IT IS, INDEED, BEAUTIFUL
Wavering graphics of kaleidoscopic greenery paint the Park Avenue Armory, transforming the space into a trippy, mystifying woodland. Kyle Abraham, choreographer and dancer in Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful, runs around the stage’s perimeter in an expansive circle. His energetic speed embodies that of a child who has escaped the clutches of school and faces a long summer of boundless freedom. His eyes gleam as he peers outwards at the audience, inviting us to soak up his sprightly spirit, but it doesn’t last long as his fast pace gives way to a plodding jog, and he no longer looks at us but straight ahead. Soon, he is not a young boy but an older man, his pace slow and heavy as he circles his lifespan. Abraham somehow magically encapsulates a life lived through one laborious everchanging track.
Kyle Abraham
Stephanie Terasaki
The work surges forward and Abraham’s signature style unfurls itself as his dancers seamlessly blend movement vocabularies from balletic plié arabesques to vibrating upper bodies, their polished contemporary/hip-hop isolations glinting in the greenery. Amari Fraizer and Gianna Theodore occupy the stage and float around like important specks of dust; tip-toeing and offering ronds de jambe with buoyant aimlessness, pulling apart from one another only to reunite like magnets drawn together through everlasting force.
Alysia Johnson
Catherine Kirk
The work often resonates like unleashed baby laughter, an effervescent light buzz not dissimilar to a gin cocktail. The floral and naturalistic thematics, thanks to Cao Yuxi (JAMES)‘s breathtaking shifting projections and Karen Young‘s muddied white linen costumery, synthesize into pleasant visual cues that intimate a post-apocalyptic paradise.
Donovan Reed and Stephanie Terasaki
Amari Frazier
As dancers jog across the stage like nymphs with their arms flailing behind them and hair streaming in the wind, I start to question where the conflict lies in the work. Is my desire for tension indicative of a lack within the work or myself? Meditative, introspective moments like these arise repeatedly, spurred by serene naturalistic music by sound designer Sam Crawford. With dancers hugging or touching each other’s shoulders consolingly after nearly every group piece or duet I grew impatient with the physical portrayals of unity appearing with such frequency and ease.
Jai Perez and Keturah Stephens
Amari Frazier, Faith Mondesire, Tamisha Guy, and Catherine Kirk
Despite the thematic lack of tension, all of the movers in Abraham’s company A.I.M. elicit lengthy reveries of awe due to their movement qualities that radiate with skillful resistance. William Okajima maneuvers himself like a regal snake, sweeping the floor in expansive lunges downstage, his limbs moving independently and away from his center. Donovan Reed penchés with dramatic angularity, halting time with his extreme control and exceptional ability to toy with the music.
The Company
Stephanie Terasaki and Donovan Reed
These crystalline moments of sheer beauty are spectacles I feel lucky to witness as soon as the dancers exit the stage. The piece’s culmination may be one of the most miraculous occurrences over the course of the hour-long work, as Abraham vibrates under a spotlight, staring outwards as he slowly evaporates into the ether.
photos taken at Park Avenue Armory by Stephanie Berger
Kyle Abraham
Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful
a Park Avenue Armory Commission
Wade Thompson Drill Hall
Mon-Thurs at 7:30; Fri and Sat at 8; Sat at 2 (Dec. 14)
running time 65 minutes
ends on December 14, 2024
for tickets (starting at $45), call 212.933.5812 or visit Armory on Park
