Sasha Amaya: On looking back and love lost

Beatrix Joyce / December 2024

Beatrix Joyce’s reflections on the Greek myth Orpheus and Eurydice in connection with the work Orfeo by Sasha Amaya, premiered at Uferstudios in November 2024. Text commissioned by Tanzfabrik.

The Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is a love story involving much drama, tragedy and lost love. When the female character Eurydice is flung into the underworld by a fatal snakebite, her lover Orpheus comes to fetch her. He uses his talents as a singer and lyricist to charm the god of the underworld, Hades, into giving her back – albeit on one condition; on their ascent to the land of the living, he may not look back at his love. Of course, like all Greek gods, Orpheus is flawed, and in the shadowy depths he begins to doubt Eurydice is following him. He cannot resist the temptation to check on her and glances over his shoulder. It is in this moment that his efforts are wasted: Eurydice is sent back to the underworld. As the story goes, he must then wait a lifetime in order to be with her again.
 
In his agony, Orpheus turns to song, lamenting his lost love with a voice unparalleled in Greek antiquity. According to the lyrics from a later musical interpretation of the myth by Purcell (deceased 1695), he could play so well that even nature would bow down to his song:

When Orpheus sang, all nature did rejoice,
The hills and oaks bow’d down to hear his voice;

At their musician’s feet the lions lay,
And list’ning tigers did forget their prey;

His soft’ning lyre did cruel Pluto move;
His music prov’d of greater pow’r than Jove.

Photo: Camille Tonnere.

In Orfeo, Sasha Amaya and her four performers remix excerpts from Monteverdi’s 1607 opera of the same name. Unlike classic interpretations of the myth, their performance does not follow its narrative or romance. It is unclear whether we are in the underworld, in the land of the living or neither. Nor are we immediately introduced to Orpheus or to Eurydice. Rather, we are immersed in an abstract landscape filled with song and images. The performers, each with long, dark hair and wearing white clothes, bring us to a place that is not only a place of lament; it is a place where they find each other in their similarities. They visit different structures, various constellations and with their songs and movement, motivate, influence and empower one another. They are all part of the same carefully constructed world.
 

Photo: Miriam Tamayo.

Later in the piece a new kind of a song is introduced: a folk song. The constructed world begins to unravel. Here, the focus moves away from the epic portrayal of craft and skill that we know from the opera. Perhaps song does not always need to be so refined; it can also be a simple expression of emotion and act as the connective tissue that runs between audience and performer. At this moment in the piece, we are transported from the past into the present. It reminds me of a reflection by Hannah Finnimore, on the 50th performance of Hungarian choreographer Beatrix Simko’s 2016 work “#Orpheus#Eurdydice”: “When Orpheus gets ‘greedy to see’ Eurydice in their final moments before freedom, he is acting out of love, yet his indulgence in, and impatience for their return to normality robs them both of a future together. Likewise, we should not let our nostalgia for perceived eras of greatness distract us from the present and future, artistically or politically.”

Photo: Camille Tonnerre.

On this note, working with a classic text requires much re-shuffling and adaptation to make it available for a modern-day context. This is perhaps where the underlying narrative might take second place, as with Sasha Amaya’s Orfeo. And yet, the emotion prevails – lost love is just as common today as it was in Greek antiquity. It is through stories such as these that we can continue to connect with the past, and – even if it is so ordained to only look to the future – keep looking back.

Sasha Amaya’s Orfeo proposes an abstract landscape of songs and images that moves away from the classic myth’s narrative and romance.

Photo: Camille Tonnerre.

– Purcell: When Orpheus sang, all nature did rejoice, Z.322 no.7
– Hannah Finnimore: https://springbackmagazine.com/supplement/assembly-budapest-24/dont-look-back-orpheus/index.html