On May 6, 1989, choreographer Rudy Perez was one of the first artists presented at Highways Performance Space in Santa Monica. The postmodern dance artist’s work returned to Highways on November 24, 2024 to celebrate his 95th birthday and revisit his career with a posthumous retrospective. He died at the age of 93 in September 2023 due to complications of asthma, according to his friend and fellow choreographer Sarah Swenson.
The performance, produced in association with The Rudy Perez Trust, covered nearly six decades of Perez’s work, beginning and ending with film. The entire event was an intimate look at his work through the eyes of his loved ones and close collaborators. By revisiting his artistry and bringing together the community he fostered in Los Angeles, we conjured his presence into the space — and just in time for tres leches cake and bubbly after a couple of hours of dancing.
(L-R) Sarah Swenson, Alessia Patregnani, Jarred Cairns in Rudy Perez Retrospective – Photo by Patrick Kennelly.
The retrospective began with a film recording of his last performance in 2012, “Download/Overload.” The video was blurry, but in the fuzz, we saw him stand and adjust his tie and coat. It was calm and sweet. This was the man behind the works we were about to see.
At the end of the film, the ensemble (Anne Grimaldo, Jeff Grimaldo, Jarred Cairns, Alessia Patregnani, Swenson and Isabel Van Zijl) presented an excerpt of “Slate in 3 Parts” (2015). The piece was all about intention. Sitting in a diagonal line, dancers turn their heads in the same direction, one by one, and give something in the distance their undivided attention before flicking a foot in the same direction. What struck me most was how specific each moment was. Perez ensured that each step was informed by the last. Notably, the eyes guided the choreography forward. This intention is visible throughout, but especially in pieces involving chairs.
Anne Grimaldo in Rudy Perez Retrospective – Photo by Patrick Kennelly.
“Topload/Offprint” (1967) is another one of these chair and intention-driven works. However, this time, the movement is a bit slower. Cairns, Patregnani and Swenson scatter their chairs across the space, researching. They discover new ways of sitting — sideways, on the back of the chair, with a flat body parallel to the floor. Still, there is that level of intention required for Perez’s choreography. Once it is found, then things can speed up. Cairns hops forward with a finger gun before lunging back to the seat. Swenson flings her body into the open space. Patregnani jumps on the chair, pulls a paper plane out of her shirt, and throws it to the other side of the stage before making aircraft marshaling signs with her arm. All the while, their eyes are filled with a fiery energy that makes Perez’s work stand out.
Looking back at Perez’s work, there is a consistent theme of balance. In “Canopy at an Intersection” (1992), Swenson climbs on Zijl’s back, swinging her right leg over Zijl’s thigh with the rest of her body extending out of the tableau. As the soundscape and text by Susan La Tempa inform Zijl’s attention (for example, the sound of a car will have her head turn in the direction of the revving), Swenson’s movement exploration attempts to throw her off her axis. It’s a constant tug and pull. The same is said for “Dance Crazy Kid from New Jersey Meets Hofmannsthall” (1992).
Isabel Van Zijl in Rudy Perez Retrospective – Photo by Patrick Kennelly.
“I dreamed I was going up in an elevator that was going down,” Jeff says in the piece. This dialogue is paired with him carrying a ladder across the space with Cairns. Together, they find different spots on stage to set the ladder down and climb it with the other supporting the action by holding it up. It’s risky, especially as Anne and guest artist Mona Jean Cedar also move around the stage.
In “Bang Bang” (1963), we get a taste of Perez’s humor. Zijl holds a large wooden dowel, moving with it as audio of Julia Child’s “Asparagus from Tip to Butt” plays in the background. At first, the movements seem explorative and distant from the audio, but as it continues, you realize that the dowel acts as one big asparagus. Child excitedly says she’ll be cooking it “the French way,” wrapping the vegetable with string. At the same time, Zijl plants the dowel down and repeatedly walks around it. This gets a good chuckle.
Isabel Van Zijl and Anne Gimaldo in Rudy Perez Retrospective – Photo by Patrick Kennelly.
This is a performance about finding joy in the grief. As the dancers of “Spiritual Quest” perform Perez’s choreography filled with turns and repetition, they start to get dizzy as the tempo speeds up. The turns become urgent. In the midst of the chaos, the dancers find themselves stumbling. Instead of panicking to keep up, they smile at the misstep. After all, this is a birthday celebration. In the end, it doesn’t matter how well done the choreography is. I’m sure it was not Perez’s intention anyway. The ensemble gave the works respect, submitting their attention and effort to Perez’s choreography.
The afternoon performance ended with two films: “Tricycle” and “Center Break.” In the first, we get another glimpse at Perez’s humor as we see him shuffle on a tiny tricycle around Washington Square Park. The last film shows Perez completely bare. We watch him slip out of his clothes from behind. He faces away. “Center Break” shows his softness. He is vulnerable, not because he is naked, but because he is willing to turn away and let us watch.
He is not here on Earth to celebrate his birthday with us, but through the film, we are reminded that he still knows we are here watching and cheering him on even when he can’t see it.
For more information about Rudy Perez, please visit his website.
To learn more about Highways Performance Space, please visit their website.
Written by Steven Vargas for LA Dance Chronicle.
Featured image: Jeff Gimaldo, Jarred Cairns, and Mona Jean Cedar in Rudy Perez Retrospective – Photo by Patrick Kennelly.
