Repertory Dance Theater’s “Land”

Repertory Dance Theater’s production of “Land” presents four pieces focused on and dedicated to the western landscape. It is intended to advocate for the preservation of Utah’s natural geography and is “part of RDT’s commitment to exploring, defining, and honoring our western landscape” says Linda Smith, executive and artistic director of the company. RDT has fulfilled a vital role as the physical embodiment of historical works by innovative originators of modern dance like Isadora Duncan and Doris Humphrey, and more recent choreographers like Merce Cunningham and Anna Sokolow. Dance is a living art form that is difficult to preserve in the same way that a static, tangible piece of artwork is preserved. The company is comprised of strong, intelligent performers whose versatility is invaluable for a group whose repertoire is so varied. The works presented in this particular show, however, left me dissatisfied with the very literal ways in which the idea of land was represented and honored, despite the skill with which they were executed.

The first piece, “Desert Sea”, was choreographed by Molissa Fenley, a dance faculty member of Mills College. It began as all nine dancers formed a symmetrical set of poses, some with arms in a half-box shape and others balanced on one leg, the other jutting out in arabesque. The program notes say that Fenley was inspired by the culture and history of native people living in the Colorado Plateau, and that she used the surrounding geography and the geometric designs of this culture’s woven blankets to create the piece. The angular movement abstracted and dehumanized the dancers effectively to demonstrate their connectivity as one landmass. The movement vocabulary was also very comparable to what one would encounter in a westernized yoga class. Phrases involving leg lifts and arms at right angles were repeated almost endlessly, but didn’t outwardly achieve any of the sort of dynamic or energetic evolution that is so satisfying to see in repeated movement. The meter stayed consistent as did the effort put into moving— of which this lengthy piece required a lot. The work would probably be more satisfying to execute as a dancer than it was to watch. The relationships between the performers remained static— in general, the work lacked arc. “Desert Sea” seemed primarily an investigation of abstract shapes and poses, and could have been more engaging had it not exhausted this idea so soon and gone on for such a long time.

The second piece was created by Zvi Gotheiner, an Israeli choreographer who spent his formative years dancing in New York City (the site of many artists’ rite of passage into the creative “world”). His piece was titled “Erosion” and was similar to “Desert Sea” in that the dancers represented omnipresent aspects of land commonly encountered in Utah. The work began with a red, backlit cyclorama silhouetting the company, who were posed as if they were petroglyphs. When the lights finally illuminated the fronts of their bodies, they began a procession of different poses downstage with a sensual hip-swinging movement that made it look like the petroglyphs were shaking off sand from the stone from which they were excavating themselves. This piece was similar to what a written treatise on its subject would have been, in that it was filled with very formal and systematic representations of the land. The dancers pulled on elastic bands coming from stage right that looked like layers of the Earth. One gesture that was alarming for its randomness in the formal, stoic nature of the piece occurred near the end where the dancers stretched their own mouths on either side with their pointer fingers. It was an intriguing image, but it seemed out of place and underdeveloped as it was introduced near the end for maybe twenty seconds and then never referenced again.

Another component that should be mentioned is the show’s use of projections. In Gotheiner’s piece there was a series of images of slot canyons and other geologic formations found in Southern Utah scrolling through slide-show style. They made the piece, made in 1993, look tremendously dated. The integrity of Gotheiner’s work lies in the physical dance, not the media embellishing it, which did not relate to the movement other than in that the slides seemed to be solely for the purpose of showing the audience that the dancers were emerging from rock. Each slide appeared for the same amount of time and the images were smaller than the backdrop, making the projections seem like a presentation intended to display someone’s vacation rather than a necessary part of the dance.

The projections in the next piece, however, were a bit more integral to creating the forest that Ze’eva Cohen envisioned. They filled the stage, making them look less foreign than the projections in the former piece. Cohen’s “Rainwood” originally premiered in 1977. It too embodied the characteristic aesthetic ideals of its time–– tie-dyed unitards and bright colors— but here, these components related to each other well. Physically speaking, the dance was another exploration in abstracting the human performers in order to achieve an accurate representation of a natural element— in this case that element was the flora and fauna of a forest. The dancers had an innate ability to personify the collage of tree frogs and fluttering leaves that Cohen pieced together. There was also a ritualistic sense to the piece, beginning with the dancers revving up the movement in a circle and then expanding from there. “Rainwood” is an anomaly within Cohen’s other work, which investigates a vast array of human emotions and states of being; for a time she primarily worked on solos for herself and did not use large groups of people as she did with this piece.

