Making their UK debut, Andrea Peña and Artists opened this year’s Dance Umbrella Festival with a performance that in broad brushstokes describes identity. The performance is densely layered and makes for a confronting but stimulating evening of contemporary dance. Artistic Director of Dance Umbrella Freddie Opoku-Addaie says his ambition for this year’s Festival is to examine the accepted canon of western choreography, which Peña certainly does with enquiring verve in how Bogotá, the title of the 80-minute piece, defies categorisation.
Part of what is thrilling about dance is seeing how the body moves in response to rhythm and melody, usually contained within the code of one dance genre, or instead contrasting different movement cultures. Bogotá strips the body of any artifice; the dancers moving in ways that I found challenged my preconceptions and made me feel uncomfortable, which wasn’t a bad thing here.
Peña’s offering could be characterised by three modes for the body. The first establishes a sort of legato line throughout the piece in its sinuous windings from one dancer’s joints out and around another body, contrasting with much more confrontational movements that infect one performer, and then another. The way this physical hostility builds is intriguing, exactly as darker emotions churn below the surface in our psyche, then spill forth at moments beyond our control.
At one point our focus becomes a portable scaffold tower. Its slow progress down one diagonal of the stage, only to return, and then back again, is a sort of pendulum, outlining a rhythm for the action to unravel, showing movement enhancing sound. The sound composition by Debbie Doe and Rodolfo Rueda was satisfying for its constant sense of renewal; new landscapes drift out of each other imperceptibly but deliver a potent hit at times of physical drama.
The last way Peña shows the body is the most striking. Departing from any centrifugal harmony prescribed by classicism, the body was remade before our eyes. My first thoughts went to a video being rewound and spliced back together. In other moments, the cast of nine dancers were like cells dividing through some sort of poetic binary fission, and presented as radical collections of muscle and bone. They were laid bare for us to reimagine how one joint interacts with the whole system. It’s a fitting concept for a piece that asks political and anthropological questions about how we become what we are, what our ancestral stories do to us, and how we transcend these. The tone is definitely not elegiac, it is instead rigorously industrial, and arresting for its directness.