Welcome to our new series of web essays on popular dance. Our first piece is a critical evaluation by Santiago Cardoso, who reflects on a performance of Uproar by Moyra Silva Rodríguez, a recent PoP Moves UK Mentorship Programme mentee.

Santiago Cardoso is a social impact and sustainability professional, passionate about community development and exploring the intersection of culture, arts, and the environment. He recently completed an MSc in Anthropology, Environment, and Development at UCL and holds degrees in Music Studies and Social Communication from Universidad Javeriana. Santiago has also completed the Executive Program in Social Impact Strategy at UPenn and has received recognitions from organizations including the Ministry of National Education (Colombia) and the Secretariat of Culture (Bogotá). He is also a One Young World Ambassador.

Uproar will be performed in London at the Voila! Theatre Festival on 15th-16th November 2024. Click here to book.

My eyes are closed while I hit the floor with a homemade bean rattle. I am attempting to follow the beat of a recording, while the people around me are also playing along with the same sounds. We are not following instructions and end up playing everything but unison. Some follow the beat, others follow the pulse, some create their own rhythmic patterns, and some strike randomly.

Our ever-changing compound rhythm played with rudimental instruments blends with the sounds of a protest that comes out from small speakers and with the sounds of a dancer whose fierce movements and agitated breath convey a sense of urgency. Somehow, each person in the room is joining protests that occurred months ago in distant places, and we are creating a new one together simultaneously. Somehow, our own individual concerns, struggles and motivations are turned into a collective process through movement. For a moment, we are part of a struggle we don’t fully understand, and strangers in the room –whether physically present or on the recording– are supporting our own.

All this unfolds during the final moments of Uproar, an interdisciplinary creation of artists Moyra Silva and Carolina Rieckhof, described as a project that “intertwines costume, participative performance and dance in connection with the latest uprisings [from late 2022 and early 2023] in Peru”. Although it is rooted in a specific context, it can be adapted to other settings, and it is itself a reinterpretation of the Inca dance Taki Unquy. It invites its audience to resist and remember collectively –or at least reflect on– the dynamics of oppression and domination through movement. These processes illustrate how art can bolster our collective memory and serve as a participatory platform through which people can achieve a dialectical experience, enabling them to express and understand the world around them in new and profound ways.

Figure 1. Uproar performance. Photo by Fatima Sastre.


The physical memory: beyond words and written texts

            Moments before entering the room in Central London where the performance took place, Rieckhof introduced the historical context. I thought I was already aware of the broader conflicts, but it was my first time hearing about them from a non-establishment perspective. It left me eager to learn more.

            What followed in just over half an hour elucidated far more than what I had gathered from reading news articles or reports I used to receive during the riots. The performance incorporated symbolic elements that actively engaged the audience, offering a unique perspective on Peru’s past and ongoing struggles.

When analysing political rituals in the same region, Lazar (2015, p. 243) recognises how “similarities stretch across time and space and are experienced and performed visually, aurally, and physically (…) which interact in the creation of particular kinds of political agency and symbolic politics.” The performance brought to mind protests in other cities of the region I have been closer to.

By leveraging these sensory intertextual experiences through the use of images, sounds, movements, and lights, Uproar conveys collective emotions to the audience. It enables an experiential, active memory of the struggles of colonisation and resistance from within, rather than merely promoting a form of memorialisation, as cautioned by Young (1992). “To the extent that we encourage monuments to do our memory-work for us, we become that much more forgetful” (p. 273).

This intertextuality and the expression of otherness, along with the interactive, multimedia, and multisensory approach enhances the experience and allows for a narrative that transcends the boundaries and constraints of written text.

Figure 2. The costume during the performance. Photo by Jorge Luis Diéguez

This approach operates on the idea that collective memories are not merely constructed but that “collective re-experiencing is not a static reproduction or repetitive replay of the same memories; instead, it is a contested, contradictory, and heterogeneous process of selective memories among different groups” (Robben, 2015, p. 128).” It is precisely these malleable variations that make intertextuality possible and give collective meaning to elements that are transferred among different settings, communities, places and times.

Performance and multimedia intertexts: leveraging on tradition and memory

Uproar depicted certain elements using digital technologies, while others relied on traditional media. The combination of these approaches resonated with an audience primarily from or tied to Abya Yala.

At one point, Silva wears full-face spandex blank masks one over the other multiple times, creating a big layer that completely obscures her face. She does that while the face of one of the persons murdered in the protests is mapped onto her head. She embodies all of these faces and none, she is the person murdered and the person murdered becomes her. It recalls all who disappeared, were estranged, and killed during protests and in the process of resistance; the anonymity that comes with the scale. Too many to count, all could be one. The interplay of the projection also prompts reflection on how this also extends to the digital world, where voices are silenced and oppressed.

