NOW-ID's Exodus

For its fourth show, NOW-ID presented Exodus, a multi-collaborative performance, to Salt Lake audiences July 27-29. While the company has previously opted for less conventional spaces—the Masonic Temple and Saltair are two examples—Exodus was presented at the University of Utah’s Marriott Center for Dance, and aimed to focus on the human need to migrate.

NOW-ID, which was co-founded by Charlotte Boye-Christensen and Nathan Webster, seeks to collaborate with a range of artists from various fields, and Exodus incorporated instrumental music and operatic singing. In a similar vein, as a reviewer I was interested in how non-dancers, or those not steeped in the dance community, would respond to the piece as a whole, so I watched and discussed the piece with two guests, one a book publisher in New York specializing in genre fiction and another who is a local special education consultant.

The curtain is drawn to reveal two dancers—Tara McArthur and Adrian Fry—who are facing each other going through an abstracted version of a departure/arrival greeting.  Behind them stand two parallel facing chain-linked fences (designed by Nathan Webster and Gary Vlasic). Opera singers Nana Bugge Rasmussen and Jakob Bloch stand trapped between the fences, voices piercing the space, providing the arresting image of restricted potential (or at least mobility), due to circumstance.

Text is spoken by Rasmussen and Bloch as they traverse the space, interacting with the three dancers (McArthur and Fry now joined by Katherine Lawrence) and speaking on a range of subjects from home, religion, and what constitutes a good life.  Visually the space is saturated with set, sound and movement, but all aspects in this section pull and push in a way that is alive with possibility. In general, Rasmussen and Bloch, although not trained dancers, have several movement sections (directed by Rolf Heim) that add to the human struggle that is often conjured when speaking of mass migration.  They push each other, cradle each other, and even enact a tug-a-war with a microphone cord.  Their movements are unrefined yet essential to propelling the issue at stake.

With Fry, Lawrence performs a duet that slices and tilts, her body placed in precarious positions through which she somehow maintains balance. The movement is angular and driving, defined and relentless.

In another section McArthur and Lawrence are seated, constrained between the two fences, moving through a series of gestures and choreographed collapses in strict unison.  While they are two dancers coming from different sects of the dance world (Lawrence from ballet and McArthur from modern) they keep pace with one another, and have found commonalty in clean, propelled movement.  With its innovative choreography and adept dancers, this section is both satisfying and striking, two bodies cooly moving in an enclosed environment.       

There are challenges when taking on a theme as ambitious as human migration. My guest who works in publishing noted a discrepancy between her notions of all that surrounds an exodus and the choreographic material: while the other aspects of the show (design, music, etc.) supported a sense of longing, entrapment and hope, the actual choreography portrayed a more aggressive, and at times even a clockwork sort of experience. The third among us in the audience was more willing to seek meaning and metaphor in the rigid and quick-paced choreography, opting to read it as a comment on the treatment of newcomers, particularly refugees, or how they may feel traveling in less than ideal circumstances.  I fell somewhere in the middle, acknowledging the discrepancy between the pace of the choreography and the baggage that I bring to the theme, while considering that within any theme, including an exodus, there exists a diverse range of experiences and resources. The choreography did not provide an emotional context, but it did contribute to the visual landscape.  

While none among us agreed completely on these points, we all found consensus on the success of the ending; McArthur lies, in a pool of light, weighted and surrendered, crushed or maybe refined, on the outside of the fence.

Exodus just completed a tour to Denmark, where they performed at the Copenhagen Opera Festival. 

Erica Womack regularly contributes to loveDANCEmore. She presents her own choreography throughout Utah and is an adjunct faculty member at SLCC.

This review, and most reviews on loveDANCEmore, is co-published by 15 BYTES. 

