Movement Forum: Mine Goes to Eleven

Movement Forum, otherwise known as MoFo, celebrated their eleventh year by curating a show of dynamite choreographers and dancers called Mine Goes To 11: THE MOFO SHOW. The company worked with Gabriel Forestieri, Yvonne Meier, Stephen Koester, Miguel Gutierrez, and Ishmael Houston-Jones.

We began the evening being lead around outside the University of Utah’s Marriott Center for Dance–– a big black umbrella showing us the way. We were witnessing U and Leah, choreographed by Gabriel Forestieri. As we walked, we fell upon some dancers sitting on a bench, and then four others standing against a wall. This edifice was a campus building separated from us by a flat, vast concrete space. The dancers ran and walked along the sagittal lines of the concrete, fell into duets, solos, and in and out of a unison phrase. This particular space allowed the audience’s perception of the dancers to change, as they were able to use the long depth between them, drastically changing their size in front of our eyes–– something impossible on a shallower proscenium stage. We were then lead to other areas where the dancers interacted with the architecture and open windows, dumpsters and railings. They went in and out of apparent improvisation and clear choreography. At one point, the audience was stationed above a small grassy hill where the dancers ran up, somersaulted, and rolled down the hill like children, which was a joy to watch from our point of view. In general, this site-specific piece used locations around the MCD Building where I’d never imagined dance occurring. It was a fun, unique and interactive experience for all.

The first stage piece was NYC-based Yvonne Meier’s Gogolorez. The dancers, dressed in black, gold and yellow, entered the stage upon instructions announced by Michael Watkiss, who stood stage-left with a microphone. The entire piece was a live improvisation score coming to life as we watched–– something Meier has played with before. Watkiss instructed on how to move and/or what to imagine. There was twitching, fainting, laughing, bumping, and dying a slow death. Some ideas gradually changed in being repetitively interrupted by another idea, and some ideas abruptly switched over to something completely new. It was incredibly intriguing and entertaining to watch the obedient dancers actively make new decisions over and over again. The process was predictable, but the ideas and movement were unpredictable, bizarre and humorous.

she’s a beautiful man, a collaborative work with Miguel Gutierrez, was completely different than any other piece in the show. The work was “made remotely”. Gutierrez sent MoFo articles, videos, songs, writings of his own, and other inspirations he came across over the course of the summer. The piece seemed to have no beginning, middle or end. There were lots of strange props, costumes, characters, and texts. The speaking seemed to be from stream-of-conscious writings, perhaps inspired by separate situations the audience was unaware of, or by the actual performance as it happened. To me, it was as if Gutierrez’s mind and the minds of the dancers were shaken up and then emptied into a box, and then shaken up a bit more. The audience was given a glimpse into this box of mixed up thoughts and ideas, some of which were hilarious, sad, uncomfortable and confusing.

Personally, I have been waiting to see works like these here in Salt Lake City since I moved here fifteen months ago. It was incredibly refreshing and different, but at the same time comforting to me. Not only were the choreographic ideas incredibly engrossing, but they were very well executed by the performers. I saw a performance and movement range in these dancers that I had not yet seen in them before. They were animated and immensely creative on the spot. They proved they could improvise well alone and with each other, and that they could also execute choreography well together, as in Stephen Koester’s5 and a short 20. This Is How The Story Goes, (As Far As I Can Tell) by Ishmael Houston-Jones, perfectly closed the show. A series of duets moved back and forth across the stage, gradually shifting into trios and even larger groups. With a live guitarist on stage, the piece ended with a trio that featured Sarah Franco telling a story about her grandparents. It was raw, real and in the moment. I left this show completely satisfied, but also with anticipation to see more. I believe that THE MOFO SHOW was a complete success and I couldn’t be more excited to see more from them in the future.

Monica Remes is a member of Tryptic Figures, a local dance group in which she’s joined by Brooklyn Draper and Joshua Mora. She holds a degree in dance from Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Sugar Space AIR Courtney Norris: Reminiscences and Whimsy

Local choreographer and Pilates instructor Courtney Norris has compiled a selection of reminiscences and whimsy for her current Artist-in-Residence program at Sugar Space. The show opened with Tis a Gift, a duet created and performed by Norris and Erica Womack. Norris and Womack were lit softly, as if at dusk, their shadows dancing on the wall behind them. They took turns supporting each other, tenderly and deliberately. The two swayed side by side, breathed together, dipped and lifted each other, and occasionally took a pause to place an arm carefully around the other’s shoulder. Norris and Womack maintained a similar relationship in Womack’s Dear Son. In a series of gestures taking place around the abdomen, the two moved together with the mutual understanding of two maternal beings. It is comforting to watch and they seem comfortable in their roles as matriarchs in both dances.

