“What We See” from learning to loveDANCEmore volume 8

The latest edition of our performance journal, edited by New Media Coordinator Samuel Hanson, will arrive this coming week. Volume 8, displacement, features the work of many talented artists and critics from Utah and beyond. It’ll be available at Daughters of Mudson, get your tickets here. To whet your appetite, here is a piece by Ashley Anderson, which deals with how we see dance from ballet to Monica Bill Barnes.

What We See: Thoughts on Ira Glass, Monica Bill Barnes and The Rite of Spring

Several weeks back I got to see Monica Bill Barnes and Anna Bass perform Monica’s choreography as part of Ira Glass’s show at Kingsbury Hall, and later on I got to see Ballet West’s Rite of Spring. Both experiences left me asking questions about what frames my experience as a viewer, and also placing myself in the position of other audience members. The writing below is my way of grappling with my identity in relation to my peers in an audience. I am trying to see what they see, which is a task I don’t always consider while writing (or thinking) about dance.

I have long loved Ira Glass’s radio show This American Life on NPR. The show transports me to other parts of the country, but also to empathetic and interior parts of myself. When I had finished my MFA and was feeling extremely deflated at the difference between the work I was creating in the supportive environment of a liberal arts college versus my first apartment in Philadelphia, This American Life was one of the only things I enjoyed about my week trudging to and from a day job as a paralegal.

When I learned that Ira Glass was sharing the work of Monica Bill Barnes as part of This American Life performances and later, planning an entire tour, I got heated. My feelings about her works I’ve seen are best summarized by a piece by Andrew Boynton in the New Yorker (November 13, 2012). The title of the article is “Dance that tries too hard”. I’ve always felt that the jokes were just to get a laugh, and that it made me feel talked (or danced) down to. In addition to my hesitance about the creative work itself, I became frustrated that Ira Glass got to  “discover” modern dance for all these people in the audience. In descriptions of the project, modern dance, a vast tradition, was deemed generally unlikeable or un-gettable, by Glass himself. It made me wonder why people couldn’t discover something without it having been curated as extremely palatable for them. What if, instead, I was the person curating someone’s first viewing of modern dance through some of my most favorite things…

…Emily Wexler with walnuts pouring out of her skirt in Yvonne Meier’s Mad Heidi or better yet, her black boots narrowly missing colorful glass bottles in her own solo Fact or Fancy inspired by her grandmother’s radio program of the same name.

…Naughty Bits by Jen McGinn where some dancers wear tails, feathers or priest collars while performing the most difficult and intricate musical patterning I can imagine.

…Children’s Dance Theatre teenagers embodying Water Study and trying to explain to their parents the importance of silence and breathing.

…Katie Meehan lying on the floor listening to the Beach Boys playing out of a seashell covered television; Leah Nelson & Cortney McGuire pulling dresses over pregnant bellies before a re-staging of a duet they made as fivefour; Linda Denise Fisher-Harrell performing Cry in rehearsal in the smallest studio at the American Dance Festival; Dawn Springer breathing life into cover song after cover song in a token of one’s affection; Tara McArthur first performing Duet for Ririe-Woodbury, looking so unbelievably cool; Miguel Gutierrez working on Retrospective Exhibitionist in the small basement studio of the Dana Science Building at Hollins University as my childhood best friend Sarah Crass strides through having no prior knowledge about the artist she will witness and no suspicion of how well-known this piece will become…

Why would those introductions to modern dance be things that anyone would get “less” than highly choreographed jokes? They might not be inherently better than the introduction provided at Kingsbury Hall that night, but would they be as awful as Glass made the rest of “dance” sound?

A week or so later, in the Capitol Theater I watched Ballet West’s The Rite of Spring. The evening featured the title work by Nicolo Fonte, Forgotten Land by Jiri Kylian and Divertimento No. 15 by Balanchine. I experienced the same phenomena of an audience viewing something fresh while I saw different things living inside the dancing.

