By nearly all accounts, this American moment is one characterized by deep turmoil. Political chicanery. Gun violence. Racial discrimination. Gender-based violence. Police brutality. Education reform. On any given day, there is some permutation of those things permeating the news cycle.
Artists often become the standard-bearers leading the way toward a kind of soft reset—devising visual strategies and physical embodiments toward new methodologies for reckoning and—in the case of the latest project by Nick Cave (NA 2015), The Let Go at Park Avenue Armory in New York—release.
Through The Let Go, the artist posed two questions—to himself, his collaborators, and the audience: “What we can do today, in spite of all the negativity, to find ways to let go? What do we all do to find our center and release?”
With a limited run from June 7 through July 1 at the Armory, the project was simultaneously a tour de force, a multidisciplinary installation and performance extravaganza, and an exercise toward a kind of minimalism not expected from Mr. Cave. Featuring dozens of performers, participation from community groups from all over New York, and the general public—The Let Go was (perhaps paradoxically) as much a collaborative experience as it was singular.
During the installation of his major exhibition Until at MASS MoCA, the artist was invited to mount a project at the Armory. In thinking of the scale of the project, he knew he wanted to refine it to revolve around one object that could lend itself to elements of monumentality and inclusion.
He explained, “I wanted to do something that was basic; MASS MoCA was such a massive installation that was made up of thousands of objects—I wanted to pare back and establish one singular object that would occupy it, and to maintain the level of essence that the work reveals. The work came from my wondering what role an artist can play in helping to change the dynamics and change the conversation.”
The singular element created for the show was Chase, two-section, multi-colored mylar curtain—the first measuring 40 feet in height and 100 feet in length and a second measuring 40 feet by 80 feet respectively—installed in the Wade Thompson Drill Hall at the Armory. Chase was designed “to move and occupy the room.” The mylar offered the curtain colors a kind of glittering and multiplicitous resonance, with each section of Chase conversant of a different social and political reality in the zeitgeist of global experience—red, black, and green, reminiscent of the Pan-African Flag devised by Marcus Garvey in the early 20th century; followed by alternating black and blue evoking the presence of the constant threat of “a minority being chased by police;” rainbow colors signifying solidarity with LGBTQIA communities, and, lastly, gold and silver in commentary on class and economic disparity.
After establishing Chase as a foundation for The Let Go, Cave set about developing programming that could make the Armory (which is often unchartered territory for many New Yorkers outside of the art world) a destination for people from all walks of life for contemplation, mediation, and release.
“I was thinking about the Armory and that space being a destination, and one that is still not known by the larger community. The question was: How do I create a project that is going to pull in an audience? How will I engage people who are willing to take that voyage to a particular place and what are they going to experience? I think when you have these destination places, for me it’s important if I’m going to take that journey, I’m thinking about, ‘What am I going to receive and experience?’”
To further activate Chase, Cave invited hundreds of social and community-based organizations to participate in the project through movement, with 66 ultimately participating. For Cave, who trained professionally at Alvin Ailey in addition to his fiber arts education, movement and music are foundational to his work, and The Let Go is no different.
“Dance has always been that for me. Dance is harmless. We may have our differences, but we can come to common ground and let go—you being in the Park Avenue Armory with someone from a foreign country and you both can just dance, and release, and leave it on the floor, and not be humiliated or affected by anyone. I really wanted people to just dance and feel safe,” the artist shared.
Elements of The Let Go enlisted performers from many fields. To create this iteration of his Up Right performance, Cave worked with Vy Higgensen’s Sing Harlem Choir, a youth gospel choir led by Vy Higgensen and Ahmaya Knoelle Higginson, and 24 local dancers who donned the artist’s famed Soundsuits.
Much of Nick Cave’s oeuvre revolves around a question: “What can I do to help Black men survive in this country?” Up Right, which has had previous iterations in Atlanta and Detroit, is another manner of answering. Developed “as a rite of passage” performance wherein dancers complete the ritual act of dressing and performing in the Soundsuits, Up Right is meant to evoke “a stripping and rebuilding of one’s identity through dress performance.” It grew as a response to rampant gun violence nationally (in Chicago in particular), the artist’s work with young Black men, reflecting upon his own experience being raised without a father figure, and a general lack that he has sensed as a result of many factors.
Cave explained, “It’s these kinds of things that our young men are not receiving. They have never been given that hand, or led into manhood. They don’t know how. They don’t know anything about that. And so [in Up Right] they become the shaman (by wearing and embodying the Soundsuit). I wanted the audience to get up close and see how the Soundsuit gets built and also watch each young man become regal. You watch him rise, become complete, and proceed to go out into the world against all odds, and stand on his own.”
Up Right also functioned as a method for performers to consider how they can work with the audience to create an atmosphere in which “everyone is accountable and providing the vibe,” and being part of change. The project featured a call-and-response performance engagement by renowned artists Helga Davis, Reggie Gray, Francesca Harper, and Nona Hendryx, and sets from 10 DJs—all culminating in blissful experiences for everyone in the space. This idea of collective vibration is firmly rooted in the transformative ethos of Gospel and House—both genres of Black music known for their infectious and transcendent polyrhythms.
Nick Cave used House music as a medium to stir the souls of every person who came to the Armory to experience The Let Go. For him, “House music has always been rooted with a ritual, gospel kind of undertone that has always been what I turned to; it has helped me work through a lot of things.” The potency of the music was the critical component needed to bring the artists and audience together toward a collective unified in movement, purpose, and release—to let go.
The Let Go was presented June 7 – July 1, 2018, at Park Avenue Armory in New York City.
Niama Safia Sandy is a New York-based cultural anthropologist, curator, and essayist.
Sandy’s work delves into the human story—through the application and critical lenses of culture, healing, history, migration, music, race, and ritual. Her creative practice is often an examination of the ways history, economics, migration, and other social forces and constructs have shaped modern realities. Sandy’s aim is to use the visual, written, and performative arts to tell stories we know in ways we have not yet thought to tell them and to lift us all to a higher state of ontological and spiritual wholeness in the process. She is an alumnae of Howard University, SOAS, University of London, and the No Longer Empty Curatorial Lab.
