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.

Sugar Space presents Sample Tracks

Sample Tracks, presented at Sugar Space Arts Warehouse, featured a compilation of varied artists from the community – just a bite of each. I attended Friday for the “B” program, which featured works by Sonali Loomba and Katie Sheen-Abbott, Fiona Nelson, Temria Airmet, and Aileen Norris. (Thursday night’s program highlighted the work of Cat + Fish Dances, Abbie Simpson, and Rebecca Webb.) 

A demonstration of Kathak and flamenco opened the program, the first form hailing from northern India, the second arising in the south of Spain. “Passion for Percussion” illustrated the common language of these two dance forms and their accompanying musical traditions by placing them side by side. Sonali Loomba and Katie Sheen-Abbott were joined by Abhishek Mukherjee (sitar), Debanjan Bhattacharjee (tabla), Jake Abbott (guitar and vocals), and Sandy Meek (guitar). The musicians were as central as the dancers, in keeping with the leveled partnership between song and dance in both traditions. They started the night with an incredible display of technique enmeshing the two styles, each soundscape a perfectly suited complement. 

Loomba and Sheen-Abbott didn’t fuse their styles as the musicians did, rather each performed their technique in turns, first to their music, then the reverse, before appearing together to perform nearly the same sequences side by side. It was an extremely effective demonstration. Twisting palms attached to undulating arms, twirling skirts, rhythms of the feet and the heels or bells to accentuate them, upper body held upright and forward, intensely expressive and directive eyes illuminating the surrounding space. Both dance styles are centered on expressive storytelling through codified imagery created by the upper limbs, while the feet keep a lighting-sharp and playful dialogue running with the musicians, whose instruments and compositions are uncannily alike. Or maybe not so uncannily – Jake Abbott briefly mentioned the historical development of flamenco out of Indian traditions, a relationship I hadn’t considered before that now seems a curious and obvious probability to look in to. 

The program note for “Semblance” by Fiona Nelson referenced “illuminated faces, phases of the moon, memory, duets in time and space” and a Mark Twain quote – “everyone.. has a dark side which he never shows...” These referents remained somewhat nebulous in relation to the choreography. Black costumes and stark, single-sourced lighting sort of invoked moonscapes, but my mind mostly wandered into aquariums and their dark neon-infused jellyfish rooms as I watched. Side to side, circling, rising, falling, pausing, passing, the dancers maintained a flatly dynamic liquidity suited to the circular twinkly drones of the music. Bright white and subtle green lights overhead reflected off drifting skin surfaces, the particulars of choreography becoming something passed over for the pleasant haze of a windmilling ebb and flow. 

Third on the program was a solo performance by Temria Airmet. As in previous works, Airmet took a very large bite at a contemporary political topic (this time, “the current societal movement of feminism” and #metoo), attempting to distill nuance and context to a pithy minute drama with an uplifting final cry. Spreading a large bolt of white tulle across the stage, Airmet began a monologue on her version of feminism, religious doctrine from her youth and its impact on her self-perception, personal traumatic experiences, and a quick list of some topical social and political crises. She shuffled around in the tulle, punctuating her story with interpretive gestures and two more dance-y interludes, the first to a glitching dream-pop track of unknown origin (for some reason Airmet’s was the only piece on the program to forgo musical credits) and the second to David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” The piece ended with the fist-shaking cry that “this revolution... is working.” Which is fine and good and perhaps true, sometimes, except that in many places and for many people, it is also not. 

The final work, by Aileen Norris and dancers Alexandra Barbier, Arin Lynn, and Emma Sargent, was “The Convoluted Love Ballad of V___.” Tracing something unseen, Sargent was soon joined by Barbier, Lynn sliding in unnoticed upstage. The three spiraled into each other, becoming entangled and entranced in turns. When the music turned to sloshing ocean sounds, they became isolated rocks in its currents, static and shifting in turns until Barbier and Lynn fused together. From there it got... convoluted. The three slid in and out of complicated loves and betrayals; the movement was loose, swinging, and easy. Smiles were a treasure, then a dagger. Nico crooned overhead in a track about a dangerous femme, and when the rushing water returned, all three were linked, pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling in the same direction. 