Utah Presents: Northwest Dance Project

Portland-based contemporary dance company Northwest Dance Project had its Salt Lake City debut at the University of Utah’s Marriott Center for Dance (programmed by Utah Presents, formerly Kingsbury Hall Presents). NWDP currently employs nine dancers, and consistently features the work of various international guest choreographers. On the program for Salt Lake City were works by Felix Landerer (currently choreographer in residence at Scapino Ballet Rotterdam), NWDP artistic director Sarah Slipper, Jiri Pokorny (choreographer in the Netherlands/Prague, formerly with Kidd Pivot), and Ihsan Rustem (a Switzerland-based choreographer, and currently NWDP’s choreographer in residence).

The program opening was strong. In Landerer’s “What We’ve Lost on the Way,” four dancers strode purposefully toward the audience and then back again, as their outstretched arms coincided with static eruptions in the score. The stage was lit by a lowered lighting truss and the upstage area was dark, so each time the dancers marched forward, it was as though they were emerging for the first time. The dancers slid through buttery floorwork, belying the strength it certainly required. While repetition of structure became predictable toward the piece’s end, each iteration took place with a clarity of purpose that made it satisfying to drink in yet again. A moment in a woman’s solo resonated uniquely: she lay on her back, her legs dangling skyward like noodles as she looked curiously up at them. While the rest of the piece featured more physical demands, this brief repose was a contemplation on the limbs that were previously in endless motion. On a costuming note, the dancers’ socks (presumably an aesthetically-driven choice) did not seem to allow them the groundedness needed for all the deep, wide fourth positions, among other choreography, that the piece demanded.

Slipper’s “MemoryHouse” and Rustem’s “State of Matter” felt less singular in some of their choices. Both felt structurally unclear at times, and the choreography, while expertly executed, lacked memorable choices. “MemoryHouse” was at best a trite exploration of a domestic partnership, and “State of Matter” meandered unsteadily alongside a poem about clouds (while it did feature a striking opening scene with limbs dangling down below a black curtain that hovered several feet above the stage).

Strongest on the program was Pokorny’s “At Some Hour You Return.” The lights flashed on to reveal an empty stage lit with a blue-white wash, a truly striking image which elicited an audible reaction from the audience. Then a series of magical blackouts took place, lights coming on between to reveal different groupings of dancers (that took place both extremely quickly and in total silence). Eventually a sextet of three male and three female dancers was revealed; each was clad in black, including black sneakers, which was a welcome change both visually and for movement capability. Pokorny’s choreography had a quirky edge, featuring motifs such as hands held up to heads like antlers; other grounded, swift shifts also possessed an animalian quality. Throughout, Pokorny’s vocabulary felt original and constantly fresh. Structurally the piece shifted through a series of vignettes, bookended by savvy lighting choices, and thus achieved an unpredictability of arc. “At Some Hour You Return” was a piece I would have liked to watch several times over.

Northwest Dance Project lives up to one of its founding initiatives: fostering the creation of original works from both established and emerging choreographers. While Rustem’s work has been showcased by NWDP, Hubbard Street Dance Chicago, and Whim W’him, among some other festivals, his is still a fairly new name; “At Some Hour You Return” was Pokorny’s North American choreographic debut; Landerer’s accolades also include solely European companies and productions. While some pieces may have felt more finely tuned, it was refreshing to see an an evening of largely unfamiliar works and names. As written by Hubbard Street dancer Benjamin Wardell in his poem featured in “State of Matter,” “…like clouds, we are blind to our own perspective”; perhaps the continual introduction of so many new perspectives by companies like NWDP will continue to enlarge our own.

Amy Falls is loveDANCEmore’s program coordinator. She is an avid consumer of dance literature, and loves seeing new choreographers presented in Salt Lake City.

Our reviews at loveDANCEmore are shared with 15Bytes | Utah’s Art Magazine.

