Chatham, N.Y. — PS21: The Center for Contemporary Performance is in Chatham, N.Y., just over the state line and a reasonable drive from pretty much anywhere in Berkshire County. Last Friday, May 30, PS21 opened its 2025 season with the U.S. premiere of a performance piece by South African choreographer Mamela Nyamza entitled “Hatched Ensemble.” PS21 has been building a name for itself through its audacious programming in music, circus, dance and theater—one assumes that will continue under new Artistic and Executive Director Vallejo Gantner—and “Hatched Ensemble” was no exception.
Ms. Nyamza describes the work as autobiographical, and it seems clear from the piece that Nymaza must have had an incredibly rich, varied, and complex life so far, albeit one perhaps filled with some adversity and tribulations.
The walk-in music for the performance was French composer Camille Saint-Saëns’ “The Swan,” a fairly short but famous piece of music iconically choreographed by ballet dancer and choreographer Mikhail Fokine 120 years ago (“The Dying Swan” variation). The performers, 10 classically trained ballet dancers from different ethnic backgrounds, were in a corner of the stage, warming up and getting ready, and with this pre-show musical choice, one sensed right away that a clash of cultures could be brewing. The Saint-Saëns music was written for “Western” instruments—whatever that means!—and is most often played by piano or harp, with cello and occasionally other stringed instruments. This performance, beginning with the dancers already on stage and thus giving away some of a proscenium performance’s usual magic and mystery, and with small handcrafted white ironwork sculptures strewn about, decidedly did not have a “classical Western” performance feel.
It was surprising, then, when the Saint-Saëns walk-in music became performance music; the dancers, dressed in white, gaucho, swan-like, bottoms, festooned with clothes pins (the costumes were designed by Ms. Nyamza), took over the space, and as they donned their pointe shoes, they took off their tops. Given how unusual being nude from the waist up in this context was, one might have expected the nudity to place the performers in a position of vulnerability. However, just the opposite happened; the dancers, generally with their beautifully sculpted backs to the audience, dominated and overpowered the space. As the Saint-Saëns music kept repeating, and as the dancers ceaselessly did what is classically known as bourrée en couru (very quick and tiny steps taken while dancers are on pointe), the work began to fill with contradictions. In the hands of a different choreographer/director, the myriad juxtapositions presented by the piece might have become heavy-handed. Under Nyamza’s sly and subtle direction, however, to this viewer the contrasts in both the movement and the music were unaffectedly revealed and were not overladen with judgment. Was the white color on the dancers’ mouths just makeup or face paint, or was it a constriction designed to try and shut the dancers up? Was the clothesline strung across the stage, and used to good effect by the performers, just a clothesline, or was it symbol of the drudgery of stereotypical “women’s work,” or was it a hangman’s noose? (My use of the word “man” in “hangman” was intentional.) Were the dancers just beating their “clothes” (made of tulle, often used in ballet costumes) on a rock by the river to clean them, or were they, out of rage and repression, trying to smash them to smithereens? We decide for ourselves and are forced to get uncomfortable in the process. The work feels a little spontaneous, and a bit improvisatory, but I would be surprised if there was much left to chance, and Nyamza’s potent vision seems fully realized.
In classic linear performance fashion, the tension and drama in the work built, the movement became bigger and more rhythmic and accessible, and the piece came to an ardent conclusion through both movement and music. This viewer, however, was waiting for more—for these commanding and compelling dancers to explode out of their shoes—literally—and move huge through the space. Perhaps, however, that would have been too much the classic “Western” Hollywood-type ending.
Note must be made of the music and the musicians throughout, which included the dancers themselves singing and using their pointe shoes and their hands as percussion instruments. Opera singer Litho Nqai’s distinctive and expressive voice weaved beautifully between the Western-themed music and the South African vocal scores, and the complexity and richness that multi-instrumentalist Given “Azah” Mphago was able to get out of his instruments was nothing short of amazing.
It was impossible to be at the performance of “Hatched Ensemble” last Friday and not reflect some on the political and social circumstances we find ourselves in at the moment and how our circumstances may affect the accessibility of performances like “Hatched Ensemble.” Not only are we facing serious race, culture, and ethnicity challenges, but artistic creativity itself is being narrowed (one only need think of the personnel changes at The Kennedy Center), and the funding of the arts, the humanities, and arguably humanity itself is being squeezed dramatically. PS21 prides itself, for example, on the free community events it sponsors throughout its season, and one wonders if the venue will be able to maintain those important goals in these difficult times. Indeed, it does not appear to be too overly dramatic to ponder out loud whether this country will continue to make room for performances such as “Hatched Ensemble.”
“Hatched Ensemble” was thought provoking and demanding. One hopes that performances such as this—along with all the other ground-breaking performances at PS21 this summer—will not only continue to entertain but also educate and energize. Information about PS21’s season can be found on its website.
