Marilyn Arsem's, Making Time

Because Marilyn Arsem’s recent performance at Nox Contemporary lasted nearly twelve hours it would seem inadequate to post a singular review with questions or comments. Afterall, no viewer (to my knowledge) observed the duration in earnest and instead, the work reveals more in the comings and goings of patrons. So what follows is an AM response and a PM response from two observers (Ashley Anderson & Leah Nelson). As more viewer responses trickle in the post will be updated to reflect that.

Leah Nelson views the piece after brunch:

As I walked into Nox Contemporary Gallery from the cold and snow, this is the scene I encountered: Marilyn Arsem standing, arms on a chair, back toward the viewers. Lots of white: two white chairs touching each other facing on the diagonal; Arsem dressed in a white linen top, long skirt, white socks; white powder on the floor of the “performance space”; nothing on the walls; leftover tracks from moving two chairs in what looked like white flour on the floor. And three viewers sitting in chairs watching and writing.

As Arsem started to move from her slightly hunched position with hands on a chair, it became clear that she would do endless circles around these two chairs. The previous tracks indicated that this might be an ongoing cycle, first of moving the chairs forward, then circling around them.

A snippet in the gallery told me that Arsem does not decide what she’ll perform until she arrives at the space, and that her performance is influenced by the history and culture of the place she’s visiting (in this case, Salt Lake City, UT). This perspective gave me a point of reference while watching this moving installation of sorts called “Marking Time”. It made me wonder how it affected my viewing, considering that until I read that snippet, I was not quite seeing much of anything, other than a person, place, and setting. This new information got me questioning more- was the white to signify purity or the snow, and is there some comment here on continuing to plod through, doing the same thing over and over again? Well, I’m sure there is, but I felt a little out of the loop. Maybe I should’ve stayed longer, or maybe it just didn’t click.

It did seem to click with an older friend of mine, who one might call a Jack Mormon. She saw a lot in that small space in time: Arsem was an angel and the chairs represented a union of sorts. But this union wasn’t working, and the angel was trying to progress this union, probably with no avail (although we did not see the end of the piece). I guessed that my friend was able to “see something” because of her different perspective (she’s lived in Salt Lake for most of her life and I barely just settled here). But maybe when I see something I just feel something or I don’t. And that’s okay with me. I will still go see art in the making because who knows, I could have the experience that my friend had, and it would’ve gotten me thinking more.

Ashley Anderson views the piece after teaching all morning:

I arrived at Nox after teaching many classes for dancers with special needs. While one of my favorite things to do I will say my mind was a flurry with activity. I stood outside for a long time on a call, unaware that it was likely disturbing the quiet inside the intimate gallery space. Walking in the space, and my awareness, was immediately transformed. In the lobby I saw the audience peering through a small doorway to the world Marilyn had created for “Making Time.” I also saw two leftover bags of flour and I confirmed with John, the gallery owner, that this is what coated the floor.

In a way this was a performance. But in another way I instantaneously saw the trajectory of the performer even though she was still. I could see in the tracks that the chairs she sat in were dragged forward and circled around. I could see there was endless flour that might mark this path for hours to come. I saw it as contemplative. I saw it as an open system I could ponder.

My one regret was not following more of my instincts. I have a feeling I could have shouted “thanks Marilyn” before leaving and she might have heard me. I wanted nothing more than to walk through the flour and sit beside her to see from a new vantage point. I did neither of those things because everyone around me seemed very formal and thoughtful. But I think I should have done it and I’m sad that I didn’t. There was, after all, no barrier or guide telling me to act a certain way.

Monica Campbell and Dancers

Artistic Director Monica Campbell premiered her new company Monica Campbell & Dancers with an evening of work at the Egyptian Theater in Ogden. The concert showcased 4 works by Ms. Campbell including the premiere of  “The Spring”. The show also presented “So…what now?” by Chai Chi Chang.

My night began with a single and very simple statement “I want to see some good dancing,” and that’s precisely what I got. The evening was full of strong and versatile movers enthralling me and filling me with the envy of not being one of them, sweating, huffing, puffing and throwing themselves on stage. These dancers, mostly composed of Utah Valley University students and alum, demonstrated a strong showcase of the bountiful life dance has in this state.

