Myriad Dance: Penumbra

Penumbra, presented by Myriad Dance, offered a series of short pieces inspired by the relationship of movement to lighting. 

Picture, if you will, the moon during an eclipse. Those who have been lucky enough to experience even a partial eclipse, such as that seen in Salt Lake City in 2017, may quickly locate an image. Now, mentally zoom in on the space between the illuminated moon and the area in shadow - this is the moon’s penumbra. 

What’s interesting about a penumbra is that it is not a stagnant area. Rather, the word itself implies a changing, merging border - a place of movement. This term framed Myriad’s show as an exploration of light and shadow, and “their creation, contrast, co-dependence, and convergence,” as explained by artistic director Kendall Fischer in her opening remarks. 

The performance took place in a space at the Gateway, where a draping white expanse became the backdrop for the overlapping shadows of dancers. Purple, white, and blue incandescent light bulbs hung from long cables, decorating the space with splashes of color. Symmer Andrews and Leslie Babalis entered the space and turned on two sets of lights pointed on a diagonal. The appearance of light was a choreographed component, intentionally initiated through the dancers’ actions. For a moment, they relished in the light, moving gently as if to absorb the warmth of the beams on their limbs. 

This brought to mind the work of renowned lighting designer Jennifer Tipton, who often considers the way a lighting cue feels to the performers as she designs. She has noted that the sensation a light cue evokes for the dancers ultimately shapes the performance. Tipton, who has designed for Paul Taylor, Jerome Robbins, and Twyla Tharp, among other greats, has spent her career researching the relationship of light and performance. In a 1995 New York Times article, she remarked, "I feel that light is like music. In some abstract, emotional, non-cerebral, non-literary way, it makes us feel, it makes us see, it makes us think, all without knowing exactly how and why." 

In many ways, Penumbra encapsulated this very comment. Myriad used the impetus of light to shape movement, and the way that the dancers embraced a combination of detailed articulation, emotive tension, and swirling patterns of momentum created an ode to light’s mysteriousness. However, in a show built around light, Penumbra lacked a significant component: a lighting designer. With only two simple shifts in lighting, I was left craving more of the foundation of the performance. Today, even shows taking place outside traditional proscenium theaters and their ample light plots may house installations and other lighting technology - all great opportunities for collaborative processes.

Nine individual pieces made up Penumbra, with choreography by Kendall Fischer, LayCee Barnett, Ashley Creek, Charity Wilcox, Amelia Martinez, Temria Airmet, Emily Haygeman, and Fiona Nelson. The show provided an excellent framework for connecting multiple pieces by distinct artists in a cohesive experience. Throughout, dancers wore an array of buoyant jumpsuits in tones of white, brown, pink, and blue. Each piece also overlapped with the next, transitions seamed tightly together to create an overall sense of unity. 

Ashley Creek’s “Paene (Almost)” featured a circularity that emerged in the spatial patterns and pathways of the dancers’ torsos and limbs. Tawna Halbert, Alyx Pitkin, and Jana Young glided into and out of the floor, dragging their toes against the concrete surface and articulating through their upper backs. The piece featured a refreshing number of jumps and spurts of energy that progressed to a point of climax.

“Shadow Self,” choreographed by Emily Haygeman, referenced, from psychology, the unconscious component of human personality. "Everyone carries a shadow," wrote Carl Jung, founder of analytical psychology, "and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is." This idea served as a framework for the movement in “Shadow Self.” A tension coalesced between the four dancers. Hands concealed faces, eyes observed intently, limbs pulled and shifted. Through touch and through weight-sharing, the dancers manipulated each other’s bodies, provoking push-and-pull responses. The end of the piece brought about a resolution: the dancers stood in a tight clump and gently mirrored each other’s movements.

Throughout Penumbra, Myriad Dance offered a study on the interaction of light and shadow through movement, achieving the theme less through elements of design than through the embodiment of light and shadow as abstract characters. 

Rachel Luebbert is a Utah-based dance artist. She also teaches and works in arts administration and programming, and has previously worked in Colorado, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C.

