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| Marjani Forté-Saunders in Memoirs of a...Unicorn Photo by Maria Baranova Photography |
By Darlene Donloe
Marjani Forté-Saunders is one of those “wow” performers who can legitimately be called a force of nature. She's talented! She's fierce! She's intense! And, most importantly, she's unapologetically comfortable and content in her blackness!
When she takes the stage at the Ford Theatres August 24-25, as part of its IGNITE @ the FORD! series to present her latest work, Memoirs of a…Unicorn, by all accounts, it will be a powerful, personal and, unforgettable performance.
A self-described educator/evolver/metamorphic activist/artist/choreographer/dancer who, at one time, performed with the Urban Bush Women, Forté-Saunders has created a new solo evening-length dance piece inspired by stories taken directly from the life of her Arkansas-born father. The show includes structures created by Tony Award-winning set designer Mimi Lien and built by none other than her father, Rick Forté.
An introspection on blackness, with an emphasis on the black male experience, the show
weaves historic and personal narratives into an embodied saga of disjointed histories, unabated love, and, what Forté-Saunders calls warrior-ship.
This is no ordinary show. A storyteller through dance, Forté-Saunders isn’t just casually moving through space. There is a purpose! She has something to say. No movement is squandered. No moment is unwarranted. Both the movements and the moments are deliberate, while vividly describing themselves. Watching Forté-Saunders command a stage as she effortlessly flows from one experience to the next while taking the audience on this journey through life, is magical.
Admittedly, Forté-Saunders, who has been married to her husband, Everett for four years (together for 10) and has a soon to be three-year-old son named Nkosi, is anxious about how her latest creation will be received by a Los Angeles audience.
“This is a new thing for them,” said Forté-Saunders, a Pasadena native who also claims Harlem as her home. “We’re all nervous. We don’t know how L.A. audiences will take my work. This is far more abstract. I think we’re all like – ok, let's see what happens.”
When you talk to Forté-Saunders, the passion she has for her work comes through in every carefully crafted syllable. It’s clear she loves what she does and because of that, she is ready to leave every part of herself on the stage.
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| Marjani Forté-Saunders |
I recently spoke to Forté-Saunders (MFS) about her upcoming show and what audiences can expect.
DD: How are rehearsals going?
MFS: They are going well. It’s been intense. Solo work is insane. It’s helpful to have my husband as the composer and sound designer. We can be in our artist funk and bounce off each other. Getting to know the piece all over again.
DD: All over again? Where have you performed the piece?
MFS: The very first time was in New York, at South Street Seaport Museum. It was a residency. I also did it at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Arkansas. The premiere in New York at Collapsable Hole.
DD: How has it evolved?
MFS: The concepts we are working with are life concepts, ancestral ideas, and struggles. It’s like seeing something from a different lens. You look at something at age 10, then at age 30. Refining is a word we can use, but it’s not the only word. We’re getting closer. It’s about the energy, the familiarity with the language. The rhythms we work with and play in. With the audience, it's a reciprocal relationship. The lineage of work I come from - Blondell Cummings and Nia Love. I think all of those works might fall within the pantheon of modern contemporary work. What feels clear to me is that – the sort of listening to the energy of the room – but not catering to it. Not trying to get a laugh or cry. They have the freedom to draw from it what they want. I always listen and connect. I hope the audience sees their own stories. The audience’s participation in deciphering is an energetic contribution.
DD: Describe this show in your own words. What is it about? What is the message?
MFS: This work is a sort of montage of stories and storytelling about starting off with conversations about the unicorns in my life. Some use the phrase, black man. I didn't want to use black men because it can limit the conversation to what it is to be black and be male. It was a cosmological and celestial idea and also energetic. I wanted to have a conversation to humanize the narratives. What is it to be in blackness? It started off with a conversation about my dad, then my husband and son.
DD: Talk about what you mean by warrior-ship.
MFS: When I say warrior-ship, it’s about legacy. Folks will experience a shifting from one moment to the next. Me embodying my father’s space, but not splintering off in my own space.
Also what it’s like to be a mother in the last two and a half years.
DD: Let's talk about the title. What does it mean? Is a unicorn a black man?
MFS: Unicorn and black man. They are not synonymous. I refuse to use it when I’m talking about my heart. If I use black man am I not talking about myself anymore?
