designed by David Sundry, sits at the T where Willard meets Augusta, an
empty lot traced with barbed wire to the south, el tracks to the west.
Beyond its doors lies a curving corridor with unfinished stripes of cement
licking the exposed brick walls. For Zephyr Dance’s Shadows Across Our Eyes, the first work presented in this new
space for experimental performance, two short henges of brick and plywood
are laid out on the floor, intersecting like a Venn diagram. The audience
is encouraged to roam the space throughout the show, which begins when an
iPad is affixed to the wall, forming its only window and showing an
inflated white balloon, or maybe only a tied-off trash bag, bobbing against
a short leash in the wind, a joyful, absurd thing in a desolate landscape.
Choreographer Michelle Kranicke emerges first, unspooling a red thread
behind her like Ariadne in the labyrinth as she crosses through the space.
On the other end of the line is Molly Strom. They look enough alike to be
doppelgangers in different time zones, Kranicke dressed in black jumpsuit
zagged through with colored thread, Strom in a poncho of the same cloth,
both in black heels that tap imposingly against the concrete floor.
Together they produce a series of images that emerge and then vanish: a
cat’s cradle, twin marionettes pulling each other’s strings, Penelopes
undoing a day’s work, semaphores sending signals, the life cycle of a
winged insect, pupating to the brief mirage of the imago. v