The Weekenders, last weekend

The Weekenders, a Salt Lake City-based rock and roll band, celebrated their sophomore album release with their first headlining concert at The State Room on April 29th. Accompanying the concert was modern dance choreographed by Erica Womack over the past year with dancers Brooklyn Draper, Jamie Myers, Amy Falls and Bashaun Williams.

Viewing modern dance in an unconventional space (i.e. not your typical proscenium theater) where I could grab a drink or two and sit back was extremely refreshing. Joining the rest of the attendees with my margarita in hand, and seeing the red and orange neon stage lights illuminating the rock instruments, I was hoping to witness equally unconventional choreography.

But first, I would be unjust in glossing over the opening act. Another local band, The Quiet Oaks sieged the stage and their enthusiasm was infectious. Members of the audience, including my friend who came with me, couldn’t sit anymore. “I gotta get up and groove!” my friend exclaimed, jumping up and rushing closer to the stage. Rock and roll demands embodiment. The band members themselves were dancers in their own right, the keyboardist waving his long, luxurious locks, the vocalist closing his eyes and swaying allowing his voice to project. You could sense the joy and passion that each member of the band had for their music. Mike Moon exuberantly danced around the stage. There was no pinning him down throughout the set, his energy shone through as he bounced, strummed, and provided supportive vocals. After their opening set, the Quiet Oaks’ lead vocalist promised that the Weekenders would “blow [my] mind.” I was ready. The opening band had done their job and primed me for what was to come.

The Weekenders took position with their respective instruments and the lead vocalist Rob Reinfurt introduced the dancers. The music began as Brooklyn Draper deliberately stepped in a diagonal pathway onto the white marley. As she arrived at the center of the stage, she turned and looked out to the audience. Brooklyn has an incredible presence that subtly demands your attention. The rest of the cast, in a pedestrian fashion, walked on from the side to join her in the dancing space. One by one they commenced an arm arcing phrase, meandering throughout the space as though under a spell.

It was during this first piece that I sensed a tension between the weightiness of music and the loftiness of the choreography. Repeated movements that occurred throughout the fifty minute set were a forward step on the diagonal as an arm floated up like a silk scarf while the opposite leg lifted to attitude. I feared that the selected movement vocabulary for the evening would not match the release that I hear in rock and roll, but rather offer an insufficient contrast.

The remainder of the dancing was bound by the confines of the form and a limited stage space. While I had hoped for an equal marriage of live rock music and live modern dance, I found that the movement took backseat to the music, despite being physically placed in front of the band.

For instance, some lyrics in the third number repeated, “let it go, let it go, let it go…” getting more wild with each repetition. Rather than altering dynamics to accompany the music, the choreography remained static. Amazed as I was with the control that each of the dancers exhibits over their bodies, I yearned to see a loss of that control. Rock and roll is not a genre about holding back or stifled formality. My expectations were further denied as the music would accelerate and crescendo, and the dancers stood to the side, taking sips from their water bottles. There seemed to be a handful of these lost opportunities to showcase the talent possessed by each dancer or to at least unleash some untapped energy.

The fifth song in the set contained the lyrics, “People are screaming ‘Jesus,’ but I don’t know if he can hear us,” which struck a personal chord with this ex-Mormon and waffling Atheist-Agnostic. My stomach jumped to my throat in a visceral reaction and I was disappointed to see the dancers holding their arms rigidly and orderly. It may have been the intention of the choreographer to create this uncanny dissonance yet I wonder what a more literal accompaniment of movement choices would have looked like; something to illustrate the words, “mama’s got no steam left for the fight,” or allowing the dancers to become “lost in the synergy.”  

It wasn’t until the sixth dance where I noticed dancer Jamie Myers cracking smiles, hinting that she was taking some pleasure in her duet with Amy Falls.The other dancers broke out of their stoic, dutiful completion of saut de chats and arabesques as the finale began, revving up their tempo to match that of the band, jumping with the crashes of the percussionist, and grinning, making eye contact with the other performers.

The dancing was technically strong, but I would have wished for a choreographic choice to “let go” of the dancers’ training and create more room for the music to possess their bodies rather than rely on the formalities of tried and true choreographic rules and tools. I understand the necessity of contrast when it comes to choreography, in this case it allowed for the music to be the main focus of the evening. Yet a stronger parallel between movement and music may have offered a more cathartic experience, and dare I say, left me more satisfied and uplifted.