In the opening piece by Kylian, the audience gasped as the dancers did backbends or offered any kind of yielding in their partnering. What they found surprising I found to be comforting, as I could see inside it the dancing of Jose Limón and Helen Tamiris, or Alvin Ailey’s careful groupings, Doris Humphrey and every other modern dance choreographer who was inspired by the Shakers. While I know the piece is uniquely inspired by visual art, I can see inside of it numerous dances that share the same themes or physicality.

This isn’t to say the choreography is derivative because it wasn’t, it was complex and fascinating. But, in my viewing of both concerts, dances became houses for memories of other performance experiences. And in both cases, the people around me seemed, for the most part, to be watching something new, something singular rather than simultaneous. It almost gave me envy, of what I might experience if I had seen somewhat less.

After Kylian, an overlong Balanchine piece rolled around. The friends I was with asked how I could possibly like something so boring and conventional. My only reply was that based on my experience in ballet class, it seemed like it would be fun to do. I’ve always loved the slightly off kilter petite allegro of Balanchine because I’m good at it; that’s why I was watching his work enthusiastically. Maybe Balanchine is my Monica Bill Barnes, something I find infectious or likable despite my objections to the particular hierarchical structures of ballet including endless pas de deux and stationary corps. It’s something I like just because it makes me personally happy.

Ballet West’s final piece, a new Rite of Spring by Nicolo Fonte, was another exercise in viewing a real life performance simultaneously with other things, namely, Pina Bausch’s dancers running through the dirt and my toddler son watching a T-Rex brutally murder a brontosaurus on a VHS tape of Fantasia in the living room of my childhood home. For others in the audience this Rite, leather clad and featuring an industrial set characteristic of the choreographer, was their first taste of a narrative that, to me, was already distinctly experienced.

Despite it’s newness, ballet audiences can recognize The Rite of Spring the same way they recognize a Bolero, as a system where new ideas can play out rather than a purely new work. I remember in college learning that during the reconstruction of the original Rite, pointe shoes were examined to explore the steps. We all called it “Ballet CSI” but really it’s more magical than that, and speaks to what I’m after here–– that steps performed fleetingly do hold a lot more of a moment inside them than we offer credit for when we engage in conversations about the way in which dances disappear in time. While this wasn’t my favoriteRite, it does remind me just how many exist and that’s a kind of gift.

Despite my preferences, or those of the New Yorker writer mentioned above, the audience at Kingsbury Hall and Capitol Theater on those nights seemed to be eating up what was presented, whether it was because of a witty radio host or an astute artistic director. The landscape of performance is inevitably dominated by what we are told is likable or good rather than what we may find on our own.

As I write this I can already predict the response from my peers: “but don’t you think Ira Glass opened the doors for people to think differently about dance?” My answer is unequivocally no–– it only opens doors for people to think differently about Monica Bill Barnes, a person they’ve now been given permission to understand. I significantly doubt that anyone left Kingsbury Hall choosing to look into what modern dance offerings were made by comparable regional artists. Similarly, I’m curious if Ballet West audiences were motivated as viewers to seek out other Rites, or if they simply enjoyed the work of Nicolo Fonte, who will make many more ballets for the company, then left the theater.

All of that is fine. Beyond my curiosity over my relationship with other dance goers, I ultimately left both theaters glad that people enjoyed dance. It’s the same way I felt when my young students at the American Dance Festival enjoyed Pilobolus. You couldn’t have payed me to watch the concert, but when something seems magical or fresh to you, it just is.

Ashley Anderson is a choreographer based in SLC. Her recent work has been presented locally at the Rose Wagner, the Rio Gallery, the BYU Museum of Art, Finch Lane, the City Library, the Ladies’ Literary Club, the Masonic Temple and Urban Lounge.

