Exiting the BART station at Powell Street you could walk straight up Powell, and a few blocks later find yourself surrounded by enormous corporate luxury hotels—Westin St. Francis, Hotel Nikko, Hyatt, Marriot…. But I didn’t take that route; instead I made a sharp left turn from the station so I would end up at Turk and Taylor streets in the heart of San Francisco’s Tenderloin neighborhood, home to dozens of SROs.
There I watched a rehearsal of aerial dance troupe Flyaway Production’s Down on the Corner (October 3-4 and 9-11, 7:15pm, southeast corner of Turk and Taylor Streets, SF) inspired in part by the Compton’s Cafeteria Riot, in the Transgender Cultural District, the first legally recognized transgender district in the world. That 1966 uprising was one of the first times LGBTQ people fought back against constant police harassment and violence, pre-dating New York City’s Stonewall riot by three years—and is also currently being commemorated by an award-winning play.
Jo Kreiter, director, and choreographer of Flyaway explains the genesis of the project. “I got a letter from the Turk X Taylor Initiative inviting members of the community to sign on to support their mission. They are a collective driven by architects, designers, artists, and activists [‘researching material to collaboratively envision a speculative design proposal that decarcerates the Turk and Taylor historic building and its vacant storefront to resurface its legacy of resistance’].
“This was quintessentially the perfect invitation to an artist like me because I make site-specific work that’s politically driven. And I could activate the four corners for what is ground zero for the trans district. I know how to utilize this corner as a site artist and as an aerial artist. That is pretty unique.” After submitting a proposal, the TxT responded that they were interested.
Observing the aerial performers literally bouncing off the walls of the Warfield Hotel across the street from 111 Taylor, the site of the former Compton’s Cafeteria, my visceral reaction is to be both thrilled and vertiginous (yes, I am afraid of heights). Also interacting with people on the street as they craned their necks to better see the dancers, added a unforeseen element. I could tell them about the project and urge them to come back in two weeks to see the whole show, and that it’s free.
“About seven years ago,” Kreiter relates, “I made a piece called Tender with the Tenderloin Museum illuminating a hundred years of history in the Tenderloin. We looked at Compton’s and I represented that history with dancing on a fire escape by one drag queen, Honey Mahogany, and two women playing drag queens all dolled up. It was campy and full of the vocabulary of drag—humor, campiness, a teasing kind of physicality. With this current project, I didn’t want to do that. I wanted a different way in. While this piece is about the history of Compton’s, it’s also about the present moment and how we as a community in the Tenderloin can move into the future.”
Melanie DeMore, who worked for a long time in the Tenderloin, composed and recorded the songs for the soundtrack. DeMoore also taught the entire group a traditional Gullah dance ritual that combines African rhythms, singing, and movement. Kreiter says, “She gifted us knowledge about stick pounding, which is a dance that starts slow and ends fast. There are three rules—you have to move counterclockwise, can’t raise your arms above your shoulders, and you can’t cross your feet. We took those parameters of stick pounding and put them on the fire escape, which was really hard. The content and emotionality is that the faster you go, the more you’re in your truth. That was a call to action for me, start slow and build speed so that we can be in the truth of what this corner really wants to be.”
Leila Weefur, a trans Black artist and filmmaker, made a five-minute film which is integrated with the live movement. Kreiter reveals, “It’s really exciting to return to having film in a public site project. Leila has made a really meaningful contribution by integrating film alone and film with live dance.”
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Haus of Jubilee has created the costumes for the show. “I wanted to work with a costumer who was trans or non-binary,” Kreiter says. “Jubilee is both a designer and a dancer, so they really understand the flow of fabric for dance. You have to make adaptations for the fact that the people flying are wearing harnesses. There’s also a consciousness around non-binary identity in the costumes. And a consciousness around femininity and masculinity that’s really interesting.”
The fearless performers are Ai Yin Adelski, Gabriele Christian, Becca “B” Dean, Quinn Dior, Sonsherée Giles, MaryStarr Hope, Jhia Jackson, Megan Lowe, and Saharla Vetsch. Together they represent a broad range of identities female, trans, non-binary, prison system impacted, and survivors of violence as a group. They climb and swing from the exterior walls and fire escapes of the Warfield Hotel, creating the illusion that it’s as effortless as walking down the street.
“I want audiences to know that we’ve put a lot of thought into how to make this a positive experience for them,” offers Kreiter. “We’ve hired a street team from the Community Benefit District and we have taken a great deal of care in the design of how the audience will move through the performance. A lot of people don’t like coming to the Tenderloin, but I find it to be a neighborhood with a very generous spirit, people are very kind to you when they see you over and over again. There’s a feeling of community there that doesn’t exist in any other neighborhood in the city. We understand that there are risk factors so we have planned support for our audiences as they come to watch the project.”
DOWN ON THE CORNER October 3-4 and 9-11, 7:15pm, southeast corner of Turk and Taylor Streets, SF. More info here.
