The carousel is a powerful metaphor. At first, I see it as a bird cage, trapping an animal. But as the evening progresses, this changes. Sometimes it’s a disco platform, elevated to show off the animal; sometimes a cage fight for competitive wrestlers—or a detainment cage for migrants awaiting deportation. 

When the duet with Wilmore ends, Okpokwasili leaves the cage, and takes up a position as a walker outside the structure. Inside, Wilmore performs solo until another dancer enters the cage to engage in a duet. It’s a seamless loop the performance will repeat for the duration, each dancer rotating through the cage in duet, then solo, another duet, then taking a turn walking the structure round and round. A full cycle takes roughly half an hour. Okpokwasili is the only performer to not repeat her turn inside the cage. She never takes a break from circling the carousel for the duration of the show, walking as pilgrimage. 

At one point she and Bria Bacon begin vocalizing as they pace. Starting softly, it builds to to a melodic wail, while inside, Kris Lee’s solo stutters and staggers in repetitive movements and angular twisting. When Bacon enters the cage, their duet picks up in pace. They counterbalance in a kind of wrestling hold that ends with the two holding each other in a long, still embrace. After Lee exits, Bacon collapses in a heap, her back quivering as if she’s weeping. 

A program note describes “my tongue is a blade” as, “Five per­form­ers com­mit to remem­ber­ing one anoth­er, hold­ing one anoth­er, bear­ing one anoth­er, and sus­tain­ing the world that con­tains them.” Watching, I begin to see that the dance segments, particularly the duets, which first looked improvised, are actually highly structured. Each pair brings its own chemistry to the dance, yet there are markers that repeat in every version. The interlocking chin struggle, for instance, recurs, developing into a chest to chest wide legged stance with flexed knees and bouncing side to side, a kind of mambo. 

Their energy captivates. The space restriction creates a vibrational tension. The performers can’t jump or leap. Their contained energy is held under pressure—like a bottle of champagne. Also, the focus is very interior. The movement is instinctual, intuitive, rather than outwardly performative. The champagne remains corked. 

My favorite duet pairing happens when dancer Ny Opong joins Bacon in the cage. Their footwork is quick as the two shiver side by side. They strike a series of positions while entwined on the ground with their heads touching. The sound score here becomes hypnotic and the carousel speeds up. The articulation of Bacon’s back as she twitches is quite a beautiful thing to watch. Opong’s solo has a sleek capoeira quality as they squat, swaying between one knee on the ground, the other in standing.

At dusk, the cage transforms into a glowing jewelry box illuminated by an overhead light within. The lower the sun goes, the more spiritual the performances seem. Luxurious, meditative, moody. The silence of motion within the cage contrasts with the vibrant music outside. Suddenly, it’s 8:45pm, and I’m surprised how quickly time has passed. Three dancers now join Okpokwasili in walking the perimeter, while Lee, alone inside, gestures as if she’s talking to herself. It’s a tough conversation. She exits the cage, leaving it empty for the first time all evening. One by one the walkers spin off, leaving Okpokwasili alone to run, pushing the carousel into a fast spin, then letting go. The mirrors flash with light from the surrounding street lights. The dancers disappear, carousel comes to rest, music plays on. There’s no bow. We’re left to a stunning summer evening, sunset glowing under a crescent moon. Eventually, we wander off to find our way back to the ferry.