Speaking solely on the subject of the company members, it was refreshing to see such a cohesive cast. It was evident that Ms. Campbell is not only interested in training strong, dynamic dancers but that as a creative director she takes coaching them very seriously. I prefer to see an ensemble that looks like they are working under the same umbrella of one creative mind, that are cohesively trying to embody a physical ideology. The majority of the work I have seen in this city doesn’t necessarily focus on the idea of cultivating a brand through their dancers. The work of many local choreographers embraces the individual identity and although this is something to cherish as it provides the work to be expressed in different way, I feel that the audience never quite get the feeling you know the choreographer’s philosophy about the moving body, which often informs and helps crystallize the subjects of their work. There was no doubt that when you looked on stage you knew these dancers were working to reveal a very specific aesthetic — that these dancers were Ms. Campbell dancers.

With the exception of the work by Chi Chang, the evening showcased one single creative mind, and when looking at a full night you begin to see creative patterns and unfolding aesthetic preferences but you also have to recognize the bravery and hard work it takes to complete one piece of choreography and imagine that happening times ten when producing an entire show.  I have played with the idea of creating a show of my own work and the thought of planning the event makes me buckle at the knees. With that said, I have to congratulate Ms. Cambell on the production quality of this show. It was immaculate.

The night began with “So…what now?”, Chi Chang’s duet performed by Monica Campbell and Jill Voorhees Edwards.  The piece began with the curtain rising on bundles of towels folded into small cubes and placed up stage in a pathway from one side of the stage to the other. This piece was set in two movements, the first composed of abstracted images that did not reach beyond the proximities of the upper body and  varying in speed without seeming to be too exhausting or engaging. Throughout the first section Ms. Edwards continuously undressed by taking off what appeared to be over 10 or 15 thin-layered shirts, one after the other. To what effect? Perhaps it was a study on the trance-like state evoked by repetition but my blind eye did not catch why there needed to be that many shirts, it seemed enough after the first two or three. That was not the only element of the work that left me wondering the significance of why they were present on stage. The folded towels were not utilized as props but as a component of a very dull spatial design.  During the first movement I began to wonder, are these going to be layered on stage? Are they going to step on them? Are they going to kick them? What was their purpose? Sadly, these just laid dormant in their insignificant shapes, adorning the back layer of the stage with little to no life in them. The second movement of this work had more full-range movement. The two dancers moved through space with a distinct mature sensibility but again I wondered to what effect? This was my second run with this dance and I still don’t get it. What I did appreciate about the work is the experience of witnessing two mature dancers present in the same space. There was a type of serenity that I miss seeing on stage and it was a very nice gift to take with me.

“The Final Hours” (an excerpt) was performed by Mindy Houston, Hannah Braegger and Kylie Bronk. The three exceptional dancers were intertwined in a dependent partnership and tied up with an appearance of grief, fright and valor. I have seen this work three times now, once as part of its major body  and I find that this excerpts speaks volumes without over-dramatizating but by relying on the ability to express tone and voice through the small nuances between big movements. For example, there is a motif in which the three dancers stand hugging each other. In the phrasing they repeat a sequence of upper body rolls, collapses and leg lifts. However, its not the movements that appear most prominently but the moments in between. The weight bearing shows a type of mourning that accentuates these other movements and extends the internal wailing happening between the three women. This was by far my favorite piece of the night.

“Breathing Room”, was a duet performed by Kim Campa and Rick Santizo. The dance started with a square placed center stage, composed of partitioned platforms no more than a foot high.  The movements resembled a combination of playful pantomime and flirtatious acts between two lovers.  The use of acrobatic stunts makes evident that these dancers are best considered stunt men/women with a finesse of a dancer. As the dance progressed so did the level of difficulty, it was incredible to see the man lift the woman to complete 360 degree lift in a single sweep only to catch her straight into a second rotation with such flawless continuity. I have never been a fan of cheesy, purposefully “funny” or “cute” dances and this one was not the exception. The absence of authenticity and reality were really off putting. I was once engaged in a conversation about the same topic and at point my friend Nancy said to me, “Efren, you’re just a humanist and it’s ok!” and it was then I realized that I want my dances and those I see to have some degree of reality that reflect what my human experience is like, not hyperbole.

