Deep Etude by Alma Söderberg at Dansstationen (Malmö), March 27, 2024
PLAS
PLAS PLAS
PLAS PLAS PLAS
PLAS PLAS PLAS PLAS
PLAS PLAS PLAS PLAS
PLAS PLAS PLAS
PLAS PLAS
PLAS
Or perhaps, given the context, something more like
KLAPP
KLAPP KLAPP
KLAPP KLAPP KLAPP
KLAPP KLAPP KLAPP KLAPP
KLAPP KLAPP KLAPP KLAPP
KLAPP KLAPP KLAPP
KLAPP KLAPP
KLAPP
In any case, there we were, slamming one hand against the other repeatedly. In unison, but out of sync. With a soft ‘tack’, Alma had let us know that the performance had come to an end. That’s when, as a gesture of approval, we fell into that cascade of compact sounds. To put it simply: we clapped. We were applauding. And yet, this collective choreography, so common at the end of a spectacle, seemed abrupt. Almost intrusive. A ruthless return to reality, making us accomplices in the unavoidable routine of meanings and conventions.
There was no longer any room for doubt: it was Wednesday, March 27, 2024, we were seated at Dansstationen, in Malmö, and we had just witnessed Deep Etude, by Alma Söderberg.
An hour before, I had met Ioana and Jenny, two friends, at the door. I was happy to see them. I didn’t know they were also going to Alma’s performance. As we walked into the room, we chatted briefly about how the week had been so far. About work, about the winter (which was already getting too long), about how much we needed to go out dancing. We settled into our seats and soon after the artist took the stage. She sat down on her knees, in a corner of the dimly lit rectangle that outlined the space where the performance would take place. She began by stretching out her palms, over and over again, almost like a mime, rhythmically. To each movement, she added an opaque sound with her mouth, exhaling a beat of sorts:
PFT PFT PFT PFT
PFT PFT PFT PFT
PFT PFT PFT PFT
PFT PFT PFT PFT
This rhythm (the overlap between the movement of her hands and the sound coming from her lungs) was sustained for some minutes. Alma kept introducing slight nuances, changes of intensity. At times it was as if the sound took the lead, getting louder, and then her hands would match the shift, adopting firmer gestures, cutting through the air. Progressively, the beat faded. Her hands were left alone, keeping the rhythm in silence:
( ) ( )( )( )
( ) ( )( )( )
( ) ( )( )( )
( ) ( )( )( )
The absence of sound made me notice the shadow that Alma’s fingers were drawing on her dress, at the height of her chest. Perhapsthe beat had not ceased, and had instead mutated into these silhouettes, sliding across her body. Alma was still on the floor, in the same corner. Resettling in her mouth, the beat slowly grew stronger. The volume was increasing, and Alma seemed to be channeling the sound. Maybe the beat was not hers, but had been there all this time, already present in the space, and she was merely an amplifier. Little by little, the PFT PFT PFT PFT (which might as well have been a TRRX TRRX TRRX TRRX or why not a CRL CRL CRL CRL) took on a more identifiable shape, until it became what I perceived as a clear
TI TI TI TI
TI TI TI TI
TI TI TI TI
TI TI TI TI
At that point, the performance had already dragged me into its depths. To a territory where movement disguises itself as sonority. Where the body becomes noise, and the noise turns into a syllable, only to fade away again with a simple gesture.
Deep Etude traces those moments of intimacy between movement and sound, body and music. Polyrhythm (the coexistence of several rhythmic patterns in the same musical composition) serves as an investigative tool for the performance. Beyond the exploratory character of Deep Etude (the study already hinted at in the title), the piece leaves room for the accidental. Alma ensembles the performance by embracing the chance encounters between different layers of rhythm and movement. The first version of the piece took place at the Museo Reina Sofía (Madrid) in 2019. Since then, the different (physical) reactions of the audience have also shaped each iteration of the performance. This work is part of an extensive ongoing investigation in which Alma approaches space as if it were a musical instrument from which to generate rhythm. Her choreographic practice always contains a synesthetic element, with a special emphasis on the relationship between the eye and the ear, and how we construct (or cease to construct) meaning through them. Already in Cosas (2010), an early piece, language appears as a mere physical phenomenon, stripped of any semantic charge. In NOCHE (2022), the nocturnal serves as a metaphor to attend to other sonorities, soft gestures beyond the dominant rationality. Alma’s practice also expands into the curatorial, as in the case of the EAREYE festival, whose first edition was hosted by Inkonst in 2020. A project that, according to Alma, invites attendants “to see with their ears and listen with their eyes”.
