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 

A Conversation on Burrows and Fargion at the U of U

Jonathan Burrows and Matteo Fargion, guest artists of the University of Utah’s Department of Modern Dance, presented two duets this Friday at the Marriott Center for Dance. BothCheap Lecture and The Cow Piece functioned as performance poems for two voices.

Cheap Lecture was strictly metered in relationship to rhythmic structures crafted by John Cage for Lecture on Nothing and Cheap Imitation. (The latter Cage made for a collaboration with Cunningham in which a Satie work couldn’t be used because of copyright issues.) The piece made many witty references to art works and makers ranging from Pina Bausch to Schubert. It flashed on Gilbert and George and on many twentieth century “New Music” composers who used text inside of strict aesthetics, but this pithy duo was fast-paced and interested exclusively in the ways in which the art making process mirrored the absurdity of life. One memorable section highlighted that the pair “doesn’t know what they are doing” yet they are doing it, again and again.

The Cow Piece, though still highly structured, featured nonsensical songs in Italian, English and other unidentifiable languages while the pair are alternately torturing and playing house with six miniature cow figurines. Burrows and Fargion danced, hammed, played lutes, harmonicas and accordions deconstructing well-known texts and songs such as “I Will Survive”, “April in Paris,” and Blue Oyster-Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” Throughout, they maintained a distinctness, stationed behind dueling desks and microphones which rendered them as a two-part harmony of absurdity that carried the audience through a marathon of visual, aural and linguistic play.

Like the collaboration itself, the two intertwined pieces read as one conversation. In accordance with that idea of collaboration, Ashley Anderson and Samuel Hanson have written this description together and decided to include below their conversation about where the dance took them…

Ashley Anderson: Both pieces were glimpses into the way work can be truly interdisciplinary. I hear that a lot in marketing of work but this was actually it. Not just because of a weaving of music, poetry and dance but also due to the use of the formal training associated with each. The audience didn’t see Jonathan performing ballet (as his biography might have led one to believe) but we did see was an incredibly formal performance of text, music and fleeting gestural movement sequences, each of which utilized the discipline (or lens) of ballet to reveal ideas about what performers and audience members do in the theater. Similarly, we didn’t watch Matteo working as a composer for either piece but instead, a composer from within the pieces. For both artists it seemed an exploration of how a composer might dance, how a ballet dancer might deliver poetry and how the almost rigid confines of each art form could inform the other. This was not the rambling monologue present in numerous dances of the contemporary moment, it was something quite different.

Samuel Hanson: What’s interesting to me about that is that I actually guessed the dancer (Burrows) to be the musician and vice versa at the beginning. It was only about two-thirds of the way through the evening that I arrived at realizing who “belonged” to which discipline. I think this shows how deeply they must have researched each other’s values, interests and instincts. In other words, it shows that they probably rehearsed a lot, which they celebrate in the work, stating, in so many words that, it is only through repetition, that we arrive at certain kinds of transcendence and newness.

Another interesting dichotomy they embodied, which I think is unique in “contemporary” (or as I would still call it postmodern) dance is the juxtaposition of an operatic kind of humor or heightening of emotive content with a rigid, seemingly arbitrary, formalism. I think anyone who was there would agree that the big (huge for some) laughs in the second half were the “payoff” of enduring the wordiness and almost theoretical shape inscribed in the first half.

AA: Speaking of who was there, I don’t understand why there wasn’t a larger audience––both of the students in their workshops and from the community. In the first piece there was a section of text which quite beautifully explained that there is a prevailing assumption that “artists can make anything” when, in fact, they “can only make what they are able to make.” And in the case of these duets, text about performance peppered with moments of song and dance are it. In a portion of the piece they describe the plot of Giselle and my mind drifted to the large audience watching Ballet West’s Giselle at the same moment and wondering if there wasn’t a better way to both describe and unite the work we do in dance… Maybe the students they taught already saw the work in another context. Even so, if given the opportunity, I would’ve gone back tonight. I would’ve watched it over and over.

SH: I agree it was a missed opportunity for the many who didn’t make it out. Where many of us, perhaps necessarily, carve our identities out in very specific ways––e.g. “I am not ballet,” “I am not modern,” “I am not even dance…”––these two guys had a broad appeal that might have started some very interesting dialogues if more people had been there.

