Dance: I left my shoes on warm concrete and stood in the rain

Gabrielle Nankivell

I left my shoes on warm concrete and stood in the rain
Dancehouse
July 8 – 12, 2009

As we emerge from splintered darkness, an antiquated suitcase slides across the stage, its origin unknown, its purpose mere mystery. Soon it will be revealed as a survival kit for life – a tidy, purpose-built container that encompasses salient lessons in advance. As our lightened vessel examines its contents we hear a tauntingly happy voice against electro-pop elevator music – this is I left my shoes on warm concrete and stood in the rain: a performance playful and tragic, light and dark, but always human.

Superbly choreographed and performed by Gabrielle Nankivell, I left my shoes on warm concrete and stood in the rain is an intensely physical ode to the frailties and strength of humanities’ psychology. Nankivell shows maturity in her clarity of movement as she whisks the audience through the thin films of an inner psyche, effortlessly contrasting aggressive, explosive physicality with quieter, articulate movements. Her skill is in her expression; she expounds madness with her challenging balance of weight and gravity, before seguing into minimalist expressions that are welcomingly more concerned with conveying truth than flamboyance.

Nankivell successfully purports that matter and makeup in reeling tragedy is simultaneously miraculous and terrifying. Luke Smiles’ soundscape, a testament to this, deals competently with the mundane, the epic and the tragic, without ever feeling overpowering. Much of I left my shoes on warm concrete and stood on the rain‘s tone, however, is conveyed through voice-over, that while often lyrical and beautiful, tends to veer distractedly into a tangled hyper-metaphor.

Indeed, during much of the performance the audience will find themselves in the dark, with a voice as their sole company. This is initially effective but does eventually become a touch exhausting; however, as soon as Nankivell reappears, these qualms are soon forgotten. It’s as though her dance is a personal catharsis – she talks of being ‘great, but not exceptional’ – but then demonstrates its fallacy in each of her well-executed movements.

This is humanity stripped bare: a catalogue of fears, hopes, dreams – and dreams-crushed – are made temporarily ethereal before vanishing in darkness.

Ultimately, I left my shoes on warm concrete and stood in the rain is another impressive contribution to contemporary dance, and further evidence that Dancehouse’s unique residency program is hugely invaluable to Melbourne’s increasingly reputable dance scene.