The Brooklyn Rail

Amidst a Seussian wonderland of Nicola Turner’s earthy figures, Taylor Stanley, NYCB principal dancer, nestles into a plush hill made of compressed wool and salvaged horsehair. Clad in an auburn unitard, Stanley’s torso ripples, each limb echoing in the wake of the last. They appear at one with the preternatural environment, prowling the structural dune like a lion searching for the perfect resting spot.

Stanley’s co-choreographer and partner, New York City Ballet soloist Alec Knight, enters the fluorescent CARVALHO PARK gallery space with his arms outstretched and palms downward. Knight’s cream-colored blouse, structured earth-toned shorts, and brown socks evoke notions of man vs. nature as he looks at his surroundings with an amalgam of hope and veiled tranquility. He ambles forward through envelopés and passé balances, tilting his torso side to side with an angularity that destabilizes the conventionally upright balletic steps. Knight’s feet caress the cement floor as he explores the perimeter, searching for Stanley among the fantastical figures that comprise Turner’s installation, Fabric of Undoing. Tendu-ing back, Knight’s arms arc behind him through fifth position, his wrists slightly broken, harkening to the physicality of Swan Lake’s Odette—predator melds with prey.

The dancers are the only living beings in the environment, aside from the audience surrounding them, and their otherworldly gazes enliven the uncanny, coal-colored protuberances. As soon as Stanley’s head rises from this minimalist forest, the structures they lie upon seem to invite their movement. The sculptures’ metallic legs, fashioned from discarded hospital trolleys, jut out from their bases, foreshadowing their potential for mobility. Some pieces sprout spidery umber-colored appendages attached to their wheels, while other sculptures’ legs extend directly from their core. At the center of each wheel lies a coating of mid-century mustard paint; the industrial letters and numbers around the inner hub of the wheel protrude, evading the pigment. A mass of braided wool and horsehair emanates from the ceiling corner, the essence of nature’s resilience blooming like a sprout in the sidewalk.

When the dancers finally discover one another, an obscure tension arises, with a sparse piano and synth accompaniment saturating the gallery space. The soundscape is discordant and serene while Stanley and Knight’s fingers link together behind their released heads—a desperate struggle for conjoined existence. As they sit nuzzling quietly with their hands rested upon one another, the fleeting moment of still tenderness prompts consideration of relational longevity. Is the potential of their union to vanish just as quickly as it began?

These rickety reveries aside, the pair’s ardor is impossible to misconstrue and acts as a trusted anchor in Ephemeral solace (in passing). The dancers toy with counterbalance, leaning away and subsequently linking together to carve architectural contours with their elongated extremities. Despite the absence of seclusion that a dark proscenium theater provides, Stanley and Knight miraculously cultivate a similarly private intimacy through their collaborative choreography. The duo’s impenetrable eye contact and seamless partnering materialize as Stanley promenades barefoot in attitude, while Knight’s support is barely perceptible—just as it should be. The duo ronds de jambe in unison and skitter through Turner’s tunnel like children on a playground. It is their awe, relief, and subsequent synchronized movement that fills the gallery space with both gratitude and yearning.

As Knight moves the sculptures closer to Stanley, they sous-sus, twirling under themself, evoking a spitting image of a ballerina in a jewelry box. The enclosure tightens around Stanley, the space inside diminishing incrementally until Stanley slowly crumbles. They descend to the floor and compulsively trace shapes upon its surface. After Stanley escapes confinement and resets their habitat, Knight gingerly carries them back to their dune, laying Stanley atop it and exiting how he entered: alone.