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With an expression of art as contemporary as modern dance, it is not always easy to draw exact meanings from a performance. A startled leap, a passionate embrace, the hurling of dolls across the stage--all of these motions could mean a number of things. Anger? Fear? Rebellion against society? A choreographer's intention can be difficult to decipher. With a company like Paula Josa-Jones/Performance Works, however, those intentions can be nearly impossible to grasp.
"Raving In Wind," presented in its Boston premiere, demonstrates the struggle Josa-Jones witnessed between two seabirds that each possessed a broken wing. Appearing unsatisfied with being tied to the ground, Josa-Jones seems to imitate the birds' exploration of movement and freedom despite their newfound limitations. The struggle is not only physical, however--heartbreaks and remorse from the past painfully weighed her down as she writhed and twisted across the stage throughout the performance.
"Wonderland" proved to be a bit harder to digest. Set in a futuristic world where reality and imagination are blurred, this piece sent out several mixed, but still fascinating, messages. At one point, the dancers, clad in shabby and torn leotards, appeared to be fighting against becoming machines and trying desperately to retain their humaness. At another point, two dancers clung to each other in a dramatic revelation of love, while animalistic squaks and growls played over the loudspeakers.
But perhaps one of the evening's most perplexing scenes arose when one dancer, supposedly half-human and half-machine, burst into tirade of babbling, screaming and singing. Most members of the audience made no attempts to hide their amusement, and laugher rang out. One tends to wonder whether one should have joined in the guffawing, or simply watched, shocked and disgusted that some people can not properly appreciate true art.
Once the performances were over, the audience burst into applause, cheers and even a few whistles. Obviously, everyone was impressed. But with what, exactly? Surely not everyone sitting in the theater had fully grasped exactly what Josa-Jones was trying to declare. With such unusual costumes, eccentric music and unconventional movements, the essential message being sent out in "Wonderland" was extremely difficult to find.
For all their lack of clarity, though, Josa-Jones' latest performances of "Wonderland" and "Raving In Wind" still proved to be wonders in and of themselves. The dancers' costumes, while simple and drab-colored, served to emphasize the complicated and stunning movements all the more. The set itself appeared disturbing in some scenes, but was always striking.
The greatest share of credit, however, must be given to the lighting crew. From the soft blues that hovered behind the umbrellas-in-the-rain ballet to the glaring reds that extracted terrified screams from the dancers, the lights played a key role in the constantly-shifting mood of the dance.
Overall, the performance was confusing, but nonetheless worthwhile and extremely interesting. Dance Umbrella, which commissioned the show, has labored hard for 15 years to bring such unconventional act to the Greater Boston area. While many members of the public may be frightened away from attending performances like this one simply because they have little or no knowledge of modern dance, they shouldn't be discouraged. Just because one has trouble understanding something does not mean that said thing is completely devoid of beauty. What the Paula Josa-Jones spectacular lacks in solid interpretation, it makes up for in visual delight and mystical beauty.
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