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| Mikhail Calliste, front right, Michele Dooley and Nia-Amina Minor rear photo @ Brian Smale, courtesy Spectrum Dance Theater |
To witness, according to the
Merriam Webster dictionary, is to attest to a fact or an event. A witness is
somebody who is present and able to testify that an event truly happened.
In this sense, the audience for
Donald Byrd’s latest piece, “Strange Fruit,” were all witnesses to a haunting work intended to portray the emotional truth and impact of lynching on
American culture. The piece, which premiered April 25-28 at Seattle’s
Washington Hall, was simultaneously a hideous evocation of the brutality wreaked
on African Americans, and an ode to the human spirit.
The first thing audiences were confronted by was the set: a large tree trunk dominated the rear of the
performance area; flat video monitors hung from its “branches,” comprised of a
web of rounded metal poles suspended from the ceiling. The videos alternated between images of mob violence, fire, bright white static, and portraits of the
three main soloists in this performance. Mikhail Calliste and Michele Dooley
portray a man and woman who are pursued relentlessly by a vicious mob;
Nia-Amina Minor appears as a character who is part healer, part spirit. She
joins the audience as a witness to the brutality and ultimate deaths of the
pursued couple.
Again and again, Calliste and
Dooley struggle unsuccessfully to escape the mob; they are smashed down, raped
and beaten. Each time they appear to be defeated, they summon the strength to
rise up one more time. Minor comes to their aid, lifting them up when their determination falters. Ultimately,
she guides them to peace when their strength and determination aren't enough to
save them.
Minor, Calliste and Dooley are
remarkable in “Strange Fruit,” and not only in their execution of the demanding
choreography Byrd has created for them. Their faces convey as much as their
movements: their pain, their effort, their sheer will simply to live their lives.
These three faces are
particularly striking because the rest of the cast is faceless, their entire
heads shrouded in light-colored fabric hoods. Most often this hooded group moves
across the stage in unison. They are beautiful and terrifying in their lockstep
uniformity and their violent attacks against the couple.
Sound designer Robertson Witmer
has created a potent and effective backdrop of field recordings, spirituals, nature sounds, and
agonizing screams--re-creations of the “rebel yells” Confederate soldiers
unleashed more than 100 years ago. Lighting designer Sara Torres conjures a world that is dark and murky.
“Strange Fruit” was inspired by a
visit Byrd paid to the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Alabama, a
monument to thousands of African American people who have been lynched in this
country. He says he was driven to present this history to audiences who
may never have encountered it before.
Byrd has spent almost half a
century creating dance and dance/theater; many of his works focus specifically
on race, social justice, and contemporary politics. He is an
artist, but also an active witness-someone who not only creates dance, but uses
his work to shine a light on particular truths that some people may prefer not
to acknowledge.
Byrd’s “Strange Fruit” stands
among the best of such creations.
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| Spectrum Dance Theater company members in a scene from Donald Byrd's "Strange Fruit" photo @ Brian Smale, courtesy Spectrum |
Not only is it powerful and
thought-provoking; it’s nuanced and delicate. Byrd juxtaposes strong,
stage-grabbing movements: Calliste and Dooley’s juddering heads, their wild,
ferocious leaps across the stage; with quieter, contemplative moments: Minor seems to glide
across the floor; when Calliste and Dooley are beaten down, she nudges their
bodies to rise up and move forward. These quiet movements give
audiences opportunities to reflect on what we’re witnessing, in ways that might
not be available in a work without those tonal and tempo juxtapositions.
“Strange Fruit” was the
culmination of Spectrum Dance Theater’s 3-week long Wokeness Festival. Byrd and
his company presented dance and convened conversations, all focused on race,
racism and social justice in our culture. The art worshipper in me can’t
help but think that a work like “Strange Fruit” succeeds in going where all the
talking and workshops in the world can’t; it allows us to witness the violence and terror unleashed on African Americans. And it reminds us in a very visceral way of the small beauties we can bestow on one another.
