DETROIT — Deep rhythms pulse through the gallery as The Fathers of Id drum African beats for arriving guests.
Young and old, black and white, ghetto, yuppie and artsy about 150 people settle in at the Johanson Art Gallery, standing along walls when no seats remain.
Ziam is producer, director and lead entertainer of Liquid Silver a swirling fusion art show of cutting-edge fashion, music, dancing, art, poetry and spoken word melded with a message. "This show is about love," Ziam says. "Because life is too short to be without love."
The drummers slow their rhythms and a musician named "Baka" takes over with singing and electronic music, making way for the heavy beats of an electronic DJ.
The lights begin to flash. Ziam, the producer-director and star of the event, struts out, decked in his signature silver helmet, tight red shimmery body suit and silver-glitter knee-high platform boots. His face is painted red, silver and black like an African warrior-glam rocker.
The crowd claps, sways, dances and smiles; the music pounds.
And Liquid Silver a swirling production of fashion, music, dance, art, poetry and spoken word begins with a bang.
Fusion art shows like Liquid Silver are transforming entertainment here and elsewhere into a kaleidoscope of sight and sound. Once relegated to the underground art scene and warehouse parties, fusion is raging in clubs and theaters across the country.
From Detroit to San Francisco to New York City, rag tag and professional production companies alike are bringing together artists from different genres and mediums, providing a showcase of video, light, art, dance, sounds, song, spoken word, graphic arts, photography and fashion.
"Fusion is starting to emerge everywhere," says Ziam, who goes by one name and whose group holds about 10 shows a year. "Even rappers everyone is becoming more visual. It's becoming very fashionable."
Expecting the unexpected
Like the art, music and theater shows of the 1960s, today's fusion events are experimental and collaborative. Like today's music, the shows are often electronic, fast paced and aim for diversity in the cast and the audience.
At the Liquid Silver show, models emerge in an ongoing procession, dancing and twirling to the music in waves of emerald greens, blood reds, gold, silver and platinum. The creations are unique: dresses made of garbage bags, potato sacks and video tape; men in plastic and silk skirts; women in body paint and bustiers made with discarded car parts, blinking lights and other metallic objects; plumed and feathered hats and headpieces made of hubcaps.
The fashion parade is interrupted occasionally by Ziam's song-and-dance routine soulful melodies with a pop-Gospel feel.
"This show is about love; we want you all to feel the love. Let it get inside you. Feel it. Because life is too short to be without love," he says, pacing like a preacher in the audience.
Since it began in 1994, Liquid Silver has held shows in warehouses, recreation centers, museum lobbies, coffee shops, along the Detroit River and, most recently, at Eastern Market's Johanson gallery. News of a production passes by word of mouth and is posted on flyers.
Fans turn out in droves, expecting the unexpected. During a recent performance, a model climbed a pole and swung from an overhead pipe, shirtless and wrapped in green cellophane. Poetry is often performed, and sometimes dramatic spoken word is acted out on a sofa with low lights.
Ziam calls his show a celebration of the arts. Born and raised in one of Detroit's poorer neighborhoods, the performance artist did gigs in New York and Paris, where he learned about fashion, music and entertainment.
"I wanted to create a show about love, so that no matter what people see, they come away with a message," he says. "We're all born into black skin or white skin, and it doesn't matter. We're all searching for the ultimate. And the ultimate is peace and love."
Bringing people together
Liquid Silver has a constantly changing cast and audience. The show runs on a shoestring budget, often as little as $200. Nobody gets paid, except the musicians.
Patrons are charged $20 at the door, but most know Ziam or one of the models, musicians or artists, so they get in for less. Usually, Ziam says, he breaks even. Sometimes, he doesn't.
But what matters, says Ziam, is the art and the message, and bringing people together.
"That must be the height of being a performer, to look into a mixed audience and see all kinds of people dancing and enjoying themselves together," he said.
Such events, mixing audiences and genres, have been going on in one form or another for many years, says Peter Glikshtern, whose San Francisco club, Liquid, recently showcased artists painting canvases while DJs spun a musical yarn.
"It's a channeling thing," Glikshtern says. "The artists and musicians feed off other people's energy. It's a staple of the underground and semi-underground scene."
But now, fusion is emerging into the mainstream.
"We're trying to reach people everywhere," says Ziam. "If we can't touch people through music, then we try to touch them through style and fashion. If not that, then we'll touch them through poetry and spoken word."
Breaking the mold
Meanwhile, digital technology has mixed things up in new ways, breaking down barriers of race and taste, says Howard Goldkrand, co-founder and director of New York City's Cultural Alchemy.
Goldkrand says that previously, Hip Hop people would hang out at Hip Hop clubs, techno people would go to techno clubs and rock people would stick to rock clubs.
That still happens. But digital technology has allowed musicians to more easily collaborate with each another to produce new sounds. Rappers work with electronic music mixers, who work with techno and ambient musicians, who collaborate with singers and musicians, and so on.
The mixing has encouraged diverse audiences who want to experience new art that's not confined to rigid categories.
For instance, Cultural Alchemy produces SoundLab, an experimental space where musicians and visual artists work together to create new sounds and an individual experience, in places ranging from a towering hall at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge to Italian nightclubs.
The aim is integration of musicians, cultures, art and audience, Goldkrand says.
"We encourage diversity; it's been our goal. We are a mixed crowd. Diversity is the future of America and we need to celebrate that," he says.
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