A stage bathed in blue light, performers all in black. One stands at the left side of the image, glancing center-stage at two dancers. Those two dancers morph together into one as one-crouches, belly up in a crab-position balanced on one hand, and the other sits precariously on their lap, knees up to their chest.
Photo: Kylie Shields

Folding Histories Into Prayer

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A Call to Prayer starts with a little booklet – a spiritual zine of sorts that doubles as a program. Inside, a call to ancestry, freedom, and time that collapses into flesh, abolition, and ritual. A condensation of spirit advocating for a return to body and land. A poetic thesis for meditative performance. A prayer.

Tucked inside each individual booklet is a note. I don’t notice it until the Fringe staff tell us to hand over this one-line invocation in order to enter the space. Fumbling through its pages, I feel like I’m opening a fortune cookie. I assume each little note is unique – mine talks about transformation and sovereignty. I hold the paper in my hand, waiting for my turn to have choreographer and performer Zaquia Mahler Salinas welcome me into the space. Once I reach her, wordlessly, her hands hold space around my chest and shoulders, touch my feet, ground me. I feel like my aura’s just been read – her presence acts as a healing container. I drop my prayer in an urn filled with water, streams of paper already swirling around inside. Then, I take my seat.

Two dancers wearing black – Sergio Barrientos and Guillermo Castro – hold space, and Salinas soon joins them, placing the prayer-and-water filled urn downstage. The dancers are a powerful, somber, trio, each holding my attention in totality at different points in the work. Salinas shines with a sharpness in her gaze, drawing back an arrow that collapses systemic structures. Barrientos feels the most at ease when athletic contemporary movement breaks into house-like footwork, kicking down walls with a stylish swipe of hand. Castro’s partnering – whether he has someone draped on his back, balanced on his lap, or spinning in the air above him – feels safe even to the eyes.

Throughout, the trio returns to the water-filled urn, cleansing hands and faces. With different languages permeating the soundscape, what they build between them compresses global histories and prayers into one liquid container – rituals coalescing into a physically demanding finale of electronic resistance, a universal mediation on the desire to hold faith against political constriction. Important hope. Yet, to work for the global, there must be grounding in the personal, and I left wanting to understand more of Salinas’s own specificities that back the brave, skillfully-crafted rituals she builds – ultimately, a prayer for more of her in the work.

A Call to Prayer, Zaquia Mahler Salinas, Icebox Project Space Gallery, September 26.ankita

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ankita

ankita is an experimental performance artist and writer invested in storytelling where content dictates genre and betrays expectation. They hold degrees in Dance and Anthropology and are regularly presenting performance and film work (inter)nationally. They are a staff writer and editor with thINKingDANCE.

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