“He Wants Every Body,” the audition notices read. “Thirty-nine people of all sizes, shapes and colors are needed. Dance experience preferred but not required. . . . Nudity, as a poetic statement of the body, will be used in this piece.”
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Despite the notices, the crowd at Columbia College’s Dance Center on this midwinter Saturday afternoon is only slightly more heterogeneous than the usual dance class. There are plenty of people of color (though under the dirty wash of the fluorescent lights everyone looks some shade of gray), a few who might qualify as fat, several who appear to be middle-aged but only one–a woman–who might be a grandparent. Mostly there’s just lots of them: more than a hundred, many in leotards and tights but a few in sweats or jeans and sneakers. The usual metaphors of abundance come to mind: it’s a forest, a field, a sea of dancers, chattering, giggling, or glumly silent, vigorously warming up or stretching or doodling with their bodies. Some men are jumping in place as high as they can. Some are clearly trained dancers, others are clearly not. The scuttlebutt is that “interesting movers” are desired: who will qualify?
The Promised Land examines issues of faith, and Williams calls the first movement combination the dancers will attempt the “saint shapes”: a series of 13 poses reminiscent of holy figures in medieval paintings. One is called “the stained-glass window”; in another the left palm goes to the right cheek, while the right hand covers the privates. In number eight, she says, “you’re looking over the edge of the world,” arms raised but curved downward like beating wings, heads and gazes down. A step forward with one hand raised, palm out, is not “stop,” she says, but “hark.” When 200 arms scoop the air joyfully and everyone looks up, in the “hallelujah” pose, it’s an impressive spectacle.
Practicing the sequence at random, the dancers look like fish leaping out of a human pond. Later the herd crosses to one side of the stage for the leaps, buffeting Williams as they pass her. “You make them up,” she says. She wants the good leapers in front: “If you see someone around you with a good split leap, tell them.” Later Williams asks, “Who has an arabesque?” A tall man points to another dancer standing several feet away from him and says in a loud, accusatory voice: “You do!”
That’s probably OK with most of the dancers: it’s often said that they’re not in it for the money. Unfortunately many who showed up today won’t be in it for the glory, either.