Fulcrum was a joint venture between Norris and local Bharatanatyam performer Srilatha Singh (of Chitrakaavya Dance). Norris and Singh took turns manipulating each other, moving each other’s arms, bending forward and side-to-side. The general feeling was exploratory, as they tested the waters of what each other could and would do. Singh’s hands and eyes began to come alive, in the riveting way singular to performers of Bharatanatyam. Their movements became more independent and branched into unison. Singh knelt in order to view Norris performing a solo, watching as a teacher gazes upon her pupil. Then, Singh began a solo of her own after Norris had ended her’s prostrate on the floor. Singh’s captivating hand gestures (or mudras), were punctuated with stomps and a gaze that told a story on its own. Norris and Singh walked side by side toward the lit candle upstage, as their exchange of knowledge came to conclusion.

Amy Freitas entranced the audience in Awakening Orbit, a solo co-choreographed with Norris and accompanied by percussionist Wachira Waigwa-Stone. Freitas’ arms breathed and grew like hungry vines as her knees propelled a giant silver orb across the stage. Freitas would reach to the highest imaginable place, only to collapse on the resilient orb in a reverberation of bounces, sometimes even diving forward onto it when the orb seemed just out of reach or still in motion. Always playful and radiating joy for the task at hand, Freitas demonstrated a beautiful understanding of her own being of which the galactic silver orb was an extension.

Courtney Norris has woven threads throughout a varied show– of motherhood, of remembering, of teaching, of learning, of exploring, of playing. To see this Artist-in-Residence program, visit Sugar Space Studio for the Arts tonight and tomorrow at 7:30 pm.

Amy Falls recently became the Mudson coordinator for loveDANCEmore. She has worked administratively for the arts here in the West and in New York City. She hold a BFA in Modern Dance from the University of Utah.

Transfusion Hype in review

This past weekend, unsurprisingly, I had to choose between several dance performances in Salt Lake City. I saw two shows, The Penguin Lady Presents at the Rose Wagner and Transfusion Hype’s evening at Sugar Space. In the next three weeks, there are at least four other dance concerts happening, most of which are large undertakings with numerous performers and guest artists.

One thing does surprise me as I navigate this growing scene. Much of the time, the audience is made up of the same faces, as though we all walked from place to place together. Then all of a sudden, I’m surrounded by people who I have never seen. The latter was true of Transfusion Hype’s Lucid Jubilee. The concert was choreographed primarily by Ashlee Vilos with some work by partner-in-crime Temria Airmet. The group’s performances, which tend toward the commercial, have met success at venues such as the Urban Arts Festival and the Utah Pride Festival. Many in the group are popular educators, some teach at the new Millenium Dance Complex in the 9th and 9th area. Jubilee was a foray away from their usual commercially-oriented fare. Though its circus-infused narrative encountered some of the problems endemic to formalism, for me, it was a breath of fresh air within the often stagnant system of “concert dance”.

Given my sense of anonymity as an audience member, I was able to experience the show without many limiting expectations. I found myself completely captivated by Ashlee’s presence as both a choreographer and a mover– it seems inexplicable, but she’s a cross between Doug Elkins and Ann Liv Young’s “Sherry” character. (If you don’t know who I’m talking about, google these artists and find out.) She drew everyone in with total charisma, moving between styles with fluidity and nuance. She also comfortably transitioned between monologues as an ancient mermaid and dancing for the sake of dancing, improvising through technical malfunctions in a manner that was nothing other than dynamic.

Ashlee’s wild personal energy extended to some of the other numbers including “Shake that Devil,” which starred Brady Swenson juxtaposed against Ashlee, Temria and Kate Overholt. As Brady danced to the strained voice of Antony Hegarty of “Antony and the Johnsons,” the red-clad women replaced one another, taking turns offering a still counterpoint to his desperate movement. Although I wasn’t sure how the work fit into the overall narrative (Brady was “Felix the Fox”, one of the characters in the circus), I felt this dance successfully addressed the idea that our identity can be immutable, no matter what we put on for an audience.

Most at the show that night seemed to enjoy hearing popular music and seeing the kind of dramatic sequencing popular in contemporary dance-on-television. Even I loved watching everyone dance to Beyoncé and throw glitter in my face. I loved watching those who could commit ferociously to acrobatic dance styles that I am simply unable to do, but it wasn’t without some difficulty on my part as a viewer.

There are questions, for example, about why several of the dances fall into television tropes, including the use of complex but arguably excessive narrative. Most of Ashlee’s work is musical and built upon a collective desire to watch effortless difficulty. The creation of a formal, yet ultimately fractured and underdeveloped narrative about a circus doesn’t add anything essential to the mix. In fact, it creates a number of problems. While certain characters are compelling–– Ashlee’s mermaid for starters–– I don’t feel there was a strong sense of what the plot that animated these figures really was.

Throughout, I enjoyed the passionate dancing, the care with which music was chosen and the investigation of unison. I felt that “Shake that Devil” was one example of a piece which succeeded on all of the levels on which the show was attempting to function. I look forward to more in that vein as Transfusion Hype locates itself as a fixture working in both commercial and concert dance practices.

Ashley Anderson’s non-profit ashley anderson dances houses loveDANCEmore. 

