Zoë Donnellycolt is a writer, teacher, and dancer who lives in Oakland and hosts Performance Primers in her home at Periwinkle Palace. To see more of her, visit her instagram dance_meugly & dly_dnce. For her book, One Whole Breath, visit Two Plum Press.

In If only...The Parts...Blew Blue, Zoë Donnellycolt reexamines a piece she has been working on since 2012. Zoë’s work is intuitive, thoughtful and observant. As a creator she is ritualistic and manages to include her audience in that experience. For If only...The Parts...Blew Blue, Zoë actively engaged in performance theater to help explore abstract and realistic themes. Leaning into performance theater instead of strictly dance, Zoë was able to explore and communicate more honestly with her audience.

SAFEhouse has been transformed. The floor is covered in long strips of white butcher paper, curtains and linen sheets enclose the stage making a U. On the floor there are wildflowers, two blue towels, morton salt and upstage right there are two stains of red and blue smudged into the paper.

Zoë hovers near the stains, picks up the salt and begins to pour. The sound of the salt hits the paper like comforting white noise. Out of her pocket she takes two bottles, uncapping each and dripping their contents over the salt. Red and blue splash out; her feet grind the colour into the salt.

Zoë sits down center stage; she starts to sing. The song is familiar, “Red River Valley,” and two verses stick out to me specifically:

Come and sit by my side if you love me:
Do not hasten to bid me adieu,
But remember the Red River Valley,
And the girl that has loved you so true.

And:

As you go to your home by the ocean,
May you never forget those sweet hours,
That we spent in the Red River Valley,
And the love we exchanged 'mid the flowers.

Her voice leans into a southern accent -- she’s the cowgirl in the valley. Her voice is soft and supple. The song sets up the recurring themes of red, blue, connection, companionship and individualism that remain present throughout the whole piece.

Zoë gathers the flowers and sheds her first layer. At the beginning of the performance Zoë is wearing a full body suit, textured, black and white. It reminds me of something David Bowie wore. There is a blue stain on one of the legs and she wears a bright red raincoat on top.

The raincoat comes off. She lies down on her coat, breathes and slowly begins slapping herself. Each slap seems to awaken her more. Her breath and the sound of her body make a rhythm. She pulls herself up from the floor, digs into her breast and pulls out a small booklet. She then reads one of the three poems she recites throughout the performance.

Each of these poems come from her book, One Whole Breath. Zoë reads “III. WITHIN.” There are small moments and words I capture: history, divinity, revelation, death, cremation, decomposing, grave, grandparents and 795 main street. Here her consciousness shifts, Zoë rises, bubbles up from the stage. There is an obvious awareness behind her eyes.

We follow her to upstage left where she sheds another layer. She peels off the black and white unitard, revealing a black strapless bathing suit. It’s classic in a way that reminds me of old photos of young women enjoying a day at the beach. She stands, plants, preps and starts to bounce. Bouncing before an imaginary pool of cold water. She dives in, almost as if she is jumping into the void. Full body perpendicular to the floor, Zoë dives and begins swimming. She pulls out another piece of paper and reads as she continues to tumble. In her second poem, “X. SEPARATION,” the phrase “...ride my waves with me” resonates. I am reminded of the cowgirl in Red River Valley. Zoë is simultaneously the girl and the departing lover, sitting by her own side, finding home in the ocean.

She makes it to the blue towels and dries off. She picks up her black and white bodysuit and drapes it along her body, leans into it as if it could take her weight and begins to slow dance. Zoë quietly hums, mumbles, sings to herself as she dances with her shell and makes her way back to upstage left. She lays her skin down and returns to the middle of the stage. Here, the last layer is shed. A lace slip unravels from under the bathing suit. It’s intimate and vulnerable. Zoë plants herself and begins cycling through a series of movements, sensual and witchy. She takes out another booklet and reads the last poem, “IX. SEASONS.” I hear her say:

We talked of food.
Of stone fruits.
Peaches and apricots.
Blushing key lime
that is felt in the jowls.
I pursed my lips and my fingers.
Placing my fingers on the tops of my cheeks.

There is an enchanting juxtaposition between her words and movement. Zoë plays with the timing, finding places to emphasize disgust or admiration. She returns to the salt, renewing the red and blue, the black lace slip emphasizing her indulgence. The words end and Zoë finds herself in the flowers, laying down face first in the bouquet she made earlier. A ritual has ended.

In an intimate piece, Zoë draws the audience into her sacred space. The strong colour themes, canvas enclosed stage and wildflowers physicalize a mind space many of us visit emotionally. It provokes thoughts of self-love, companionship, aloneness, invitation and home. Following Zoë through the performance is much like sitting with yourself through similar experiences. The themes and motifs Zoë participates in throughout If only...The Parts...Blew Blue make the piece deeply personal and relatable.

Image: Anastasiia Sapon