It takes a few seconds for the stage to come into focus, but as soon as it does, you find yourself in front of someone with a special, divine attraction. South African performance artist Albert Sirindkoule Ibokuwe Koza sits in a cushioned armchair above the stage. Life-size New York Live Arts rear wall.
The enormity of his rippling flesh with his back to the crowd is still unrecognizable. Later he uses his size to his advantage. For now he is a pile of white cloth.But even though he is bound, like a mummy, with cloth, under thata strip of saran wrap, you can still feel his barbed power.
In this one-man show, Veteran South African Choreographer Robin Olin — political, poignant, benevolent and funny — Cosa is surprisingly loose and crowd-commanding, revealing a quick mind and lithe physicality. He’s almost a stand-up comedian. The work of the evening “And, as you can see… our glorious blue skies and eternal sun… can only be consumed per slice…” Co-hosted by the Crossing the Line Festival of the French Institute Alliance Française, the production is also Olin’s New York premiere. (The long title is hers.)
The words “and as you see” feel apt. As Kosa becomes more and more visible, so does the core of this work. Kosa is a healer, a dancer, a black man, gay Man—leading the way to the future. Or at least an illusion of what the future might look like. All the while exposing and enjoying the always familiar sins: jealousy, gluttony, greed, lust, pride, laziness, and anger. Mozart’s “Requiem” is played endlessly. Cosa sings along.
Khoza is still tightly bound in plastic as Thabo Pule, the production’s video and sound manager, who sits behind a backstage table manipulating the camera, unwraps it from the cloth. It covers all of him except his nose and mouth, gives his flesh a translucent glow, and makes his breathing visible through the moving bumps on his abdomen.Under Laïs Foulc’s harsh lighting. A radiant Khoza holds a bowl of oranges and a knife, peels the oranges, slices them and stuffs them into her mouth. He licks his blade, laughing like a mad swordswallower, and thrusts it further down his throat. His knife skills are commendable.
Ultimately, he uses a knife to cut the cellophane, slicing it cleanly like meat. He trolls oranges, tearing the skins with his teeth and letting the juices drip down his throat and body. It’s messed up. It’s funny. He lights up the crowd and asks two people in the audience to come on stage. “I know I’m from Africa,” he says. “But I don’t bite. I’m not a savage.”
He sprays himself with water, hands out washcloths to volunteers to wipe clean, and guides them along lines like “I’m not just cleaning the counters” and “Concentrate on your toes.” Kosa seems to be one of those who can turn an old one into a party, he transforms into a Nubian queen and stacks a sparkling ring on his finger while getting ready for a special date. It turns out that he is with Putin.
When Putin appears in the video, he dances like an awkward puppet in a jerky, incessant rhythm. Kosa flirts and giggles like a schoolgirl at first, but she becomes furious when Putin stops her from moving. Are you guys together? Or you don’t want to dance with me because I’m black? Which one? “
“And as you can see,” can slip in plain sight, but Cosa has a way of taking this ship into deeper layers, richer dimensions. Even when the subject matter is dark, it has the buoyancy and wit to light up the stage. Finally, he paints his body blue and stains the skin on his face, back and legs. “Friends, Putin, it is better to dance with weapons than to kill with weapons,” he says. “Better to dance than kill.”
He walks across the stage, wrapping himself in feathers and fabrics concocted by costume designer Marianne Fasler, and lets out a mournful roar. A requiem for a new generation. Pule approaches again, this time projecting a photo onto her Khoza’s body. He is a boy who wears butterfly wings and carries a gun. He’s a grown-up kid, a soldier. It veers into his elaborate realm. But Cosa is charming. He is a butterfly and this work would not be possible without him.
“And, as you can see… our glorious blue skies and eternal sun… can only be consumed per slice…”
through Saturday at the New York Live Arts. newyorklivearts.org.