Let’s jump! Loosely based on the mysterious circumstances of New York dance artist and Warhol actor Fred Herko’s 1964 death, Jumpcore researches the often inconspicuous and belittled motion of jumping.
Paweł Sakowicz lleva zapatillas deportivas, pantalones cortos y una bata de mármol y salta repetidamente en el aire como un boxeador preparándose para el asalto final.
Deconstructing multiple dance traditions – ballet, rave, ballroom, folk – he restlessly and carelessly swirls round the stage, playing with our expectations as he shifts from virtuosity to a jocular unconcern.
The marathon of jumps is interrupted by an a capella rendition of Lana Del Ray’s ‘Gods and Monsters’. With solemn irony, the performer pays tribute to the ruptured yet rapturous power of a restless bounce. Whether aligned with the beat or immersed in complete silence, Sakowicz vigorously reminds us of the joy of jerking into the air.
Although his fatigue becomes increasingly evident this jumper cannot give up. ‘Life imitates art,’ he repeats after del Ray. I would gladly mimic his antics.
Uno de los objetivos poéticos históricos del ballet era emular la imagen de un cuerpo ingrávido y etéreo, capaz de ascender a lo sublime. El salto que inspiró el Jumpcore —la danza suicida del artista pop Fred Herko, quien se arrojó por la ventana en un último intento por lograr algo auténtico— llevó este ideal demasiado lejos.
Paweł Sakowicz employs the dynamics of hopping and turning in different dance styles in a solo that is as ironic as it is consciously corny. Pirouetting and hardstyling to the best of his ability, his body doesn’t take flight, but he doesn’t seem to care. Dressed in a loose, brownish and cheaply-patterned robe plus a too-small undershirt, underwear and socks dyed accordingly, his attitude remains that of a snobby, vainglorious character. He explains, quoting Lana del Rey’s lyrics a cappella: ‘A modern angel, sublime… life imitates art…’
Although vague in purpose, Jumpcore still hooks us through humour. Could this chaos be nihilism at its best? Or is it just a comment on the shallowness of it all?
Con la gran "Misa de Coronación" de Mozart, Paweł Sakowicz entra al escenario con una horrible bata de baño, pantalones horribles a juego y la peor camiseta, un poco demasiado corta, que deja ver su barriga. Con aire de presuntuoso, empieza a saltar, bailar y trotar. Siempre asumiendo que... Jumpcore was meant to be ironic, Sakowicz mocks the pretentiousness of ballet dancers, leaping around to tacky techno music with an adorably serious face. When the rave gears towards its frenzied break, you kind of want him to go for it – and he delivers, lashing about the stage in mock-balletic jetés and pirouettes. Afterwards he stretches while breathlessly singing a Lana del Rey song. No offence to Lana but her lyrics, laid bare, are hilariously kitsch. The whole thing is pretty unbelievable, supremely silly – but weirdly enjoyable. Made me giggle.
Slicing the space with his laser-sharp eye line, Paweł Sakowicz begins to jump. He spins, bounces to the left and back to the right. He spots, turning like a dial that constantly recalibrates to function on a shifting set of angles.
Así como el suicida Fred Herko, inspiración de la pieza, pudo haber saltado a la otra vida, Sakowicz se inclina y se flexiona hacia la libertad; los ritmos vibrantes le dan impulso mientras se prepara para el vuelo. Fijo en un punto lejano, su atención sugiere un anhelo de liberación de su alma.
Pero no escapa. Con su camiseta de calavera brillando bajo su capa, Sakowicz se estira en el suelo, cantando sobre estrellas de rock fallecidas y sobre ser un ángel en un jardín del mal. Aún ardiendo por su tormento de búsqueda de emociones, se tambalea al borde de la locura.
There’s no shortage of swagger in Paweł Sakowicz’s step as he strides onto the stage. In his short, tie-dye dressing gown (with matching pants) and glitzy t-shirt, he looks set for the boxing ring, the rehearsal studio or nightclub. The movement echoes his fashion choices, switching between slow rhythmic rock steps, balletic leaps and turns, and beat-driven dance floor energy.
El placer que Sakowicz obtiene de sus saltos, ejecutados después de muchos preámbulos, tiene una cualidad contagiosa, que hace que algunas secciones de Jumpcore sean disfrutables, incluso encantadoras.
But like so many solo performers, his belief that the pedestrian choreography that surrounds these more dynamic moments is enough to carry the audience through is ill-founded. The motivation behind the piece falls away when it strays into self-indulgent meanderings, including two inexplicable renditions of Lana Del Rey’s Gods and Monsters. Fun for him, maybe, disengaging for us.