Rising, falling and unfurling within our queer identities
Responding to Bloom by A.T. [@JournalduPole]
The first few seconds of Bloom are spun with swooning strings, quiet horns and gossamer-like bells. A dark Anthurium flower is slowly illuminated and then obscured by shifting prisms of flickering golden light. Gentle birdcall and the crackle of an unseen flame make us acutely aware of a suspended presence – of something surreal – delicately lingering and about to unfurl. This film is queer Kenyan artist A.T.’s dazzling pole adaptation of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream – a tribute to the merging of realms and the beautiful queer possibilities that exist within being and becoming.
Bloom is the title of A.T.’s hypnotic performance and it serves as a symbol of the variety of expressions their stunning pole dance captures. Bloom is at once both a noun and a verb; an identity and an action. The natural imagery of the Anthurium flower and the imposed cry of birds of paradise create lush forest imagery, a conceptual nod to the main setting in which the magical scenes of Shakespeare’s play take place. In a similar way to which the playwright establishes his men and women characters at the beginning of the plot, the Anthurium also achieves an assertion of phallic and yonic symmetry at the beginning of the piece. However, the prominent positioning of this bisexual flower, as it’s known within the floral anatomy world, and the purposeful shifting and blurring of its focus reveals a hidden metaphor rich with LGBTQ+ connotations; expressing the simultaneous ease with which binaries can naturally exist, merge, unify, and blur together within a singular moment.
The camera is suddenly bathed in golden lights that surge and melt to finally reveal A.T.’s statuesque brown figure. With one arm outstretched, they clasp a silver steel pole firmly, and as they circle slowly, the last conceptual definition of Bloom is brought to the fore. A bloom denotes not only a flower but also steel; a molten substance unforged and in-between stages, rich with the possibility of identity. The image of A.T.’s glowing body is at once transformed; the strength, warmth and fluidity of liquid metal are inhibited as they sweep themselves upwards with one hand onto the steel, their toes brushing the floor with a sweep so light that it’s barely visible. Their timed ascent to the opening notes of falling and rising brass leaves us spellbound.
The song of choice is ‘Summertime’ by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. A perfect homage to the Midsummer reference within Shakespeare’s title, Fitzgerald’s hazy voice provides a sunset-like accompaniment to the golden browns that form the piece’s visual backdrop. With each movement seemingly made to effortlessly transfix, A.T.’s shimmering body circles leisurely to match the pacing of Ella’s sombre lilt, before spinning elegantly in double-time with a dream-like effect. The dancer’s ornate hands are at once fluid and poised, gentle and gripping, communicating the coded motifs of doubles, a theme which dominates Shakespeare’s play. In one stunning moment, the dancer spins upside down with hands layered on top of each other, their index and little fingers raised slightly upwards. The motif of doubles is compounded once again, when the song’s duet introduces Armstrong’s rich grovelled tone which layers perfectly over Fitzgerald’s.
A.T’s seamless transition between floor and pole mirrors the two structural states found in A Midsummer Night’s Dream; the realms of surrealism and reality. With the use of a mirror, A.T visually rotates in both clockwise and counterclockwise motions simultaneously, inverting their body through a series of several striking shapes; a bird exquisitely poised for flight, a bowstring daringly drawn backwards from its bow. Watching this performance transported me into a realm of surrealism, whilst A.T’s movements made me feel at once a sense of melancholy and yearning. The beauty that shone through, however, showed me how much potentiality there is to bloom even when tethered to stillness, a sentiment that particularly resonates with me during lockdown.
Watching the performance not only moved me, but also spoke directly to my bisexual identity. From the outside, queer realities may look elegant and fluid, however, behind the mesmerising beauty of our existences lie experiences wrought with friction and navigated with strength. With each turn we flex in and around a world that continues to cling to rigidity. A.T.’s performance seemed to communicate the message that when we, as queer people, choose to embrace ourselves, the strength it takes will only form part of the beauty that radiates as we allow ourselves to spread our wings and take to the sky. Throughout their performance, A.T.’s feet barely touch the ground, their body becoming a poignant symbol of a queer freedom defying a world that would rather ground us. Every shape and pose in Bloom is a beautiful act of queer rebellion.
Our return to reality and the end of our entrancement is denoted by A.T.’s foot touching the floor; the obscured Anthurium returns once more to bookmark the performance’s end. From start to finish, Bloom is texturally rich; the light buzzing of crickets and flickering flame provide a consistent warmth of sensation that blends well with the sultry horn, and Fitzgerald’s and Armstrong’s vocals. This breath-taking pole dance is cast timelessly with interwoven contrasts, in skin and steel, between yonic and phallic, from delicate limbs and a strengthened core. The performance is imbued with a magic that pushes its viewer to watch it again and again, just to be certain that it is indeed real.
A.T.’s pole dance celebrates and highlights the importance of fluidity within queer identity – if we are too truly bloom, we must allow ourselves to move and be moved.