The last piece in the show is “Turf”, choreographed by Daniel Shapiro and Joanie Smith, who have collaboratively created work since 1987. This piece ended the show in an overtly comical way, eliciting a few laughs from the audience in response to the dancers’ obvious intent to be funny while doing things like running in slow motion and playfully pushing each other out of the spotlight to gain attention for themselves. The piece began combatively, even incorporating a few “booty bumps” as a means of “dance-fighting.” “Turf” eventually evolved into a more introspective, personal investigation. A pair of males, then a pair of females, partnered to slightly melancholy music. It was an energetic, humanizing end-to-the-show, because of it’s almost overly presentational nature.

“Land” as a whole, was homogenous in it’s often literal representations of various environments. Perhaps this is the nature of environmentally-based pieces; the land speaks for itself already and does not need an artistic interpretation. However, I do not think that environmentally engaged pieces should be limited to true-life representations against a backdrop of photos of what they’re trying to emulate. The breathtaking scenes in southern Utah can initiate a dance piece, originating with that first gasp and then going anywhere from there. Dance can speak for itself upon being inspired by nature and does not need to attempt to be nature. Nevertheless, I commend RDT and its collaborators for a heartfelt tribute to the land that we live on.

Emma Wilson is an undergraduate in Modern Dance at the University of Utah. She recently performed for Meghan Durham Wall in PDC. She is also an intern at loveDANCEmore.

Jessica Lang in Park City

Saturday April 5 marked the final performance of the Eccles Center Main Stage Season in Park City featuring Jessica Lang Dance. The Park City season is a welcome supplement to the performances at Kingsbury Hall in Salt Lake City. Founded in 2011, JLD is a company of nine dancers based in New York City created to present Langʼs choreography. A graduate of The Juilliard School and former member of Twyla Tharpʼs company, Lang has set works on numerous companies including the Birmingham Royal Ballet, The National Ballet of Japan, The Joffrey, and Ailey II.

The concert proved to be, an evening of pleasant dance that did not require the audience to strain their imagination, nor worry that they might experience something challenging, sexy, or gritty like Cedar Lake Balletʼs concert earlier in the season. Performed, produced, staged, and costumed with such clean precision, the eveningʼs offerings seemed to please the local crowd.

Ms. Langʼs movement style suggests classical modern dance in ballet slippers with vocabulary and choreographic devices reminiscent of Taylor, Limón and Humphrey on a balletic base. Lang clearly possesses choreographic skill, and the ability to seamlessly integrate theatrical elements into her staging. However, the overall performance lacked innovation and conceptual development. Likewise, the dancersʼ flawless technical performances of multiple turns, high leaps, elegant extensions, port de bras, and seamless partnering fell short of authentic expression. Instead, the pieces settled into a comfortable no manʼs land of calculated longing, whether for each other, the space around them, or the projected images on the screen.

Her first piece “Lines Cubed” suggested a Mondrian painting in motion with the background divided into bold black lines and white rectangles. The dance utilized manipulable sets designed by Canadians Stephanie Forsythe and Todd MacAllen to redefine the space for each section. While the opening “Black” was crisp in linear boldness and execution, the piece became predictable with the stereotypical interpretation of each ensuing color. The “Red” quintet exhibited power as four men lifted and paraded a woman about the stage. A springy “Yellow” displayed a trio of women flitting and frolicking pleasantly. While “Blue” featured a pas de deux of lovers whose longing was played out as they were separated by dancers and the set. Though the dancers performed their movement with technical acumen, the lack of conceptual exploration was disappointing.

“Mendelssohn/Incomplete” also failed to inspire. While the dancers displayed a strong sense of suspension and release, the choreography meandered aimlessly and failed to make a point. “Among the Stars”, a romantic pas de deux, also failed, encumbered as it was with the manipulation of a long piece of fabric. Additionally, the dancerʼs interactions were sterile, communicating disdain rather than longing.

