SALT Contemporary Dance: Spring Concert

SALT Contemporary Dance closed their 2016-2017 season with a collection of current works from local, national, and international choreographers. This was my first time witnessing a SALT performance and I am so grateful I finally had the opportunity.  

The evening took place at Infinity Event Center. The venue was transformed into a contemporary auditorium where the audience could wander between upstairs and down and eventually find their seat below the stage. Seating was difficult without any sort of risers. I managed to sit eight rows back but ended up standing off to the side in order to see. The walls of Infinity Event Center are also incredibly thin. Music from next door blared throughout the night. (Unfortunately this has happened at every performance or event I’ve attended there.) Luckily, SALT was captivating enough for the distraction to be minimal in scope of the concert’s entirety.

Paper bags purposely littered the stage for Paper Cuts by Peter Chu, the opening number. The simple prop decorated the stage long before the concert started. My mind had the opportunity to wander, questioning what choreographic choices Chu would make with the simple and noisy prop. His choice of placing the bags overhead surprised me. It’s uncomplicated but somewhat dangerous. Chu’s image of the dancer moving with the paper bag left her blind and masked. What was she hiding? The two other dancers guided her throughout the stage and I was fascinated by her fearlessness and willingness to trust the others. Once the bag was lifted the dancers became braver, and stronger, with movement choices I interpreted as more masculine. They each demanded the audience’s attention with stark steps and pulsing contractions. Paper Cuts set a contrastingly powerful yet vulnerable tone for the evening. I found myself frequently going back to these two motifs. I was captured by how SALT managed to showcase a unique sense of vulnerability while displaying unwavering strength.

Voice of Reason by Ihsan Rustem followed. Blue lights echoed through the darkness as four dancers broke the stillness. My attention was caught and never left. Men highlighted the piano notes in the score while the women took control over the vocals. The combination was haunting. Rustem’s movement was connected and fluid. Each dancer spoke their own voice, their own story; then in a stunning moment, they all came together. Twelve dancers, twelve individual artists, executed unison on a heavy bass drop. It was the most refreshing dance image I’ve seen all year. This piece showcased SALT’s technique and work ethic, and appeared well-rehearsed within Rustem’s artistry. The piece ended in an evolution of the community breaking away. The stage was left with a final endless duet. It was constant motion, staying true to Rustem’s fluidity. I didn’t want to look away and I didn’t want the piece to end.

Eric Handman’s Omnivore closed the evening’s performance. I have always been a fan of Handman’s work and this was no different. Subtle waves of movement swept over the floor,as if the water held a steady pace.  Handman’s work has a fierce attack to it, but Omnivore’s attack was soft and serene. There was a motif of partnerships and trios slowly falling in weight-bearing shapes that left me speechless. The shapes seemed to stop time. I allowed my mind to wander within this work and the imagery reminded me of Dali’s The Persistence of Memory. The melting watches are strong but sustained; the dancers held their ground but kept falling. The only reason you knew time still kept going was because the music acted as a backbone for the piece. It was one of the more beautiful works I’ve seen of Handman’s and SALT performed it effortlessly.

Ultimately, SALT is carving out their path in Salt Lake City’s dance community. They are speaking to the necessity for current and technical work.  The performers have the maturity of a company that has been around much longer than just four years. SALT allows the audience to think while ascending to the architectural beauty of extremely technical dancing. I was completely captured by the beauty of the evening.

Temria Airmet is the Artistic Director of Myriad Dance Company. She received her BFA in Modern Dance from the University of Utah and currently teaches with Ballet West, Tanner Dance, and Millennium Dance Complex.

Ririe-Woodbury: Elizabeth, the dance

Choreographer Ann Carlson has a longstanding relationship with Ririe-Woodbury, originally studying modern dance under company co-founders Shirley Ririe and Joan Woodbury at the University of Utah in the 1970s. While there, Carlson also studied under the late Elizabeth Hayes, who brought the dance major to fruition at the U in 1953. Since Carlson began her choreographic career in the 80s, Ririe-Woodbury has added a couple of her works to their repertoire: “50 Years” (1996), most recently reprised in 2016, and now a world premiere for the company’s spring season at the Rose Wagner, “Elizabeth, the dance.”

I’ve only seen these two dances by Carlson, but even without the context of her entire body of work, I feel as though I know her voice - so singular is her style of piecing together vocalized text, a never-ending stream of new ideas, and movement that often seems to stem from a natural physicality.

