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A Thing of Beauty

I can only imagine the challenge it might be for a creator to approach the cavernous 55,000 square foot drill hall of Park Avenue Armory in its raw state. The volume of the place is staggering—in its footprint and in the airspace overhead. Certain memorable solutions include artist Ann Hamilton’s kinetic sculpture of white silk and giant swings in 2012. In 2022, Bill T. Jones flooded the drill hall with a mirage of the ocean and recited from Moby Dick, with a cast of ninety. For his turn, choreographer Kyle Abraham effectively halves the playing field and creates a structure that more resembles a traditional theater: front facing, wings to frame the stage, a loft for musicians, who perform live. It seems a missed opportunity.

Performance

“Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful,” directed and choreographed by Kyle Abraham

Place

Park Avenue Armory Wade Thompson Drill Hall, New York City, NY, December 5, 2024

Words

Karen Hildebrand

Kyle Abraham's “Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful” at Park Avenue Armory. Photograph by Stephanie Berger

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As the audience files in, the first view of the stage is eye-popping. Floor and rear wall are covered with the vividly colored projection of dense, sun dappled vegetation. The leaves shimmer and we can hear the sound of children’s voices. In “Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful” Abraham ponders a changing world and his place in it, addressing themes of aging and transition. The production, commissioned by the Park Avenue Armory with support by Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels, is a pleasing blend of visual environment designed by Cao Yuxi (JAMES), live music composed and performed by the chamber group, yMusic, and a movement score to which Abraham brings an expanded A.I.M. company of seventeen dance artists, including himself.

The work opens with Abraham alone onstage, jogging in a loop with a wide grin on his face. As his rounds repeat, the smile fades and he begins to stumble and pant. At one point, he stops to look around—is he lost? He exits the stage and a pair of dancers replace him, working together in a loose unison. More entrances accumulate, and soon the full community is engaged in a series of patterns as they move on and off-stage. They’re dancing in a field of leaves that gradually changes colors, subtly shifting the mood. At one point, the leaves turn a shade of white that blends with the performers’ pant legs, making it seem their feet are immersed in snow. 

Kyle Abraham in “Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful” at Park Avenue Armory. Photograph by Stephanie Berger

The way Abraham interweaves brief solos and small group moments is one of the strengths of this work. Their dancing is like breathing. The movement vocabulary is simple, yet sweeping and powerful: lots of one-legged balances—arabesques that turn inward, guided by bold, extended arms. A section of low swooping lunges is a nice surprise. There are lovely yet mostly fleeting moments that focus on each of the dancers: Stephanie Terasaki twists her limbs with the delicacy of a sweet pea tendril while the music sounds like birds in the woods, chirping and tweeting; the balletic Donovan Reed is memorable, as is Catherine Kirk, who has danced with Abraham for eleven years. When Kirk, Faith Mondesire, Tamisha Guy, and Amari Frazier form a cluster, they look like a bud opening into bloom. The most powerful moments are reserved for the entire ensemble, such as when the group is tossed like leaves in the wind from one side of the stage to the other, and again when the dancers all slump to the floor and lie on their sides.

Donovan Reed and Stephanie Terasaki in “Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful” at Park Avenue Armory. Photograph by Stephanie Berger

Abraham pops up now and then from in the middle of the activity. He’s a dancer of distinctive presence, yet here, he recedes as if trying to find his way amidst the swirl around him. Looking out of step, he’s that student in dance class who can’t quite pick up the combination. Near the end, he takes a solo inflected with hip hop: his shoulders twitch as he limps and waves his arms like an old man chastising a group of unruly kids.

As per its title, the production is quite beautiful. But Abraham says nothing new about his subject: aging in a culture that values youth. Where it might shake us by the shoulders, his choreography lulls us gently. An artist with his impressive credentials (a MacArthur fellowship and various high profile commissions), along with the provocation of this particular venue, sets up a high expectation. Beautiful is not quite enough. 

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.

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