When is a duet not a duet?

The magical reality of José Navas

by WALTER KRAJEWSKI

José Navas only knows of his maternal grandmother through a photograph. She appears as the archetypal South American Indian, dressed in layers of cloth, sporting a bowler hat and smoking a huge stogie which kills the odour of the dirty clothes she washed for a living.

When he looks at the photo, he recalls stories of his life in Venezuela and his grandparents' sacrifices for their children. The Navas family continues within the South American tradition­All the family members live in the same neighbourhood and there is total support for the children, even if one drops his university studies to take up dance in New York City.

Scene two: the Big Apple, cold and tough, where the newly arrived 22-year-old Navas cleans apartments and takes dance classes. Despite not speaking a word of English, Navas decides to go to a dance audition, just for the experience. The Lucinda Childs Dance Company needs two male dancers, so Navas steps into a vast auditorium of 500 hopefuls. Navas then watches as his group shrinks to 50, then 15, then five. When the other three are sent off, an astonished Navas realizes that the totally unexpected has happened.

The next day, Navas is in rehearsal with the company--still knowing no English. As Navas recalls the rehearsals, "The dancers move left across the stage, José goes right."

Today, 10 years later in Montreal, Navas's smooth English seems to belie those earlier years, as he effortlessly explains the concept of one of his three dances on the program, Luna Llena (Full Moon).

Although two dancers appear on stage, the work is not a duet. Each dances a solo, creating a structure independent of the other. Although they share the space and the music, neither is influenced by the other. Electronic media gurus preach about active dissonance and various other gobbledygook­forget that and watch what Navas and his non-partner, Dominique Porte, create on stage.

The two soloists in Luna Llena inhabit separate worlds, yet they each dance to the same music. Is this a metaphor for Navas's own experience of having lived in separate realities in which the only link was the music of his own dance? Whatever it means, Montrealers should feel fortunate indeed that here is where Navas has chosen to live and create his art.

José Navas performs at the Agora de la danse to Saturday, March 22, and March 26-29. $17, students $12