The evening ended with the premier of “The Spring”, a 30 minute work inspired by “the revolutionary wave of demonstrations, protest and wars occurring in the Arab world beginning in December 2010,” as stated by Ms. Campbell. To some degree this was the Mount Everest of the show, the one work that surpassed difficulty not only based on its length and cast of 12, but also a subject matter so heavy that you wonder what essences the choreographer was trying to grasp about it. Also, as an audience member it left me to wonder how different this new work was going to be in comparison to “The Final Hours”, which had a  similar topic of interest.

The work started with the cast facing upstage, slowly trickling downstage while walking backwards. Some were alone, others held hands as couples or trios.  The first soloist was Jaclyn Brown, who did a fantastic job at setting up a tone of vulnerability, strength, and loss with a series of swirling, sweeping phrases portraying a dynamic form and creating shapes with a crisp attitude much like a Beta Fish. There was such strength and accessibility to her movement without being overly dramatic and while still calling for attention despite the other 12 bodies on the stage. What a remarkable task. I have to admit I could have done with a less codified structure to some of her movements and a few less turns but by the end of her solo, the humanist in me was ready to feel.  The piece continued to build up momentum, in a less crowded manner by having sections divide into smaller groups. There were series of trios and a duet that repeated at the beginning of the work and again towards the end. There were  smaller groups of intertwining sixes and finally concluding in an mélange made up of the entire cast. The movement swept through and across the stage with power, intensity and clarity of direction much like military arrangements.

Once the dance started there wasn’t a moment of rest, even the moments of lamentation or suffering (as portrayed by very pantomime movements of angst facing straight into the audience or emotional hugs) the speed and the push of the movement portrayed the constant chaotic and loss of stillness that can often occur in a moment of chaos.

It was undeniable that these dancers were committed to making this dance come alive, to live in it, fully embodied and to reject the nuance or thought of lacking the energy to push through. Perhaps this portrayal on behalf of the dancers was an essence Ms. Cambell was looking to channel about people that are often midst turmoil.  However, it wasn’t until the end of the piece when the entire group came on stage to dance to a beautiful and stark folk like song that I could see that the piece was about human beings, a community and not just a study of phrases. Perhaps it was this dynamic shift in the end that let me see the dance for something else, a portrayal of people.

As I listened to that last song, I immediately channeled  the opening solo and my heart began to sink with sorrow. Just as quickly, I felt dissatisfied with thinking of how many more similar feelings I had probably missed in the rest of the dance. I asked a lot of internal questions:

Did I want a moment of rest, or more dynamic disparities, a different order to the work so that I could see that I was about a community and not a panel of strangers walking the same path?  Did I want a change of music so that it didn’t feel like I had been listening to the same atmospheric music as present in the rest of the show? What about if it had been done to classical music instead of the typical modern-style sound we often experience? What if they were smiling or appeared pleasant during moments that the music so obviously displayed a heavier more dark tone? Before the lights were brought up for the bows, I wondered, was this a variation of “The Hours?” A continuation? Or did it appear so similar because the movement and dancers had been so vividly molded to appear of a similar bodily aesthetic?

So many questions rushed through me in such a brief moment, that it wasn’t until I found myself standing with the room applauding to the cast and its creative director that I realized it wasn’t about finding clarity right away. That it was about me as a creative mind sitting in thought as a byproduct of the performance. Me, wanting to re-arrange the dance, select the new music to best suit its body based on my aesthetic or the feelings I wanted to surge through my body were an unexpected gift. I wanted good dancing and I got it. What I did not realize was that I also wanted to be inspired and I was. Besides, the dances we watch on stage are only one version of the puzzle.

Efren Corado is a choreographer and performer based in SLC.

