Dance review: Ziyian Kwan's Rebel Grace joyously says No to oppression, Yes to representation
Glitter shines through in Dumb Instrument Dance’s new work
Ziyan Kwan (left) and Justin Calvadores. Photo by David Cooper
The Dance Centre presents Dumb Instrument Dance’s Rebel Grace to May 14 at the Scotiabank Dance Centre.
NEAR THE BEGINNING of dancer-choreographer Ziyian Kwan’s Rebel Grace, the artist asks: What is a rebel but a state of grace? What ensues is a section of franticness and fury, the artist and four other dancers unleashing pure physical frenzy to the fierce rhythms of taiko drummer E.Kage, who accompanies them on-stage. Expect the unexpected in the hourlong work by Dumb Instrument Dance.
All that glitters in Rebel Grace is a symbol of power and defiance: the shimmery stuff—long used by queer activists and communities in their fight for 2SLGBTQIA+ rights—is a constant in the show, from the moment multitalented musician, sultry singer, and designer of dreamy soundscapes Roxanne Nesbitt walks on-stage in a gold shift dress over pants to prop up her contrabass to the joyous way Andrea Nann showers herself in sparkles.
The artists literally say No in the piece—to gender norms, inequality, and oppression—but they also say Yes, to freedom of expression, identity, pride, consent, representation, resilience, and rights. In hot pink heels and gold short shorts, Justin Calvadores, who started out dancing with Royal Winnipeg Ballet, says Yes to things like “bodies in between”, “hairy legs and short skirts”, and “brown Jesus”. Calvadores briefly speaks in Tagalog; Kage sings in Japanese. These are important vignettes at a time when anti-Asian racism is on the rise, the artists saying Listen.
Elsewhere, Calvadores dons a blue-sequined gown to share a duet with Kwan, in her own pink stilettos, the two moving behind and around a blue-and-green room divider—symbolic of so many barriers and just one of many thrifted, found, or repurposed objects Kwan incorporates into the choreography. Empty picture frames become dance partners; a table top transforms into a stage and a throne.
In Rebel Grace’s most striking scene, each member of the ensemble (which also includes Lisa Mariko Gelley, Juolin Lee, and Rianne Svelnis) moves independently, spread out across the stage, as Kwan, in the middle, steps out of her sequined silver skirt to groove in nothing but a sleeveless top and black combat boots. The moment, like the work itself, doesn’t just break the rules. It also embraces the beauty of what being a rebel makes possible.
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