For more years than I want to really admit I went to church every sunday, attended Catholic school and for a few years even spent some time at a religo' summer camp- where in the middle of a really competitive pre teen bocci ball game - a bell would ring and we would have to freeze, get the prayer hands on and say a little chant to the angels. Now a recovering Catholic I am haunted by guilt and after saying or doing something particularly ungodly I find myself begging forgiveness by mumbling to the air. " Sorry Jesus".
Starting in darkness and ending with a bright light YJL's Church spins you through the tenor, the vertigo inspiring ecstasy and the deep joy and sickness of the preacher and his followers.
Last fall I took in YJL's Songs of Dragons Flying to Heaven, which married sadistic / (slap)stick, a dissection of Korean American identity and the drone love perpetuated by over educated white kids. Anyone who can make me love Mariah Carey + mime in one scene deserves a close second look.
In Church I was unsettled by the glare from the house lights, left on purposefully I can only assume so one could not hide from themselves. A trio clad in calico frocks gives ripe testimony and a preacher names Jose spurt monologues that elicit memories of guitar mass compassion and slowly evolve into a fire and brimstone rant.
I was smitten by its simplicity, enamored by its raw honesty, tricked by its tricks, and revived by the choral surprises. In the end this lapsed devotee was saved by YJL- In her I have found a new religion.
Kristan Kennedy, PICA
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