Ballet West's "The Lottery"

Last night I was fortunate to attend the season-opener of Ballet West (which runs through next weekend at the Capitol Theater). As another Salt Lake critic duly noted in her review, it was nice to have a season begin with engaging new repertory rather than some of the crowd-pleasing ballets audiences might expect. The three pieces included a re-staging of Helen Pickett’s “But Never Doubt I Love”, Val Caniparoli’s premiere of “The Lottery”, and a second look at Nicolo Fonte’s “Bolero”. The writing below negotiates my own bias as a modern dance choreographer. I address the work at hand from that perspective and navigate the friendships I’ve forged along the way.

When I was 17 I saw Ballet West perform “Artifact II” and I don’t remember much aside from enjoying the white floor. I didn’t know it then but the dancer who re-staged it, Douglas Becker from the Frankfurt Ballet, would become a great friend and mentor throughout my MFA program. I didn’t know still that I would go on to administrate the thesis works of future graduates of that program, one of whom was Helen Pickett, another longtime dancer of the Frankfurt Ballet. And last night, in the magnificent circle of concert dance, there I was again at the Capitol Theater watching her work on (presumably) the same white marley.

It is my knowledge of Helen as a dancer that gave me an entry into her work which others might not experience quite the same way. She is able to extract a unique combination of precision and freedom that makes following the dancers a delight. This was visible not only in the final performance but in an early rehearsal I was lucky to see. I find that Helen is skilled at isolating and inverting the traditions we expect of ballet. The musician is there beside the dancers following each movement through a sheer veil, something impossible from the pit. And the dancers often break from the structure to watch one another and respond. These varying calls and responses create an earnestness not present in a good deal of ballet. Yet, traditional stage set-ups continue to unfold  which kept the audience (at least my small portion of it) engaged in the action and created true surprise as the final pas de deux is shadowed by a second that appears behind the veil and beside the pianist. “But Never Doubt I Love” stays in conversation with itself and keeps a few secrets.

“The Lottery” of course kept the very large secret of who would be sacrificed at the end of this Shirley Jackson story adaptation. The marketers at Ballet West have done their job and made it very clear that no one knows who will perform the tragic concluding solo. I think the audience was excited (if not suspicious) when the prima ballerina drew the lot on opening night. But just as my relationship with Helen colors my view of her work, my relationship with modern dance traditions colors “The Lottery.” While it wasn’t clear who would perform it was certainly clear what they would do and I’m not sure how different it would be with a different dancer. I applaud the risk but longed for something more — to see a dancer truly yield to a concept and not hover over it. Even with all my nay-saying the ballet was beautifully crafted from the set design to the partnering and use of space. It was almost as though Merce Cunningham had choreographed “Appalachian Spring” rather than danced it, there was something spirited and traditional but also something inquisitive.

The final work on the program is one that wowed everyone around me but “Bolero” left me feeling flat — both last night and in 2011.  The premise of the work is that as the crescendo builds, marking the score, metal plates are lifted to reveal more and more of the dance. Confusingly, a red curtain drops at the end to capture the female soloist. I think others found this exciting but to me, it was cumbersome and begged the question “isn’t the dance enough of an end?” In the case of Adrian Fry the dancing was certainly enough. While some dancers struggled to stay in the rhythm of the extraordinary live music Adrian was riding the wave, unafraid to engage his spine and slowly reach extension, really getting to what any bolero is all about, the body engaging with song.

Ashley Anderson coordinates loveDANCEmore as part of her 501c3, ashley anderson dances. You can read more about her work at www.ashleyandersondances.com

FOUR, a conversation/review

It’s no secret that peer reviewing has been a talking point on the blog. As a sometimes reviewer, other times choreographer Erica has grappled with ways to write about work and read what others say about her own work. As an administrator and choreographer Ashley oversees these tensions on an ongoing basis. So we tried to write this conversationally after watching RW’s season-opener “FOUR” tonight at the Rose. We write with the hope that multiple opinions and a casual approach creates a balanced discussion. (Let us know how we do). Part of the way through writing we realized a conversation format doesn’t allow for standard “descriptions,” so keep in mind this is designed for those who have seen this show, and we definitely  think you should.