Short after, the screen is filled with retablos, a colourful traditional Peruvian artistic expression from the rural areas of Ayacucho, which reinterpret the original Spanish retablos that initially depicted Christian symbols for worship but have been used locally for decades to portray and highlight everyday life. More recently, they have been used as a symbol of the protest, mainly led by the feminist collective Retablos por la Memoria, featuring names, phrases, and faces of the victims.

Figure 3 and 4. Retablos used in protests. Retrieved from https://www.instagram.com/retablosporlamemoria/ 

As Otta (2023) comments, their constant use has made them “a recognizable and cohesive element in the protests—in Peruvian cities and abroad—fostering temporary communities, strengthening alliances, and providing ways to express and process the intense affects” (p.120), adding another intertextual layer. The digital manipulation of the retablo-form element on the screen allows it to be constantly updated, becoming not only an archive but a potential expressive tool for all those present. The digital archives become lived memories. As Müller (2017) comments, “digital archives in their used and appropriated form, based on active contribution and sharing, oscillate between writing history and performing memory” (p.12). 

The use of digital tools and archives connects with what is to be remembered. They portray situations that bring to mind similar scenarios for the audience. But the performance itself also contributes to memory and the collective experience.

Silva, the sole performer, had marks on her costume that represented the bullets received by one of the victims. These physical marks of violence are present, for example, in one of the most relevant depictions of Jesus Christ –especially familiar for people in Abya Yala following the Spanish massacres–. They help keep the memory alive in a visceral way by empathizing with the feeling – what if it was me? – and with the dimension of the act of violence itself.

Another element resides in the materials, textures, and colours used for the costume and the rattles. Beans are one of the most important crops in Peru since pre-Incan communities (Ryser, 2008). Besides the genetic information carried within the beans, their feel awakens a part of our memory that reaches far back and strengthens our connection with the land, the soil, and the practices of our ancestors. The same goes for the colours, clothing, and patterns that evoke what we know today of the Inca past.

All the elements add up together through the performance, and as Lazar (2015) comments when referring to Bruce Kapferer (1986), “the performances of these practices are constitutive of meaning; the text is only available through performance and is not revealed by it. Such a reading of performance as text also requires that our analysis of the semiotic must include not only visual cues but also physical action and sound”.

Figure 5. Uproar performance. Photo by Jorge Luis Diéguez. November, 2023. Retrieved from moyrasilva.com/2023/11/19/uproar/ 

The participative performance: the audience within the stage

            This performance was the inauguration of Uproar before an audience so there was limited information available online. One of the two sources I was able to find was a blog post that began by stating this performance would explore “how by making a collective noise, our voices will come together and we will be able to spread, talk and share the struggles of communities away from our daily lives”.

The description intrigued me sufficiently, but I had anticipated a conventional theatrical performance: a stage with a spotlight on one side and the audience seated below, looking up at the stage. However, I encountered a small studio with no chairs but marked spots on the floor, each assigned to a rattle. Each attendant settled in front of one of these objects, and the performance started.

Right from the outset, the performance immersed us in a protest setting, amplifying the impact of all the symbolic intertextual elements. The audience’s active participation in the protest heightened the experience.

Attendees were encouraged to actively produce sounds and movements. Even the most passive involvement, being in such close quarters with everyone, allowed every sound and gesture from the media and the performer to be heard, seen, and felt. This participation fostered a sense of togetherness, as protests, much like parades and carnivals, serve as a “means for individuals to define and physically experience collectivity, creating a shared sense of identity through movement” (Lazar, 2015, p. 246). It brought to life protest rituals, which are inherently collective in nature (Casquete, 2006), and, following the ideas of Arendt, through the togetherness of the bodies, created a new space beyond the architectural area.

This collective approach also encourages dialogue, critical thinking, and collective problem-solving as in the Theatre of the Opressed (Boal, 1979), aligning with the themes of collective resistance and unity in Uproar. Moreover, it can be seen as a form of communal embodied cognition (Lakoff and Johnson, 1999), where the bodies’ engagement with the performance contributes to the understanding and interpretation of the narrative, such as in Uproar where the participatory element mirrors the resistance and unity the performance sought to convey.

Figure 6. The scenery after the performance. Photo by author. November, 2023.

The communal practices of resistance: between the past, the present and the future

The presence of communal sensorial memories passed down through generations and across communities, serves as a testament to the enduring relevance of cultural symbols and embodied knowledge. While the notion of genetic memory (Dias and Ressler, 2013) remains speculative, there is a growing consensus on the significance of the body and movement as repositories of knowledge and meaning (Butler, 1990; Fanon, 1970; Ingold, 2000). Giese and Keightley (2022) highlight how embodied remembering is a social practice that creates, preserves, and negotiates shared pasts.

In the context of Uproar, a rich tapestry of elements has been transmitted across history, keeping alive the modes and practices of resistance within communities. One example is the Taki Unquy, which emerged in response to the brutal presence of the Spanish Empire in Inca territories.

