Full-frontal nudity on a Friday night… Apprehensiveness would be an understatement to describe my feeling before viewing RoseAnn Spradlin’s “Beginning of Something.” However, keeping Wendy Oliver’s “Writing About Dance” in mind, I made a conscious effort to stay extremely open-minded; I was ready to witness something completely new and revolutionary, no matter how uncomfortable it would make me feel.
Walking into the dim performance space at New York Live Arts was an experience in itself. A beautiful curtain made of silver beads enclosed the elevated runway that served as a stage, and every single seat was in arm’s reach of the stage. From the moment the house doors opened to the moment the actual performance started, a naked woman sitting on the edge of the stage was strumming powerful notes on a bass guitar that strategically covered her body. The dance hadn’t even begun, but Spradlin had already succeeded in making her audience feel. The mood had officially been set and the quietness among the audience members spoke for itself – everyone was reverently waiting for the performance to start.
When the strummer put down her guitar and walked onto center stage, she put on glamorous shoulder and head pieces made of the same royal beads that the curtain behind her was made of. This was quite the image – a fully naked woman whose only clothes cover her hair and shoulders. Somehow, this was all she needed to make a striking statement of beauty. The dancer then started strutting up and down the stage with powerful footsteps – she seemed confident and vulnerable at the same time, which, in retrospect, was a recurring theme in the show. One by one, three more dancers joined the first one. However, they were all more dressed than she was and were all different shapes and sizes, which was a clear statement celebrating womanhood in its many forms.
The four dancers were eventually strutting along the stage in unison. Despite their minimal clothing, which would typically elicit vulnerability, all four women seemed to be putting up a front. As a female, I recognized that their confidence was made to look artificial just as far too many women in our society are too afraid to show their vulnerability to the world. This was also made apparent by the music choice for the show – the song “Don’t Make me Over” was performed live by the all-female small orchestra behind the stage. “Accept me for who I am, accept me for the things that I do” – there simply couldn’t have been a more poignant choice of lyrics as the background for four women undressing in front of an audience. It speaks so loudly for so many women whose main desire is to be accepted for who they are.
At different points of the show, the women were either walking in a uniform matter or doing their own elaborate spins and turns, which is symbolic of the difference between identity and individuality. Identity is simply who you are, while individuality is who you are in comparison to other people. The women definitely had both – they weren’t wearing clothes that would distinguish them from one another, yet each of them was distinct and special in her own way; I’m sure that not a single audience member had trouble telling the dancers apart. This theme of beauty in individuality was also made apparent by the props around the dancers – except for the shiny curtain, the only other props were mirrors in varying sizes and shapes all along the house walls. The choice of mirrors as a set is so very powerful: not only does it allow the dancers and the audience members to look at themselves and at others as exploration or self-evaluation, but it also correlates with the different shapes of the women. Just like none of the dancers had similar bodies to one another, none of the mirrors looked similar. Yet they were all beautiful.
The second part of the performance consisted of the four women stepping onto the stage in short evening dresses. The dresses all differed from one another while perfectly flattering their wearers. This could possibly be a statement about the fashion world: it doesn’t matter how fashionable or “in-style” clothes are, as long as they fit and bring out the uniqueness and powerfulness of their wearers. Ironically though, all four women seemed rather uneasy in their dresses. They looked striking, but they didn’t seem to feel so. This brought about the most emotional part of the performance, during which the dancers started fidgeting in a seizure-like manner, seeming to reject the clothes upon their backs. Making this moment even more powerful were the heart-wrenching screams and groans coming from the dancers. Raw pain was expressed, leaving not a single audience member unaffected. Distressing and enlightening at the same time, the women’s twitches resulted in them taking their clothes off. As soon as the clothes were off, the dancers seemed truly happy – possibly for the first time in the performance. They simply beamed as they proudly walked around the stage and looked their spectators in the eyes. “Accept me for who I am” finally applied – not only for the people around them, but more importantly for themselves. Their faces were bright with self-acceptance. Seeing the love these women felt for themselves and their bodies was nothing short of inspiring – we should all strive to be so pleased with who we are and how we look.
Leaving the performance space, countless thoughts were roaming through my head. “Beginning of something” was like nothing I have ever seen before. Saying that I fully enjoyed every moment of the show would be inaccurate, since enjoyment was not the purpose of this performance. It was all about intensity and raw emotions – Spradlin sought to make the audience feel uncomfortable and even fidgety at times because that is the most efficient way to bring about a message. As audience members, this powerful showcase of femininity is bound to stick with us since it made us feel. It doesn’t matter if such feelings are “good” or “bad”; if a choreographer moved your heart, she succeeded. It’s as simple as that.
RoseAnn Spradlin definitely succeeded in moving my heart. Her strong statements about the ever-changing definition of femininity, the constant struggle to be accepted as a real woman in today’s culture, the balance between who you are and who people think you are, and the pressure society places on women to look a certain way are extremely relevant. Every single female can relate to these dilemmas, which is why “Beginning of Something” might just be a beginning for some of us on the way to self-acceptance.
This response made me understand the performance better than watching it had. Sigal’s astute observations unveiled the true meaning of Spradlin’s work for me; or, rather, she put into words what I had only partially grasped. For example, her description of the space, from the beaded curtain to the mirrors, put into focus and reinforced every aspect of the evening in my memory, and her interpretation of the significance of the space–that the naked woman playing the bass was meant to make the audience feel before the performance even technically started, that the mirrors were all different yet beautiful, like the women’s bodies–simultaneously layered my recollection of the experience with clarity and an aura of mystique.
Essentially, this critique cuts through the haze. Sigal sees the heart of the matter and does not beat around the bush when she summarizes the performance or her thoughts on it. Much of my confusion about “beginning of something” was due to the fact that I am completely comfortable with the naked body. The fact that I do not put the same weight as many of my classmates on the taboo of nakedness translated, sadly, into a lack of understanding of the symbolism of the performance. Sigal’s fearless assessment of “beginning of something” made me understand the beautiful, philosophical work that RoseAnn Spradlin created.
Furthermore, I very much appreciate Sigal’s style of writing. She is direct in her approach to new ideas, yet her transitions are smooth; her pace is fast but I can understand every idea she puts forth in exactly the amount of time it takes me to read it; and her sincere appreciation of the work is evident in every line. Her conclusion, especially, is a powerful piece of writing that showcases her sophisticated understanding of “beginning of something.”