Mosa McNeilly in In the Diving Bell | Photo by Alvis Choi
Presented by Tantie an Dem Productions
A Space Gallery is a cozy little room on the main floor of the 401 Richmond complex. When you enter the space, you’re met a with a collection of objects: a raised platform covered in blue fabric, an ancient tome, a bowl with jug and, suspended, Olokún, an encaustic mixed-media assemblage by Mosa McNeilly, a stirring representation of a water-presiding spirit of the Yoruba religion. Even before McNielly’s performance begins, In the Diving Bell already has some hold over you.
McNeilly provides, in the show’s program, a detailed breakdown of the components of this multi-media presentation—the incorporated artworks and scenes of the performance itself. You can choose to track it precisely or vibe with the gestalt of it; either way, it is a deceptively fluid blend of installation art, clown, digital projection and gallery viewing.
After a hypnotic opening incantation by a water goddess wielding an ocean drum, set against projected underwater footage, and an intervention by a mischievous deity, our affable blue-nosed Black clown Mínkísí (McNielly) goes through a whimsical, sometimes harrowing, often curious and eventually restorative journey.
Having dove into the sea, she recovers a book—an archive? a guide?—which she attaches to herself. There is a jarring moment of intense violence, of which she seems deeply remorseful, having channelled and internalized the bloodshed evoked. The whole space is bathed in red, especially unsettling when juxtaposed with the sea-like calming blue that predominates.
Having uncovered a collection of flat, irregular stone tablets that perhaps belonged to some larger structure since fallen to ruin, she slowly arranges them to create a causeway through water and crosses it. She’s very proud of this, seeks acknowledgment of her accomplishment. I was moved by the sense of wonder and worship in which she beholds looming projected photos of a man and woman (McNielly’s actual parents, I believe).
The Middle Passage looms large here and McNielly acknowledges a painful history with grace and focused attention, maintaining a warm, playful and endearing persona throughout. Some audience members may be invited to help during the meditative—and productive!—finale, to be a part of this connection to history. A lovely conclusion to a performance that transcends its artifice with beautiful and surprising moments of insight.
