Review: I HAVE A SECRET TO TELL YOU... at The Kennedy Center Theater Lab

The Kennedy Center’s Local Dance Comissioning Project (LDCP) 2024/2025 awardees Jamison Curcio and Shanice Mason presented a vulnerable, metaphysical dance autobiography in I have a secret to tell you…. 

The LDCP aimed to support DC’s dance community by awarding them financial support and use of the performing arts center’s theaters. For Curcio and Mason, the final project was an artistic expression about their identities that asked the audience to consider where they belong in space and time. 

As an aside, it would not be surprising if this year’s project was the last of its kind at the Kennedy Center. The executive board fired their dance programming team on August 21st (the day before this performance) and seems to desire an overhaul of the programming that will put lesser-known, local artists out of favor.

Curcio and Mason, and their “exhibition architects,” expanded their vision with a pre-show activation. Dancers slunk up the stairs to the mezzanine, bent and waved from the orchestra balcony, and twirled behind a glass wall that separated the lobby and the theater. Their movements were backed by ambient music and an improvised voice-over from two of the architects. They gave their testimonies about the joys and sorrows of being young Black women, their stress about the economic and political climate, and their occasional desires to live in an alternate universe, all in an intimate, darkly comedic tone. 

Around the lobby were “exhibits” that the audience could interact with: a box to throw your frustrations into, a sheet to write a secret on, and cases with sentimental items from the creative team. These elements encouraged the exploration of one’s own worries, desires, stress, and joy in community with the dancers and speakers. The exhibit ended with one speaker asking, “Are we going to tell them the secret?”, and the other replying, “No, they’ve got to figure it out themselves.” 

Once the Theater Lab opened, Curcio and Mason began their cerebral, abstract piece, holding onto this motif of taking up space and exploring and expressing their identity. They utilized the entire theater, circling the runway at the top of the half-circle and then running up and down the riser stairs in exploration of their place. Their energy forced the audience to follow and spin their heads to catch a glimpse of their flowing, lilac and blue robes. 

Sonically, the piece started with a rhythmic, static popping like a record player needle catching on the end of a vinyl. Curcio and Mason had an impressive sense of timing, as their movement cues were almost impossibly hidden in the monotonous soundtrack. The dancers instinctively paused to carry craft supplies and crates to the center stage. They decorated the boxes with tape and paper as orchestral music floated in, and they walked their art around the venue, displaying their individual expression and the weight of their identity. 

The piece’s heavy reliance on props and costuming sometimes made the movements lag when it took a second too long to move the crates or change clothes. Their promenade with the boxes fell behind halfway through the arc, and they had to catch up to the spotlight. There was also a notable lull when the dancers shimmied out of their robes and shuffled into long black bloomers and iridescent tops, all while the crowd watched on impatiently.

There was a jarring, pivotal break in the dance where they returned to the stage and ran in place for several minutes. The dancers switched their pace and posture intermittently, emphasizing the futility of progress even if one is exerting energy. The piece picked back up with more stair-work until they circled back to the stage. Suddenly enlivened, they played on the crates and platforms in the center and took turns taking up the space and showing off their reaching, liquid movements to each other, as if they finally found their own stride and weren’t just following a predetermined path. The piece resolved with the pair embracing and breathing together, and then they disappeared into the “portal” of the backstage curtains, signaling the end of their escapism. 

The piece itself was an intimate, explorative interpretation of the creators’ lived experiences as Black women, which was not relatable to a general audience (nor was it supposed to be), but an audience requires exposure to programming that doesn’t always resonate with them to expand their worldview. Younger, less platformed artists like Curcio and Mason also need spaces to grow and perform for audiences they wouldn’t otherwise reach. It’s a shame that local dancers and choreographers likely won’t have that space at the Kennedy Center after this season and will be overlooked in favor of basic commercial successes, as I have a secret to tell you… was a poignant, stimulating blend of isolation and camaraderie, conformity and self-identity. It expressed the individual’s journey of trying to move and express when in community with others and one's environment. 

The crowd that showed up for Curcio and Mason’s LDCP showcase was supportive and open, and the awardees and their architects made the most of the space that they earned for their short yet impactful residency. Their secret? Being unabashedly unique and unwaveringly themselves despite it all.  
 

Runtime: 30-minute pre-show act, 1 hour performance, no intermission

Photo credit: Lauren Jessica Brown