Photo of Temria Airmet at Sample Tracks by Laura De Backer.

Emily Snow is a Denver native who now calls Salt Lake City home. She has most recently been seen performing with Municipal Ballet Co. and with Durian Durian, an art band that combines electronic music and postmodern dance.  

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: Perspective

Myriad Dance Company recently presented its winter offering, Perspective, at the Utah Museum of Contemporary Art (UMOCA). The company’s first publicized performance under the artistic leadership of Kendall Fischer, Perspective lived up to its name by subverting expectations for the venue and format in which dances are presented.

If you’re not familiar with UMOCA, the downtown museum’s largest gallery space is one level below ground and surrounded by a glassed-in mezzanine. Fischer placed audience members behind the glass in two rows, one sitting and one standing. At last, a bird’s eye view, erasing all sightline issues! (Those who choreograph floorwork in small spaces with shallow risers, take heed.)

Myriad members, alongside a handful of guest dancers, entered the gallery floor from all sides, gazing up and around as they wove in and amongst each other. As they wandered in silence, I wondered if they were truly looking up at us, or if their gazes were oriented more internally. That gray area between connection with and separation from the performers below was a thread throughout, intensified by the layer of glass that wouldn’t normally come between a viewer and a dance.

Fischer choreographed two of the program’s five total movements, with others by Ashley Creek, Sierra Stauffer, and Fiona Nelson, all frequent Myriad performers themselves. Each movement featured an occasional signature marking a choreographer’s unique touch. As a whole, though, each dance was more similar to its companions than not - on the one hand, begging the question of why the program should require the billing of five separate dances, but on the other, making the case for a very cohesive program despite contributions from multiple voices.  

Transitions between each dance, so smooth as to become invisible at times, swept varying configurations of the evening’s performers in and out of the center of the gallery floor. Long, diaphanous, burnt orange-colored skirts accentuated the eddies and swirls of the dancers, taking on a life of their own, while sometimes appearing to get in the way of supported partner work (the skirts were later abandoned for a more practical choice of leggings, allowing greater visible freedom).

I did wish that choreographers had paid closer attention to the orientation of audience to dance - upright choreography did not always make the case for why the dance should be taking place below us; my eye was most satiated when a choreographer utilized all the dancers lying on the floor, marking out kaleidoscopic patterns layered on top of the wooden floor’s repetitive squares, taking advantage of the audience’s privileged, aerial view.

In these instances, the more was truly the merrier: with the complete cast of dancers, I was able to see the full flesh of the design in space and watch it expand on a larger scale across the cavernous room. Such was notably the case in a diagonal line from which dancers would peel out and sweep back in, finding a new position while traveling backwards in a grand flocking.

All of the program’s music was electronic and trance-y; with only a faintly discernible meter, one track could blend unnoticed into the next. Working in tandem throughout, as choreographic mimicked musical quality, both became a vessel for an overall effect that washed over the space - one overarching feeling, like a long thought train or an extended music video (thinking Andrew Winghart here, and his powerful swarms of contemporary yet Graham-inspired women). Changing it up toward the end, I believe in Nelson’s piece, a noticeable meter emerged, congealing some previously scattered choreographic unisons to stronger effect.

The evening provided a truly unique viewing experience and it was exciting to see Myriad shake things up from past performances in more intimate venues. There was great potential in the possibilities unlocked by Fischer’s choice of space, though with perhaps still a bit of room left for exploration. I would eagerly press my nose up against UMOCA’s mezzanine glass for Perspective, round two.

Amy Falls manages loveDANCEmore’s cadre of writers and edits its online content. She works full-time in development at Ballet West and still occasionally puts her BFA in modern dance to use, performing with Municipal Ballet Co. and other independent projects in SLC.

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.