Jay Carlon swings his fist into a punching bag full of rice. The sound of the blow is amplified throughout Don Quixote nightclub with the help of a mic planted inside the bag. The audience cheers.
The fight begins.
It’s furious. Carlon’s punches grow quicker and swifter, contorting the bag bit by bit. Micaela Tobin sings with more strength and urgency. It’s an orchestra of effort. It swells until Carlon settles the section and brings the punching bag in for a tender hug. The singing softens, the punches cease, and the nightclub is quiet.
The world premiere of “WAKE” created by Carlon and Tobin celebrated the necessity of ritual in search of liberation. The show, co-produced by Standard Stages and INTERIM Corporation, in partnership with CAP UCLA and its Mapping Los Angeles series, follows the Filipino American dancer and choreographer through a battle of grief embodied in an immersive boxing match in 9 rounds. Combined with Tobin’s experimental sounds, “WAKE” navigates healing with a mix of queer joy, ancestral connection, and community. The event reinforced the latter by bookending the work with performances by staples of L.A. nightlife including SEND NOODZ, Bib Discoteca, Miss Shu Mai, Skirt Cocaine, Goddess Yuki and QNA.
Rather than reviewing “WAKE” top-to-bottom, it is better to start at the end. Carlon gets on the mic — the only time he speaks throughout the entire performance — and admits that he does not know how to end the piece, whether it should be when the rice runs out or when he is completely exhausted. He changes the topic; he is obsessed with eulogies. In fact, he wrote his dad’s. Although he has anticipated his father’s death since he was young, he never anticipated his brother’s. Albert Carlon died in 2021 outside of Little Tokyo. His death was followed by his lola’s, and her death was followed by the end of the long-term relationship with his partner. He’s been grieving. He hoped the rice would bathe him in love and cleanse the heavy memories, or at least make them easier to hold onto. “WAKE” is his big fight with grief.
The fight begins with an epic entrance. Tobin sings “Like a Prayer” by Madonna. Carlon walks down the stairs in the back of the nightclub, inching to the center where the punching bag hangs. He is adorned in a boxing robe designed by Vinta Gallery with feathers outlining his stature and “CARLON” printed across the back. He is hyped. Meanwhile, the coach and announcer of the match, láwû makuriye’nte, introduces Carlon with a crowd-stirring introduction. The announcer invites you to laugh. After all, humor can be the best medicine for grief. In a previous presentation of the work at REDCAT in 2022, this energy was not part of the show. It was still a work in progress. This time, “WAKE” taps into a nice balance between comical and dramatic. The environment of the nightclub adds to the thrilling equilibrium.
The movement is just as much sexual and cheeky as it is serious. He hoists a bag of rice over his shoulder and head, teetering. This is his balancing act with the weight of grief he must carry. Once it hits the floor, he humps it and rides it. The juxtaposition happens again when he first begins hitting the punching bag. He punches and bobs out of the way of the bag’s swing. He shifts from the masculine performance of a traditional boxer to one with a more feminine sway in the hip as he hops around. Each shift in tone is unexpected.
When he is frozen, living in grief — no longer dancing around it — the tone fully shifts to the other end of the spectrum. Carlon stands still as the punching bag swings around him. It gets tighter and tighter, pulling a gasp out of the audience as it grazes his arm. It is risky. He pulls the bag closer and latches onto it with a carabiner strap. He bends and contorts his body as he walks around the dance floor at a 45-degree angle, hanging from the bag. It is a dance that requires an intense amount of strength and control.
The next sections explore his relationship to the punching bag of rice. He is in a constant state of counterbalance, turning and swinging like a statue. In an environment like boxing that is layered with ideas of aggression, Carlon finds elegance in it. He seems weightless in the air, spinning alongside the bag. He relies on it to keep him up but also does not let it dictate his next move. It is a duet with grief. Carlon is a master of imagery, sharing layers of interrogation and meaning in a single action. He invites you to peel them back.
After his last dance with the bag, he falls to the ground. The crowd cheers. It is round 8, “Baptism.” He punctures the bag at the bottom with a knife and bathes in the grains that fall out of the hole he created, covering every inch of his body. Often, rice gets it in his eyes and mouth. No matter how often he spits out grains or rubs his eyes, he returns for more. This dedication to the feeling of baptism by rice depicts urgency and a ritualistic need. The rice creates a gradient on the ground with him at the center, lifting and contorting portions of his body to receive.
Tobin stops singing and hangs the mic over him. Carlon punctuates this round of grief with a poignant line: “Why is it that I have to keep fighting in order to survive? Will you still love me if I stop?”
On the balcony of Don Quixote, I stand next to his mother. I can tell by the way she giggles and records the entire show. She loves him — even when the fight is over. She knows the weight of what we witnessed and still creates the space to smile. In the aftermath of “WAKE,” there is a feeling of emotional release. Carlon serves a gut punch of grieving and processing, exposing his emotional wounds to make room for the community witnessing it all to feel love, joy and healing.
For more information about Jay Carlon, please visit his website.
For more information about CAP UCLA, please visit their website.
Written by Steven Vargas for LA Dance Chronicle.
Featured image: Jay Carlon in “WAKE” – Photo by Argel Rojo.