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loveDANCEmore has reviewed performances taking place across northern Utah since 2010.

Contributing writers include local dancers, choreographers, arts administrators, teachers, students, and others. Please send all press releases and inquiries about becoming a contributing writer to the editor, sam@lovedancemore.org.

The opinions expressed on loveDANCEmore do not reflect those of its editors or other affiliates. If you are interested in responding to a review, please feel free to send a letter to the editor.

A promotional image of Myriad Dance for Penumbra. Photo courtesy of Myriad Dance.

A promotional image of Myriad Dance for Penumbra. Photo courtesy of Myriad Dance.

Myriad Dance: Penumbra

Ashley Anderson October 7, 2019

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.

In Reviews Tags Myriad, Myriad Dance, Myriad Dance Company, Kendall Fischer, The Gateway, Symmer Andrews, Leslie Babalis, Jennifer Tipton, LayCee Barnett, Ashley Creek, Charity Wilcox, Amelia Martinez, Temria Airmet, Emily Haygeman, Fiona Nelson, Tawna Halbert, Alyx Pitkin, Jana Young
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A rehearsal of Girl Child, which continues through Saturday, May 18. Photo courtesy of KF Dance.

A rehearsal of Girl Child, which continues through Saturday, May 18. Photo courtesy of KF Dance.

Karin Fenn: Girl Child

Ashley Anderson May 18, 2019

Girl Child ultimately tells us that we “have to keep going, you have to get up and keep going”; but this hopeful sentiment is only the conclusion after exploring less optimistic scenarios. The show, with original music by Wachira Waigwa-Stone, has been described by choreographer Karin Fenn as an exploration of female stereotypes and trauma.

Six dancers enter, a procession of women in white slips, finding themselves in a space filled with piles of rose petals, a rack of dresses, and folding chairs. They settle in fetal positions, atop the mounds of rose petals. Ai Fujii Nelson awakens first, bathing herself in the petals, sensual and uninhibited. She makes her way over to Eileen Rojas, rubbing the petals on her skin and swaying with the ritual. The movement is soft and gestural; arms unfolding, hands reaching, hair swirling, circular torsos with necks exposed to the sky. The two younger dancers, (both sophomores in high school), Frieda Johnston Dicke and Sadie Havlicek, remain onstage, witnessing this female community.

Fujii Nelson performs another memorable section in which her torso is wrapped in a long piece of red fabric and she progressively unwinds herself. Emily Haygeman holds one end while she is tethered to the other, highlighting her limited mobility. I anticipated this developing into a struggle, a woman trying to free herself from outside constraints, but after a short period of restriction, Fujii Nelson simply unrolled herself from the end of the fabric and continued moving through the space.  

Corinne Penka, always a powerhouse performer, frantically moved about while the audio droned on about how to achieve domestic perfection. The crowd laughed at her futile and desperate attempts. She later yelled to us (or into the void?), “What were you THINKING?! What are the outcomes of YOUR actions?!” She continued on with fury and pointed emotion as the ensemble reverberated to her words.

Moments like these were uncomfortable but also felt necessary to the arc of the piece; they gave something to build up to, and then something to recover from. (Other moments that teetered, or crossed over to violence, included Fujii Nelson and Penka dancing as if at a club, their vernacular moves erupting into pushes and yelling, and later Rojas, scared and bewildered, being groped by the ensemble.) Penka was finally soothed by the two younger performers - as if their presence reminded her (or maybe just reminded me) of a more innocent and optimistic time, of youth. This moment was my favorite as it highlighted the disparity between the adult women and the young women, and somehow justified their inclusion in other sections where they had remained more on the periphery.

Haygeman had the last solo of the night, titled In my own Image, which showed a quiet, resolute power. The sensual innocence and/or indulgence that we witnessed in the beginning was gone, as was the pain and aggression. What we were left with as a final image was an ensemble of women standing up, continuing on.

Karin Fenn’s Girl Child continues through Saturday, May 18, at Salt Lake Arts Academy.

Erica Womack is a Salt Lake City-based choreographer. She coordinates loveDANCEmore’s Mudson series and contributes regularly to the blog.

In Reviews Tags Karin Fenn, KF Dance, Wachira Waigwa-Stone, Ai Fujii Nelson, Eileen Rojas, Frieda Johnston Dicke, Sadie Havlicek, Emily Haygeman, Corinne Penka
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