The Penguin Lady in review

The Penguin Lady Presents, a night of choreography by Natosha Washington, premiered to a full crowd at the Rose Wagner Black Box Theater.  The show begins with a personal and heartfelt message that thanks the audience for coming to partake in an evening of dance, and asks us to connect with and acknowledge the seventeen dancer’s humanity, unique stories, and individuality.

The first piece of the night, Black Sheep, is danced by the Penguin Lady herself and is the standout piece of the evening.  Washington’s monologue is both hilarious and revealing as it echoes the vulnerability and strength of both the movement and mover.  Acknowledging struggles of race and body image experienced as a black dancer in Utah, Washington stands tall, emerging as confident and powerful.  The music by Tracie Morris serves as a reminder of the persistent struggle and static on the quest to self-realization and self-validation.  At one point she looks amusingly at the audience, cups a breast, then flaunts her backside as if to say, ‘Yes, I am here.  This is me. Get used to it.’

House of Timothy also stands out among the concerts nine works for its compositional and dramatic clarity.  This piece highlights a tumultuous relationship, and both Monica Campbell and Nathan Shaw dance with nuance and maturity.  It is impossible to look away as these two flawed individuals air their dirty laundry on stage, and really why should we? People have taken notice of this piece since it was honored by the American College Dance Festival Association and, like many of the pieces on the program, was a re-creation of a past work.

Early on the audience is told that the concert is inspired by the stories of the diverse and close-knit cast, some of whom deliver narrative text throughout the concert.  At times this is clear and at others, the compositional structure and choices fail the telling of these stories, and the intent becomes murky.  In IV we see Nathan Shaw and Tyler Kunz dance a tender duet that is important and relevant for the obvious reason that two men are highlighting a romantic relationship on stage.  They perform the piece with honesty and integrity.  However, the addition of Jennifer A. Beaumont and Monica Campbell distract this relationship and confuse the intent.  Perhaps their presence made sense when the personal narrative of the piece is taken into account, but as someone that does not have access to this narrative, their addition felt unnecessary.

The final piece of the evening, Exit From Eden, showcases sweeping vast movement and statuesque partnering.  Lush gestures often give way to meaningful looks into space, the performers searching for answers to their questions as well as new questions to answer. Partaking in these seventeen performers stories was a lovely way to spend a Thursday night in Salt Lake City and I recommend attending this weekend;  to dance is to speak, and I am glad for the chance to listen to the Penguin Lady.

Erica Womack teaches at SLCC, holds her MFA from the University of Utah and lives with her family in Sugarhouse.  

Rhythm Migration featuring Fara Tolno: African Dance, Drum and Song

The show opened with an eclectic vibration of powerful sound, emanating from the beautiful hands of Fara Tolno, the guest artist of the night. Jolting hand gestures and the shaking of dreadlocks added a playful, yet rigorous attitude to the sounds of his djembe. Fara Tolno electrified the stage with his opening drum call, paying homage to the African ancestors before the show began.

As the show progressed, we saw moments of traditional dances– rites of passage, drum circles with song, an impromptu drum battle between Fara Tolno and Quinn Reesor, and a Modern-infused African dance piece. We witnessed a beautiful vocal rendition by Ms. Eunice Odarkey Lampley of a song resounding the loss of her children during the “torturous activities of the Slave Trade.” accompanied by Wachira Waigwa-Stone and Fara Tolno. We also saw dances from the Ivory Coast, Guinea and Congo. The show captured the vibrancy of color and heritage through traditional garb (dashikis and boubous) and excellent lighting that punctuated the black box theatre. I appreciated Fara Tolno’s closing talk, which illuminated his life story, cultural heritage and the starting of his own arts foundation in Guinea.

Unfortunately, as a social researcher, I was underwhelmed. I am deeply disturbed by the cultural appropriation of African Dance as a form of entertainment in this show. It seemed like the dancers were “dressing up” without critically looking at their position, as an overwhelmingly white cast, in relation to the cultural context of Continental Africa. Why were all the dancers smiling in every piece, when it didn’t seem to ask for it? These facial expressions created a disconnect from the authenticity of Africanist aesthetics in concert dance.  The facial expressions of the movers did not quite fit the coolness of the form, and evoked an overly dramatic, show tune aesthetic. At times, there seemed to be a lack of precision, “cool” virtuosity and groundedness in the dancer’s bodies– all of which are essential to the vitality of African Dance.

It seemed that this show catered to an overwhelmingly white audience with the intention of providing a PBS version of African Dance in culture that lacked deep awareness and empathy for African bodies in concert dance. It was too pre-packaged and relied heavily on Modern Dance vocabulary to tell its story. I appreciate the efforts of all of the movers and drummers involved, but the show as a whole missed the mark for me, in terms of providing a wholesome depiction of African culture and context. We need to look deeply at our own biases, privileges and disparities when we are placing a non-Western culture at the center of the stage, and to appreciate it on its own terms, not on ours.

Yasin A. Fairley is a graduate student in the dance department at the University of Utah. He’s recently performed locally with Porridge for Goldilocks and in Ririe-Woodbury’s Momentum.