Scaffolding is rolled up. The floor is littered with stage lights. It seems the show is over or hasn’t happened yet.
Choreographer for solo work “Compression” niall jones I arranged the small theater at Performance Space New York to this intermediate state, and disrupted the arrangement. He wanders around in a jumpsuit as if it’s his job to finish the setup and teardown.
“Are you ready?” Sounds like a DJ or announcer getting the crowd excited. But his perception of the viewer perched around him on scaffolding against all four walls is intermittent.
This flickering engagement is the most interesting aspect of the 90-minute performance. For most of it, Jones acts like he’s alone, moving around his equipment and listening to his music (techno, industrial, Björk, Boyz II Men). But he also invokes light and sound cues to match his changing moods. Occasionally he dances — twisting and undulating from his waist to his wrists. (Jones is a lithe, sexy mover. He could be cast in an unspoken show that’s either done or hasn’t happened yet.) Then he retreats to a console of lights and sounds, fumbling with the controls. continue to
The room is equipped so that the sounds of Jones’ labor are amplified. Dragging the mirrored acrylic plate makes a heavy sound. He is engrossed in this aimless activity, but when he slips and makes a loud noise, he says, “I’m sorry.” And if he bumps into a member of the audience, he smiles apologetically.
The bump is then deliberately altered when Jones strips down to his waist and uses his scaffolding like a pole dancer to temporarily turn the theater into a different kind of club. They seemed happy and amused as the undulating Jones slipped past them or danced on their laps.
Apparently, each performance is slightly different. (The work can also be visited as a non-performance installation in the afternoons through November 6.) Two moments stood out on Tuesday. The first was when Jones exhaled air with a clear mask over his face, matching the movement with the sound of decompression. The second was when I came down from a hole in the deck lit only by a flashlight, on a movable scaffold. For a while I followed him somewhere in his head.
Ultimately, though, the work’s evocation of a fugitive presence is too fugitive, its imagery and energy underdeveloped. It’s a kind of performance that asks you to conform to the material, and despicable behavior. “Compression” is a good word to describe what is missing.
niall jones
Until Friday at Performance Space New York. performancespacenewyork.org.