“Elizabeth, the dance” truly delighted me, and so it’s almost a struggle to pin down the why and the how.

“Elizabeth” is like a collage by a well-known artist that you might convince yourself you could or would make: so many different components and references that you can clearly identify throughout, yet, strung together in a masterfully unique arc, the effect is truly producible only by that artist.

I use “arc” loosely here, because there was not one obvious narrative throughout. “Elizabeth” chronicled individual experiences, in real time, of each performer in reaction to a spectrum of challenges, prompts, and experiences. Sometimes autobiographical, sometimes abstract, the dance constantly glanced across a soaring range of emotions and qualities. Carlson’s structure laid each performer bare for us, while simultaneously allowing them to exist as a collective unit.

Multiple layers of whimsy and diversion were interwoven throughout, beginning with the dancers’ costumes. The base was a black skirt and leotard combo, the same for both the three men and three women. The skirt was then tied into pants, thrown over the head, tied up into a toga, and more. A tutu, tiara, and clown costumes were also donned at various points.

The set by Torry Bend added another layer of visual interest. Oversized, stackable foam blocks formed a wall that the dancers then disassembled, reassembled, pushed around, threw at each other, and launched themselves into over the course of the dance.

The array of visual elements never felt overdone to me; if anything, the costume and set changes always felt natural, like unearthing and assuming new roles from a dress-up chest in the attic. The changes re-directed the dance in unexpected and surprising ways each time, and I found myself wondering when the dancers had the chance to stock the next costumes or props behind the always-moving wall.

Throughout, images were suggested to me and then affirmed by some signifier soon after. This made the dance feel deliberate and well-crafted - an aware dance, that was able to anticipate and acknowledge its impact at any given time. This was achieved in tandem with the sound score - live, onstage accompaniment by multidisciplinary musician Matthew McMurray. He used quite a few recordings by The Beatles, which often connected to the images on stage.

Dancers in formation planted their hands on the ground, scurrying around with their feet while their black skirts swooped over them. I thought they looked just like a flock of birds descending upon a field. Immediately after, McMurray introduced The Beatles’ “Blackbird” into the mix. It was a simple connection, but one that gave me goosebumps.

“Lady Madonna” (“...see how they run..”) accompanied the performers running frenziedly throughout the space, in varying, cartoonish ways. “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” (”...gather ‘round, all you clowns...”) was slowed down and warped by McMurray as the dancers donned clown accoutrements and slumped along the foam wall in a sad yet mostly comical procession.

It’s difficult to talk about the dancing in "Elizabeth" as a whole because so many puzzling and amusing things happened.

Mary Lyn Graves had a solo for which she appeared en pointe, leaping spritely from side to side, and bourrée-ing yearningly. She then began crashing into performers, which caused her to practice a melodramatic gasp-and-fall on loop, until she reached the perfect cadence of gasp and fell for a final time.

Bashaun Williams had a moving solo, beginning with a skillful basketball dribble, that featured a recording of him telling a story, concluding with “...angels exist, bro.” It was funny to hear him deliver that sentence, but the story and solo were both touching and thoughtful.

Melissa Younker, Yebel Gallegos, and Alexandra Bradshaw, their skirts fashioned into draped togas, took turns balancing upon a single foam block quoting and describing an inspirational, though unnamed, woman. Posing and gesticulating, they appeared like three muses or the ancient Greek chorus.

Bashaun and Daniel Mont-Eton strode onstage holding three white balloons each, while McMurray’s sound became a down-and-dirty, bass-heavy track. The mysterious orbs and the visceral, vibrating music made Daniel and Bashaun seem so cool and powerful.

There were a lot of these moments for me: captivating visuals that also seemed to vibrate with something deeper. Maybe you could pinpoint what that deeper element was, or maybe not. But I loved them both on their own and as a part of the larger accumulation of many working images.

Ultimately the dance ended, as they do, but for me it could have gone on into the night (never mind “too much of a good thing”). Carlson seemed to anticipate this with her false ending. We clapped, but the dancers returned to the blocks and began a rather meditative section.

Then a popcorn machine appeared. The smell of butter wafted over the theater, and suddenly the dancers descended upon us, crying out like concession hawkers, “Popcorn! Popcorn for everyone!” A free-for-all ensued: Dancers aimed kernels into audience members’ mouths, everyone munched from their personal bags, and the dance seamlessly melted into a rambunctious post-show gathering of performers, family, and friends.

