Kyle Abraham's "Dearest Home" – An Analysis & Review

Kyle Abraham, a self-declared “outspoken black, gay American man,” created “Dearest Home” in the midst of his “mother’s passing, a major relationship coming to an end, [and] the [2016] election.” These deeply emotional experiences resulted in a work that explores the themes of Love, Longing, and Loss. Although he suggests that much of his inspiration came from conversations with LGBTQ community members just a year later, the three core themes remain. We are all familiar with loss, longing, and love— feelings that are not always comfortable or enjoyable experience (or witness), but Abraham believes in their “potential to heal and bring people together,” so he brought those human experiences onto the stage in a very vulnerable and exposed way in hopes that we might all “find the things that connect us.” I too believe that emotions held in common with others have the power to bring us together, but the unfortunate truth is that not everyone responds so well to vulnerability. For some, “Dearest Home” could be a transformative and healing viewing experience or even a chance for self-reflection, but for others, being confronted with such intimate material is a step too far outside of their comfort zone.

The hour long performance consisted primarily of duets and solos with a single trio about halfway through show. There was no music, yet the dynamic and expressive lighting, designed by Dan Scully, stood in its place, advancing the emotional tone and bolstering audience engagement. In total, there were two men and four women. Their costumes were simple dresses, olive and khaki pants, patterned button up shirts, and brightly colored blouses over neutral toned underwear. The pedestrian style costumes helped to establish the dancers’ status as humans rather than performers. The show began with a man walking onto stage, buttoning up his shirt, and ended with an entirely nude solo—  the culmination of a recurring theme of the removal of clothing and an emotional shedding process. As the clothes came off so did the metaphorical masks that we so often wear in day to day life— this process of stripping down unveiled raw, uncensored emotions and movement. Abraham’s choreography married pedestrian gestures, such as walking, hugging, and holding hands, with deep lunges, dramatic legs, and even a few turns, but nothing overtly technical, for the performance still came across as natural and human. The organic quality of the piece was further emphasized by its Quadrille style presentation. With the audience seated on all four sides of the stage, “Dearest Home” did not come across as a performance for anyone, but rather something that we, the audience members, just so happened to stumble upon and become wrapped up in watching.

With each solo, duet, or trio came a different story. In the span of an hour, Abraham’s work moves through abuse, love (and the lack thereof), pain, embarrassment, vulnerability, loss, freedom, sexuality, support, resistance, and longing. Despite the ratio of female to male dancers, the show was largely defined by the final two solos performed by male company members Matthew Baker and Jeremy Neal. Matthew, who opened the show by walking onto the stage whilst buttoning up his shirt, had a sort of natural tick to him, a quality that Abraham used to build his solo later in the show. From beginning to end there was something about his movement quality that felt restricted or uncomfortable, qualities that were heavily emphasized during his solo performance. He was reluctant to remove his clothing, the careful folding of each article delayed the process and gave off the feeling that stripping down was the furthest thing from natural for him. He was essentially being exposed against his will and his suffering was made public. In contrast, the other soloist had an air of confidence about him throughout the show. He was comfortable in his skin, and when he removed all of his clothing, it was natural, easy, not forced. The dichotomy between the two solos was achieved not only through their differences in movement quality but also with the help of the lighting design. The first solo, danced by Matthew, had bright, revealing lighting while the nude solo, performed by Jeremy, utilized a dim glow of light around the dancer, creating a safe and private space. The exposing lights in Matthew’s solo brought the audience members into view, reiterating the publicity of his suffering and causing both him and the audience to feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. Jeremy’s solo however, was more intimate. An atypical display of nudity, he was not being sexualized, nor was the dance trying to sell us anything— it was authentic and pure. It is important to note how the controversy over male nudity has completely overshadowed the female body within the context of this work. Even though we mentioned the female duet in our discussion of “Dearest Home” in class, it was brief. I believe questioning whether or not Abraham has ever considered having a female perform the final nude solo can reveal a lot about our society and its position on the female body, nudity, and sexuality. How would we react to seeing a nude woman on stage? Are we capable of watching without sexualizing? 

Although Kyle Abraham produced “Dearest Home” with the specific goal or intention of bringing people together through their shared experiences with Love, Longing and Loss, the responses of his audience are ultimately out of his control. The way I see it, art serves as a sort of social sounding board that reflects the views and tolerances of the group viewing the work. Kyle Abraham’s work in particular might have stirred up some discomfort we might previously not have known was there. Likewise, from the his perspective, he might have been surprised to discover that some members of society are not quite as comfortable exploring such vulnerable emotions and experiences in a public setting. For example, despite the intimacy and reverence of the moment, the nudity during Jeremy’s solo still upset some audience members. The unsettling discomfort that some people feel watching a man dance nude is an indication of the American experience with nudity— one that sexualizes all forms of nudity and therefore requires that nudity be kept private. 

Whether intentional or not, “Dearest Home” not only showcases the emotions, experiences, and reactions of the dancers on stage, but also forces us to address our own discomfort when witnessing human expressions of pain and love. Although Kyle Abraham described “Dearest Home” as a conversation between the dancers, it sparked an internal conversation for any audience member who chose to let the discomfort in, myself included. Upon exiting the theater, we are left questioning why it felt so natural and peaceful to watch a man dance entirely nude (at least for some), but just moments before feel extremely uncomfortable seeing a man dancing and crying in his underwear? Is it because we are not used to seeing men cry? Or is it simply that we are aware of our fellow audience members around us, and do not like feeling exposed when the lights are bright and the room is silent? And could our discomfort come from our reluctance or even inability to empathize someone else’s pain? Wouldn’t we all rather not have to engage with their suffering? But I believe it is questions such as these that indicate true and successful art, art that forces us to look within and re-examine our views and perspectives.