Fleet presents a strong mixed bill

Swallowed by the intimate Pearl on Main theater, Gnaw begins comically and casually with a series of  pre-show sketches. Shuffling boots backstage beckon forth cow-folk dressed in their unmentionables. Playing cards and smoking a shared cigarette, Fleet Co-Op warms up the space with their first trope: the hyper-independent cowpoke. This vaudeville montage entertained with a sense of classic charm. We saw each member’s take on cowboys, from spittin’ sunflower seeds to gettin’ in fights. There was almost too much to watch as the scene devolved into madness, a frenzy only people in deep isolation can muster as they yearn for connection. Amid the madness, we see one particular cowhand attempt to shed the mask by removing the iconic hat. Thus begins Dirt Between the Teeth, choreographed by Alex Seager. 

Dirt Between the Teeth is classic Fleet — a stunning, nuanced duet with flamboyant group choreography in the background. Our protagonist-cowboy sheds her hat, boots, and trench coat for a theatrical reveal of the nakedness beneath. Comical, shrill screams erupt from the rest of the cowboys each time the hat is removed. Accented with stomps, in boots, a cautious duet unfurls between the protagonist and an observer. They comfort each other as well as the audience. Dirt ultimately comments on the hyper-masculine individuality borne out of the West, using comedy to digest the idolized isolation that keeps cowboys from banding together. As a viewer, the imagery of the cowboy translated well to our current times — late-stage capitalism. The more we cling to ourselves, the less we consider others in our life path.

Teeth Agape, crafted by Shelby Taylor and Hailey Nilson, was an immense crowd pleaser. This piece’s imagery? Angry, corporate bad-ass woman, punking in heels and being upset that you need her to act a certain way. Seated right in the front row, I was left stunned by their in-your-face waacking/punking/voguing rebellion. Absurdism was the cherry on top, rounding out the multidimensionality of the character play. 

The crown jewel of Gnaw is The Skin of Our Teeth, choreographed by Sawyer Player. Having had the privilege of seeing this work progress from Fleet’s workshop and a showing at Monday Movement Lab, this iteration was by far the most magical. Fruit and witchcraft are the central imagery of Skin; three dancers in darkness are illuminated one by one by their comrades, who point flashlights at their disfigurements. Fanatically grabbing and biting fruit as an eerie, distant violin pulls you deeper into this unstable world, the technical abilities of each performer are stretched to the limit. Running similar to Dirt, Skin devolves from unstable to pure chaos, reaching straight for your throat. Amazing solo moments from Kira and Trinity threaten as the corps jacks and ping pong along upstage. An ode to the feral, to community suffering, and to insanity, Skin of Our Teeth peels back the layers of each member of Fleet. We crave more. 

Fleet stuns with a dance-theater night of confrontation. The character play, individual voice, and creativity of each choreographer demonstrated professional-caliber work. More than worthy of a New York stage — they plan to present at NYC’s Arts on Site on July 22 — Fleet sets the example of independent work in the Salt Lake Valley. Each member of Fleet has a different relationship to dance, some working gigs, others pursuing it as a profession, and others flying where the wind takes them. This collective spreads responsibility amongst each member, utilizing individual talents to market, design and support each other. You do not need to wait for your next big break; you can craft it yourself. 

Lauren Cheree Wightman (she/they) is a dancer, writer, explorer and part time goblin. When not in the studio, she prefers frolicking in the mountains, foraging for plants and climbing rocks. A contemporary freelance artist, they roam where they please, creating projects with the resources in their area. An ideal day in Lauren’s life would include climbing up a waterfall, swimming in the ocean, hiking to a cozy cave, and reading a book as the sun sets. Find out more at travelbarefoot8.wordpress.com. 

A practice of connecting with the Other

As I walked into the Miller Bird Refuge this week, I was handed a pair of headphones and binoculars. A small group of us gathered and talked before being quieted by Mitsu Salmon, warmly welcomed, and guided through the experience of Feathered Tides. I had never been to the refuge and this performance introduced me to the landscape and its species in an intimate and personal way. Dancers wove through the trees with a bird-like movement vocabulary that was also somehow so human. The Lazuli bunting’s flirty shimmies across the river at each other, the Wilson’s Phalarope’s cautious tiptoes over the stairs, and the Robin’s curious peek over the bridge all felt like familiar movements I’ve done before. The choreography created a kinesthetic connection where I began to feel that these bird-beings that were being portrayed in the dance are not so Other as we are often taught to think. As someone who counts the birds out at Great Salt Lake every fall with the Sageland Collaborative, I felt their characters were very well captured in the movement and costume design.

