Black women, the body and acts of service
Responding to A Service in Committing to Love: Manifestations of Love and Solidarity #2 by Mele Broomes
From the opening strains of angelic voices like a curious cupid's chorus, buoying up the textured, minimal movement, Mele Broomes’ film, A Service in Committing to Love: Manifestations of Love and Solidarity #2, is a multi-sensory delight. You immediately know you are about to witness something special and generous. Mele, who directed, performed and created the soundtrack, offers a sugar-rush of sensual shapes – from the sapphic-like dishes holding lush fruit dripping with cream, to the licking of lips and fingertips.
There is a sense of rapture, a sumptuous exaltation and a nod to Janelle Monae's ‘Pink’ lyrics. Expressions of joy and self-love hued in a rose colour speak to girlhood, to a certain tenderness of the underside of flesh, unfolding and un-gathering. Each move, a spiritual evocation, an honouring of the sacred humanity of Black women. There is also a certain playfulness - delicate sequins glinting on fingers compliment Mele's frothy dress and the layered pinks and reds of ripe fruit with cream; an offering for the mouth, a feasting. These colours lace through her afro-textured hair and their softness lingers in the emotionality of the work.
Mele Broomes is an award-winning choreographer and performer and her artistry is a gift to Scotland. Her work embodies stories from the collective voice, creating visceral and sensory collaborations through her ancestral heritage; remembering and celebrating. Mele's directorial eye is precise - unfolding roses to the left of the frame are desperate to reach and touch her beautiful face. Dancer's arms up, outstretched, cup the space, the air, the visceral potential, in a repetitive, ritualised way. Suggesting a claiming, specifically for herself as a Black woman. There are shots reminiscent of a Black church preacher in ecstasy; it is clear that this woman is a Goddess, she is sacred, she is a Black woman, she is a phoenix rising. Even down on the ground, on the floor, prone, Broomes forms shapes that forge possibility, that clear paths and sets down routes and roots.
Broomes’ power is manifest in an uncompromising presence through which she suggests the idea of a universal Black woman: that she takes on this act of service in the absence of others, and indeed for the absent Black women that she empathises with. Mele's movements appear effortless but it doesn't imply a lack of emotional and spiritual labour. Precious energies humming with pink lifeblood need to be sustained; short sequences punctuated with nourishment breaks, taking of sustenance and sweet sips of her drink.
There is a sense of otherworldly intoxication. Hot pink lips open in full flow - there is invisible language latent in the air. There is an intention, an engine of self-generated love forging forward. Hands in gesture, in soft right angles, mirror the subtlety and poise of Khatak gestures - a classical North Indian choreography that has a strict grammar of movement - where the hands move from the upper body or in orbit around the heart chakra, as if there is an invisible string that binds the hands and draws them back repeatedly to this mid-torso point. Broomes’ offers a connecting medium in her body, of cultures and dance languages, of Black and Brown meldings and solidarity.
Broomes' practice extends beyond the performative: she offers solidarity in many ways including a free movement class – Body Remedy – for women and non-binary People of Colour which has been an important, virtual resource during the pandemic. Ultimately, this dance-film is one of ecstasy, an orgasm of love for Black women, self and solidarity. A final moment of an imbibing sip and a slight smile leaves me wanting more: I'll have what Mele's drinking please.
