Presented by Etched Dance Productions, 3 in 2 1 is the staging of three short dance works for the 2015 Auckland Fringe Festival.

As a duet, These Our Body addresses several themes that are inevitably raised when exploring the concept of identity and self. Beginning from a relatively intellectual narrative standpoint, the piece gradually evolves into a more emotionally driven character piece, provoked by the sense of play between Samantha Wood-Rawnsley and Jess Quaid, and supported by Amy Mauvan’s musical composition…[More]

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With ‘Boys Wanna Be Her’ by Peaches blaring as preshow music, I can almost picture the race track and smell the exhaust fumes. The Basement space is pulsating with all the grungy potential that Fringe is about. Garment racks hung with black fabric are set stage left, presenting the creative “that’ll do” vibe that we can expect from low budget experimental theatre.

Etched Productions has achieved a successful 15 minute pack-in to present ‘3 in 2 1’, a triple bill of dance works exploring themes of identity, partnerships and chance.

‘These Our Body’ is a duet choreographed and performed by Samantha Wood-Rawnsley and Jess Quaid. Wood-Rawnsley (or is it Quaid?) jumps the gun on her entrance and we are forced to settle ourselves a little too quickly. The light of the yet unused projector screen bounces off the back wall and creates an industrial feeling. Two black screens are slid into the space, setting us up for a ‘big reveal’ that does not arrive for quite some time. Dressed in oversized white shirts, and black undies Wood-Rawnsley and Quaid might have just rolled out of bed, but it quickly becomes clear that this is not the vibe they are going for. Playing ‘catch me if you can’ and ‘who’s-who?’ they fly around the space and behind the screens setting up bodily illusions, albeit that we have seen before. They engage in subtle faux theatricality combined with playful gestures – the claw, the point, and the open questioning palm. They converse with each other, indicating points in the space, posing questions of direction and proximity. This is a game that only they know the rules of. As an audience member I am unclear as to whether we are a part of their world, or not.  After disappearing behind a screen they emerge joined back-to-back wearing the same shirt. Now two bodies are forced to become one. This image echos Malia Johnston’s ‘Weather I Wear You’ as they tumble around the space together. 

The second section of the work provides some important images as we see Wood-Rawnsley strip the screens of their fabric to reveal two frames. She steps alone through the first into what might be another moment in time, and secondly faces the dilemma of Quaid as her reflection/body double.

The third section of the work is simple and extremely satisfying to watch. The seamless and democratic partnering (now back to two bodies with agency in their relationship) makes a strong statement that aligns with their programme notes. There is an amiable sense of control over one another as well as an easy collaboration between both their bodies. My own artistic/social agenda comes into question when I become aware of my satisfaction that their individuality is less important than the beautiful partnership they have.

Overall the work needs editing, and the abrupt ending revision. However, Quaid and Wood-Rawnsley exude the type of easy and confident performance that is always very easy to watch. They are both very able performers and to their credit, they are almost too well rehearsed – I yearn for a little more breath and danger within the movement pathways and phrases.

After a shifty transition, again in partial darkness, Amy Mauvan’s work ‘Echo’ is manifested a moment too soon. She stands facing her pink-haired-dark-glassed projection on the back wall. In a large fluffy coat, the tangible Mauvan assumes a position that alludes towards K Rd femme fatale, Lady Gaga, and a young woman presenting an aloof ‘womanliness’. In the space, a wire mannequin faces her, breasts protruding and waist cinched. A plastic skull faces me, its cranium displaced, thoughts spilling out. Through a sensitive testing and whispering body Mauvan shows uncertainty. She doesn’t give a fuck about much, but actually maybe she does. Like a peacock preening, she gestures what she is supposed to until she is told: “ it’s time to relax” and melts to the floor. She is restrained and mildly disturbing in her movement, shredding her insides, quivering, only stretching a little into the space around her. Her projected body double appears to have a lot of important things to say. But Mauvan in person is far more engaging as she reiterates her questions to us, and to herself. Again. With Essence of Showgirl she demonstrates a long series of movements, articulate, upright, and a little foreign to my Kiwi dance-goer eyes. Trapped by the open lighting and the spatial set up, the intensity of the final section is lost somewhat as she vanishes into the darkness. Of the evening’s programme ‘Echo’ is the work that feels most refined as a piece of performance research.

 Third in the programme is ‘One Dance 7 Times’, a collaborative ‘solo’ work/long distance choreography created by Mauvan, Quaid and Wood-Rawnsley. The phrase “but what does it mean?” comes to mind. The programme notes to not give a lot away, except that it “might be magic, it might be a disaster”. The performers enter the stage with a packed costume rack making an awkward attempt to fill the space with chatter. It seems this work should have a strong sense of community, but they end up crammed over on stage right, behind the costumes resulting in a disconnect between members. Some music might have done the trick as we wait for the dice to be rolled to determine music tracks and dancer order.

The rack of nonsensical clothing items is repeatedly raided as solos, duets, trios and group performances are presented by Mauvan, Quaid and Wood-Rawnsley along with Sierra Palmer, Annabel Harrison, Ariel Cronin and Camille Hay. They each move through the same solo material. It is awkward, disjointed and fits the dancers’ bodies like jeans that are too small. Some moments are in fact “magic” and others do live up to the promise of being a “disaster”.

The most successful solo is presented by Harrison who, wearing a long white silk skirt and fancy hat, dances haphazardly to her lucky dip music selection, Borodin’s Nocturne from String Quartet.  She becomes a loose lady, tipsy at the races. Disheveled and attempting to hold an intellectual conversation with us, Harrison is both comedic and clever in dealing with the improvisational cards she has been dealt.

Mauvan and Palmer are also to be commended as we witness their efforts to make sense of their random music, costuming and partnerships. They both create fleeting relationships and a sense of narrative. This is important, otherwise, as an audience, we are left still asking “what is it about? What does it mean?”

The last section with everyone performing is like a chaotic school’s show gone astray. With no apparent attempts toward spatial composition, a .75metre comfort zone restricts each soloist. Happy accidents of timing, tempo and rhythm are satisfying, but not enough to sustain the choreography as an engaging event. The idea of one solo performed seven times, by seven performers has huge potential, although perhaps needs to be more tightly directed in its execution. But who knows what might happen tonight?

The small opening night audience is a shame but perhaps inevitable with the late night 10pm time slot. The artists present a tidy, focused and energetic show and it is wonderful to see collaborations flourishing; especially with artists such as Sydney based Mauvan reappearing in Auckland dance community. This small group of proactive artists is worth your supporting over the coming nights (two shows are at 5.30pm).

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