Popcorn free-for-all following "Elizabeth". Carlson appears to the right of the frame, wearing all black, glasses, and holding a bag of popcorn. Photo by Amy Falls.

And it was truly magical; we had made it to the end and were duly rewarded.

Carlson remembered her dancers in crafting such a human work, with so many moments for each to shine. She remembered her mentors and the past through the era-traveling patchwork she has created with “Elizabeth, the dance.” Finally, she remembered us, the watchers, without whom the dance would exist only for the do-ers.

Writer's note: Congratulations are in order for company dancer Alexandra, on a fantastic final performance with Ririe-Woodbury. Salt Lake City will miss her dearly, both onstage and off!

Amy Falls has been loveDANCEmore’s program coordinator since 2014, transitioning Mudson from its original home at the Masonic Temple to more recent venues such as the Marmalade Library. She can also be seen dancing in projects with Municipal Ballet Co.

Municipal Ballet + Conquer Monster: Metatransit

METATRANSIT was a joint production by the musical duo Conquer Monster and Municipal Ballet Co. Being a sci-fi buff myself, I was excited to learn that the premise of the show was an abstract dance narrative inspired by the comic series, “Purge Worlds” written by Joshua Oman and illustrated by Chris Black. Conquer Monster originally crafted a custom soundtrack, METATRANSIT,  which was designed to be played while reading the comic series. To my delight, the soundtrack was played live for the show. Video-glitch artist Tanner Hawkins was also involved in the mix by providing video content.

The event was held at Urban Lounge. To be honest, this worried me. I had only ever seen music concerts there complete with beer sticky on the floor, and sweaty millennials bouncing only slightly to the music. My worry proved unwarranted as the space was transformed for the show. Company director Sarah Longoria took to the stage and introduced the evening. She mentioned that her company does “experimental ballet” and that this show was a little more than that, being their first time performing to electronic dance music. I settled into my seat as the fog machines hissed, spurting out smoke that set the atmosphere.

DYSTOPIAN UNDERWORLD by Sarah Longoria was the first piece in the show. It opened with dancer Hannah Bowcutt seated mid-stage with her back to the audience. The movement for this work contained the most classically recognizable ballet moves. There were long and beautiful lines in the choreography which fit Hannah perfectly. My favorite moment was when she took her socks off and tossed them to the side. This action somehow signaled to me that Hannah was preparing to dive in a little deeper for when she returned to dancing she had a new and visible determination with each movement. Extensions appeared as a motif throughout the work. While Hannah was captivating to watch as she held her legs impossibly high, I couldn’t help but notice that the graceful movements did not match the title of the piece.  

Hannah was joined by Amy Falls and Nora Price for the second work, FLUX PERIPHERAL by Erica Womack. The ladies were wearing white and gray and each had a different Ziggy Stardust-esque facepaint. This trio had moments of scrambled video bits projected on their bodies as well as onto the backdrop. The ladies moved with a lovely sense of timing during all of the unison phrases. The choreography highlighted the music with dynamic accents. The motif for this piece seemed to be a deep second position plié while in unison, and it was very satisfying to watch. The dancers all had stoic facial expressions and seemed to represent some disciplined yet graceful ideology through their movements.  

GALAXY SURFER was the first video work by Tanner. My favorite images were of the the killer scorpion robot. I didn’t recognize any other images used from different sci-fi movies or shows, but the futuristic theme was apparent in showing images of explosions, robots, fancy switchboards and distorted bodies.  

WAVEFORM DISTORTION by Kaya Wolsey was the next work presented. The music definitely added a new tone for the show. It was driving and lightning fast. I noticed myself and others tapping along in time with the beat, caught in the energy that Conquer Monster was creating. The choreography mirrored the pace of the song with moves executed on every count.  Cynthia Phillips was so precise yet fierce with every phrase. She was vibrant and moved with a determined force. The lights were dramatic, dark and colorful, making this setting very different from the light, ethereal moods of earlier on. Cynthia wore all black and was smirking a little wickedly throughout her solo. While I was very impressed with the athleticism of the piece, I also found myself wishing there had been more moments of dynamic time changes like the one repeated variation Cynthia did in the middle of the dance.  