Pictured: Northwest Dance Project in “At Some Hour You Return” by Jiri Pokorny 

Movement Forum: Mine Goes to Eleven

Movement Forum, otherwise known as MoFo, celebrated their eleventh year by curating a show of dynamite choreographers and dancers called Mine Goes To 11: THE MOFO SHOW. The company worked with Gabriel Forestieri, Yvonne Meier, Stephen Koester, Miguel Gutierrez, and Ishmael Houston-Jones.

We began the evening being lead around outside the University of Utah’s Marriott Center for Dance–– a big black umbrella showing us the way. We were witnessing U and Leah, choreographed by Gabriel Forestieri. As we walked, we fell upon some dancers sitting on a bench, and then four others standing against a wall. This edifice was a campus building separated from us by a flat, vast concrete space. The dancers ran and walked along the sagittal lines of the concrete, fell into duets, solos, and in and out of a unison phrase. This particular space allowed the audience’s perception of the dancers to change, as they were able to use the long depth between them, drastically changing their size in front of our eyes–– something impossible on a shallower proscenium stage. We were then lead to other areas where the dancers interacted with the architecture and open windows, dumpsters and railings. They went in and out of apparent improvisation and clear choreography. At one point, the audience was stationed above a small grassy hill where the dancers ran up, somersaulted, and rolled down the hill like children, which was a joy to watch from our point of view. In general, this site-specific piece used locations around the MCD Building where I’d never imagined dance occurring. It was a fun, unique and interactive experience for all.

The first stage piece was NYC-based Yvonne Meier’s Gogolorez. The dancers, dressed in black, gold and yellow, entered the stage upon instructions announced by Michael Watkiss, who stood stage-left with a microphone. The entire piece was a live improvisation score coming to life as we watched–– something Meier has played with before. Watkiss instructed on how to move and/or what to imagine. There was twitching, fainting, laughing, bumping, and dying a slow death. Some ideas gradually changed in being repetitively interrupted by another idea, and some ideas abruptly switched over to something completely new. It was incredibly intriguing and entertaining to watch the obedient dancers actively make new decisions over and over again. The process was predictable, but the ideas and movement were unpredictable, bizarre and humorous.

she’s a beautiful man, a collaborative work with Miguel Gutierrez, was completely different than any other piece in the show. The work was “made remotely”. Gutierrez sent MoFo articles, videos, songs, writings of his own, and other inspirations he came across over the course of the summer. The piece seemed to have no beginning, middle or end. There were lots of strange props, costumes, characters, and texts. The speaking seemed to be from stream-of-conscious writings, perhaps inspired by separate situations the audience was unaware of, or by the actual performance as it happened. To me, it was as if Gutierrez’s mind and the minds of the dancers were shaken up and then emptied into a box, and then shaken up a bit more. The audience was given a glimpse into this box of mixed up thoughts and ideas, some of which were hilarious, sad, uncomfortable and confusing.

Personally, I have been waiting to see works like these here in Salt Lake City since I moved here fifteen months ago. It was incredibly refreshing and different, but at the same time comforting to me. Not only were the choreographic ideas incredibly engrossing, but they were very well executed by the performers. I saw a performance and movement range in these dancers that I had not yet seen in them before. They were animated and immensely creative on the spot. They proved they could improvise well alone and with each other, and that they could also execute choreography well together, as in Stephen Koester’s5 and a short 20. This Is How The Story Goes, (As Far As I Can Tell) by Ishmael Houston-Jones, perfectly closed the show. A series of duets moved back and forth across the stage, gradually shifting into trios and even larger groups. With a live guitarist on stage, the piece ended with a trio that featured Sarah Franco telling a story about her grandparents. It was raw, real and in the moment. I left this show completely satisfied, but also with anticipation to see more. I believe that THE MOFO SHOW was a complete success and I couldn’t be more excited to see more from them in the future.

Monica Remes is a member of Tryptic Figures, a local dance group in which she’s joined by Brooklyn Draper and Joshua Mora. She holds a degree in dance from Illinois Urbana-Champaign.