I would urge that future works of collaboration between local rock bands and modern dancers tap into a release rather a containment of energy to showcase the rebellious and unpinnable spirits inside the performers, and invent unconventional movements and formations. If you can name the movement, change it.

Shane Davis is an MFA candidate at the University of Utah. He’s recently performed as a guest dance with RDT for Jose Limon’s “Missa Brevis.”

Children’s Review: Crumb & the Pirates

On a special day at my preschool, at the university, we wore our theater clothes. We went to see dance and every one was my favorite because I liked all of them. The seagulls did the seagull dance, the pirates did the pirate dance, the fog did the fog dance. The noodle did the noodle dance, the fish did the fish dance, the dog did the dog dance. The dog’s name was Max. The seagull dance was the silliest because they did this *shows some sort of wiggly movement while laughing*. Pirates were swinging on ropes and I want to dance like that one day. But, I have to be older.

Zachary Womack is enrolled in the Fine Arts Preschool at the Tanner Dance Program.

Sugar Space AIR Courtney Norris: Reminiscences and Whimsy

Local choreographer and Pilates instructor Courtney Norris has compiled a selection of reminiscences and whimsy for her current Artist-in-Residence program at Sugar Space. The show opened with Tis a Gift, a duet created and performed by Norris and Erica Womack. Norris and Womack were lit softly, as if at dusk, their shadows dancing on the wall behind them. They took turns supporting each other, tenderly and deliberately. The two swayed side by side, breathed together, dipped and lifted each other, and occasionally took a pause to place an arm carefully around the other’s shoulder. Norris and Womack maintained a similar relationship in Womack’s Dear Son. In a series of gestures taking place around the abdomen, the two moved together with the mutual understanding of two maternal beings. It is comforting to watch and they seem comfortable in their roles as matriarchs in both dances.

Fulcrum was a joint venture between Norris and local Bharatanatyam performer Srilatha Singh (of Chitrakaavya Dance). Norris and Singh took turns manipulating each other, moving each other’s arms, bending forward and side-to-side. The general feeling was exploratory, as they tested the waters of what each other could and would do. Singh’s hands and eyes began to come alive, in the riveting way singular to performers of Bharatanatyam. Their movements became more independent and branched into unison. Singh knelt in order to view Norris performing a solo, watching as a teacher gazes upon her pupil. Then, Singh began a solo of her own after Norris had ended her’s prostrate on the floor. Singh’s captivating hand gestures (or mudras), were punctuated with stomps and a gaze that told a story on its own. Norris and Singh walked side by side toward the lit candle upstage, as their exchange of knowledge came to conclusion.

Amy Freitas entranced the audience in Awakening Orbit, a solo co-choreographed with Norris and accompanied by percussionist Wachira Waigwa-Stone. Freitas’ arms breathed and grew like hungry vines as her knees propelled a giant silver orb across the stage. Freitas would reach to the highest imaginable place, only to collapse on the resilient orb in a reverberation of bounces, sometimes even diving forward onto it when the orb seemed just out of reach or still in motion. Always playful and radiating joy for the task at hand, Freitas demonstrated a beautiful understanding of her own being of which the galactic silver orb was an extension.

Courtney Norris has woven threads throughout a varied show– of motherhood, of remembering, of teaching, of learning, of exploring, of playing. To see this Artist-in-Residence program, visit Sugar Space Studio for the Arts tonight and tomorrow at 7:30 pm.

Amy Falls recently became the Mudson coordinator for loveDANCEmore. She has worked administratively for the arts here in the West and in New York City. She hold a BFA in Modern Dance from the University of Utah.

Daughters of Mudson 2014

If you missed the show, check out Daughters of Mudson 2014 from loveDANCEmore on Vimeo.

Having reviewed last season’s Daughters of Mudson, I came to the 2014 performance last weekend with much expectation.  The 2013 show lingered with me long after I left the Studio Theater at the Rose Wagner. and this year’s iteration didn’t disappoint, leaving me pleasantly surprised, often amused, and a bit bewildered — which is a good thing…

The minimalist design of the Rose Wagner Studio Theater maintained a sleek, progressive atmosphere, but the addition of strip lights refined the look of the concert while creating the intimate environment patrons of the series have come to expect. The collection of works presented here were curated by Ishmael Houston-Jones from loveDANCEmore’s works-in-progress series at the Masonic Temple in the last year. Despite simplistic beginnings — relationships, self-discovery, boredom, transitions — the material shared relatable themes. It was clear the topics addressed weren’t cutting edge but through skilled execution and a sense of play, the dances created space for meaning and purpose to sink deep into the complexities of the human experiences.

