Aviles Unclothes Emotion and Movement in Dance

Author: Kate Prouty

A self-described "short faggot with a bald head and a big ass" performed his solo work on Wednesday evening Jan. 23 in the Middlebury College Dance Theater. At least those were the memorable words with which "New York-Rican" (feet in the Bronx, heart in Puerto Rico) dancer Arthur Aviles introduced himself to an unsuspecting audience.

To arrive center-stage to deliver this surprising proclamation, Aviles flipped onto the floor from behind the back curtain with a flash of acrobatics that was as equally shocking to the eye as the long, fiery-red, crushed velvet dress that he wore. These bold choreographic decisions contrasted sharply with the unobtrusive sound of a recorded thundershower that rained down in the background.

Aviles' gutsy entrance set the tone for the piece. Although Aviles exuded raw energy, he was neither aggressive nor overly self-confident. Rather than masking emotion from his face and using only his body to express his mood, Aviles smiled. He looked happy, which helped ease the transition out of such an energetic opening towards what developed into a more graceful and hypnotic dance. His arms melted into the air around him as twirl after twirl he traveled along diagonal lines across the stage. Aviles cocked his head upwards in a decadent tilt and his feet were soundless on the hard wooden floor. Who knew such a meaty man could move so gracefully?

Aviles moved as nimbly and effortlessly as a classically trained ballerina, although he presented much more. The percussiveness with which he executed each gesture added striking punctuation to his movement. In this way, although graceful, Aviles distanced himself from all that is conventional. As he said in the post-performance discussion, he does "not want to fall into the institutional trap."

What Aviles did next expelled all possibility of falling prey to such a trap. He got naked. That's right, naked. Aviles unzipped the front of his dress and wore it as an open robe, spinning the fabric to rise up around him. Before dropping the dress completely to the floor, Aviles lightheartedly took the stance of a matador; red cape positioned on his left side taunting an imaginary bull, Aviles laughed, "You know that image? Olé!" The audience laughed with him.

Whether he knows it or not, Aviles is Michelangelo's dream model. He has that compact body of muscle mass with exaggerated obloquies, thick thighs and bulbous calves that Michaelangelo's famous white marble figures typify. Seeing his body naked on stage was never sexual, but always captivating.

After the show, Aviles denounced using nudity as an entertainment device and explained that because of his Puerto Rican cultural upbringing it came to him very naturally. He also talked about his interest in nudity, especially in dance, because there is "so much to watch." Rather than hiding the body's intricacies underneath clothes, Aviles is fascinated by seeing muscles and fat move and twist.

The costume change pinpointed a huge shift in his movement quality. The music turned into a recording of a man snorting like a pig to the tune of "Do-Re-Mi" as well as scattered groans, moans and snoring. Aviles coordinated his actions to be accentuated by these hysterical manmade sounds. His movement was now oriented on the floor as he stretched his arms long over his head, rolled around, rocked on his back while his legs reached to the ceiling and even scratched his butt and picked his nose. Although it would seem as if this comparatively pedestrian movement would derail his previous poise, Aviles still exhibited much agility, strength and flexibility in even these exaggerated and sometimes vulgar moments.

The peculiarity of this section lent real authenticity to Aviles's performance. He sustained this highly repetitive material long enough for it to shed its shock value and resonate as an intriguing presentation of innovation. As laughter in the audience subsided, so did the pig snorting to give way to the same rainfall that opened the piece. Although at this point the variety of the night seemed to have grossly exceeded its boundaries, Aviles had so much more in mind.

The conclusion of the piece, which Aviles later revealed was actually a collage of many previously performed separates, reverted to fluid material reminiscent of the opening. This closing grace, executed with seemingly effortless precision, was punctuated by robotic body ticks like those of a modern hip-hop "popping and locking" routine. As this hypnotic pace quickened, Aviles also included what looked like a brief Caribbean dance number showcasing the performer's cultural background in both the music and of course in his swiveling hips.

At this point it seemed Aviles could never invent a way to wrap this piece up cohesively. Just then, Dance Artist in Residence Amy Chavasse left her front row seat and walked down the wing-less right side of the stage. With a paper cup in her hand, she approached Aviles who was in an upstage headstand and poured a drop of liquid behind his shining head. Aviles lowered his legs to touch the floor, leaving him in a tripod position facing the audience.

Chavasse continued to pour drop after drop of water just at the back of Aviles's head leaving a slick trail for him to inch along towards his exit. Slowly they made their way behind the rear black curtain and waited as the audience was suspended in silence. Finally one of them let out a little clap from backstage indicating that the performance was over. The audience followed suit and ended with loud applause what was probably the most revealing, in more ways than one, performance they had seen in the College's Dance Theater.