DD: Walk me through your process of creating a piece. What happens first?
MFS: I like to lead by my process, which leans on a great deal of scholarship. I do that to see where I am and where I’m supposed to be. But also to see where these concepts are. Scholarship is an anchor. It can include fiction. It started in a study of Bell Hooks’ writing – in particular – We Real Cool: Black Men and Masculinity. Benevolent patriarchy. Another author who wrote about understanding the roots of trauma is Carlos Casteneda, who wrote The Eagles Gift. Then there is Victoria Hamilton’s The People Could Fly. Imagined liberation. I did a year of interviews. I then took my father to meet the patriarchal side of his family.
DD: Was he reluctant to go? If so, or if not, how did you get him to go?
MFS: I said, ‘hey dad, do you want to go back and find out who these people were?’ My grandmother came here when he was between three and five. An aunt hadn’t seen him since he was a baby. We sat with her for a few hours. We just interviewed and found out who we thought my father’s dad was. Interviews will be at the beginning of the piece. Then we experience what growing up as young black children have been for them.
DD: How do you use body language to communicate?
MFS: I remind us physically and through spoken text what we know and affirm. We know our bodies are speaking long before. That’s the dance. The deep coded ancestral power of gesture and demeanor and disposition. There are codes in our body and in our gait. This piece is a study of that – of the physical code woven up in our language. I’m intentional about not pointing my feet during the piece. When I get ready to squeeze my toes, I remember that it is a European idea of what is correct.
DD: The piece is populated by structures created by MacArthur Genius and Tony Award-winning set designer Mimi Lien and built by your father, Rick Forté. Describe what kind of structures you’re talking about.
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| Marjani Forté-Saunders Photo by Maria Baranova Photography |
MFS: For this showing, we didn't do the full installation. A goal for this work is for it to evolve. The idea is that the installation was based on those contributors. This performance is a workshopping of what Unicorn will be over time. We brought the anchoring materials, including a pyramid built by hand by my father. There is a 10 ft. horn, which is an anchor piece. There is also a remainder of a wall that has a composite of different elements. My father had many lives. He does all of these on a high level. We’re not able to do it as large, but we have unicorn horns that are on a wall.
DD: This piece is spurred by stories about your father’s life. Describe how you got the material out of your dad.
MFS: That’s what blew me away. I realize how much my father wasn’t unique. Everett Saunders, my husband, was also a train conductor, and an emcee with an album out. He is also the person who cuts my hair because he worked as a barber.
DD: Let's talk about the trilogy you’ve completed - that examines the intersections of mental illness, addiction, and systemic poverty.
MFS: In case you can’t tell, I am an ambitious one. I’m growing without all the answers. I’m an examiner. What I was looking at initially was trauma and how every human will experience a level of trauma. I wanted to look at the deep economic disparity of this country and the inhumane pathologizing of responses to trauma in our medical industries. I wanted to demonstrate how it shows up in poor communities - the construct of race and the trauma that accompanies.
DD: What is your philosophy in life that influences your creative work?
MFS: We aren’t Christians. We grew up in the AME (African Methodist Episcopal) church. I will always give an ode to that starting place and how I can move people with my work. I can be in conversation with the divine. Art is a ministry. It’s my mic. It’s my handshake, the way I connect with people and learn myself.
DD: What do you learn about yourself whenever you perform?
MFS: I learn to never stop seeking knowledge. I learn to always keep growing in the work.
DD: Did you have a Plan B in case dance didn’t work out?
MFS: I pretended that I did for a minute. I went to college when I was 15. The first three years you’re trying to please your parents. I studied business marketing, and dance. The degree was as a business major. I was a double major in dance. That was my pretend. Two weeks after graduation, I moved to New York. I was 19. I had been studying there and had friends at [Alvin] Ailey. My mom gave me six months to get a job. During that time, I met my husband.
DD: How do you prepare to go on stage?
MFS: I do vocal warm-ups. Everett (her husband) will do a DJ set for me. He’ll play an array of songs to allow me to inhabit different spaces in my body. That will happen for about half an hour. There is also prayer and meditation. And then after that, I surrender.
Memoirs of a...Unicorn, Ford Theatres, 2580 Cahuenga Blvd. E, Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8:30 p.m.; $25; (323) 461-3673.
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