Myriad Dance: Lavender Words/Saltwater Resolutions

I always appreciate the wide variety of research and accessibility found within the Salt Lake City dance community. From established repertory companies to college programs, there is truly dance to be found for all vernaculars and audience interests. I was struck by this upon attending Myriad Dance Company’s Lavender Words/Saltwater Resolutions, choreographed by the group’s former artistic director Temria Airmet. Airmet, who is currently pursuing an MFA in dance from California State University, is a longtime member of the local dance community. It was a treat to see her return to her home company to create a work influenced by her time away. I also appreciated the variety and breadth of our community upon entering The Leonardo, a downtown museum adjacent to the Salt Lake Public Library, as I realized I did not recognize anyone in the audience. In a nearly packed house, I was pleasantly reminded that dance cannot be, and in this case was not, insular.

Lavender Words/Saltwater Resolutions was presented as a visualization of Airmet’s relationship with depression, as gleaned from the program, audio, and a talk-back following the performance. I surprised myself when I became choked up at certain points while watching the dance. As someone who has also struggled with anxiety and depression, I was skeptical that the work, presented in a sparse lecture space, would be able to offer me a new visualization that felt authentic to such a strong internal emotional experience. I’m still not certain that the overall piece achieved this, but there were enough clear moments that brought me to a sense of catharsis alongside the performers.

The show began with Symmer Andrews lip syncing to Jake Tyler’s “I’m Fine” TED Talk, a sort of stand-up routine highlighting the importance of naming and sharing feelings. Andrews was so successful at this opening moment; her body language was loose and congenial while switching between the emotions of the words as authentically as Tyler’s talk. From this opening moment, the dance took off in a series of vignettes, providing a snapshot into a cycle of emotions. While the choreographic structure became predictable at times (extended canon into either stillness or a solo moment, for example), Airmet’s creative use of the space kept the piece fresh and unknown. From a dancer tearing off pieces of paper and placing them so only the front row could see, to not being afraid of exiting and immediately re-emerging, to the unique lighting patterns created on the side walls, everything seemed like it might have been accidental, yet in doing so felt intentional and extremely defiant.

While the structure created a sense of controlled chaos, the dancers ended up performing much of the same movement as one another, from wave-like patterns of the arms to struggling while crawling towards the audience. Within the chaos, my eye jumped to identifying dancers. The unison was never perfect, but allowed the dancers to shine individually. In a piece about such an individual experience (whether or not it should be is a different question), I appreciated that Airmet allowed this. Andrews, Ashley Creek, Kendall Fischer (Myriad’s current artistic director), Amelia Martinez, Fiona Nelson, Margarita Lucia Olvera, and Alyx Pitkin all had their moments to shine. Some were more memorable than others, but it was refreshing to be reminded that even though this was an ensemble, it was still made up of individuals. I was especially drawn to the intensity of Olvera’s movement. Nothing she did felt reserved; she moved with such risk, even in the stiller moments, embodying a heightened sense of turmoil and relief.

The most effective moment was a trio performed by Andrews, Fischer, and Pitkin. The movement was technically in unison, but each dancer had such a different way of approaching it that it felt like watching three different pieces. The vignette never felt rushed and allowed me to live in the moment with the dancers. Choreographically, it was minimal and gestural but, with the dancers’ focus tending to be internal, I felt every emotion they did as their hands shook and grasped at themselves. When making work about an emotional experience such as depression or anxiety, it's good to be conscious of whether the performers are just portraying or truly experiencing an emotion; here was the most successful example of a true cathartic experience throughout the show.

Almost immediately afterward, the rest of the cast re-entered the space in stillness as Pitkin delivered a poem, which I believe Airmet wrote. Pitkin broke down in tears that felt unplanned, making her delivery that much more powerful. The words “Just give it another day” seemed to reflect both the poet speaking to themselves, but also to the audience. It became more poignant when three of the dancers read a letter aloud that was written by Airmet’s grandmother. While their delivery might have been a little stiff, I found myself choking back tears as the words (“I can tell by how you sound”) seemed to come right from my own mother, trying to discern something she sensed to be not quite right. The universality of needing an outside figure to recognize your pain resonated strongly with me.

