Mark Haim contains multitudes in "Parts to a Sum" photo by Jim Coleman |
I didn’t plan to write about Mark
Haim’s new solo “Parts to a Sum,” at Seattle’s Velocity Dance Center.
After all, I am one of more than
350 people who answered Haim’s invitation to submit very short videos of ourselves in
motion. His idea was to learn portions of all of these movements, and compile
them into an evening length piece. I'd seen pieces of the work in progress, and when I went to Velocity on Saturday evening, I left my notebook in my backpack. To write about this solo felt like it would be some kind of conflict of interest. But midway through the first section, my mind started
to swirl and I itched to have my pen and notebook at hand. The solo is divided into three sections; when the first break arrived, I dug out pen and paper.
Walt Whitman's line "I contain multitudes" had popped into my head as I watched Haim. In his epic poem “Song of Myself,” Whitman wrote “do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict
myself; I am large, I contain multitudes.” Whitman was celebrating his humanity: flawed, contradictory, imperfect. Haim picks up that celebration and expands on it; "Parts to a sum" is a celebration not just of our humanity, but of our connections to one another. It's a celebration of our collective existence.
On its surface, the movements in “Parts
to a sum” don’t awe, or even seem particularly fresh (although watching Haim
flap his arms like an excited toddler, you get a new perspective on joy.) It’s in the way Haim has layered person after person’s submissions, his decision to
submerge his own personality in order to shine a light on hundreds of others, where the
power lies in this solo. It is selfless in a way that I think only somebody with life experience can be; Haim isn't out to strut in his own movements; he's here to honor all of us.
Mark Haim in "Parts to a Sum" photo by Jim Coleman |
Part one is performed mostly in
silence, or to a very faint soundscape with birdsong, chimes and the occasion
wisp of a melody. The sounds evoke sense memories, the way the aroma from Proust’s
legendary madeleine ignited a masterwork. The power is in its quietness.
For the second section, Haim has
created a soundtrack that mashes up popular songs much the way he’s mashing up
our movements. The tunes are tantalizingly familiar, and just as we start to tap our toes, the music crashes against the next song in a John Cage-ian way. The impact is powerful indeed,
a wonderful echo of the way he’s woven our movements together.
The final part of this solo uses
Beethoven as an aural backdrop; for me this might have been the only misstep of
the evening; Beethoven’s grandiosity, which I normally love, threatened to rend
the tender garment that Haim was weaving.
Mark Haim leaps with joy in "Parts to a Sum" photo by Jim Coleman |
In the program, Haim writes that
he was inspired to make this work in response to the political climate, as a
conscious choice to count his blessings and acknowledge his own happiness. In that acknowledgement, what he’s created is more than a tapestry of movement and sound; he’s woven a quilt of our shared
humanity, an ode to our interdependence on the planet, a love song to us all.
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