Photo of Jani Lauzon in ‘Prophecy Fog’, Photo by Dahlia Katz
The single most apt word to convey my experience of Jani Lauzon’s Prophecy Fog, presented by Coal Mine Theatre (in association with Paper Canoe Projects), is resonance. Before the crystal singing bowls, there is her clear, serene voice. A collective hum pervades the space as she invites us to add our own sound. The visceral impact of this cooperative vibration is subtle yet powerful.
And then, there are her stories—vivid, specific, never overstated. As she speaks to us, video imagery is projected (by environmental designer Melissa Joakim) onto a cyclorama above our heads, enclosing the intimate circle of this shared space. Lauzon’s mother, her daughter, and other elders who have impacted her life are conjured here. Also, most prominently, there is landscape, sky and stars.
And stones, so many stones, of all shapes and sizes. Indigenous ceremony greatly informs this performance and Lauzon, drawing from her Cree heritage, tells us the stones have stories to tell. She holds them to her body—smiles, laughs, appreciates each and every one of them and frequently tells us what they’re saying. Sometimes they have names because they resemble familiar artifacts from our world—an Elvis, a sock, an ice-cream cone.
I find stones intensely comforting. As the performance progressed, and these stones were strewn about the space, my body responded with a pleasant tingle; I thought of my bare feet at the beach, in the shallow water, the stones digging into the bottoms of my feet. It hurts, of course—a little, sometimes a lot—yet the sensation is wholly satisfying to me and one of the great joys of summer.
She tells us about a pilgrimage she took to Giant Rock in the Mojave Desert. This massive, iconic stone has great importance to the local Indigenous community, has for thousands of years; though colonial speculation, invention and the internet have turned many false meanings into accepted truth. There is also, on the stone, years of graffiti featuring symbols and words of hate.
Lauzon’s video footage documents this desecration without much editorializing. Because she has shared her stones and their stories with us, we know what this defilement means. She does ask us, though, pointedly: “do desecrated spaces lose their power?” Witnessing Lauzon and her daughter hold gently hold their ground as they confront this transgression is quietly stirring.
Lauzon and director Franco Boni have crafted a warm, communal atmosphere. The sense of purposeful gathering, of sanctuary—is palpable and reassuring. She gets wistful. She gets cosmic. She gets funny. We sense some heartache and frustration too, but Lauzon—our guide—radiates a holistic, cheeky wisdom that helps us to take it all in stride. Prophecy Fog is a lovely, meditative, experience.