Dance at the 6th Annual Craft Lake City DIY Festival

At Craft Lake City 2014, there was much dance to be had. If you missed the show, check out this video. Below is a review from Amy Falls, visiting from NYC.

It was with pleasure that I made my way downtown to the annual Craft Lake City DIY Festival this Saturday August 9th, excited to see some outdoor dance while vacationing from New York City. Craft Lake City has, to the delight of local performers and audiences alike, come to present a wide variety of local dance acts in addition to its namesake do-it-yourself wares. A host of disciplines graced the Graywhale Entertainment Stage over the course of Saturday’s performance schedule, including modern dance, ballet, and belly dancing. For the sake of this review, I shall only be including the performance acts that fell mostly within the modern dance category (time constraints did not allow me to arrive until after some other acts had already performed).

Samuel Hanson’s trio for two women and one man was first after I arrived. All three in black dresses, the dancers signalled, undulated, and posed, engaging in series of complex gestures that changed levels swiftly and deftly. The dancers’ moments in motion read like a waving reef of undersea anemones while their instances of stillness assumed a statuesque royalty. Joshua Mora remained a stalwart presence throughout, though his exciting slide across the stage in front of the two women presented a satisfying change. Amy Freitas’ spirited joy and Katherine Adler’s crisp specificity imbued added depth throughout Hanson’s existing structure.

Karin Fenn, performing alongside her daughter Linda Tausala Frank, transformed the stage space into a lazy summer porch scene. The two slumped lethargically in opposite-facing chairs as sounds of an old radio crackling emerged from the speakers. Modern moves came with a vintage twist and an indolent sensuality, as the two women clasped their hands up high and lazily “did the stanky leg” of pop culture renown.

Katherine Adler and Samantha Matsukawa wove a charmed tale to three renditions of the Bob Dylan tune “In the Pines.” The two command space and presence both with their gazes and nonchalant yet virtuosic movement sensibilities. Adler and Matsukawa made the welcomed choice to jump off the stage mid-piece, running barefoot toward the audience on the sun-warmed red bricks in front. Weighted arabesques that crumpled in upon themselves demonstrated Adler and Matsukawa’s ability to skim gracefully on top of movement or to allow it to settle deeply within their skeletal structures. While no specific narrative was apparent, the two performers created structure with their interactive intent and the weaving together of musical sections. One final resonating ball change impelled the two off stage, apt punctuation for their neatly crafted duet.

Movement Forum, familiarly known as MoFo, displayed a smattering of skillful partnering and floor work. The rainbow-clad dancers wove between each other, popping around and pausing as a respite from the driving musical score. While I assumed that the work presented was improvised, given the group’s mission statement, recurring motifs such as a hover lift between the Nancy Carter and the Kat Kubichek Martinez provided anchors throughout. The ability to make conscious decisions regarding the overall piece’s thread aids outside viewers in accessing improvisation, and MoFo understands this well.

The last performance I saw was the debut work of newly-formed company Triptych Figures. Co-founders and performers Brooklyn Draper, Joshua Mora, and Monica Remes began with co-existing solo work. This morphed into seamless unison and then continued on as a distinct trio. While the three displayed their prowess as movers, I found the introduction of political voiceovers about tar sands extraction to be abrupt and difficult to relate to the movement unfolding onstage. Flyers advertising websites for the anti-tar-sands-extraction movement were handed out to the audience. Modern dance, still accused of being insular and self-indulgent, could use activism as its noble partner, and as Utahns, we additionally appreciate the grandeur of our land. However as an audience member, I crave a work in which elements actively collaborate, rather than just exist on the same temporal plane. The company defines a triptych as consisting of a set of three things intended to be appreciated together, and I look forward to seeing Triptych Figures hone in on this in works to come.

It was wonderful to see local dancers and choreographers presenting work in an environment such as Craft Lake City. Being a part of the festival atmosphere with its wide array of attendees helps to further establish modern dance as a viable participant in Salt Lake City’s culture.

Amy Falls is a dancer, choreographer and performer based in Brooklyn, NY, where she has recently worked administratively with artists such as Keith Thompson.

Porridge for Goldilocks at the Urban Arts Festival

Porridge for Goldilocks has become quite an impressive group of dancers. They performed last Saturday at the Urban Arts Festival at the Gateway, accompanied by Wachira Waigwa-Stone. As much as I loathe going to the mall, I am glad that I forced myself this one time. The ensemble possesses stylistic variety that seems organic, though I suspect it has cost a lot of effort on the part of instigator Amy Freitas.