2014 in Review, Dancing and Journaling in 2015

SL Trib writer Kathy Adams provides an excellent place to start the annual ritual of looking back. She mentions most of the highlights of Utah’s more established companies—RDT, RW and of course, Ballet West. It was also a great year for us. Mudson continued to grow and evolve in unexpected ways. Some of my favorite works this year included Ashley Anderson’s new duet on Alysia Ramos and Amy Freitas and Amy’s own Porridge for Goldilocks with live music by the Apartment Quartet Society. I also really enjoyed seeing Solange Gomes and her flamenco students in that vaulted ballroom—again, the power of live music, but this time integrated with the dancing in a way unique to that form.

Daughters was, I think, better than ever, and many other independent shows graced the eyes of Salt Lakers, including Molly Heller’s if a snake could bite, which I sadly missed and the U’s poorly attended but excellent tour of Matteo Fargion and Jonathan Burrows.

Another way in which our work at loveDANCEmore flourished was in deeper-than-ever discussions on the blog and in the journal. Look back to read the discussions of race and authenticity around Rhythm Migration or the long thread around the various rites of spring different members of our community saw this year. These important local dance dialogues happen nowhere else (that I know of). Then, once you’re inspired, write something or draw something for the new journal!!! The deadline is FEBRUARY 1, 2015!!! The theme is forgotten dance histories!

And remember, if you want to write about a show happening in 2015, there’s no requirement other than that you let us know. If you don’t like what you’re reading, or you just want to share your perspective, all you have to do is ask! Our aspiration is to be an OPEN forum for dance in SLC!!! Happy new year!!!!

Samuel Hanson is the New Media Czar of loveDANCEmore. He also writes about dance here and has edited the last two editions of learning to loveDANCEmore.

Rhythm Migration, in response

In the short time loveDANCEmore has posted dance criticism there have been only a handful of shows which generated significant dialogue. As a site that shares primarily peer reviews it’s difficult enough to get a writer willing to offer opinion, let alone many commenting voices. Most frequently the dialogue generated asserts an alternative point-of-view but one that simply disparages the critique without presenting a new way of looking at the issues presented. With this in mind, I was thrilled to see Kim Strunk’s commentary about “Rhythm Migration,” an RDT Link project; not because I agree with one point of view or another (I couldn’t see the show, it was sold out) but because it respectfully engages with potent considerations of presenting cultural forms in Salt Lake — she contextualizes her work within the community and provides a new opinion from within “Rhythm Migration” itself. With her permission I re-print her comments here as a way of furthering conversation but also in the hope that more artists with new points-of-view find themselves willing to write reviews and comments about what they see on stage.

loveDANCEmore provides a great site and innovative open forum for sharing and supporting Utah dance. I recently discovered loveDANCEmore when I heard there was a review of Rhythm Migration posted. I commend Ashley Anderson for opening the space for responses and respectfully submit the following feedback on Yasin A. Fairley’s review of Rhythm Migration, An Evening of African Dance, Drum and Song with Rogine and Friends.

Mr. Fairley begins with a vibrant tone that matches the energy of the evening and uses some nice images to bring the event to life for the reader. However, his tone and direction take an abrupt 180 degree turn in the third paragraph where he begins with a blatant accusation of cultural appropriation without any articulable basis. Mr. Fairley continues with a litany of allegations and concerns, which placed the event in a very negative light.

As an established dance artist/educator, as well as a participant in Rhythm Migration, I am shocked by the reviewer’s accusation of cultural appropriation in the show. Although Mr. Fairley hurled the allegation of appropriation at an entire community of teachers, artists, dancers and students, (referenced as “the show”) I personally take great offense. I am deeply rooted in the community that came together for Rhythm Migration and have garnered a positive reputation among my colleagues for promoting West and Central African dance and culture in Utah and beyond. Understandably, I cannot take this unfounded accusation lightly. I believe Mr. Fairley needed to give his loaded comment considerably more thought before publishing in a public arena.

Cultural appropriation refers to taking or stealing aspects of another culture, such as dance and music, and exploiting them for one’s own benefit without permission and/or without giving appropriate credit. That being said, what transpired in Rhythm Migration reflected a profound cultural appreciation, not appropriation.