AA: There is also something about formalism that really lets people into material they might not otherwise be willing to engage with. For example, as they read you can see they have a stack of papers that are dropped one at a time to the floor upon completion. Just knowing that once the stack of papers is complete the dance will be over gives you a kind of freedom to enjoy. They also give you that freedom by offering permission to close your eyes and just listen to the piano, or passively disengage with the portions of the text that aren’t interesting to you. So, despite being a performance speaking mostly to makers of performance, I think it also speaks to people who primarily watch….it reminded me of this piece by Maguy Marin which is extremely repetitious. But you know it will end when a piece of string playing the guitar runs off of the spool. Just knowing something will end at a certain point helps you to enjoy it rather than stay frustrated or wondering what time it is or something.

SH: I love that Maguy Marin piece too. I think you’re absolutely right that there were just a few key things that made the intensive repetition work where it otherwise might have been interminable. You can see why Satu Hummasti (who wrote the grant) and her colleagues would want their students to see a piece like this. It’s not just good, its also instructive in how to use experimentation, language and repetition in a way that many of the dances they see here probably aren’t.

Ashley is the director and founder of loveDANCEmore, a branch of her non-profit ashley anderson dances. Samuel helps out with the journal and occasionally with new media projects.

imaginary manifesto

I’ve been pretty vocal about why I don’t typically post reviews of college/university-based productions. It’s because viewing dance in terms of pedagogy is different than viewing it in terms of standard criticism. But that doesn’t mean I’m not wholly interested in what students across the Wasatch Front are learning, thinking and doing. And not only the students I teach but also those whose productions I regularly attend. I am so interested, in fact, that the next journal out this fall will be centered around issues in dance education on a more broad scale.

So tonight I couldn’t help myself and wrote an imaginary manifesto based on the student works I’ve seen at the University of Utah over the past two weekends. This manifesto is based on nothing other than my experience as their audience and what I’m guessing they are telling me through their choreography. I don’t really know if it’s true, or if that matters, I only know that their interests reflect to me what mine once were and how they have changed. Imagining myself in their choreographic pathways is interesting and I wanted to share it.

an imaginary manifesto of 2012 bfa graduates:

We are not interested in revealing any direct premise. Instead, we are interested in how moving together forms it’s own premise(s).

Ambient music is a choice we make not because we like it but because it gives us ample freedoms. Anything can happen once it is on.

If the generation before us was interested in irony we are interested in sincerity.

We are modeling our dances after dances we think are great or inspirational. It is our reminder of what it’s like to dance even while sitting in the seat of choreographer.

We experience that everyone around us has huge expectations for our work but simultaneously hasn’t told us much about what we should do.

Physical prowess is how we identify that we will exist outside of this place even if people around us tell us dance is dying.

We don’t really know a lot about Ruth St. Denis. And you know what? We don’t care.

We imagine that everyone should care about dance as much as we do.

It is the physical act of moving together that we appreciate. And whether moving together forms a career or not — whether moving together forms notoriety or not — whether moving together is a luxury we will have or not — whether or not, it is through moving together that we map ourselves and you find us on a stage before you.

notes on the dance for camera fest @ the U

On Friday, I went to see a retrospective of the work of the main draw of the festival, screendance legend Katrina McPherson. Her work brought up a lot of interesting issues and a lively, valuable discussion ensued with the artist after the show. Eric Handman, a professor in the dance department who also makes work for stage and video, asked McPherson to elaborate on the role of repetition in her work, which was evident in the first three abstract dance shorts of the evening This is a place, Moment and Sense-8 (which offered a glimpse at a partially blind contact improv group). McPherson ruminated on the difference between repeating movements on stage and repeating the same piece of footage in a film. This got me (and the friends I was with) thinking in new ways about how the filmic idioms of montage versus the kind of reality-fracturing mis en scene Maya Deren did function and interact as screendance develops through the years.

McPherson also showed a documentary piece about a dance company in Addis Ababa founded by a British ballet teacher who taught largely homeless Ethiopians “contemporary dance”. There was a lot to discuss here too, in the lobby, and in the car on the way home. We started to dissect what we thought of the film and of the project. It seemed undeniable that he’d done a lot of good by bringing new ideas and opportunities to these kids and also that a lot what he said suffered from some Colonial attitudes toward the value of “contemporary” versus “native” dance. That said, it got us all thinking, both about issues of culture, poverty and dance and about the idea that dance could change the world for the better.

Sam Hanson holds a BUS from the U & makes dances & films about town