Photo by Kim Raff, courtesy of Bloomberg Philanthropies

Our little group of audience members were turned into birdwatchers, peeking through the trees, crouching down to look through the bushes, and quietly trying not to disturb the peace as we watched with wonder. While the music and narration in the headphones offered guidance and questions, we also had time with the headphones off to listen to Red Butte Creek below us and reflect with other members of the audience. The stories woven through the performance built a sense of empathy with the bird populations in our valley. I was reminded that their stories are our stories and what happens to them happens to us. As we are watching biodiversity dwindle across the planet, this performance made it personal for the birds that call Great Salt Lake home, just like us.

The performance is running May 24, 25, 30, and 31. If you have binoculars bring them and keep an eye out for the while-faced Ibis, that one is my favorite!

Kara Komarnitsky grew up in Salt Lake City and recently graduated with a BFA in Dance from Ohio State University with minors in Environmental Science and Business. Her work approaches the complexity of human interconnection with the planet, pulling inspiration from the natural world and environmental research. While her primary medium is dance, Kara regularly uses projections, film, sound, and interactive technology to create immersive performance experiences. Her piece Tales of the Deep (2018) recently won third place in the Midwest Climate Summit’s Climate Stories Competition and her thesis, Interconnect (2022), received an Honorable Mention at the OSU Denman Research Forum 2022. Other places her work has been presented includes the OSU Student Concert, OSU BFA Showcase, and the Ohio Dance Festival Professional Concert.

Repertory Dance Theater revives two classics

On April 25, I fell in love with dance all over again.

Repertory Dance Theatre closed their 59th season with DEUX, a double bill featuring historic work by José Limón and Zvi Gotheiner. Each piece is introduced by a short film introducing the choreography, rehearsal process, and dialogue about how the work came to be–allowing the audience into the creative process.

José Limón’s The Winged opened the evening. Dancers enter the stage with the pitter patter of feet striking the marley floor, creating a soundscape of vibrant, rapid energy. The figures collect, grow, expand, disperse, and migrate, reflecting the nature of birds. The use of silence is enchanting and builds a world in which the figures inhabit; I feel as though I am in a bird’s environment as opposed to them being in mine. My focus is drawn to each and every movement and shape the performers make and they are successful in convincing me they do possess wings in the motif of rapid hand movements slicing through space. The dancers exhibit incredible control in their moments of stillness and shapes as they carve through space. I was especially impressed by Trung “Daniel” Do in the Eros solo — he finds security and stability in his balances and demonstrates confidence and ease in his movement. While I find unitards to often be outdated, these unitard costumes were unique and flattering. The ombre effect paired with the velvet-like material gave the impression of feathers which helped elevate and communicate the narrative of the work. Although The Winged premiered in 1966, it still felt relevant to me. In the short film introduction, a narrator communicates Limón’s work to represent a human heart evolving, creating transformation and magic. This rings true for me — I felt that the work demonstrated connection and revealed the power of a collective spirit. Magic resulted from the choreographic and design elements, pulling me into the environment in which the work exists. I could watch this work repeatedly and experience something new each time.

Zvi Gotheiner’s Chairs featured excerpts from the original 1991 premiere. I found it rather funny that Gotheiner denied RDT in their initial pursuit of restaging the work for the company but am glad that he eventually relented. Chairs is a reminder that not all choreography needs to demonstrate every possible skill — simplicity is beautiful and repetition reveals something new with each reiteration. The two moments that struck me were the women’s duet, Lindsey Faber and Ursula Perry, and the men’s duet, Jacob Lewis and Alexander Pham. Repetition in both duets created suspense as the bodies rose and fell, crossing over and through one another, elevating in lifts. The inclusion of chairs in each duet grounds the solos, creating connections to the human condition, in daily encounters. I do feel the music left something to be desired; it dated the work and pulls it to a lower register.

