Review: Shiraz by Armin Hokmi – an exercise in minimalism, repetition and patience

Shiraz by Armin Hokmi ran for two nights at the Lilian Baylis Studio and was an exercise in minimalism, repetition and patience.

The performance was scheduled to start at 8 pm, but this, in fact, was when the doors opened. As we entered, the music had begun – Persian-flavoured electronic music with a low-down funky beat – and the cast of seven (I believe) were in a three-sided square shape on white lino. The rest of the space was a black box minus a handful of spotlight towers.

The dancers had one hand slightly covering their faces, the other relaxed at the side, and they executed a very minimal rocking step – right left etc – which fed into the hips, also in a subtle way. They performed this step for the duration of the 50-minute work, with some elements of development, yes, but this was its foundation.

Throughout the piece, the patterning would change. It generally happened without pomp and ceremony, as the two-step foundation meant no one could go anywhere very quickly. It could be likened to behaviour analysed in nature – the type of relationships that happen because they do, and have done so for millennia.

Around halfway, the lights turned red and the music shifted into a slightly slower groove, and this knocked me for six. That’s the power of simplicity – the smallest of changes feels cataclysmic. The red glow gave an enjoyable vibe, very much appreciated by a patron sitting in the centre of row A, phone out and filming like she was at the zoo. The red blood boils.

A while later, the lights lift again into a yellow hue, and the movement also develops. Prepare yourself: the right leg was lifted by twenty degrees, a solitary jump (basic 2-2) happened, and the odd twenty-five-degree arabesque was also thrown into the mix.

The above components were part of the wilder section of the work, and by wild, I mean an octogenarian going for it at a line dancing convention. This isn’t an ageist jibe by the by, it’s a mode of communicative analysis.

The dancers were of interest. They’re a diverse group in many ways, and the spectrum of performance approaches was a compelling watch. Some with subtle sexual undertones, others catatonic, one insanely focused and another emphasising physical jarring rather than flow. Poor them having a phone shoved in their faces though, the Wells need to deal with this disrespectful behaviour ASAP.

Hokmi was born in Iran, and the work “pays homage to Iran’s Shiraz Arts Festival”, which took place yearly between 1967 and 1977 in southern Iran. He has studied in both Norway and Berlin, and is currently an associate artist at Montpellier Danse for 2024-2026.

I thought I was a lover of pared-down work, but Shiraz made me question this. One can’t deny the power of repetition and development, but there is a fine line.

Being in a trance is different from watching someone else in one, and this should be considered. Experimentation is the only way art forms can move forward, but there’s a difference between theory, research and development, and a ‘finished’ work. Or at least I believe there should be.

Matthew Paluch Guest Author

Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.

Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.

He is a member of the Dance Section of The Critics’ Circle.