Perhaps the strongest piece, “The Calling” was originally created for Ailey II. It featured dancer Kana Kimura in a stunning white dress/set piece as she quietly and powerfully evoked an exploration of exaltation and humility. Here Lang found an effective balance between concept, prop, and motion. Using simple innovative gestures, with spirals and level changes, the audience was led through a spiritual journey toward a centered, peaceful soul.

Unfortunately, the choreography in the final portion of the concert did not effectively utilize the technology. In “White,” the angle of the camera never changed, but relied upon the dancers to enter and exit the screen. I wondered why the choreographer bothered to use the camera at all, as the film itself became an elevated stage. The piece quickly devolved into a trite manipulation of time using slow motion and acceleration of the video as the choreographic device. Similarly, the gratuitous passes of Chaplinesque dancers waving at the audience were clichéd. While the dance stimulated chuckles from the viewers, I hungered for the intimate, hyper-kinetic experience good screendance can provide.

Likewise, the flawless film of droplets, waves and splashes of “i.n.k” overwhelmed the choreography. This piece was funded through the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, and the Rockefeller Brothers Fund. What began as a promising piece with dancer Kana Kimuraʼs solo creating a striking calligraphic mark on the screen, quickly dissolved into an ensemble work in which the interactions with the film were too cute and banal. I could not help wondering what a more innovative artist might have accomplished in a multi-media dance project with this level of funding.

Overall, Jessica Lang Dance felt like a Jane Austen garden party staged for a Martha Stewart spread on gracious living. While my aesthetic interests are more piqued by art that challenges and moves me, JLD succeeded in providing a concert that adequately entertained the Park City audience.

Karin Fenn is a choreographer, performer and teacher based in Salt Lake City.

Trey McIntyre in Park City

Trey McIntyre’s dance company came to Park City this weekend, giving me the chance to see a group that has been lauded by a large subset of my friends and colleagues. New Yorkers, residents of the project’s former home in Boise, and our very own Kathy Adams of the SL Tribune have sung McIntyre’s praises for innovation, unpretentiousness and approachability.

The opening number this Saturday fit the bill. “The Vinegar Works: Four Dances of Moral Instruction,” drew inspiration from writer and artist Edward Gorey. Set to Shostakovich, this ballet is equal parts “Nightmare Before Christmas” and “The Nutcracker”. It even features a twenty foot tall Death in the role of Mother Ginger. Death looms over his mortal foil (Brett Perry), and periodically births new characters onto the stage from under a long black gown. Ashley Werhun’s manic solo, in a section vaguely evoking incest (“Deranged Cousins”) was the act’s highpoint. I felt like I was watching Shelley Duval at her weirdest, inexplicably dancing ballet. It was a precious moment that felt like adult content, hidden within something that might well have been made for children.

McIntryre’s craft reflects an omnivorous dance-diet where ballet occupies the cereal base of the food pyramid. There’s also a healthy dose of what one might call “classic modern”. When we talk about seeing movement associated with Graham and Humphrey in the current context, we often focus on how technique has shifted, improved or worsened. Contemporary performers are often spoken of with praise by elders, who state that “technique in general” has become “better” and has diversified. Indeed, these dancers too, had chops. However, there’s something odd, which I’d never quite noticed before, about seeing “contractions” and “fall and recovery” completely drained of their political context–– both macro (how these legacies relate to the world at large) and micro (how they function within the “story” of [post]modern dance). Here, McIntyre provides an eery but thought-provoking perspective I don’t think a modern dance group (or a European ballet company) could have given me.

Even more diverse in its stylistic influences, yet less successful was “Mercury Half-Life”. This hour-and-fifteen-minute work occupied the post-intermission act. McIntyre was determined to use the music of Queen to prove something Twyla Tharp and others have also confirmed–– Americans like big, ballsy ballet danced to the broadly popular rock-and-roll. This work was simply far, far too long. The costuming–– the women in Halloween nurse uniforms and the men in some illegible male version there of–– was at best confusing. The onslaught of sound and movement contained moments of virtuosic promise, but almost no choreographic development, no real pattern or theme emerging in my viewing experience save a nagging sense of vicarious embarrassment.

