A provoking examination of the erotic and voyeuristic
Martha Graham, at the advent of opening her company to men, was plagued by an issue among her new hires: vagina envy. Graham had, for years, coached her dancers ewith uterine terminology, causing discontent for the men. If anyone is to carry on that fine tradition of “dance from the vagina” as Martha put it, it just might be Elena Antoniou. The Cypriot dancer brings her solo work Landscape to close the international festival Dance Umbrella with a takeover of the Shoreditch Town Hall. Using a vernacular that’s highly sexual, it promises to be a solo that ‘dares us to watch’, playing with our ideas of observation and objectification.
We enter to Antoniou raised high above the ground on a platform in the centre of the space. Audience members are free to roam, stand, and sit anywhere in the space to get a look. Antoniou takes us all in, her arms floating as if full of air. She begins to lock eyes with her audience — she has a very authoritative stare. We get the impression that Antoniou is some sort of untouchable queen bee, or a glittering, free sexual being, proudly flaunting her stuff to the gawking onlookers as she humps the floor and spreads her legs.
The act of observation isn’t just between the viewer and Antoniou, but between the audience members too. Though there’s some haze and low lighting, a lot of the other audience members are still within clear view. You really notice the movement of the herd — when one person changes position it almost always triggers a ripple effect of repositioning among the audience. When Antoniou hits a new position many viewers, including myself, take out their phone to record her next act of exertion — Antonio’s allows her performance to be filmed and photographed. Sometimes our attention is drawn too to individuals that Antoniou singles out. (There was also a child there for some reason).
This absolute obliteration of the fourth wall makes Antoniou all the more compelling. At first it is as if she is trying to lure us in intentionally, later it feels as if she is some sort of caged animal that poses for our entertainment, further still and she begins to look at us like one would curiously admire a fish tank. Antoniou’s expression glides between sultry and quizzical, angry and apathetic. The piece continues. Antoniou paces her small domain with an increasing impatience. She slams her fist into the ground, wallops her pleasers against the hard surface. Cracks begin to show little by little. With her pelvis jutted out and legs splayed she very slowly recoils, her expression drops as if a little embarrassed.
The element of vulnerability is what really makes this work magnetic. There is certainly a level of novelty in the format, and the hazy lighting and sparse, bassy score create an icy vibe. But Antoniou, as an object on display, strikes a nerve in whoever watches her. You want desperately for her to be able to speak. Instead she continues to slink about her stage and perform. She stares defiantly in my direction, it feels as if we lock eyes. Standing tall, but weighed by melancholy, she stamps her left foot into the ground again and again, barking some sort of command or insult, perhaps crying out for help. She stamps and stamps. The house lights come up and people begin to slowly file out, a few of us stay. She continues to stamp as her face becomes weighted with a sort of grief, as if she can no longer bear us to see her like this.
Though initially neutral and distant in its style, Landscape is a work that casts you under a spell. It may even have you not wanting to leave at all. A highly compelling solo work that is a marked standout in Dance Umbrella’s programme.