The energy from the previous piece carried us into a duet with Cynthia and Kaya Wolsey.  TRANSMITTING DNA AT 299 MM/S was a fitting name as the movements continued to  a crescendo. Choreographer Jessica Liu used partnerwork and lifting with the duo to create moments of suspension. Cynthia and Kaya locked eyes with each-other, becoming the first dancers to visibly see and acknowledge their shared presence. The lighting continued with dark washes of solid color changing with the pulsing beats. Both dancers were emotionally invested, and proud. Both clad in black, I immediately concluded that this group of dancers was meant to be in opposition to the white/gray group. This second group had smaller numbers, but seemed very powerful in their movements which set them apart from the aloof aesthetic of the other dances.  

The second video, POSTHUMAN, showed much if not all of the same images from GALAXY SURFER but in different sequencing. This time around I noticed smaller details such as the repeating sign “Oasis” despite other images of war, high tech robots, explosions and distorted people. I found myself having little moments of nostalgia whenever I could see “Play” flashing on the top of the screen like an old VHS player.  

In SELF-SIMILAR FREQUENCY DOMAIN by Chase Wise we saw the two groups join forces and share the stage. While the girls danced in unison during the work, I could still see the emphasis on the differing styles of movement. The two dancers in black had a little more attack and sharpness to their movements while the gray/white group ebbed and flowed. Chase used lots of directional changes which were extremely refreshing on the intimate stage. Detailed gestures were woven into the work and punctuated by the dancers framing their heads with their hands. This move seemed to demonstrate some sort of personal obstacles or a mental block. I couldn't help but to try and find a narrative that I could follow within the movement. I caught my breath when for a moment all of the dancers were on the floor with their feet up and hands in a  “stop” position. Fast floorwork made the piece exciting and lent a contemporary edge to the show. While this piece was strong choreographically, I felt that the unison sections seemed a little under-rehearsed and the girls weren’t completely in sync.  

During ANAGLYPHIC VISION(S) by Trevor Naumann, the white/gray group returned with more dancers. I could see the group making amorphous shapes in positive and negative space. There was minimal contact during these shapes, which was something I longed to see a more of.  Naumann added little snippet solos that broke away from the group. The solos were titillating, leaving me wanting more of those highlights to break up the unison.  

After reading the program, I was intrigued that NOISE DECAY by Nora Price and Emily Snow contained an improvisational framework that the dancers could work within. At first all of the dancers were huddled on the floor in a clump. They held this position as Emily slowly and deliberately padded towards them. As she got closer to the group, they began to peel away one by one. Emily seemed to be breaking up the group, changing their paths and altering their destinations which allowed for happy accidents of interaction. Perhaps the most vivid moment of the piece was when two dancers were left downstage and center. With a slight pause the girls reached out and touched the other’s sternum with their hands right over the heartspace. The detailed moments of contact were so few and far between in the show that this moment stuck with me throughout the evening. It added a touch of humanity to the sensory overload of loud music and static-filled imagery in much of the concert.  

While STARPORT DESTRUCTION SEQUENCE had a few new images thrown into this video interlude, I wanted to see more variety the third time around. Since the dances in the show lacked a clearly outlined narrative to follow, I assumed that the videos were meant define the adventure. While I could tell that there was a story of chaos and war being told, I wished that the videos were able to provide the context that the dances were missing. I wanted to know more about the inspiration of the comics behind the dances. Perhaps in the future, more collaboration could happen between the choreographers and video artist to help further the story for the audience.  

The last piece of the evening was a composite of all that came before. SPECTRAL DRIFT started with Amy. She commanded the audience’s attention as she progressed through a repeated movement phrase from FLUX PERIPHERAL. Each dancer joined her one by one. It was extremely gratifying to see everyone in complete unison with the return of the deep, second position plié. At one point the stage was split into two parallel lines with the dancers facing the other side in a showdown. Some of the dancers would move to the middle and repeat solos they had executed from previous pieces. At the end of the piece I saw a reimagining of the opening image of Hannah, but with all of the dancers. The girls were seated at the end of the stage with their backs to the audience. Every other dancer had their elbows up and out, creating a triangular silhouette that was juxtaposed by the curled-up position of the remaining dancers. The end of the dance was choreographed to coincide perfectly with the winding-down of the music and made for a striking final image.  

This was my first time seeing work by all of the artists involved in the show. I was not disappointed. The concert was an excellent length with seamless transitions from piece to piece thanks to brilliant playing by Conquer Monster. The dancers wore the same costumes throughout, which gave a sense of continuity. The live music provided the ever-beating heart behind the movement. The videos were interesting despite being a little disconnected from the dancing. I was confused about what was supposed to be happening in the story which made me want to read the comic book and then see the show again. Overall, it is refreshing to see ballet being taken in new directions by Municipal Ballet Co. After speaking with some of the creators involved, they seemed open to working on more projects like this one in the future. This mixed media approach featuring local artists seems to echo a change of times in the performance world, by blending the lines between art forms and fostering collaboration.