AA: The evening featured a huge amount of dancing by the extremely talented six member company and the choreographic variety was immense. All the dances but one featured the full company and I’m really amazed at the end of every RW show that they can physically get through it.

EW: The show order seemed a little complicated but I agree that the dancers were in fine form and there was an array of movement aesthetics that would please eclectic audiences.

AA: I feel like we were both pretty into Charlotte Boye-Christensen’s new duet, “The Finish Line” which was performed by Brad Beakes and Tara McArthur. While it displayed Charlotte’s classic athletic style, it was more distilled than her past work and seemed softer. (When Martha Graham fell in love with Erick Hawkins her arms starting curving, just saying!)

EW: I agree, right out of the gates I felt we were seeing growth from Charlotte as a choreographer. It reminded me of a well-worn relationship where intimacy, playfulness and aggression all reside equally in the physicality and performance. They embody those things, Brad and Tara were really successful. I felt like all the movements were necessary, nothing was arbitrary.

AA: Totally agreed. I found the choreography to be engaging and was so relieved that it was real duet and not a duet for six, but how does this make you feel about her second work on the program, “Turf”, from 2009? For me it really changed my impression.

EW: This was the first time I’d seen “Turf” and I was hopeful in the beginning. I liked the competitiveness of a trio from the men but really the difference between the two works was that in the duet I saw two humans having a real experience on stage and in “Turf” I wasn’t given permission to get to know the dancers in the same way.

AA:  I can see we were both underwhelmed by “Turf” after the success of the duet. It also, honestly, seemed rehearsed less than the other material on the program.

EW: I did find the opening piece “Grid” to be a little bit like “Turf”. There were some nice moments but conceptually and physically things did not settle for me in a conclusive way. The piece takes place in an environment of stage-length, chalk covered, elastic bands and it brought up issues about how our environment affects our decisions. And when those barriers are removed do we make the same decisions out of habit or are we able to make new decisions? As a choreographer I thought that it would be interesting to work with a prop like the that and even take that prop away at the end of the process. What would the dance look like if the “grid” was absent? I wonder if we could still feel it’s presence and think we could, maybe even moreso.

AA: It’s hard because I don’t want to re-choreograph dances from the audience but I had similar concerns about how “Grid” was functioning despite the obviously engaging tactic of the prop. It related to the John Utans piece on the program as well. In that piece the stage was littered with TV’s with rural Utah vacation footage and the beginning and ending moments of movement alongside them peaked my interest but as it went I fell into watching the TV’s exclusively and was in some kind of bad-audience-trance.

EW: Oh that’s funny, I didn’t watch the TV’s at all.

AA: So it’s clear we worked our way through the show with ebbs and flows but I think we both agree that something we had no questions about was Ann Carlson’s re-staged “50 Years”. If Charlotte’s duet was distilled then I don’t even have an adequate description for this work. Every second of the dancer-vocalized-score seemed essential to me and it’s really rare I feel that way about a dance.

EW: Throughout, this piece gave me kinesthetic responses.

AA: What kinds of responses? For me, it was cold chills and constant wonderment at what would be next from the voices and bodies of the dancers.

EW: For me it was during the moments of complete stillness where there was real settling in my skin and bones. It brought me on an organic journey where each section took the time it needed to fully resonate. It inspired me as a choreographer to be more patient and not doubt a seemingly simple idea.  I don’t know how to say this without being cheesy but it was through the simplicity that metaphors were made, and she must have had a real trust in her process and clarity in vision.

AA: It was also highly stylized and designed from the dirty, auburn costuming to the white-fabric floor and sparse light bulbs. Watching a choreographer make such clear choices (in 1996 by the way!) was a beautiful way to end the evening (that was also cheesy).

EW/AA: laughter laughter laughter

Nox Contemporary: Collaboration at its best

With sentiments similar to that of the new film series, Screen Deep, the second Alternative Genres (August 27, 2012) show at Nox Contemporary provided Salt Lake with a chance to experience converging

forms of performance and film.  Upon entering the gallery, I was greeted by parallel rows of laptops screening a variety of video pieces from local artists.  As I put on the headphones to view one of Aniko

Safran’s pieces, I was able to leave the rest of the world of the gallery behind, creating instant intimacy.  In one work,  Safran explores the notion of time and space through the use of a metronome.  As I watched (and heard) the ticking of the metronome in its various settings, everywhere from a nondescript room to flourishing shrubs, I was forced to think and rethink about the way in which one feels and experiences time.  This idea was further exaggerated by my peripheral setting, where everyone else in the gallery existed in a separate time and place from myself.

