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By Kristen Hedberg/ IG @kristen.hedberg
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Published on January 20, 2025
Jill Sigman; Photo:Steven Pisano
A Radical Queer Dance + Film Festival - Curated by Pioneers Go East Collective
Choreography and Performance: Jill Sigman
Percussion: Gustavo Aguilar
Glass Instruments: Miguel Frasconi
Voice and Electronics: Kristin Norderva
Poetry: Vida Landrón
Tall, thin branches tied to mulberry and cherry tree stumps stand scattered throughout Judson Memorial Church – yet nothing seems scattered at all. The sacred world Jill Sigman carefully crafts, embedded with earth, small altars, family artifacts, and clay body parts, feels both rich and reflective.
Through movement, music, poetry, and conversation with each item, Sigman’s “Re-Seeding (Encounter #4: The Seamstress)” explores the choreographer’s lineage as, “a non-Indigenous person with a history of Jewish grief, immigrant displacement,” and “trauma [in relation to] the land that is now called Washington Square.” Sigman carries these histories into “The Seamstress,” the fourth iteration of her “Re-Seeding” series, which explores our interconnectedness to land and to each other. The piece also honors the passing of Sigman’s father.
“The Seamstress” speaks to Washington Square’s history as the Land of the Lenape. Washington Square existed as a potter’s field from 1797 until about 1820, where some 20,000 unidentified bodies were laid to rest. Sigman captures these realities alongside her personal narrative using metaphor, imagery, and objects. Before movers and musicians enter the space, an excerpt of text projects above us, offering, “You are the seamstress… you must try to undo the knots within the fabric.”
Sigman demonstrates a gentle unraveling immediately as she and African, Powhatan, and Taíno performance artist Vida Landrón walk delicately along the perimeters of the church’s performance space. Traveling in close proximity to us, they wind and unwind a spool of Sigman’s father’s twine. Together, they measure the space, as in the Jewish custom of “measuring a grave or an entire cemetery with string to ask for divine intervention in times of personal or communal crisis.”
They separate, stretching their thread taut before reuniting in gestures of warmth and mutual support. Musician Gustavo Aguilar joins to walk ahead of them, creating a whisper of sound by painting the air with two brooms (later used to strike a percussive instrument); the sporadic swishing contrasts the walkers’ steady steps.
At the conclusion of the spool’s winding, Landrón situates herself on a chair elevated above the wide space where Sigman remains. After rearranging the stumps and branches around the space, Sigman dances among her forest, stepping and hopping at times playfully and at times with reverence.
A moment when Sigman rests a long branch on her shoulder evokes a traveler carrying possessions along a journey. Sigman balances the branch on her head, its span easily as wide as her height. Carrying it with ease, she kneels, crawls, and rises steadily. To our awe, she continues to balance the branch as she ascends a stump, lifting one leg to stand in harmony with the earth and herself.
From this stillness, quick footwork develops as Sigman surges through the space. Her swinging, hopping motions feel free, yet incredibly specific in purpose. Her internal focus connects to her surroundings in a considerate, reflective manner. An ethereal sound score created and performed by Aguilar, Miguel Frasconi, and Kristin Norderval combines glass instruments, electronics, percussion, and vocals, to accentuate her movements.
Sigman’s dancing captures a patient listening and an energetic bounding. We peer into her family history as she reveals a crate of family artifacts in the middle of the space. The space settles as Sigman strikes a match and lights four candles, which she also carries to the center.
We infer that each item – including a rolling pin (which she spins around multiple times, like a game), candle holders, a blue cup, bowls, challah, an apron, and a toy car – holds a treasured memory. She meticulously places each item gently on the floor to form a clean line in the center. She completes this arrangement by cupping together a pile of dust, the small mound of earth standing alongside her memories: land and family brought together in a row. In an exaltation, she dances through the space once more, winding through her treasured items and family trees. Settling, she carries a large branch to Landrón, laying it down before her.
Arresting and powerful, Landrón rises from her chair and speaks about the catastrophic reality of the nation. Her speech commands the room as she booms, “I am a dangerous beast. Beware when I show my teeth… nothing can ever be done again, because these lessons hurt… you’re gonna need therapy, you filthy pilgrim… weave the greatness of this nation…” We sit at the edges of our seats, jarred from the gentle meditation of Sigman’s world, inspired to go forth to listen, learn, and act.
“The Seamstress” captivatingly weaves movement, music, poetry, earth, and heirlooms into a tapestry of shared histories. The work captures land and lineage in an incredibly thoughtful, respectful way through the intimacies of personal ritual and the exigencies of political speech.