Company dancer Lindsey Faber continued to impress me throughout the evening. Her precision and confidence in her movement compelled me. She followed through in each line of her body, extending beyond the shape being made creating a double-direction.

I feel as though I witnessed two choreographic masterpieces at DEUX and recommend that the Salt Lake City community make every effort to attend a Repertory Dance Theatre concert. Congratulations RDT, I look forward to season 60!

Kara Robertson is a Choreographer, Director, and Educator based in Salt Lake City, Utah working towards her MFA in Modern Dance at the University of Utah. She founded and served as Artistic Director of Karar Dance Company, a 501(c)3 nonprofit professional contemporary dance company, for seven years. She is a 2024 Virginia Commission for the Arts Choreographic Fellow.  Her work has been performed throughout the country including at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and at the Ailey Citigroup Theater and Gibney Dance. Kara holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Dance and Choreography from Virginia Commonwealth University. Find her at kararchoreo.com and on Instagram @kararchoreo.

Malpaso Dance Company visits Utah

I have heard nothing but praise for Malpaso Dance Company over the years and on April 24, I finally had the opportunity to see the Havana, Cuba-based company perform live. The dancers’ sheer physicality and honest commitment to their performance pulled me in and kept my attention through all three works presented.

The evening opened with Ephrat Asherie’s Floor…y Ando, a trio of male dancers. I first noticed the dancers wearing everyday sneakers–a choice that made the performance feel grounded and relatable. The choreography and production elements invited a sense of personal connection, dissolving the distance the proscenium stage can sometimes create between performer and audience. The dancers’ contemporary attire–a button-up shirt and pants–further emphasized the piece’s focus on humanity and relationships. The specificity of the lighting captured the poignancy of time and moments, underscoring the seamless transitions in partner work. Flow and ease were beautifully juxtaposed with staccato footwork, reflecting Asherie’s research and expertise in street dance. The abstract nature of the work allowed for open interpretation, encouraging personal connection rooted in shared human experience. I did find myself missing the internal drive in the dancers’ performance. Compared to their connection to the inner fire and depth of connection displayed in the works that followed, their presence in Floor…y Ando felt somewhat restrained.

I often find that when I have a lot to say, it means I am intrigued and hungry for more. Osnel Delgado’s A Dancing Island inspired many thoughts. Delgado, a co-founder of Malpaso, also serves as Artistic Director and company dancer. One of Malpaso’s greatest strengths as a company is their commitment to elevating Cuban choreographers in their repertoire. While I do not know much about Cuba or its culture, A Dancing Island made me feel welcomed into its community. The work featured all eleven company dancers and leaned more toward narrative structure compared to Asherie’s abstract piece. Clear relationships emerged through playful tableaus and interactions between male and female dancers. At one point, a dancer begins to sing, sparking a shift in energy that awakened the individuality of those around her and initiated a joyful journey of celebration. The music’s layered rhythms prompted the dancers to explore polyrhythms within their bodies, playing with pulses and accents simultaneously. From my perspective, the dancers’ performance felt second nature–vital and deeply rooted in their identities. The cast was exceptionally well-rehearsed. Movements were crisp, with precise slicing of limbs through space and a strong sense of connection between dancers. I was surprised when the house lights rose to reveal a dancer seated among the audience, who was beckoned to return to the stage. This gesture emphasized the idea that dance extends beyond the proscenium-more than performance, it is a way of life, deeply woven into Cuban culture. 

While the dancers exhibited impeccable timing in their movement—knowing exactly how long to hold a shape or let a ripple travel from head to toe–I felt the timing in the overall choreographic progression could have been stronger. Transitions between musical scores and sections felt abrupt, and some images or ideas left the stage too quickly. I wanted to linger longer in those moments. Compared to the natural rise and fall of the music, the choreographic movement was very even and never fully embraced urgency. I also wished the female dancers had been given more opportunities to demonstrate their technical prowess; the more athletic and physical feats were performed exclusively by men.