Samuel Hanson writes frequently for SLUG, 15 Bytes and lovedancemore.

Ballet at the Ladies’ Literary Club

The Salt Lake Municipal Ballet Co., directed by Sarah Longoria recently presented a collaboration with the local band St. Boheme. The show, titled SON ET LUMIÈRE(Sound and Light), was inspired by the collaboration between the musicians and dancers as well as the architecture of the Ladies’ Literary Club. Upon entering the performance space, the audience saw colorful lanterns extending over the dance floor, referencing the original artwork that was created for the event poster by artist Trent Call. The band was set-up on the small, raised stage with a large dance floor taking up much of the space in the meeting hall.

I enjoyed the opening number featuring the musicians alone, and throughout the course of the evening a wide variety of instruments were played including banjo, accordion, violin, cello, saxophone, toy piano, mandolin, trumpet, vocals, and more. The dancing began with a number that showcased all six dancers in the company with lifts, turns, and leaps. The dancers took their seats in the audience, and this added to the focus of the performance as a community event, rather than a formal ballet affair.

Watching ballet in this somewhat casual setting did make me think about the small differences in the way that the dancers perform, depending on the venue. In this case, the house lights were up the whole time, and each dancer could look each audience member in the eye. It is a different thing than performing in a huge venue, where the performers are seen as bodies in space with only large, exaggerated expressions visible to much of the audience. For this performance, the company challenged itself to find that fine line between going too big, and going too small. They had the opportunity to connect with the audience in a more subtle way.

After a few dances, the choreography also became more playful, and the performers were able to show their own personalities. Brian Nelson was actually laughing out loud with the audience during his humorous performance. This was a moment in which the setting seemed so appropriate because the audience felt truly invited into the space with the dancers. Overall, the dancing and live music worked really well as the collaboration it was meant to be. And in this celebration of music and movement, there were many beautiful long-limbed moments executed by the talented dancers.

Although seven choreographers were involved in this project, many of the dances did not have a completely clear identity, unique to that choreographer. There were a few things that contributed to this including the use of the same musicians, costumes, and dancers for the duration of the show. This created a very cohesive evening, but one without the “dialog” of multiple choreographers sharing one stage.

One performance was particularly memorable for me. Sarah Longoria featured dancer Cynthia Jackson in a solo that fit perfectly into the performance setting. The dance was carefully crafted to the live music, and it evoked the image of the commissioned poster art. It was as if we were watching someone dancing in secret, or perhaps we were being invited into her world. There were many subtleties in the performance, and the dance was beautifully executed, drawing the audience in for an even closer look.

The evening finished with a standing ovation, and an invitation for the audience to join the dancers while the band played. I hope to see more from this company in the future, as perhaps these choreographers continue to find opportunities to set new work, and explore the range of their creative voices.

Erin Kaser Romero currently co-directs and performs with Movement Forum; she’s recently presented her own creative work at Sugar Space and her dance films through loveDANCEmore.

Gallim and Cedar Lake visit Salt Lake City

Below, Karin Fenn and Scotty Hardwig offer us their impressions of two out-of-town companies Salt Lake has played host to in recent weeks. First, read about Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet. Below, having taken place a few days earlier, is Gallim. If you are interested in sharing your perspective on these or future dance events in Utah, please contact us at lovedancemore@gmail.com. Perhaps you’ll be inspired to write about Dance Theatre of Harlem, who perform this Thursday, March 6th at Kingsbury Hall.

“Eloquence, Exertion, and Nuance… An Evening with Cedar Lake” by Karin Fenn

Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet, led by Interim Artistic Director Alexandra Damiani, returned to Utah for a residency that culminated with a performance at the Eccles Center, in Park City this Saturday. During their last visit in 2008, they enthralled audiences at a presentation in the downtown main library, followed by a stunning concert at Kingsbury Hall. While I found that the choreography of their most recent performance lacked the clarity and insight of their prior visit, the ensemble of fourteen dancers succeeded in inspiring the audience anew with their powerful performances.