I was then ushered into a larger, adjacent room, which was entirely bare in order to view the second live performance of the evening (having already missed the first).  As a contemporary piece, Samuel Hanson’s “Duet”, was flawless, which is to say that it was far from being perfect.  Hanson explored the process of creation by choosing two volunteers from the audience to help him construct the piece in

the moment.  Upon blindfolding them, he guided each to a separate corner of the room.  He then instructed them to simultaneously cross half the distance from one to the other, then repeat, and repeat, etc. After many back and forth attempts at this, the two individuals finally met somewhere near the middle.  At this point, Hanson asked them to interact with one another in various, simple ways, until they

were each lying on the ground, one massaging the other’s arm.  We, the rest of the audience, were invited to form a circle around the two of them and were then instructed to slowly back away while keeping in

mind that their figures were only getting further away and not actually shrinking as we would perceive.  Again a test of trial and error, as Hanson asked us to restart this process each time we lost

awareness of the fact that they were not actually getting smaller, all the while, the massage continued.  At the end of the piece, the two volunteers stumbled their way back to their original positions in

opposing corners, back to the beginning, as if nothing had happened yet.  While this piece made me hyper aware of the process rather than product, it left me asking the question: how much should the

performance be the choreographer’s vision and how much should be the artist’s contributions to it, as a consequence of Hanson’s intermittent statements of, “No, I actually want you do it more like

this” when things were not happening as he envisioned them.

Before the next performance began, I was able to view another video piece.  “Trent goes Bowling” by Jan Andrews consisted of a video showing the creation of shards of mirror which were now on display inside of a salmon suitcase.  The video showed the artist (and friends) rolling a brilliant pink bowling ball (also exhibited in the gallery) across the room in order to break various sizes of mirrors.  The lack of headphones coupled with the white noise of the rest of the gallery made it impossible to hear anything in the video except for the crisp shatter of glass.  Along with these, the artist had provided a statement in which she divulges that this piece was originally the preparatory work for another.  That is, she needed the glass shards and came up with a creative way to acquire them and the process ran away with her becoming something else entirely.  At this point, she knew she had created something that she wished to share.

Once again, I entered the bare room, this time equipped with a ballet barre and mirror.  Valerie Atkisson began what appeared to be a warm up routine, which she performed several times over with succinct rhythm.

Her  movements were also clearly in conversation with the music she had chosen, a classical piece.  Her elegant motions and perfect timing evinced this austere notion associated with such modes of music and dance.  At the end of her piece, Valerie removed a large white poster board which had gone unnoticed underneath her feet for the entirety of the performance and held it up to show a second piece which she had now created.  Upon closer inspection of this dance drawing, I was astounded by the beautiful lines she had created, which mimicked the fluidity of her entire piece.

The final performance of the evening was “The Windy Gap” choreographed by Ashley Anderson and performed with Efrén Corado.  Set to a series of slides, Anderson danced the first part of the piece solo, then Corado, and finally the two of them together.  Each time, to the same set of slides, with each individual performing the same routine.  The beauty of the piece came from its unfolding, watching the way each interacted with the photographs in their own way, Anderson incredibly aware of the details in the images behind her, and Corado mimicking formations and shapes in the stills.   In the end, the way in which their seemingly individual pieces came together was seamless, each in communication with different aspects of the photos, each in communication with one another, at one point Efren’s piercing slaps of his own thighs

dictated the movements of Anderson.  I found this performance in particular to be quite fitting for the gallery setting.  I could imagine this unending repetition of routines, much like Valerie’s, to recur again and again alongside others, installations, videos, stills, etc.

Echo Smith studies classics and literature at the University of Utah. She regularly attends dance, theater, and music performances in SLC.