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Preview | Khecari: Whence

Khecari’s Jonathan Meyer excavates his oeuvre to conclude a trilogy of solos about himself.

By Zachary Whittenburg

Khecari: Whence | Slideshow
Jonathan Meyer in Y at Overdier Hall, March 2011
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  • Jonathan Meyer in Y at Overdier Hall, March 2011

    Jonathan Meyer in Y at Overdier Hall, March 2011

    Photo: Dan Merlo341.da.da.op.JonathanMeyer1.jpgJonathan Meyer in Y at Overdier Hall, March 2011149230991
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    Program for Whence (detail)

    Courtesy of the artist341.da.KhecariWhenceMap.jpg341.da.KhecariWhenceMap.jpg149234752
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    Jonathan Meyer in Y at Overdier Hall, March 2011

    Photo: Dan Merlo341.da.JonathanMeyerWhence.jpg341.da.JonathanMeyerWhence.jpg149234733

Jonathan Meyer in Y at Overdier Hall, March 2011

Photo: Dan Merlo
09/02/2011

Two grizzled Romanian subcontractors sand 15,000 square feet of wood floor in Pilsen’s Lacuna Artist Lofts, where Jonathan Meyer’s Whence, the conclusion of a yearlong trilogy of solos, premieres on Friday 9. Sawdust clouds my view across the vast room, part of what once was the world’s largest macaroni factory.

Meyer, 39, opens a blue, three-ring binder and shows me a detailed plan of the room we’re in, drawn to scale, with a dotted line that marks the route his audience follows as he dances Whence’s four main episodes. The locations of stages and lights for the performance are marked among an array of 43 squares, which represent the building’s wooden columns spaced 15 feet apart.

Christopher Preissing, 50, composer for the “Home” trilogy and for Meyer’s 2009 work The Waking Room, is with us, pointing out where six steel sheets will hang and emit noise; they’re based on a pair he built for “It All Comes Back,” Chicago Robotic Theater’s summer exhibition in Crown Hall at the Illinois Institute of Technology. The three of us shout to hear each other over the din.

That the Lacuna lofts are still under construction affords Meyer and Preissing free rein for the installation. It’s also appropriate to the themes of their “Home” series. At the 2010 Other Dance Festival, where it began, and during Y, presented in March at Overdier Hall in Rogers Park, Meyer showed dances that spoke to the self as a work-in-progress. Beginnings of movements were tested and discarded by the dozen; he seemed to proceed only if and when a longer path was clear.

Choreography for Whence is all new, although “there’s a retrospective element to it,” Meyer yells over the wailing industrial sanders. He looks at previous choices “and I grapple with and decipher the crap that comes up. I’m interested in my emotional resistance to this process.… I’ve deliberately chosen things that exacerbate my discomfort, like spoken text,” he explains, referencing his first “Home” solo’s lengthy, self-referential monologue. “Right up until the last minute, I hated that piece.”

A week later, I visit Overdier to watch a few of Meyer’s movement sketches. Coincidentally, someone in the alley outside of the studio’s open windows is hammering, dropping tools and generally making a racket.

The second section of Whence consists of six short, task-based events. For each, audience members stand progressively closer to Meyer.

In the first, Meyer mimes stripping naked, exaggerating each action as if through the visual equivalent of a megaphone. In performance, he’ll go full-monty. Nudity is “definitely another place of discomfort that I’ve chosen,” he says, although he’s performed naked before. The first time, he was 19 and just beginning his dance study at Oberlin College. “I did a 75-minute, nude solo in a basement hallway that was all brick, low-ceilinged, dank, disused. An intensely angst-ridden, melodramatic solo. Very first-year-of-dance-school.” I point out that Whence is in fact, then, an excavation of his decisions going back further than just last fall’s Other Dance Festival.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be overly dismissive of what was there. Part of what [Whence] is, I think, is doing all of these same things again, just without such heavy-handed treatment.”


Two weekends of Whence open on Friday 9 at the Lacuna Artist Lofts.

September 7, 2011
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From Whence we came: our human origins Whence, an avant-garde dance theater piece, choreographed and danced by Jonathan Meyer and with music composed by Chris Preissing, is a surreal exploration of our human origins, from whence we came. Nearly every section of this experience invokes a strong sense of the archaic. The piece begins with four apparent beings, one half of a Greek chorus, attempting to construct language out of fragments of sound, as if from a primordial soup. As the solo dancer emerges, he begins to construct movement, wildly, but in a very confined space, suggesting a deep yearning yet to be satisfied. The element of danger contributes to the tension of the scene. The other half of the Greek chorus is situated behind the audience, whispering, speaking, and finally shouting fragmented phrases, many of which communicate the shadowy thoughts of the dancer. The score in this section suggests the rawness of pure sound- hardly music at all, but rather small sonic extensions of the dancer’s frantic movements. This scene gives way to a series of transformations, which seem suspended between earth and sky. Seen from afar, one vignette gives the viewer the feeling of peering into heaven, as if seen far away in an ethereal dream. The music here invokes an angelic choir. The nudity is a raw nakedness that takes us back to the beginnings of the human species, in its natural state. The sheer beauty of the irregular movement needs to be seen to be believed. The dancer then returns to the dust from which he was created, and becomes one with the earth. Is he Prometheus, cast out from heaven? The ambiguous references to Atlas, on the part of the chorus, underline the mythological fabric of the entire scene. It also is reminiscent of a hero’s journey, such as that of Gilgamesh or Odysseus, descending to the ends of the world, only to be rejuvenated and cleansed by the purity of water. The music here consists of live electro-statics, the result of passing electricity through giant sheets of metal set up in this vast industrial temple. The growth that takes place in the next series of scenes is emphasized by the expansion of space and the consequent expansion of the choreography. The Greek chorus simultaneously develops a series of meaningful rituals, a clear sign that communication has begun. The scattered phonemes of language evolve into a short monologue on the nature of communication, breaking the fourth wall, and allowing the audience to be a part of this evolutionary process. In the end, the dancer makes the unconscious conscious by interacting with members of the chorus, to the lovely strains of the now cohesive choir in the background. This final section is reminiscent of the birth of performance as art. The dawn of time, the dawn of man, the dawn of communication, and the dawn of art- this is the intimate arc of Whence. Review by Mark Samberg ,Sept. 16, 17, 18th, (Friday, Saturday, and Sunday), 8pm, 2150. S. Canalport
By Mark Samberg (not verified) on 9/14/2011 at 10:29 am
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