Pageant itself is a sort of liminal space. It’s located two floors above a beauty supply store in East Williamsburg and, from the outside, it's so unassuming it’s hidden. Inside, it’s just a room, longer than it is wide, with some interesting angles made by both walls and curtains in order to accommodate its entryway and makeshift wings. It’s a transient space, animated by the dance that fills it—and it’s a space that has ostensibly been many other things before becoming Pageant.

As the piece continues, it hints at narrative—and certainly at relationships between the work’s distinct characters. Meneses and Russo’s duet is first usurped by Dasol Kim and Kelsey Saulnier, dressed in flowing chiffon gowns reminiscent of the attire of Greek goddesses. Then Leah Fournier, clad in a shiny black tracksuit, is joined by Stuart Singer in a simple black tank and bike shorts. 

When they’re not dancing, the dancers are observing. The gaze they place upon their fellow castmates is unnerving in its mix of intimacy and curiosity. It’s similar to the way I looked at “Time Piece” as a whole—it was both familiar and entirely new, like déjà vu.