If you had described to me what I would see there I might not have wanted to go. The dancers, who reflexively refer to themselves and each other as “bears,” warmed-up to the side of the little stage as an impromptu dance party for festival attendees wound down. One by one, Porridge entered during a Queen song, which I initially thought to be interlude music provided by the festival emcee. The song cut out, and they dancers and Waigwa-Stone (who’d just finished setting up his drum kit) carried the tune to its conclusion. From there, they segued into other familiar improvisation devices and tricks: flocking, solos, dance against text and poetic manifestos of art-making and identity.

Again, if you’re as jaded as I am, this probably sounds like the kind of thing worth avoiding. That’s not how it actually felt at all. Sitting there, watching that particular group of people, I knew I was seeing some of the most talented and interesting dancers in Utah. They were figuring out how to participate in a collaborative situation that I would never put myself in because I have lost faith in such things. And yes, it was somewhat unfocused and disorganized as a “piece”. But it wasn’t really a “piece” so much as a structured jam. What I am trying to say is that it was very successful as that, a jam turned inside out, so that the ecstatic experience of dancing in a room full of fascinating peers was somewhat visible and palpable to the audience.

The cultivation of a mini-community like this takes a lot of work. I imagine that much of this is undertaken by Freitas. Also indispensable here are Waigwa-Stone’s unique skills as a musician attuned to the vicissitudes of dance. I hope opportunities to be on stage like this one will help to keep some of these very talented dancers here in Utah. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Samuel Hanson is the New Media Coordinator for loveDANCEmore and also writes about dance for SLUG.

Dinomato at Sugar Space

You may have seen an excerpt of Ching-I Chang’s “Dinomato” at the recent “Daughters of Mudson” showcase. The piece was reviewed in SLUG and for the blog alongside 15 BYTES.  As a producer of Daughters of Mudson it’s uncharacteristic of me to write about the piece–– it’s certainly hard to be neutral about something one had a stake in. While it wasn’t my creative work nor my creation, it did have my name attached to  it. That said, I have to confess that upon the first viewing I agreed more with Karin Fenn’s criticisms than I did Danell Hathaway’s praise for the excerpt Ching-I presented as part of the group showcase in the Rose Wagner. In it’s original, excerpted viewing, I felt alienated from the narrative. The title indicated to me that the piece explored boredom, and my knee-jerk reaction was that it was unfair to ask the audience to be subjected to boredom for no apparent reason. My opinion shifted after seeing the work in its entirety at Sugar Space this past weekend. The full version of Ching-I’s work left me noticing small details, the tenderness and harshness which can be shared among dancing partners, and the nature of bewilderment.

“Dinomato” takes its inspiration in part from Andy Warhol and his use of iconic imagery and bland repetition. The audience gathers outside and our narrator, Efren Corado Garcia, appears to tell us what may unfold. He lifts paper to reveal the interior of a small alcove in the theater where we see Temria Airmet and Tara McArthur wearing white dance garb and Andy Warhol wigs while they rearrange cans of tomato soup. Already this felt more fresh for me as a viewer than the previous iteration at “Daughters”. Because we were shown a small glimpse through a window, it felt we were let into a secret that before felt distant and unexplored. I was drawn into the fractured narrative that would unfold and was physically close to my peers in the audience as we were led into a space too small to hold us. Efren soon handed us photos of dinosaur skeletons as a welcome gift and led us into the more forgiving space of the theater. The seats were sparse and in the round, as the audience chose carefully their vantage point Tara and Temria traced vague imagery onto opposite walls with their bodies.

An improvisation followed with each dancer performing solos based on emotive words chosen at random by audience members from a stack of paper. I have a name for dances of this sort, BOSSWIP: Based on Secret Words Written in Private. My dance professor in college invented the term and I’ve tended toward being critical of dances which presume that we should know or care what imaginary terms had helped craft the movements we were seeing. Yet, something about the visual design and the allure of the trio of performers transcended my expectation of what the improvisation would look like. It was clear that Tara drew a card that said “desperate”. Her sad and desperate dance drew me in. On the other end of the spectrum I had no idea what Efren drew but his precise and smooth impersonation of a potato being peeled made me want to know.

Once again the audience was led somewhere new, this time the lobby where Tara and Efren danced a sad duet featuring an upturned couch and the sense that one performer was leaving the other. The walls were covered in curious figures made by Ching-I, as well as two large faces on the wall, one full of color and texture, the other empty. Efren led us past the record player and behind the black traveler. Being a dancer walking through the traveler was a familiar feeling, but the curiosity still built as we emerged on the other side to Temria throwing soup spoons off of a loft onto the floor. Back in the stage space there was more dancing, more soup, more posturing and more text about topics to which the audience wasn’t exactly privy.