Ashley Creek holds a BFA from the University of Utah. She is currently the Co-Director of Brine and a member of Myriad Dance Company. Ashley teaches with Ballet West and performs in different projects around the valley.  

Sonder in review

Sonder, a collaborative immersive dance theatre experience choreographed and directed by Graham Brown and produced by Sackerson will run for two weekends at the Eagles Hall. This historic Salt Lake City site was built in 1911 and has served as a place to house social and cultural activities, provide medical services, and in the 1990s was re-opened as a nightclub called The Bay. It is a space that feels both magical and neglected, begging to be used once again and become the holding place of stories.

For Sonder, Brown uses material from his work You which has had previous iterations: one as a proscenium stage piece set on a BYU student performance group, and the more recent one as an immersive experience in the Rose Wagner. Like the show this weekend, both versions included professional and university students.

Modern Dance tends to move away from what is and what has come before. Sometimes that takes place in the construction of the body but it also means shifting how performances are presented. There have been several shows of late in Salt Lake that have been housed (literally)  Nomad, Dollhouse, and Municipal Ballet at the McCune Mansion, not to mention those using outdoor space The Mists or On Site at the SCERA public pool. And, of course, these local examples come in context of ample national projects.  

Taking dance out of the theatre has its hurdles; smaller audiences, ADA accessibility, and visibility (hello sight lines!). However, the possibilities of these spaces are too exciting to pass up, and using them creates new paradigms to explore and gives fresh context to the moving body.

The challenge with Sonder is the attempt, in this particular space, to show narrative with specific character development. What worked well at the Rose Wagner was sometimes lost at Eagles Hall. At the Rose, the audience was confined to one large space to experience the progression of plot and unfolding characters; at Eagles Hall we were directed to choose our own path and experience the scenes that we wanted. This was liberating, but also jarring, when plot points happened that were not developed by our own personal choices.

This difficulty notwithstanding, the show is well crafted and has stunning moments. If you go, you might not experience the following, but I suppose that is the beauty of the idea: knowing that your choices led you to your favorite moments (a modern dance Magellan).

• Eliza Tappan as Charlie and Jordan Simmons as Warner form an arresting duo.  I came upon them ‘hashing it out’ in an unlit space, which made the whole scene feel more spontaneous. Tappan is precise and lush without being overly dramatic, and Simmons is cool and casual, with a strong sense of self. Together they make it all seem special, and I wanted to see more of their interactions.  

• Someone sticks his tongue out at me through a window when I’m watching an otherwise mundane solo.

• Breeanne Saxton as a young girl Alex expertly plays her role. She is demanding and unaware, energetic but focused. At one moment she requests John Allen and an anonymous woman help her create a science fair volcano (“Science!” they say, with a ports de bras). However, when it is time for an athletic group phrase, her real age emerges, and her dancing prowess is on display.

• Francisco Avina as Marco is grounded and mature. He delivers a touching monologue highlighting the experiences of becoming a parent and how those experiences morph as your child grows. Shawnee Jo Haycock is Pascal, both a mother to Alex and wife to Marco, shows a woman struggling to balance these two identities, while hardly finding room for anything else.

• A woman breastfeeds her baby during a lively group dance and her baby subsequently observes and models a trio -- toddling, moving and bending to the beat, unaware that they had become the action for me as a spectator.

• Talking with Ashley Anderson and Ellen Bromberg throughout and in between the action,  wondering whether we were missing something and whether that was okay.

Sonder soars when Graham’s fast-paced, full-bodied movement is featured in this dynamic space. Get your tickets because they are going fast.  

Erica Womack is a choreographer based in Salt Lake, and an adjunct faculty member at SLCC.
Sonder is fiscally sponsored by loveDANCEmore and tickets can be found here.

Taylor Mac at Kingsbury

On Saturday night, I did not want to go to the theater.

My week had been busy and I’d already seen a show. I was having cocktails with friends who I never see outside of a lobby. Right before getting in the car someone said “this is the point in the night we always reach and we decide whether we are dancers or human beings,” implying that humans would stay and revel in their friendships, while dancers pile in and rush to shows they feel obligated to see.

