Oh hell yes.
Here's a much more positive review (or, a response to Rockwell's piece and then some, I should say) - actually a thoughtful, critical review and not a reactive tirade! Note that John Rockwell is a white man and Eva Yaa Asantewaa is a black woman.
Also note that those "spiky tresses" are mine!
Eva Yaa Asantewaa has written on dance since 1974 and worked as a freelance dance journalist since 1976, published in Dance Magazine, The Village Voice, Soho News, The New York Times, and other publications. Eva is a contributing writer for Gay City News (www.gaycitynews.com), specializing in dance criticism.
Posted: August 23, 2006
The Ladies Who Lurch
John Rockwell--taste arbiter for the affluent and powerful in his position
as Senior Dance Critic of The New York Times--seemed highly incensed at the
notion of the all-female Ellis Wood Dance using the balconies of a building
just a few blocks away from Ground Zero for a Sitelines site-specific show
called Fire on Wall Street. "Insensitive," he deemed it in his review today.
"Tasteless." "Rude." "Silliness." But from the look of things, neither
stockbrokers nor tourists seemed to mind it much, which might say more about
the sorry state of public engagement with the art of dance than about Ellis
Wood’s own ability to get a rise out of people.
The title--Fire on Wall Street-works either as a news headline or a command.
Twenty fiery women dressed in "flesh"-toned underwear and haphazardly
wrapped in wisps of scarlet tulle dangle over the balcony railings and
around the Corinthian colonnade of 55 Wall Street, a financial and
architectural landmark, and home of the ritzy Cipriani Wall Street
restaurant. Wood has created a deliberately over-the-top vision, splashing a
prime icon of white male dominion with the red of women’s blood. She has
summoned Venus in the person of Cheryl Cochran, a black actress whose
electronically-amplified voice breathes fire down upon our heads as she
recites inflammatory text by Bil Wright, a noted black gay poet and
novelist.
This Venus is no inoffensively sweet love goddess but the original fierce
Aphrodite come back to reclaim her throne. She’s flanked by a militant
chorus of sirens, banshees, and bacchantes who coyly beckon us forward then
wave us away, writhe around and over the rails, rotate their heads as if in
trance, and lash the air with their streaming or spiky tresses. There’s
music, too--by Daniel Bernard Roumain--but maybe Wood should have hooked up
with Diamanda Galas.
If you still own a sense of humor-or at least a rebellious nature--try to
catch Fire on Wall Street, which runs again August 28-30 at noon and
12:30pm. It’s free, just short of fifteen minutes, and a hoot.
Fire on Wall Street is a production of Sitelines, curated by Nolini Barretto
and presented by the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council and in association
with the River to River® Festival. For more information, visit
www.lmcc.net/sitelines and www.RiverToRiverNYC.com. For information on Ellis
Wood Dance, visit www.wooddance.net.
©2006, Eva Yaa Asantewaa
I'm not too keen on the ending; the piece isn't as light-hearted as she makes it to be. But what can ya do.
Also note that those "spiky tresses" are mine!
Eva Yaa Asantewaa has written on dance since 1974 and worked as a freelance dance journalist since 1976, published in Dance Magazine, The Village Voice, Soho News, The New York Times, and other publications. Eva is a contributing writer for Gay City News (www.gaycitynews.com), specializing in dance criticism.
Posted: August 23, 2006
The Ladies Who Lurch
John Rockwell--taste arbiter for the affluent and powerful in his position
as Senior Dance Critic of The New York Times--seemed highly incensed at the
notion of the all-female Ellis Wood Dance using the balconies of a building
just a few blocks away from Ground Zero for a Sitelines site-specific show
called Fire on Wall Street. "Insensitive," he deemed it in his review today.
"Tasteless." "Rude." "Silliness." But from the look of things, neither
stockbrokers nor tourists seemed to mind it much, which might say more about
the sorry state of public engagement with the art of dance than about Ellis
Wood’s own ability to get a rise out of people.
The title--Fire on Wall Street-works either as a news headline or a command.
Twenty fiery women dressed in "flesh"-toned underwear and haphazardly
wrapped in wisps of scarlet tulle dangle over the balcony railings and
around the Corinthian colonnade of 55 Wall Street, a financial and
architectural landmark, and home of the ritzy Cipriani Wall Street
restaurant. Wood has created a deliberately over-the-top vision, splashing a
prime icon of white male dominion with the red of women’s blood. She has
summoned Venus in the person of Cheryl Cochran, a black actress whose
electronically-amplified voice breathes fire down upon our heads as she
recites inflammatory text by Bil Wright, a noted black gay poet and
novelist.
This Venus is no inoffensively sweet love goddess but the original fierce
Aphrodite come back to reclaim her throne. She’s flanked by a militant
chorus of sirens, banshees, and bacchantes who coyly beckon us forward then
wave us away, writhe around and over the rails, rotate their heads as if in
trance, and lash the air with their streaming or spiky tresses. There’s
music, too--by Daniel Bernard Roumain--but maybe Wood should have hooked up
with Diamanda Galas.
If you still own a sense of humor-or at least a rebellious nature--try to
catch Fire on Wall Street, which runs again August 28-30 at noon and
12:30pm. It’s free, just short of fifteen minutes, and a hoot.
Fire on Wall Street is a production of Sitelines, curated by Nolini Barretto
and presented by the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council and in association
with the River to River® Festival. For more information, visit
www.lmcc.net/sitelines and www.RiverToRiverNYC.com. For information on Ellis
Wood Dance, visit www.wooddance.net.
©2006, Eva Yaa Asantewaa
I'm not too keen on the ending; the piece isn't as light-hearted as she makes it to be. But what can ya do.