In the Flow with Vangeline

For the final event of Lincoln Center’s Summer for the City outdoor Dance Encounters series, Butoh artist Vangeline performed the newly commissioned work “Naiad Metal” in the Paul Milstein Reflecting Pool at Hearst Plaza. Dressed as a mythical water goddess in a golden gown of pleated crepe tiers finished with a dazzling, gold-sequined stole and holding a gleaming gold metal mask in her hand (all designed by Machine Dazzle), Vangeline walked into the water. Taking her place in the center of the pool between the massive, bronze Henry Moore “Reclining Figure” and 900 candelabras (golden, reed-like projections), she faced away from where most of the audience was situated and donned her metal face. According to Merriam-Webster, a Naiad is “any of the nymphs in classical mythology living in and giving life to lakes, rivers, springs, and fountains.” The Encyclopedia Britannica further clarifies that the word is derived from the Greek naiein, “to flow.” She is a nymph of flowing, fresh water.

Performance

“Naiad Metal” by Vangeline

Place

Paul Milstein Reflecting Pool, Hearst Plaza, Lincoln Center, New York, NY, August 2026

Words

Karen Greenspan

Vangeline in “Naiad Metal.” Photograph by Michael Blase

As the solemn marching pulse of the second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 swelled with largeness and emotion, Vangeline slowly rotated her upper torso to face the audience and then rotated back. She became a Greek sculpture—seen in profile, then in three quarter view, full frontal, and then the reverse—like the phases of the moon. That was the sum of her movement for those nine minutes. But in that time, Vangeline had slowed her own breathing and internal processes to enter a state of deep concentration, and in doing so, we in the audience slowed down with her and shifted into Butoh time.

To the sounds of birdsong, “The Blue Danube” waltz, helicopter oscillations, and electronic sound composed by Michael Shannon, Vangeline again locked our attention as she gradually raised her arms sidewards and then fully overhead. She appeared like a scaly water creature arisen from the deep as the ends of her draped stole emerged from the water. Her hands, hidden inside the glistening fabric, began to flick as they moved toward her face. Removing the golden mask, she released it to the water.

Vangeline in “Naiad Metal.” Photograph by Michael Blase

As the pensive arpeggios of the first movement of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” rolled through the soundscape, Vangeline freed her arms from their sequined covering, stretching her bare arms with beneficence over her watery dominion. (It should be noted that Vangeline decided on these sound selections specifically for their entrainment effect—a mechanism by which the brain naturally synchronizes with certain sounds and frequencies inducing brainwave states such as deep relaxation and receptivity.) She softly traced one hand along the skin of the other arm settling it at her heart—a deeply human gesture in stark contrast to her initial, metal-masked presentation.

Vangeline slowly inclined her body downward toward the water as if magnetized by the beckoning depths. Surrendering completely to its liquid comfort, she lay back to float. Only her powdery Butoh-white face, hands, and a puddle of gold fabric remained visible against the calm, black surface.

With no apparent effort, Vangeline leaned forward to stand, unfurling her body from the water. She raised one arm skyward and then brought it down with an undulating ripple before turning to the audience to bow.

Vangeline in “Naiad Metal.” Photograph by Michael Blase

As I walked to the pool’s edge to get a closer glimpse of the mask still floating in the water, I noticed how my own energy and pacing had shifted into Butoh time. Watching Vangeline’s one-hour Butoh solo in the water, I had been drawn into her movement, energy, and experience because of its extreme slowness and unpredictability. We have known for some time from scientific studies that mirror neurons can be activated in a person who is observing another person performing a movement—the same neurons that are activated in the one who is doing the moving. These mirror neurons afford an internal simulation of another person's physical and even emotional state that then cascades outward when more people are involved. “Neural synchrony” is the alignment of brainwave activity between individuals during communication or shared experiences. Vangeline’s art and artistry drew us all, whether by the reflecting pool attending intentionally or casually, to dissolve ourselves and attune to another’s timing and experience.

Karen Greenspan

Karen Greenspan is a New York City-based dance journalist and frequent contributor to Natural History Magazine, Dance Tabs, Ballet Review, and Tricycle among other publications. She is also the author of Footfalls from the Land of Happiness: A Journey into the Dances of Bhutan, published in 2019.

comments

Nom

Courriel

Commentaire

Ce site est protégé par hCaptcha, et la Politique de confidentialité et les Conditions de service de hCaptcha s’appliquent.

Veuillez noter que les commentaires doivent être approvés avant d'être affichés

Featured

REVIEWS | Gracia Haby

In Orbit

To travel around, like the Earth in its recurrent, elliptical revolution around the sun, is no mean feat. Touring is a complicated, lengthy and costly affair.

Plus

REVIEWS | Anna Eastman

Myth Meets Grit

“Specky Clark” opens with a bang, then a whimper. The bang is the titular Specky’s mother, dropping dead onto the kitchen floor.

Plus

REVIEWS | Karen Greenspan

Bending the Process

The sought-after choreographer Aszure Barton and award-winning composer Ambrose Akinmusire bend their individual arcs toward one another in their collaborative, multi-disciplinary work titled “A a | a B : Bend,” presented as part of Lincoln Center’s Pasculano Collaborative for Contemporary Dance.

Plus

REVIEWS | Cecilia Whalen

Dreamscapes

There's a wonderful collection of photographs from 1911 of Nijinsky taken by Auguste Bert. Nijinsky was 21 and at the peak of his dance career.

Plus