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This happens, oddly enough, in a work where he is constantly, insistently present.
For the first time in ages, the great Jones actually dances in his work himself.
Even when he leaves the stage, we hear him speaking as part of the works soundscape.
Yet his most important moments are when he vanishes in plain sight.
The visual metaphor twists in your mind, sometimes menacing, sometimes gentle.
Does the spotdark represent a moment of privacy in this operating-theater brightness?
Or is it like a shadow of an unseen boulder, just before it hits?
But the sirens call of all that space and design eventually overwhelm Joness choreographic sense.
The floor is swamped with huge projections words (often quotes from W.E.B.
As the 90-minute work begins to grow long, Jones adds more and more elements into the mix.
No to science, he says, No to non-fungible tokens.
(The starkness and mystery of that spotdark and the foot upon the treadle seem a long way away.
Jones calls out at various points in the show.
Each time, his dancers call back, No!
Are we satisfied with the pace of Black emancipation?
Are we satisfied with a ship of state that sails on while Black men drown?
Of course we are not.
But in an evening as haphazard asDeep Blue Seathe question keeps reverting to the white-haired man in black.
Jones has so much to work with his own staggering charisma, his dancers gifts.
These aesthetic gestures pile up, each one extraneous, each one obliterating the one that came before it.
So canhenot be satisfied?
It doesnt seem so, no.
Deep Blue Seais at the Park Avenue Armory through October 9.
