Photo: Richi Devon and su guzey
Photo: Richi Devon and su guzey

Growing the home within

Charly Santagado

Self described as an artist constantly in transit, su guzey’s interest in Glissant’s concept of errantry––a practice that seeks sovereignty in all aspects of motion––purfuses their solo work, ‘rattling‘. From sudden music cuts to the use of analogue media and recycled materials,  guzey doesn’t hide the mechanisms of their perpetual moving from place to place, instead exposing their jarring effect. Within the complex experience they portray, everything is transparent, even the plastic makeshift blanket they cover themselves with.

Cardboard boxes of varying shapes and sizes litter the stage, and the dark soil of a plant being repotted stands out against the white background in the video projection. Behind the audience, guzey’s silhouette hastily arranges structures from similar cardboard containers; aggravation builds as they repeatedly topple and guzey’s forced to begin again. They use one hand to simulate an earthquake; the hand that builds also dislodges.

Donning a large backpack, guzey moonwalks in place to ambient music until the backpack eventually weighs them down. They fall back on it, crushing parts of the paper cityscape in their wake. guzey backflops over and over until they’re jumping athletically onto their back, seeming to crush the past behind them.

Covered in a sheet of plastic, they fumble beneath it with a flashlight, rising slowly until it billows out like a ghostly skirt––to me, a symbol of their motherland. They thrash the plastic with equal parts exhaustion and frustration, whipping boxes out of the space violently, an act they instantly regret as they reset the boxes to their original position.

They take a pillow and mat from their backpack but are too restless to sleep, and their reaches for comfort prove useless. It seems the only solution is to dance through it. guzey’s flurry of tiny retrogrades make it seem like they’re second guessing themselves, and their baggy layered clothes and loose hair amplify the expansiveness and release of  their movement.

Too soon it is over and they must again rebuild. A lamp. A delicate strip of lace across a folding chair. As they struggle to wedge more boxes than they can hold under their chin, I notice that only one of the two lamp bulbs is lit, perhaps signifying all the half successes of their efforts.

A green spotlight follows guzey as they walk to the edge of the space. When they undress, step into a large pot, and pour a watering can over their head, a nude figure being pummeled by shovelfulls of dirt is projected onto the back wall. The footage is lush compared with the stark palette of the opening image, and guzey lounges and watches it, carelessly cracking sunflower seeds in  their teeth. When they get up, they offer a handful to me.

rattling, su guzey, The Icebox Project Space, Cannonball Festival, Philly Fringe Festival, Sept. 16, 25, 30.

Share this article

Charly Santagado

Charly is an interdisciplinary dance artist based in Brussels, Belgium. She is a staff writer and editor with thINKingDANCE.

PARTNER CONTENT

Keep Reading

The West Did Not Make Me

ankita

An Interview with nora chipaumire

nora chipaumire, a Black African woman takes the stage in 100% POP with her collaborator, Shamar Watt, a Black Jamaican man in a black Adidas tracksuit and red-green-yellow, Zimbabwe-flag-colored Nike shoes. As he runs through the frame upstage, backgrounded by a grungy, urban wall, chipaumire captures the camera’s focus as she jumps into the air, one knee tucked up to her chest, the other a foot off the ground. Wearing a ripped white shirt, black track pants, and all-white high tops, chipaumire gazes down at the ground while she leaps up, as if stomping her way back to Earth.
Photo: Ian Douglas

Jack and Jill Trudge up the Hill

E. Wallis Cain Carbonell

"No one help me. I’m falling towards wholeness."

Two white women with bright red hair pulled back loosely, wear black pants and tank tops and accentuate the curves of their waists, leaning into their hips and slightly covering their eyes with elbows bent at different angles. They are loosely connected by a thin, red thread and in the background there is a hill constructed of wooden blocks against a white wall. Completing the scene are red galoshes, two picture frames hung above the hill and a large new moon hung from the ceiling.
Photo: Shosh Isaacs