At the end of Lavender Words/Saltwater Resolutions, Airmet opened the floor for a Q & A. Starting with questions about how the piece was put together (“How do you select music?” or “What is your creative process like?”), the Q & A morphed into a forum that touched on experiences grappling with anxiety and depression, relief at its depiction in dance, and a conversation on difficulties identifying with anxiety or depression when not personally suffering from either. In these final moments, I was reminded of my appreciation for the audience and its variety of individuals. I also appreciate Myriad’s commitment to keeping dance accessible, as the Q & A reiterated the importance of art - not just in artists’ lives but in audiences’ as well. Often, we don’t know we need something until we have experienced it, and I applaud Myriad Dance Company and Temria Airmet for expanding their community in a relatable yet meaningful way.

Natalie Gotter is a performer, choreographer, instructor, filmmaker, and researcher. She recently completed an MFA in modern dance at the University of Utah and is a faculty member at Utah Valley University, Westminster College, and Salt Lake Community College.

Myriad Dance Company: Tides

Myriad Dance Company presented Tides at The Clubhouse SLC, the space formerly known as the Ladies Literary Club. Seven short dances were choreographed by different members of the company and strung together with recurring piano and rainwater music.

Tides intended to explore how life changes while also remaining the same. To that end, the company used water as a metaphor. The water motif was incorporated in their transition music and costumes -- variations of watercolor blue pants and crop tops, though the dances themselves seemed to be less focused on the concept.

The evening opened with the full eight woman company leaning back against the stage in artistic director Temria Airmet’s “The Roof is on Fire.” Temria broke away from the group, gesticulating and fanning herself as she climbed the steps to the stage for a brief solo before being joined by the group in a fast-paced unison sequence.

Those who have attended a performance at the Ladies Literary Club may be familiar with the unique layout of the space. A small stage is in the center, as well as a large floor area where the audience chairs are arranged. The performers utilized both stage and main floor in their dances and entered and exited from behind the audience, as well as either side of the stage.

Myriad Dance Company’s dance aesthetic could be described as contemporary modern dance; movements that flow between jumps, extensions, and floor work, and accompanying head rolls and gestures. To this vocabulary, Kendall Fischer’s “In a Drop” added surprising moments of partner work, with dancers appearing out of the group to fling each other in a circle, or transfer a performer onto the stage upside down. Ashley Creek’s final solo in “Everything is Temporary” also played within their aesthetic, captivating the audience with her intense effort to create tension in her muscles, tightening up until she was visibly shaking.

The company was at its strongest when they found a musical beat that could drive their sharp, discrete movements as evidenced in several moments of Alyx Pitkin’s solo “Dear Carter.” Transitions between each piece were also intriguing, as the dancers improvised while navigating the space and beginning a new idea. Fiona Nelson’s brief solo before the final work stands out in my mind for the clarity of her fluid travel through space.

With director Temria’s impending transition to graduate school out of state, Tide’s theme of transition seems particularly salient for the company at this moment and provided interesting material for their evening of dance.

Photo by MotionVivid.

Photo by MotionVivid.

Temria Airmet (front) and Myriad Dance Company in Tides. Photo by MotionVivid.

Liz Ivkovich moonlights as loveDANCEmore’s New Media Coordinator and daylights at the UU Sustainability Office and Global Change & Sustainability Center.

Myriad Dance: Lights

Myriad Dance Company presented “Lights” at The Downtown Artist Collective on Sunday night. Myriad donated all proceeds from the project, spearheaded by co-director Temria Airmet, to the Utah branch of Volunteers of America; the six performers and five musicians donated their time as well.

The Downtown Artist Collective is a small storefront on 100 South that offers handmade wares by local artists and artisans. For the show, store displays were pushed against the walls to make space for dancing; similar to other recent shows, such as those at Main Street gallery Art 270, the “stage” itself was fairly small and the audience sat right up to its edge.

“Lights” dealt - sometimes literally, sometimes indirectly - with the social and political climate that has come to a head in 2016, and I felt Myriad’s intent and hope from the moment I walked into the space. It was packed, with hardly a seat left in the house, but I was able to squeeze myself to the front and secure a (very good) seat on the floor. I noted my negotiation in and amongst a sea of people as a boon in a world where understanding and acceptance seem to occasionally take the back burner; “Lights” was not only Myriad Dance Company’s reaction to 2016, but a call to action.