Taki Unquy emerged in the 16th century among the indigenous people of the Andes during the early period of Spanish colonisation. It can be understood as a spiritual and cultural uprising against the imposition of Spanish culture and religion. It served as a religious revival movement and a form of resistance against colonial oppression (Millones, 2007, Silverblatt, 1987, Wachtel, 1977). An essential part of it involved ritual dancing, singing (Taki), and the invocation of Andean gods. The dances of Taki Unquy were filled with symbolic elements that represented the Andean worldview and a call for liberation from Spanish control.

The repercussions of this violent history and the acts of defiance, continue to shape and inspire contemporary manifestations. The hegemonic position has grown in power and control, perpetuating colonial and imperial interests across the region of Abya Yala. The counter-hegemonic position is in a state of constant development, continually reimagining ways of resistance to raise awareness of ongoing conflicts and unite critical communities.

This project exemplifies the transformative potential embedded in cultural practices, demonstrating how artistic expressions can serve as a conduit for reclaiming narratives for marginalized voices and bodies. Uproar commemorates the historical resilience of indigenous communities.

By intertwining elements of Taki Unquy and Inca traditions with modern artistic forms, the performance becomes a living archive that transcends the confines of conventional storytelling. It invites audiences to witness the evolution of resistance, acknowledging the complexities of identity, heritage, and the ongoing struggle for autonomy.

 As communities actively participate in and engage with the project, “the social memory returns to people a sense of control over the past and over their destiny as they now become engaged” (Robben, 2005, p.155). The embodied communal practice becomes a bridge between the past, and the present, facilitating a deeper understanding of the enduring impact of legacies and the continuous efforts to forge a future grounded in justice and self-determination.

Figure 7. Uproar performance. Photo by Jorge Luis Diéguez. November, 2023. Retrieved moyrasilva.com/2023/11/19/uproar/ 

The original essay was written in January 2024 and adapted for this publication in October 2024.

References:

Arendt, H. (2018). The Human Condition. University of Chicago Press.

Boal, A. (1979). Theatre of the Oppressed. Pluto Press.Butler, J. (1990). Gender Trouble. Routledge.

Casquete, J. (2006) The Power of Demonstrations. Social Movement Studies, 5(1), 45-60. DOI: 10.1080/14742830600621183

Dias, B., & Ressler, K. (2014). Parental olfactory experience influences behavior and neural structure in subsequent generations. Nat Neurosci 17, pp. 89–96. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1038/nn.3594

Fanon, F. (1970). Black Skin, White Masks. Paladin London.

Giese, J., & Keightley, E. (2022). Dancing through time: A methodological exploration of embodied memories. Memory Studies0(0) [Ahead of print]. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1177/17506980221126611

Ingold, T. (2000). The perception of the Environment. Routledge.

Kapferer, B. (1986). Performance and the Structuring of Meaning and Experience. In Victor W. Turner and Edward M. Bruner, eds. The Anthropology of Experience (pp. 188–206). University of Illinois Press.

Lakoff, G., & Johnson, M. (1999). Philosophy in the Flesh: The Embodied Mind and Its Challenge to Western Thought. Basic Books.

Lazar, S. (2015). “This Is Not a Parade, It’s a Protest March”: Intertextuality, Citation, and Political Action on the Streets of Bolivia and Argentina. American Anthropologist, 117(2), 242–256. DOI: 10.1111/aman.12227

Millones, L. (2007). Taki Onqoy : de la enfermedad del canto a la epidemia. Centro de investigaciones Diego Barrios Arana.

Müller, K. (2017). Between Lived and Archived Memory: How Digital Archives Can Tell History. Digithum, 19, pp. 11-18. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/107238/d.v0i19.3085

Otta, E. (2023), The “Retablos” wait for your demands! Community building through feminist artivism amidst lethal repression in Peru. Alternautas, 10(2), 119-150. DOI: 10.31273/an.v10i2.1438

Robben, A. (2005). How Traumatized Societies Remember: The Aftermath of Argentina’s Dirty War. Cultural Critique59, 120–164.

Ryser, G. (2008). Moche Bean Warriors and the Paleobotanic Record: Why Privilege Beans? In  L. J. Castillo, H. Bernier, G. Lockard, and J. Rucabado (eds.), Arqueología Mochica: Nuevos Enfoques (pp. 397–409). Fondo Editorial de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú.

Silverblatt, I. (1987). Moon, Sun, and Witches: Gender Ideologies and Class in Inca and Colonial Peru. Princeton University Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv1m5924j

Young, J. E. (1992). The Counter-Monument: Memory against Itself in Germany Today. Critical Inquiry, 18(2), 267-296. The University of Chicago Press.

Wachtel, N. (1979). The Vision of the Vanquished; The Spanish Conquest of Peru through Indian Eyes 1530–1570; transl. by Ben and Siân Reynolds. The Harvester Press. DOI:10.1017/S0165115300017587

© Santiago Cardoso, 2024