where a small group has gathered, curious about a free event. We’re not quite sure where to sit. There are café tables, a curving concrete slope that divides the space between a grove of plane trees and a very inviting reflecting pool. For now, we’re directed away from the chairs that face a small stage. As we settle in, some poetry comes through the sound system: “Gather with your folk, that is the medicine; Open your heart to the sky; Drop down, feel your essence, share your essence.” Then Lucianna Padmore takes her place behind a drumset, and Grace Galu Kalambay, picks up a guitar and begins to sing. “We got spells, spells or ways for hot flashes, for the worst cramps, for when you’re not yourself . . .”

Performance

Urban Bush Women: “Haint Blu/Episodic Chapters” by Chanon Judson & Mame Diarra Speis

Place

Hearst Plaza, Lincoln Center, New York, NY, July 28, 2024

Words

Karen Hildebrand

Urban Bush Women in “Haint Blu/Episodic Chapters” by Chanon Judson & Mame Diarra Speis. Photograph by Richard Termine

subscribe to the latest in dance


“Uncommonly intelligent, substantial coverage.”

Your weekly source for world-class dance reviews, interviews, articles, and more.

Already a paid subscriber? Login

Haint blu is a blue-green color painted on porches of southern communities to ward off bad spirits. It’s also the title for the newest work from Urban Bush Women, the Black women-led dance theater company celebrating its 40th anniversary in a week long residency at New York’s Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. “Haint Blu/Episodic Chapters” is my first look at the company since its MacArthur Award winning founder, Jawole Willa Jo Zollar, stepped aside and named longtime company members Chanon Judson & Mame Diarra Speis as her artistic successors. “Haint Blu” is their creation, made in collaboration with company members, Courtney J. Cook, Kentoria Earle, Roobi Gaskins, Keola Jones Symara Sarai, and Mikaila Ware.

As nearly a dozen performers lead a “migratory/participatory journey” through several locations on the plaza, the audience follows. Dressed in plaid, khaki, and denim, each performer has a story to tell in words, music, and dance. The movement is fierce and athletic. Beginning in the grove, they weave through trees, race in place while wildly waving their arms, lunge and squat, kicking up dust with their matching blue athletic shoes. My favorite location is the stage near the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, where the dancers have the space and proper flooring to really go for it. Notable solos here include Courtney J. Cook, riffing off the old Verizon phone ad as her lines, “Hello! Can you hear me, now?” grow increasingly urgent; and Roobi Gaskins, moving with fluid feline stealth in a capoeira laced spotlight. “We have arrived at the house,” narrates Kalambay from beneath a black Panama hat, “that activates the underwater railroad of all time.”

Urban Bush Women in “Haint Blu/Episodic Chapters” by Chanon Judson & Mame Diarra Speis. Photograph by Richard Termine

UBW’s longstanding commitment to community activism is part of this showing, which opens with an audience conversation around the topic of San Juan Hill, the once Afro Caribbean neighborhood now occupied by Lincoln Center. Though admirable in its intentions, I would have happily remained wholly immersed in the ancestral world of “Haint Blu.” The hour-long excerpt left me wanting more of the “recipes and remedies for Wholeness and Liberations,” promised in the program—and a whole lot more of the full out dancing on which UBW built its reputation. Early works like “Hair Stories” and “Batty Moves” that called attention to Black female bodies and experience changed the landscape of modern dance.

In the final section of “Haint Blu,” we spot the dancers at a distance. They’re clustered on the far side of the reflecting pool, draped in a kind of chain mail that resembles fish netting. They’ve left the fierce street dancer gang behind to become travelers of the underwater railroad. They slip into the water and slosh knee deep while Kalambay, who is the composer for “Haint Blu,” again takes up her guitar for a sultry song, irresistibly moving. The performers splash the water, making picturesque arcs of spray. Near the end, they sway their arms along the surface in unison, then lift them to the sky, wrists flexed as if making an offering.

Karen Hildebrand


Karen Hildebrand is former editorial director for Dance Magazine and served as editor in chief for Dance Teacher for a decade. An advocate for dance education, she was honored with the Dance Teacher Award in 2020. She follows in the tradition of dance writers who are also poets (Edwin Denby, Jack Anderson), with poetry published in many literary journals and in her book, Crossing Pleasure Avenue (Indolent Books). She holds an MFA from the Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College. Originally from Colorado, she lives in Brooklyn.

comments

Featured

In the Wake of Yes
REVIEWS | Karen Hildebrand

In the Wake of Yes

The title of Catherine Tharin’s latest production, “In the Wake of Yes,” is a reference to “Molly Bloom’s Soliloquy,” an inner monologue on womanhood and sexuality, from James Joyce’s Ulysses. Tharin matches the tone of this work as she picks up on an exuberant string of “yeses” from that text. Her witty series of dances explores romance and its complications. At the center of the show is a film by Lois Robertson that lifts the dancers out of the tiny East Village stage and transports them (and us) to scenes of contemporary New York City. Tharin, who danced with the...

Continue Reading
Character Act
REVIEWS | Rebecca Deczynski

Character Act

Through its newly opened program, “Other Dances,” Dutch National Ballet kicks off the summer with a slate of lighthearted fare that varies in precise approach but altogether evokes an effervescent mood.

Continue Reading
Requiem for Humanity
REVIEWS | Gracia Haby

Requiem for Humanity

Taking the historian’s long view, the message within “Last and First Men,” that “the whole duration of humanity, its evolution, and many successive species, is but a flash in the lifetime of the cosmos,” is, to me, ultimately a comfort.

Continue Reading
Good Subscription Agency