The audience and I experienced physical closeness during our viewing of “Lights,” and were (gently) forced to be mindful and accommodating of both the space we ourselves take up and that which others take up around us - an idea whose easy extrapolation is how we coexist in the larger world.

The space featured a hodgepodge of lamps, occasionally turned on and off by the performers, that created a general tone of intimacy. Perhaps, we were not at a performance but instead sharing thoughts and conversation in someone’s living room. Additionally, live musicians both accompanied and were interspersed, salon-like, between the dancing numbers: a guitarist, a husky-voiced folk singer, a singing guitarist, a dancer-turned-vocalist, and my favorite musical performance of the evening, pianist Joseph Chang.

The dances in “Lights” featured different groupings of the six performers, including creator Airmet, and since no choreographic credits were mentioned in the program, I assume most were made collaboratively.

Two solos by Airmet bookended the show (except for a group finale) and were the most potent, searching works of the evening. Airmet always performs with unwavering conviction, and these solos were no exception. They featured poetry spoken, and presumably written, by Airmet and complemented her often-gestural and alternately soft and hard-hitting movement. The choreography could have been considered simple if unaccompanied, but in tandem with the words, it illuminated Airmet’s myriad (no pun intended) strengths as transporting performer, imaginative writer, and thoughtful human.

Throughout other sections, Airmet looked like she could be reciting poetry in her head as she danced - so specific were her expressions as they related to her movements. Intent manifested with varying degrees of maturity in other members of the group, but a general sense of personal investment in each dance was always clear.

Performer Ashley Creek exhibited compelling clarity, hers such that it travelled through and articulated her entire spine. Kendall Fischer radiated honesty and warmth in her sweet, short vignette with another dancer.

Seeing the performers’ unique identities onstage was a reminder that we all possess complex inner realms, though not all do or are able to express their hopes and concerns as openly as through performance. For me, “Lights” was a shared experience in vulnerability, empathy, and inclusivity, and a call to remember those things in our daily interactions.

Myriad implemented a wide range of choreographic choices given the limited space: tour jetes, slides to the floor, battements, and hitch-kicks, sometimes in groups of four, five, or even the whole company. I will posit that the dances, though earnest, could gain from indulging the expansiveness the choreography seemed to crave with either a larger space (though I recognize usable and affordable space is hard to come by, even in SLC) or by allowing more dances to have fewer participants; solos and duets usually offered the most breath and fullness.

The intimate setting at The Downtown Artist Collective uniquely drew focus onto individual performative arcs (differing, perhaps, from Myriad’s previous “Doors”), but the underlying concept for each dance, regardless of number of dancers, was group unity. I felt this net of unity cast not just over the performers, but also over members of the audience as we negotiated knees and coats.

Sometimes the net was cast directly from performer to audience, such as when Alyx Pitkin began to fall forward, only to then be caught by the group, suspended over the first row of audience members. I, too, felt kinesthetically involved, when I experienced wind from a leap across my face on several occasions.

Casual intimacy was a successful thread throughout the show. At one point, dancer Sierra Stauffer leaned against the piano, played again here by Chang, to sing; she oscillated between a contemplative, inward focus and sharing inviting smiles with audience members.

Less effective were moments when the dancers seemed to perform for an audience imagined farther away than actually the case. In my viewing of “Lights,” it was important that the performers acknowledge our proximity, a uniting factor over the course of the evening.

In her second solo, toward the show’s end, Airmet spoke, “My voice got quiet because the truth was hard.” Through “Lights,” she has found a voice, both for herself and Myriad, in movement, music, and performance. For the group’s finale, Airmet, who often invokes music by Kanye West in her work, used his 2016 song “Ultralight Beam”; it was her most effective invocation of West yet. The group found stillness in a tableau at the song’s conclusion, while still breathing heavily (“Father, this prayer is for everyone that feels they’re not good enough”), then, blinking their hands like twinkling lights, reached skyward.

Amy Falls is loveDANCEmore’s program coordinator and a regular contributor to the blog.