As their name suggests, the company has a stylistic foundation in ballet, yet moves with equal ease into new vocabulary that references many dance styles, and at times a grotesque physicality. It is refreshing to see a continuing trend of diverse ethnicities and body types embraced by this company. The international cast possesses seemingly unending endurance, athleticism, grace, elegant line, and wit. When the choreography overextended itself or failed to reach its point, I was still inspired by the dancers’ exuberant, yet nuanced performances.  Highlights of the evening were veterans Jon Bond, Nikemil Concepcion, Ebony Williams, Matthew Rich, and newcomers Joaquim de Santana, and Jin Young Won.

The first piece, and most challenging, “Violet Kid”, was both choreographed and scored by Hofesh Schechter. Schechter, formerly a member of Batsheva Dance Company, continued his career in Europe. Running 33 minutes, the piece took the audience on a murky journey into a dysfunctional, and at times, animalistic “examination of man’s struggle for harmony within a complex and sometimes horrifying universe” (Schechter in program notes). Using blackouts, and a confrontational line up of dancers, the movement became a ritualistic, physical assault that suggested gangs, protests, repression, inner city chaos, solitary confinement, and torment. Groups dissolved into isolated individuals as dancers searched for a thread of connection. While there were many striking images of conflict, defiant gestures of balance, and never-ending exertion, the piece failed to weave the images together to make a clear point. I found myself straining to connect with the countless choreographic shifts after staring at the dimly lit, smoke-filled stage . While the movement vocabulary and use of space were innovative, the piece became redundant after fifteen minutes. Ultimately, my focus shifted from the choreography to the dancers’ well being. I was exhausted as they continued to dance at an extreme level of exertion for no clear purpose.

“Tuplet” by Swedish choreographer Alexander Eckman explored rhythm through a crisp integration of movement, score, and light. The lighting design and videography punctuated virtuosic performances that referenced hip hop, krumping and jazz, while maintaining unique phrasing and style. Whether in silhouette, or brightly illuminated on their own squares of white, the dancers came alive with dynamic phrasing and physical wit. Throughout the piece, abstract vocalizations engendered motion. The highlight was a duet that beautifully reflected Eckman’s eloquent narration, which defined every aspect of our lives as rhythm. My only critique of the piece would be the incorporation of the video of musicians throughout time. This seemed an extraneous use of technology as both the text and choreography had succinctly stimulated our rhythmic palate.

The final piece, “Necessity, Again”, by Norwegian choreographer Jø Stromgren, was a humorous exploration of human relationship and sexuality. Set in the fifties, with a score by French singer Charles Aznavour, Stromgren seamlessly wove elegant vocabulary and characterization. He used the traditional choreographic device of choral movement to frame duets and trios. A table and chair surrounded by paper hung on clothes lines and strewn about the stage, creating an unusual landscape. Throughout the piece, dancers alternately read, collected, tossed and wore the paper. The whimsical choreography suggested a tightly run office run amok, as the performers came out of their shells. First, they discovered the other sex. Matthew Rich ceaselessly acted upon his urges through a hilarious pelvic fixation. Then, a passive aggressive fight for female supremacy ensued. Nikemil Concepcion worshiped feminine sexuality and purity in a stunning quintet which incorporated the table as the fifth dancer. Finally, the stage erupted in a frenzy of childish play as every one succumbed to passionate abandon. While the piece could have benefited from editing and a clearer link between the paper and the choreographic intent, overall, “Necessity, Again” was a positive culmination to an evening of dance artistry.

Choreographer and performer Karin Fenn, formerly of Ririe-Woodbury and RawMoves, has been the dance specialist at Salt Lake Arts Academy since 2009.

“Formalist Harmony: Gallim’s “Blush” at the Marriott Center for Dance” by Scotty Hardwig

A hazy light welcomed audiences to a bare stage outlined as a box with tape on the floor, creating a space that seemed almost like a black box theatre, despite its elevated proscenium and an atmosphere of dim mystery that continued for the length of “Blush”. The evening of balleto-punk ferocity began with a lone male soloist, scantily clad, with what looked like white body paint covering his semi-nude form. He crawled through the space with twitchy animal athleticism, and a movement vocabulary definitively informed by Miller’s own history with Batsheva’s Ohad Naharin. This costuming, similar for all the dancers, seemed reminiscent of Butoh, if not for the decidedly muscle-bound, uniformly thin bodies of the performers. As the company members filtered in, three men and three women, with low knee-twisting turns and grounded floor rolls, there was a sense of carefully placed architecture within the hesitant, intent downlooking and powerful wide-legged lunges that made up a large portion of the evening’s choreographic momentum.