Erica Womack’s Dear Son opened the show, serving as a perplexing work, simultaneously alienating and bewitching. Two dancers exchanged intimate, repetitive gestures focused on the cavity of the belly, coupled with a series of supportive and concerned touches. The dancers shared companionship as they whirled in sweeping unison, rendering spiritual solemnity. Excerpts of “This Little Light of Mine” were sung intermittently which furthered a ritualistic undertone. While the audience was encouraged to hum along, it distracted me to hear a few brave souls in the crowd sing the tune.  I questioned the context of the piece of music but settled on the most logical connection presented by the choreographer and new mother: bearing witness to the pain, joy, and surreal yet primal act of childbirth. I was unable to relate to the subject matter personally but was intrigued by the structure. I did desire to see less drapery in the costuming and more emphasis on the physical body as the choreography placed an emphasis on transfiguration.

When Efren Corado Garcia appeared next in heels and a biketard for My Little Man. By my side, eyes fixed on me, he moved, I braced myself for an alter ego, gender-bending caricature carousel ride but instead was presented with a stunningly personal and poignant portrayal of acceptance and empowerment.  Imploding stereotypes surrounding gender-exploration, this three-part installment instead offered honest slices of Garcia’s self, not particularly masculine or feminine, just a succession of lightning fast vignettes encapsulating the story of his moving body. A warm-colored light flipped on mid-dance to project a soft silhouette as  Garcia stroked, caressed and revealed himself with obscure but striking vulnerability that lingers in my memory. In the final section, amidst a soaring sound score, Garcia stripped 3/4 of his biketard away, as if to shed the old aspects and reveal something more powerful and confident.  As Garcia scanned the audience with minimal movement, he offered himself with a “take it or leave it” stance as the lights faded.

The Beatles or The Stones? choreographed by Brooklyn Draper gave a glimpse into what I’d imagine as the Mad Hatter’s road trip, complete with obtuse quarrels, oddly placed text and an awkward, family-photo motif that became an anchor to the dance. While solos showcased a breadth of engaging movement, I felt a little left out of the jokes and was unable to attach to a clear through-line helping me unpack and translate the many movement tropes within in the piece.

The superbly crafted and masterfully executed This is the Beginning of Boredom (inspired by Andy Warhol) by Ching–I Chang was easily my favorite of the evening.  A dancer carrying a suitcase and wearing an  Andy Warhol wig and Ray-bans mysteriously stumbled from the audience, discreetly unfolding a series of directions. The solo became a duet with a similarly accessorized dancer and the two completed a series of random actions revolving around cans of tomato soup, spoons, suitcases and a roll of paper.  At one point I laughed out loud as one dancer tried to stuff as many spoons and cans into her knee folds as possible. I applaud the dancers ability to seamlessly talk with each other and the audience while maintaining a certain air of tongue-in-cheek ease.  I found myself feeling as if I was back in the Warhol’s 1960’s Factory observing muses muck about with the creative process.

The final piece of the evening was an endearing and jocular exchange between Sam Hanson and Michael Watkiss in Watkiss’s With(out) Sam.  The two loosely bantered about dancing together throughout high school and college, what dance education has “done” to Watkiss and also addressed the sordid world of dance belt talks.  As Watkiss jammed to RJD2, stripped to nothing but a dance belt and performed a string of twisting and disjointed motions, re-dressed and recited a children’s story, the piece evolved into more than just a haphazard homage to their friendship but became an auto-biographical template. Engaging and empirical, the piece seemed to suggest we wear, slough off, reconfigure and transform our own history, as we identify and mark those moments that define us.

The Mudson series and particularly the Daughters of Mudson performances continually offer a much needed alternative to most of Utah’s traditional dance performance paradigms.  As the season continues to mature, I expect to see more innovation and risk-taking while maintaining the refreshing format from inception to completion.

Danell Hathaway co-directs the group Movement Forum and teaches dance at Olympus High School.

This article is published in partnership with 15 BYTES. Daughters of Mudson took place on June 13th & 14th, 2014 at the Studio Theatre Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center Salt Lake City, Utah.