I left fundamentally interested in the three curious figures who led me through Sugar Space in a way I’ve never seen it despite having viewed a good bit of dance there. I left wondering how and why they made the dancers made their choices to interact with one another which is, for better or worse, something I think about nearly every day with everyone I see. I left imagining whether the little universe they’ve created is something that Ching-I will continue to explore, and I hope that’s the case.

Dinomato from Jeremy Bigelow on Vimeo.

Ashley Anderson is the director of loveDANCEmore programs through her non-profit, ashley anderson dances. 

Daughters of Mudson 2014

If you missed the show, check out Daughters of Mudson 2014 from loveDANCEmore on Vimeo.

Having reviewed last season’s Daughters of Mudson, I came to the 2014 performance last weekend with much expectation.  The 2013 show lingered with me long after I left the Studio Theater at the Rose Wagner. and this year’s iteration didn’t disappoint, leaving me pleasantly surprised, often amused, and a bit bewildered — which is a good thing…

The minimalist design of the Rose Wagner Studio Theater maintained a sleek, progressive atmosphere, but the addition of strip lights refined the look of the concert while creating the intimate environment patrons of the series have come to expect. The collection of works presented here were curated by Ishmael Houston-Jones from loveDANCEmore’s works-in-progress series at the Masonic Temple in the last year. Despite simplistic beginnings — relationships, self-discovery, boredom, transitions — the material shared relatable themes. It was clear the topics addressed weren’t cutting edge but through skilled execution and a sense of play, the dances created space for meaning and purpose to sink deep into the complexities of the human experiences.

Erica Womack’s Dear Son opened the show, serving as a perplexing work, simultaneously alienating and bewitching. Two dancers exchanged intimate, repetitive gestures focused on the cavity of the belly, coupled with a series of supportive and concerned touches. The dancers shared companionship as they whirled in sweeping unison, rendering spiritual solemnity. Excerpts of “This Little Light of Mine” were sung intermittently which furthered a ritualistic undertone. While the audience was encouraged to hum along, it distracted me to hear a few brave souls in the crowd sing the tune.  I questioned the context of the piece of music but settled on the most logical connection presented by the choreographer and new mother: bearing witness to the pain, joy, and surreal yet primal act of childbirth. I was unable to relate to the subject matter personally but was intrigued by the structure. I did desire to see less drapery in the costuming and more emphasis on the physical body as the choreography placed an emphasis on transfiguration.

When Efren Corado Garcia appeared next in heels and a biketard for My Little Man. By my side, eyes fixed on me, he moved, I braced myself for an alter ego, gender-bending caricature carousel ride but instead was presented with a stunningly personal and poignant portrayal of acceptance and empowerment.  Imploding stereotypes surrounding gender-exploration, this three-part installment instead offered honest slices of Garcia’s self, not particularly masculine or feminine, just a succession of lightning fast vignettes encapsulating the story of his moving body. A warm-colored light flipped on mid-dance to project a soft silhouette as  Garcia stroked, caressed and revealed himself with obscure but striking vulnerability that lingers in my memory. In the final section, amidst a soaring sound score, Garcia stripped 3/4 of his biketard away, as if to shed the old aspects and reveal something more powerful and confident.  As Garcia scanned the audience with minimal movement, he offered himself with a “take it or leave it” stance as the lights faded.

The Beatles or The Stones? choreographed by Brooklyn Draper gave a glimpse into what I’d imagine as the Mad Hatter’s road trip, complete with obtuse quarrels, oddly placed text and an awkward, family-photo motif that became an anchor to the dance. While solos showcased a breadth of engaging movement, I felt a little left out of the jokes and was unable to attach to a clear through-line helping me unpack and translate the many movement tropes within in the piece.

The superbly crafted and masterfully executed This is the Beginning of Boredom (inspired by Andy Warhol) by Ching–I Chang was easily my favorite of the evening.  A dancer carrying a suitcase and wearing an  Andy Warhol wig and Ray-bans mysteriously stumbled from the audience, discreetly unfolding a series of directions. The solo became a duet with a similarly accessorized dancer and the two completed a series of random actions revolving around cans of tomato soup, spoons, suitcases and a roll of paper.  At one point I laughed out loud as one dancer tried to stuff as many spoons and cans into her knee folds as possible. I applaud the dancers ability to seamlessly talk with each other and the audience while maintaining a certain air of tongue-in-cheek ease.  I found myself feeling as if I was back in the Warhol’s 1960’s Factory observing muses muck about with the creative process.

