WHILE DIGITAL SATURATION only grows more pervasive — as does the obsession with meta celebrity status — to ascribe a techno-voyeurism analysis to just the most recent technological tools is falsehood. Writings of technology’s role in constructing identities are as old as the advent of television, “ Think of Leave it to Beaver, ” Nick explains. “Like, this is what you should model your life after, white, cis, hetero, nuclear family with christian morals. Then everyone gets a TV set and models themselves after this suburban life. Art imitates life…So there’s this looping of people modeling people who are modeling television. And with the internet, the looping increases at a rapid speed. It’s dizzying. are:era explores this phenomena.” Nick and Kim don’t inherently prescribe pessimism to our techno-voyeurism stasis. “I don’t have a strong moral position but err on the side of skepticism,” Nick elaborates. “There are many good things like human connection, shar- ing resources, and the representation of different people. But all of these things are fed into the algorithms and tracked by the technology, and by us too.” Three months into the New Year, artists and audiences continue to rely on social media to experience art, collab- orate and connect, and observe one another. Arts institu- tions, too, ideate on novel digital engagement strategies, tracking cultural shifts; their branded identities, adapting. As many are increasingly reliant on digital tools, mental health and social media experts warn of the dangers of too much screen time. Numerous articles populate offering neurological explorations of Zoom fatigue and tips to alle- viate the strain. Many feel oversaturated and delete their social media accounts for weeks. Yet, as the protagonist of curated identities, social media users also find catharsis and a sense of belonging through digital participation. The same tools that entrap and me- diate identities also spread vital resources and awareness, calls to action, and representation of marginalized individ- uals that can literally save lives. Viewing Pseuda’s Instagram account, only one photo can be seen of Nick Navarro not in drag. The rest of the grid is an invigorating display of ghoulish looks, metal harnesses, algae wires, A.I, and electricity. In one video, Pseuda wears a helmet fashioned from barbed wire that wraps their head like a venus flytrap. Their torso is covered in a leather harness, and a beam of light is projection mapped to their chest — cracking open with changing shades of scarlet as they lip sync “Doomed” by Moses.
“ THE DANCERS ARE CONFINED by these screens,” Nick describes. “And they’re literally trapped in this little instal- lation where they watch each other. The lights black out, and when they come back you see a different dancer in the space, almost as if you, the audience member, have been transported to a different pod.” The time sequences of movement and projection are delayed, bodies disappear and reappear in space, identities merge and duplicate in multiplicity. The chorographic elements in are:era emerged through Zoom rehearsals, a self- aware gridlock of dancers tracking each oth- ers’ movements. Dance scores were puzzle pieced into a collective work. “It was fasci- nating,” Kim recalls. “The rehearsals were a struggle of looking through ‘telephone foot- age’ and realizing that I’m seeing identities in front of me manipulated by each other. I’m seeing some kind of phenomena happening and I have no idea how to track any of this. It’s similar to sifting through massive online content and not knowing where you are.” The screened collaborations evolved throughout the pandemic into socially dis- tanced rehearsals at CounterPulse and Zoom call work-in-progresses. The Combustible Residency’s time frame doubled in length — a full year — to make space for generative expansion, from site to screen and back to site again. With are:era ’s adaptation to an installation, it will exist beyond a screen as an evolving identity in and of itself.
AS THE CHOREOGRAPHER for are:era, Kim’s dance phrases mimic the dizzying replication of identity. “The challenge I felt was creating movements that were somehow dynamic enough but also fixed in space to not define the next dancers. It was like playing telephone with myself. When I’m doing the dance phrase, I need to subtly iterate my movement but not so much that it’s unrecog- nizable. It’s like your Facebook memory from years ago, like it’s me but also differ- ent. The dance sequence parallels your identity as it interfaces with social medi- as, maybe you lost track of your identity, you feel disoriented, or maybe you need to have someone remind you of who you are.” The dancers — Kim Ip, Gabriel Christian, Erin Yen, and sibling hart — interface with phantoms of their mediated identities. Watching the work-in-progress, we view bodies move within a flicker of screens and try to trace an evolving identity. Embodying perhaps a single protagonist, the dancers mirror themselves, recoiling and leaping between screens. We hear the pulsating electronica score from urhe- inous. We see bodies bend in time and space, projected back to us, as dancers cypher through their morphing identity in cascading rhythm. Often they break free with a deviated movement, only to be captured by the technology and outputted into the echo chamber, infinitely. Performers are enveloped in a single crescendo- ing identity of light, music, and technology. Viewing the panopticon as an audi- ence, the performance ascends into gorgeous chaos.
Pseuda at Stereo Argento at The Stud
NOT ALL OF US CAN BE science fiction drag artists or embody the mediated video vixen. Though Nick Navarro and Kim Ip’s work may compel us to rejoice in the nuanced identities of ourselves and others within the feedback loops we’re embedded in. With so much beyond our control in the emerging metaverse, how can we assert our known truths, or use the same tools that confine us to compose new optics of ourselves? When the last dancer concludes their delay sequence, when the screens flicker the last ghost of an identity, when audiences leave the video installation, when are:era ’s coda fades, we’ll be left to our own devices of introspection. Perhaps technology is merely a form of thought, and these same digital tools can reca- librate and choreograph new identities altogether. are:era is part of a split bill with StratoFyzika for Combustible Residency 2021, running Wed-Sun, Apr 14-18, 12pm-8pm PST at CounterPulse. Live installation tours are available by appoint- ment only, available at counterpulse.org/combustible2021.
I feel you But nobody else Though you’re someone I can’t see
Yet you say nothing Of the stoic suffering That stirs lukewarm in me
A livestream and Q&A will air on Friday, April 16, 5pm PST
If lovelessness is godlessness Will you cast me to the wayside?
JUSTIN EBRAHEMI is the Director of Communications & Advancement at CounterPulse
Counterpulse.org/combustible2021
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In Dance | May 2014 | dancersgroup.org
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