Towing the lines between precision to wild abandon, Miller’s fondness for unison created a formalist undertone to this work, with spatial patterning that played upon Gallim’s own brand of rigid musicality. From this place of hefty compositional athleticism, the work began building to frenzy. But it was easy to see the heavy influence of contemporary ballet, the European kind, with its asymmetric lines and creature-like battements that served to cut the flow of Gaga-inspired expressionism.

And there was a kind of feral pantomime, as dancers reached out into space, as if yearning for something, only to crash back into themselves, or more likely, to the floor in contorted agony. There was quite a bit of drama in this performance, from clipped sassy struts to longing gazes, but also an element of humanness just beneath the surface. At times, the dancers would shout on-stage, “Go” or “Now”–– intermittent moments of reality that seemed to shatter the frail illusion of “pure dance” that Miller seemed to cling to throughout the work.

Just as the silhouetted forms sprinted throughout the stage nearing chaos, blinding lights shone (into the audience’s eyes, quite glaringly) from the upstage floor. When Kap Bambino’s techno-punk sound score was droning towards a sense of frenetic collapse, the lights and music cut out and the piece returned to a slow, balletic adagio in near-total darkness. This seemed to be Miller’s rhythm: build and clear, high-intensity movement into slow unison adagio. This predictability of structure was somewhat undercut by the raw physicality of the dancers, with voluminous leaps aplenty and bodies passed around mid-air, limbs akimbo in corpse-like passivity. Towards the midpoint of the evening, I could tell the performers were tiring in Miller’s fearless non-stop movement phrases, which at times seem more like paragraphs, chanting to a throbbing beat, but never reaching a level of wildness that would threaten to break the fragile perfection of the carefully crafted choreographic structure. I almost craved to see those dancers truly tire, if only to watch the work lose the carefully crafted chaos of its formalist harmony.

Duets were prized in this work, but from a gendered world of men lifting daintily splayed women in a manner that might even be called sexual, if only in a Greco-Roman, S&M kind of way. One section of the work broke this mold, a male-male duet sensitively performed by Dan Walczak and Austin Tyson, which almost seemed to come from another world. Tiny pools of light broke the space into sections, with copious open-limbed floorwork, their bodies flying through space, collisions, tentative touches, and many near-misses. It was it’s own piece, beautiful in its own right, yet seemingly inserted only to say “look, we can do gender-queer too.”

Blush’s joyous epilogue began with a locked and jolting solo by the indelible Emily Terndrup (an alum of the University of Utah’s own Modern Dance Program), complete with eerie facial expressions and contorted limbs. As the decidedly pop encore continued, set to Wolf Parade’s “I’ll Believe in Anything,” the company re-emerged with smiles and loosely thrown phrase material, a final jubilant call in contrast to an entirely dark world. The lights brightened to finally reveal the unshaded human bodies before us, albeit in carefully crafted unison and differentiation, as if to regain some semblance of humanity within the twisted nature of this piece as a whole. The performers ultimately came together and intently ripped up the boxed tape on the floor, perhaps symbolizing their freedom from the pain of lost intimacy.

This somewhat simplistic ending mirrored the conceptual arc of the piece itself, a rambling work that from most angles seemed to be a treatise on the many trials of love and loss, to be placed on the shelf under the clichéd category: “failure of human relationships” art. But conceptual shortcomings aside, the powerful presence and raw physicality from Gallim’s incredible performers created many a blush of excitement at the Marriott Center for Dance, prompting many audience members to standing ovation at the work’s surging close.

Scotty Hardwig is a dancer, performer, teacher, and digital media artist originally from Southwest Virginia. He is in his third year of the MFA program at the University of Utah’s Department of Modern Dance. His colleagues will perform more of Andrea Miller’s work at the University of Utah Performing Dance Company spring show, which runs through March 8th.