The final piece of the evening was an endearing and jocular exchange between Sam Hanson and Michael Watkiss in Watkiss’s With(out) Sam.  The two loosely bantered about dancing together throughout high school and college, what dance education has “done” to Watkiss and also addressed the sordid world of dance belt talks.  As Watkiss jammed to RJD2, stripped to nothing but a dance belt and performed a string of twisting and disjointed motions, re-dressed and recited a children’s story, the piece evolved into more than just a haphazard homage to their friendship but became an auto-biographical template. Engaging and empirical, the piece seemed to suggest we wear, slough off, reconfigure and transform our own history, as we identify and mark those moments that define us.

The Mudson series and particularly the Daughters of Mudson performances continually offer a much needed alternative to most of Utah’s traditional dance performance paradigms.  As the season continues to mature, I expect to see more innovation and risk-taking while maintaining the refreshing format from inception to completion.

Danell Hathaway co-directs the group Movement Forum and teaches dance at Olympus High School.

This article is published in partnership with 15 BYTES. Daughters of Mudson took place on June 13th & 14th, 2014 at the Studio Theatre Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center Salt Lake City, Utah.

The Pushers

Sex, religion, gender, race, art, and drugs. All of these topics were confidently (sometimes cockily) juggled by SB Dance’sThe Pushers, all the while gliding through the wine and beer that was served to audience members. The show is truly a modern day cabaret. Each attendee was given a velcro-backed seat marker to hold their place while they moseyed up to the bar and mingled amongst the high bar tables that scattered the stage. Eventually company members, Nathan Shaw, Juan Carlos Claudio, Christine Hasegawa, John Allen, Annie Kent, Florian Alberge, Dani Diaz and Stephen Brown himself trickled into the pre-show party, bringing with them the buzz of imminent performance. Purposeful conviviality abounded. Everyone present seemed to know that they were a vital part of setting the mood for the rest of the evening.

Around 8:45 the house lights dimmed and each audience member began to carefully find their seat, glass in hand, possibly considering what would happen if they remained onstage. They might have been forced by John Allen to take a shot (of what was supposedly hard liquor). He did just that to Christine Hasegawa, cradling her head, throwing the liquid down her throat and letting her recover, just to accost her system with another, and one more, and one more, and one more. This demonstration of power and submission recurred in other parts of the show and sometimes the gender roles were switched, but it was apparent from the onset that we were seeing a show through a primarily male lens.

The scene eventually morphed into a more upbeat one. The tables were removed, and SB Dance’s signature pole entered. Then the entire cast accelerated the show, walking fast and dipping underneath the fifteen-foot-tall pole held limbo-style by two or three people. Curtis Mayfield’s “Pusherman” accompanied this movement sequence, which became the interim activity for the entire show. The pole was expertly wielded by each company member like a weapon of fate, forcing others to duck out of the way; or it was held perpendicular to the ground and became a stripper pole that catapulted individuals above their counterparts to slither down to the ground. The movement in the show was intensely physical, including many lifts and group-dependent formations. This physical prowess supported the overtly sexual positions that the dancers landed in so naturally. Repetition of movement and verbal lines sometimes highlighted farcical situations and at other times simply energized the show–– the repeated lines becoming mantras.

Continuing in traditional cabaret fashion, Stephen Brown was the master of ceremonies, contextualizing the sex, drugs, and alcohol with anecdotal monologues about his life as a young, straight, male dancer in New York City in the eighties. Juan Carlos Claudio augmented these stories tremendously by acting the part of a quintessentially gay Puerto Rican: excited about sex, constantly erupting with emotion. The show took some poignant turns, acting as an homage to victims of AIDS in the eighties. Brown’s rehearsed lines on this subject were somewhat moving, but what was more moving was the vibrant energy of the show as a whole, demonstrating the legacy of the young artists that were being remembered. The performance was a celebratory wake rather than a morose funeral. It paralleled Patti Smith’s memoir Just Kids, about her life in New York City as a young, lost artist with the late photographer Robert Maplethorpe. One of the most charged scenes in the show was set to Smith’s “Horses.” The hypersexual nature of the show referenced Robert Mapplethorpe’s photography, which also focuses on sex and sexuality, BDSM and human vulnerability.

SB Dance has a history of pushing conventionally taboo subjects into the public’s (or at least their audience’s) eye. Sometimes it seems to be in direct response to conservative antics, but the alternately passionate and deadpan demonstrations of desire, confusion, and power come from personal experiences of the seasoned group of people that make up the company. The Pushers is scrumptious for the eyes and revealing for the mind. The show will continue this weekend, June 13 and 14 in the Rose Wagner Blackbox. For more information visit www.sbdance.com.

This article is published in collaboration with 15 BYTES.

Emma Wilson is an intern for loveDANCEmore, studies dance at the University of Utah, and performs with PDC and in Porridge for Goldilocks, among others.