The final work of the evening, Why You Follow, was choreographed by Ronald K. Brown, whose extensive résumé includes commissions for Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, Philadanco, and Ballet Hispánico. The collective of nine dancers wore casual black, grey, and red costumes–I craved a more distinctive wardrobe to match the energy and intricacy of Brown’s choreography. This work echoed Delgado’s work in its use of polyrhythm and the dancers’ full-bodied commitment to the movement. However, I was puzzled by the bow at the end: the four female dancers bowed together, while the men came forward individually. Though one male dancer had a featured role, the structure of the bow didn’t seem to reflect the overall ensemble contributions of the piece.

I left Malpaso’s concert wondering why the men appeared to be featured more prominently than the women, but would still see Malpaso Dance Company perform again if given the chance. I eagerly anticipated this evening and would like to thank Utah Presents for bringing them to Salt Lake City. Throughout this season, Utah Presents has curated a stunning lineup of performances, and I leave each concert feeling energized and inspired–especially when the audience rises to its feet in celebration with the final bow of the evening. I’m proud to be a part of a community that shows such love and support for dance.

Kara Robertson is a Choreographer, Director, and Educator based in Salt Lake City, Utah working towards her MFA in Modern Dance at the University of Utah. She founded and served as Artistic Director of Karar Dance Company, a 501(c)3 nonprofit professional contemporary dance company, for seven years. She is a 2024 Virginia Commission for the Arts Choreographic Fellow. Her work has been performed throughout the country including at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and at the Ailey Citigroup Theater and Gibney Dance. Kara holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Dance and Choreography from Virginia Commonwealth University. Find her at kararchoreo.com and on Instagram @kararchoreo.

Roxanne Gray curates a mix of border art and dance

Over at Finch Lane, 801 Salon opened their gallery show Nepantla: Border Arte on Friday, April 18. Nepantla showcases the Hispanic and immigrant identities of its artists, and their experiences navigating identity in a country with a history of cultural erasure. The work showed tradition, craftsmanship, great use of different media and materials, and a beautiful pride built through resilience and love.

Roxanne Gray remounted her work, itself called Nepantla, which also explores identity and resilience. During the first section, the dancers made their breath purposely audible. The breaths were rhythmic, and at times it felt like they were really animating the dance. The performers were wearing bright colors and flowing skirts which were used to create movements in a style similar to Mexican folklórico. Modern dance was also embedded seamlessly with the traditional styles. Since the audience was seated in the round, the flow of the skirt would sometimes create a breeze in our direction. Full of breath and flow, the piece truly felt alive.

Photo by Edison Corvera.

At one point the dancers dispersed, and Leslie Jara entered the space sporting a Rapunzel-like hair prop, a long braid with a red ribbon. The solo starts to build a narrative with Jara gathering up the braid to a sounds resembling tension on a rope. Sometimes, the tension snaps but Jara continues her efforts to gather the hair. Jara breaks this repetition by going to make a shape with the hair on the floor then sitting inside this shape. The imagery of sitting in the space she created tugged at my heart strings. I thought of my own parents. They too were trying to create space for themselves in foreign land while still keeping their cultural identity alive.

After the solo, the other dancers join the floor. The energy was up, and the dancers would take up the space while cheering each other and the audience on. Sometimes the dancers would traverse the space together, sometimes one would take a turns occupying the whole floor. Either way, the cheering continued. Festivities kept going on. Yes, these dancers are powerhouses — having the dancers move while celebrating each other was moving. I could not stop smiling.

This exhibit is healing and necessary during our current political climate. Art has a power to reflect what’s going on in society, and this exhibit and dance reflects the beauty and resilience of a community. Relatives before the current generation were given an important task keeping culture close whilst finding kin within a new community. Today, we thank our past relatives and we continue to honor our cultures by evolving. By doing so, we allow our community to grow and support each other the best we can.

(Also recently having been performed at the Rose, Nepantla originally started as a part of Gray’s MFA thesis research, and the cast is raising money to take the work to the American College Dance Association Gala in Washington DC.)

Edison Corvera (they/them) is currently a queer Filipinx performer living around the SLC area. They attended Southern Utah University and studied theater arts and dance performance. Since moving to the Salt Lake area, Edison has worked with Myriad Dance, Ogden Movement Collective, and SONDERimmersive. Whatever artistry they find, Edison hopes to continue to find ways to implement their art with the community around them.