Like many of her previous works, Deep Etude stands out for the sparseness of resources in its staging. Alma herself (wearing a simple beige dress and black leggings) carries the weight of the performance. In addition to her presence, the main elements of the piece are made up by DeHendrik Lechat Wilekens (composer of a soundscape that takes center stage as the work progresses) and Pol Matthé (in charge of the concise lighting setup), two of her regular collaborators. When Alma stands up and begins to slowly walk across the stage (still to the rhythm of the PFT PFT PFT PFT coming from her mouth), the symbiosis between body, space and music becomes, if possible, even more intricate. Strips of light begin to emerge on the floor, emphasizing the depth of the stage. Alma follows them slowly (PFT PFT PFT PFT), as if they were paving a fractured path. Despite their subtleness, her movements hint at the vast universe of references shaping her performative repertoire. At times, the artist seems to execute zapateados with her bare feet (after studying ballet in Malmö, Alma moved to Seville to join Matilde Coral’s Escuela de Danza and ever since then flamenco has been one of her major influences). DeHendrik’s bubbling track begins to unfold on stage, blending in with the sounds emitted by the performer: the body and the machine sampling each other. The beat set by Alma reaches then an onomatopoeic character that reminds me of the ad libs, those energizing interjections that have become hallmarks of the most experimental branches of contemporary hip-hop. In a text about the artistic evolution of the rapper Playboi Carti, the American critic and filmmaker Nolan Kelly reaches a conclusion that could well be drawn from a performance like Deep Etude:
Whenever I feel oppressed by language (always intended so nefariously to persuade me of something), I like to put Carti on and remember that words are imperfect vessels for meaning, and that energy can pass from one person to another without having to take on such restrictive, perfunctory forms.
All of a sudden:
HA HA HA
It seems difficult to delve into Alma’s practice without attending to the role that humor plays in her practice. I still remember the strange hilarity brought on by her performance New Old (2023), an exploration of the somatic effects of childbirth presented at the last edition of EAREYE. Although Deep Etude has a more abstract nature, without such a defined referential framework, every now and then someone in the audience emits a spontaneous chuckle.
The laughter momentarily brought me back to reality, reminding me that one of my goals that evening was to write about the performance I was attending. Absorbed by the embrace of gestures and music, and unable to take notes due to the darkness, the figure of the poet and critic Fred Moten suddenly emerged in my head. By then, I was aware that, if I wanted to make my words come close to the energy mobilized by Deep Etude, I would have to make use of poetry (this text, the ultimate proof of my failure).
Parsimonious changes in the light patterns. Alma excavating the ground, in search of hidden rhythms. The soundtrack drifting into subtle detours. Alma pulling invisible robes, as if the intensity of the music could rise and fall with her hands. No fuss, or trace of any kind of climax. As smoothly as it started, Deep Etude came to an end.
“tack” and KLAPP
The performance was followed by a conversation with the artist, which felt like the right moment to put on my analytical suit. Notebook and pen time. A return to meaning. I took notes while Alma unpacked the details about her working method: the collaboration with flamenco scholar and choreographer Phyllis Akinyi, the influence of Deborah Hay and her idea of performance as practice… It was at this point that one person in the audience asked about Alma’s fixation with introducing the voice as a central element throughout her work. She then responded by alluding to her training as a choreographer at the SNDO in Amsterdam and her resistance to the imperative of dancing in silence. With a casual tone, she threw the question back at us:
“What I wanted was to make noise…I guess I had the desire to play in a band. After all, isn’t that what all of us dancers and artists want, to be in a band?”
That rhetorical formulation shook me: I always wanted to be in a band.
I would jump out of this chair; I would stop writing.
I would give it all up for playing in a band.
And, as if that wasn’t enough, Alma’s question brought back the echo of Fred Moten.
A few days ago, I had come across a youtube video in which he reflects on the genocide in Palestine. After an hour full of poetic drifts, Moten introduced a meditation on pedagogical work as an anti-colonial practice. In his usual laid-back tone, he confesses:
“I began to believe that… because of my interest in jazz and my interest in music… I always had this kind of idealistic notion that I wanted my classes to be like being in a band…that I wanted them to operate that way.”
Studying as if we were playing in a band. Being in a band as a way of transforming our bodies into spaces from which to imagine other worlds. To shake them (the bodies, the worlds) together, as if we were studying.
Once we hit the streets, Ioana and Jenny asked me if I wanted to grab a beer with them. I told them I’d better not. I had a text to write.
I haven’t opened my notebook since then.
Before the end, one last onomatopoeia.
DING DONG
“Come up!”
A few weeks later, Alma receives me in her new studio in Malmö, located in Kulturhuset Mazetti. She is excited about having the chance to work in a space dedicated to choreographic experimentation. Moreover, the studio also means an opportunity to involve others in her creative process. We start by speaking about her performance in Dansstationen and, before we know it, we end discussing Latin American poetry. Alma gets up and walks over to the shelf to grab a book. She wants to share with me the appreciation she has for a certain writer, a guy called Fred Moten. Everything starts making sense or stops making sense. I feel like I want to clap.
Applauding for all those unexpected echoes that make us feel like we’re playing in a band.
Deep Etude
Dansstationen, Malmö, 27th March
By and with: Alma Söderberg
Music by: Dehendrik Lechat Willekens
Dramaturgy by: Igor Dobricic
Artistic advice: Anja Röttgerkamp
Production: Manyone
Co-produced by: Kunstenfestivaldesarts (Belgium) , Kunstencentrum BUDA (Belgium) in the frame of apap-Performing Europe 2020 – co-founded by Creative Europe Programme of the European Union. PACT Zollverein (Germany), Riksteatern (Sweden)
Supported by: Swedish Arts Council (Kuturrådet)
Residencies at: STUK (Belgium), BUDA (Belgium), Pianofabriek (Belgium), Tanzfabrik (Germany).
More from Jari Malta