Lead Creative: Keia McGrady
Performers: Keia McGrady and Olivia Adams
Viewed on both September 20, Annexe Theatre, Invermay (third show of the season), and September 27, Theatre Royal, nipaluna Hobart (opening night), Tasmania.
Keia McGrady is a proud Githabul, Migunberri, Yumbeh woman. In a video statement on the Theatre Royal’s website, she introduces the origin of this piece, describing her process as exploring themes of country by "mapping through the body and mapping on paper". Her inspiration is her own, her father’s and grandmother’s experiences of the landscape and "the feelings that we feel when were out there and just how the landscaped has changed".
I have witnessed two iterations of this piece in different venues, an opening night and a subsequent performance, and feel that I have seen two quite different pieces. This initially confused me, but I feel has opened some interesting questions of my personal expectations, and a reflection on form.
Charcoal is very personal work for McGrady. In the first iteration I am going to discuss, the otherwise empty stage holds a large creamy-white folded canvas. Two dancers, McGrady and Wulli Wulli artist Olivia Adams, silently open each section of the canvas to reveal two small piles of black charcoal on its surface. The canvas is weighed down at each corner, the dancers look at each other and sit themselves cross-legged in the centre. They scan the audience. Slow repeated phrases emerge from their bodies. Arms define arcs in space following diagonals and spirals through their bodies. Their breath is important and joined by deeply resonating vocals and synthesised sounds. Fingers draw the air as though it is thick and succulent. Individual movement journeys overlap at times as each carves the space as if describing something, picking up invisible objects and parts of their body. These sequences are performed as in a cycle. Slowly building in intensity, the dancers’ fingers then seem to shift to peeling back and revealing unseen layers within the surrounding space. The clean canvas "ground" and the charcoal is an invitation.
Without giving too much away, this work then becomes a combination of physicality and two-dimensional graphic exploration as each dancer inhabits their own section of the canvas’s surface. Crumbly bits of charcoal offer plenty of aural opportunities as the pieces are crushed underfoot, scooped and swept across in lines and deliberately manipulated to create both recognisable natural and more abstract drawn forms. Bolder undulating outlines are added, encompassing the "contents" of the now defined space of the canvas drawing.
Although their movements seem in service of the action of drawing, the less conscious movements are intriguing. All this happens both diligently and independently: each dancer initially mapping their own section then moving across the larger space without obvious communication. The drawing created before us seems as much planned as the response to where the pieces of charcoal fall. This large drawing is built over time and the process is fascinating to witness.
Then, there is a change in the drawn symbols, in the sound design and in the physicality of the two performers. McGrady and Adams are now more physically connected, uncomfortably moving backwards, while still drawing for as long as possible before leaving the canvas. Upstage, in a separate space, the two dancers gradually establish a new dynamic, initially not identifiable but growing into a strong pattern. Stepping and stamping, the movement of these women gains confidence and intensity.
Glimpses of recognisable phrases and gestures from each of the dancers’ earlier solos are now seen in crossing, overlapping and travelling combinations. McGrady is very strongly grounded in her movement, and each dancer has a strong presence within their independence. Many emotions are fleetingly observed through their calm and focused gaze. The performers' intensity and the audio-visual effects add sparks to the atmosphere in the space.
So, without revealing what then occurs, it is important to recall my confusion over the quite different iterations I saw of this work. I must admit that, as an audience member, I find a simple form, of building to a climax, very satisfying; however, I am also forced to question my needs, in contrast to those who have had to live through colonisation and dispossession. If the canvas can be equated to land, why am I, as a non-Indigenous woman, expecting that it will always be presented as blank, and that each iteration of this performance will, so generously, allow me to join the journey? Why, in the "subsequent" iteration of this piece, did I find the message muddied by the performers over-working a drawing that already exists? Perhaps it is because we still expect people who have suffered loss to tell their story over and over for each new audience? In expecting theatrical "satisfaction" are we seeking simple answers where none such exist? Yes, I felt that I saw two different pieces and one was more comfortable/satisfying as an audience member to experience, but they are part of the one story.
- LESLEY GRAHAM