At Dawn

Choreographer:  Candy Jimenez

Performer:  Claire Renaud

This was a fascinating piece that, for me, has generated a whole series of questions for which there are no definitive answers. Candy Jimenez, working with dancer/performer Claire Renaud has constructed something that is an amalgam of dance, theater and performance art.

At Dawn is fundamentally a narrative work, in the multifaceted sense that the soundtrack is a narration (presumably of a poem), there is a story line or narrative being depicted throughout the performance and, at various points, the performer actually speaks short monologues or recitations. It certainly runs counter to expectations and makes the audience immediately re- calibrate (this is obviously no melodic frolic across the lawn), and though what transpires is a somewhat bewildering mix of the literal and the fantastic, Renaud’s tall frame and languorous style gives her a commanding presence that has no difficulty holding our attention.

In this, she is aided by an actual set. A small writing desk with a manual typewriter and sundry papers is the central object and figures thematically and practically in the performance. There are poetic lines in the narration to which she responds, such as “I cast a spell on the city, asking it to last”. She is, at various points, reading, reciting – “Only this moment at dawn is real” –  and composing text on the typewriter. These “actorly” moments are broken up with movement, some of which was particularly interesting when adapted to the site like an inspired sequence on a small stage in the bole of a cluster of trees which formed the backdrop for the performance. Incorporating the small stage in the trees with a writing desk and a typewriter was certainly incongruous, but whether arbitrary or innovative, it was a reminder that these performances were pieces that existed in their own context and what we were seeing would not, and could not, be set on a traditional stage.

In the spirit of “I’ll bet you’ll never guess what’s coming next”, Renaud walks slowly forward toward the audience reading aloud a poem (perhaps the same poem?) in perfect French. Her motivation for crumbling the paper on which it is written, clutching it to her breast as if it’s a precious thing and then, moments later, attempting to burn it, is unclear, but there is no literal meaning here that we can hold her to, only a series of disparate impressions that we followed without needing to understand – which is probably one way of saying that Renaud elevated her performance beyond the literal elements she engaged and allowed it to be effectively received as art.

Jimenez was obviously drawn to this particular text, and in her attempt to bring it to life through performance, was not concerned about confining At Dawn to any particular category. She drew the lines wherever inspiration and Renaud, her very capable performer, took her. The questions remain – was this dance? theater? performance art? The very best answer was that we were engaged enough that we didn’t care.

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