But with a sense of obligation I went, like most dancers do.

Sometimes I wish I’d opted into being a human person who stays out on Saturday night. But last night, I didn’t regret my choice for even a second. As Taylor Mac, a drag performer and playwright, shared an excerpt from “A 24-Decade History of Popular Music,” I recalled that going to the theater is not only about a willingness to risk your evening but also about the periodic rewards that come with doing so.

This particular excerpt performed a brief history of civil rights through the lens of popular music from 1956 -1976. After feeling tortured by most shows that have similar aims (me engaging with a performer as they deal with identity politics) I was for once, a joiner, a willing participant:

I sang. I did unison gestures. I exaggerated cries to demonstrate the absurdity of white fragility (as Mac said, “this will go on a lot longer than you want it to.”) I threw fake red rose petals on the audience member acting as a deceased Judy Garland, her pallbearers taking her (starkly serious) out of the theater as Mac sang “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” The one thing I didn’t do was throw a ping pong ball at Mac and the Dandy Minions (costumed pedestrians facilitating some of the evening’s events) to represent homophobia. I felt like it was a “what would you do moment,” and I let my ball roll to the floor.

My willingness to involve myself appears to exist outside of a vacuum. I first heard of Mac’s work when modern dance choreographer Faye Driscoll was part of “The Lily’s Revenge.” A Variety write-up of that show indicates that “what could potentially be a grueling experience [is] something cool and fun and even communal, if you’re open to the possibility.”

Part of that success is found in the form of drag itself. Drag already lacks a topical earnestness in its willingness to upend the surface of identity. By contrast, earnestness is presupposed in dance, particularly in activist works. That earnestness may make intellectual sense but is, most of the time, misery for audiences. In drag, any questionable or weaker commentary folds into the persona of the presenter but I think some of us make a mistake in assuming queens are who they purport to be. Mac is no more obligated to be in accordance with the political topics addressed by the evening than a Butoh performer is obligated to be a contemplative Buddhist.  

But political topics aplenty are addressed over the course of the two and a half hour concert. From the jump, a center section is asked to become an urban area reserved exclusively for seating people of color, demanding white flight to the suburbs (standing room only). We are also asked to tweet government leaders in Flint (where water is still contaminated and where the costume designer for this project recently taught). Near the end, we listen to a Ted Nugent cover while problematizing homophobia and slow dancing with someone of the same sex to trigger Nugent’s metaphoric death. In this range, some moments are inevitably more resonant than others. While tweeting is largely ineffective, the junior prom moment is evocative and beautiful. This politicized ebb and flow (covering Stonewall, marches on Washington, even the death of Prince) coincides with the representation of band members themselves, a group that seems to represent a wide range of both genre and geography*. How these political events shake out in the 24 hour version of the same concert only beg more questions about what comes out on top.

To be fair, Utah Presents didn’t do many favors in securing me as the audience member I became. Utah’s culture prescribes a mandate that prior to a performance, ticket-holders receive abundant warning about adult content and telling us that we should prepare for a long show with no intermission. I resent this and want to mention here that these e-mails leave out an asterisk that should read: “we have to say this because the people who fund art don’t actually engage with it and that’s a long-term political and historically religious problem and furthermore, ignore this message, because this show is not only transgressive, it’s fun.” Mac additionally addressed this during the show by requesting that we give an ovation for the curtain speech (administrative labor is labor!) but also admonishing the naming of wealthy sponsors who may not, in fact, need our earnest thanks.  

I’m willing to wager that not only would more people have attended if presenters marketed a less undermined truth but also that they’d be willing to engage with more local art-making that uses the same concepts or methods as the artists they present. For example: when Ragamala toured to Kingsbury they invited local Bharatanatyam openers for (presumably) audience development. Why then were there so many caveats to this concert instead of an equal invitation to the Bad Kids (although some of them may have been the minions described above) or to Janice Janice Janice, a grad student performing university thesis work at Metro? Whether or not there was time to include them as in Ragamala, there was most certainly the opportunity to offer them the advertising they need in support of their work to make it as effective and ubiquitous as this particular evening.

Maybe that sort of connection is to come tomorrow, Tuesday January 17th at 7:30pm in Kingsbury Hall when Mac meets with Bill T. Jones and Niegel Smith to dialogue about art and activism. The event is free but requires tickets.

Ashley Anderson directs loveDANCEmore using the resources of her 501c3 “ashley anderson dances.” ashleyandersondances.com