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IMPRESSIONS: [RE]DEFINING [SPACE] at Triskelion Arts
![IMPRESSIONS: [RE]DEFINING [SPACE] at Triskelion Arts](/images/features_large/3_Trisk_day_3_selects_by_caroline_alarcon_loor_064.png)
By Kristen Hedberg/ IG @kristen.hedberg
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Published on November 13, 2024
Arantxa Araujo & Jonathan Taylor. Photo: Caroline Alarcon Loor
Curated by Arantxa Araujo and Sara Kostic
Program 3 on October 26, 2024
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The Cloud : Created and Performed by Arantxa Araujo and Jonathan Taylor in collaboration with Mariana Uribe
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Running Out : Created and Performed by Georgie Lale
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TIDAL : Created and Performed by Tyler Ashley, Fabrics by Kyle Meyer
[RE]DEFINING [SPACE], curated by Arantxa Araujo and Sara Kostc, transformed Triskelion Arts into an experimental, exploratory world in three distinct programs. The event, according to a program note, “serve[s] as a platform for artists to explore the intersection of space, evolving identities, and well-being through various artistic disciplines.”
I attended the third and final program, which featured performance art by Arantxa Araujo and Jonathan Taylor in collaboration with Mariana Uribe (The Cloud), Georgia Lale (Running Out), and Tyler Ashley (TIDAL).
In The Cloud, the first figure we see is a billowing sheath of plastic suspended from the ceiling opposite a large pile of pillows. Araujo dances behind the cloud and Taylor emerges from beneath the pillows. Uribe creates a live electronic soundscape upstage, offering a gentle atmosphere as the duo explores their respective items. Araujo and Taylor, both nude, appear fascinated and move deliberately, as if discovering the fixtures for the first time.
Araujo lays flat under the cloud, gazing upward. Shifting behind it, at times biting it to release puffs of air, she ultimately wraps her body in its embrace, putting it on like a dress. Taylor prods at the pillows and pulls out their stuffing, tossing these “mini clouds” all about. Taylor stands, dressing in two pillowcases as a shirt and skirt.
The two meet at the hips and lunge together. Leaning toward us, Taylor holds a piece of stuffing and scans the house. Araujo travels to stage right and picks up a handheld vacuum cleaner; Taylor picks up another. They blow the piles of stuffing around the stage in circles, and chaos ensues as they hurl the pillows and stuffing into the audience. We chortle and toss the items back at them.
Taylor collapses as Araujo runs in a circle, vacuuming frantically. Tufts of pillow stuffing fly askew, and the work concludes with Araujo’s collapse opposite Taylor. The atmosphere settles to a place feeling contemplative and peaceful. They could be gazing up at the clouds together.
Running Out beams bright lights on soloist Georgia Lale. Dressed in a black sports bra, black shorts, and sneakers, Lale explains that we are going to create a piece together, and asks us to set our phone timers for twenty minutes. “Five…four…three…two…one!” Lale cries, and our timers commence.
Lale immediately begins jogging a linear pathway stretching from upstage center to the top of the stairs at the back of Triskelion’s house. The house lights remain up, and we can clearly see both Lale and each other. “Oh…say…can…you…see,” Lale puffs while cantering. “By…the…dawn’s…early…light.” The Star-Spangled Banner spills in measured rhythm with each footfall, Lale’s pace even and steady.
We shift uneasily at the realization that this is what we could be witnessing for the next twenty minutes. Some grin, some start talking to each other, some pull out their phones and start scrolling, some stare in disbelief. But many stay in it with Lale, fully engaged with this repetitive, demanding task.
Lale’s only variations come with the occasional repetition of a lyric — “Oh…say…oh…say…” or insertion of the word, “Yeah!” — but otherwise, the run carries on.
At around minute eighteen, Lale raises both arms, encouraging us to join the chant. As our timers go off, Lale finally stops, body heaving, and the lights black out. I felt in awe of this marathon, while recognizing the heaviness the task brings about.
Tyler Ashley's TIDAL carries us to a beachy, electric landscape. Two tie-dye fabrics hang from the ceiling and a video projection plays home videos of birds, ducks, skunks, and bunnies. The video’s narration exclaims, “The birds, the birds! We disrupted them… aww, look it’s a bunny… how do you get rid of a skunk?”
Head held high, Ashley stalks onstage in a floral dress and sunglasses, carrying a pink purse. She takes off the sunglasses and spritzes perfume - the aroma wafts into us, an olfactory contrast to the skunk video in the background.
Ashley begins to dance, grabbing the tie-dye fabrics and bounding through the space. “Can [the music] go louder!?” she calls over the music, stripping down to nude underwear. Ashley’s movement journey feels enchanting and proud, as we witness her body’s liberation. In a serendipitous echo of The Cloud, Ashley dons the hanging fabrics like a dress, wrapping up in their embrace and allowing the tie-dyes to sway and trail behind each movement.
The music blares, “Get up bitch, shake your ass!” as Ashley descends to all fours, whirling head and hips in circles. The lights flash shades of pink and purple. The party continues even as Ashley crawls offstage through the exit door, the music blaring as we continue to clap and cheer.
As a whole, the program invites us to experience the intersection of space and identity. Each performer offers a heartfelt investigation of their use of Triskelion’s transformative space to explore the self through reflection, determination, and freedom.