It seems the reviewer conducted little to no research on the community of dancers, teachers, and choreographers that came together for Rhythm Migration, including Fara Tolno. This African dance community profoundly values, respects and promotes awareness of various African cultures.

Salt Lake City’s African dance community has gathered for over 20 years and extends well beyond Utah. The configuration of participants includes teachers from Congo, Guinea, Ghana, Mali, Ivory Coast, Senegal and Zimbabwe, as well as students from across the Western United States. Many members of the community travel regularly to Africa to conduct humanitarian work and research in the dance, music, and culture of a particular region.

No one involved in the show represented the dances and music of West and Central Africa as their own, except of course Fara Tolno from Guinea, West Africa. Quite the contrary, the cultural sharing that took place gave obvious and respectful reference to the rhythms, songs, and dances of West and Central Africa. Additionally, all participants were supported, encouraged, and mentored by their teachers.

Although predominantly white, as Mr. Fairley points out, our community came together Saturday August 23rd to celebrate, not exploit or appropriate, West and Central African dance and music.

Yet another concern of the reviewer revolved around what he perceived to be a lack of the “aesthetic of the cool” in the dancer’s performance. “Coolness” represents an incredibly nuanced and complex organizing principal of African dance. It resides in many realms including the village or community, the individual, the ancestors, and the spiritual. I will venture to guess that had the dancers exhibited an “aesthetic of the cool” the reviewer would still have been offended, possibly even more so.

Drawing upon the idea of “coolness” was the responsibility of the choreographers, not the dancers, and the aesthetic was not necessary or appropriate in the context of this show. I wonder if the fundamental issue for this reviewer stems from the fact that the performers were mostly white, which is clearly implied in the following comments:

“It seemed like the dancers were “dressing up” without critically looking at their position, as an overwhelmingly white cast…”

“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.”

Yes, we live in Utah where whites constitute the majority of the population. According to the 2010 census, only 2.7% of Salt Lake City’s population are black. That being said, I find the allegation that the show catered to a white audience absurd and absolutely false. In fact, the only thing catered in the evening was the food.

The open forum and lovely reception following the concert could have provided rich opportunities for Mr. Fairley, a social researcher, to interview Producer, Director, and major contributor to the show, Rosie Banchero-Adcock,(who was not once mentioned in the review) as well as, participants and audience members; thereby garnering more accurate information regarding the intent of the evening and make-up of the community.

I am equally perplexed by the reviewer’s comparison of the “evening to a PBS version of African dance…” Normally, I would consider his comment a compliment, however in this case, I can only assume a negative comparison and regard it as somewhat of an insult to PBS, which is quite bold. The statement about lacking deep awareness and empathy is completely out of place in this context and also unfounded. Additionally the description of the evening as “pre-packaged” leaves me baffled.

Furthermore, I completely disagree with Mr. Fairley’s statement that the show “relied heavily on Modern dance vocabulary to tell its story” Only one piece fused the genres of Modern, Contemporary and African. If Mr. Fairley observed Modern dance vocabulary throughout then I can only assume he isn’t familiar with the wide range of African dance styles that permeate each region of Africa. As a long time student and teacher of West and Central African dance forms, I understand the substantial influence African dance had and still has on Modern choreographers, starting with Martha Graham’s contract and release. I am also of the opinion that Post-Modern dance was heavily influenced by the “aesthetic of the cool.” The examples are endless.

In my cultural immersions in Africa, most recently the Republic of Congo in 2010, I had the opportunity to observe countless performances and rehearsals in formal and informal venues. Some were traditional, some contemporary, modern, hip-hop and theatrical. I discovered that African artists want to maintain their traditional dances, however, they do not want to be constrained by them.

Mr. Fairley concludes his review by admonishing us 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 it’s own terms, not ours” My advise to the reviewer as an Associate Professor with a research emphasis in cultural dance forms is to take his words to heart and look deeply and critically at his own biases so he can come to terms with how they affect his writing and research.

Shrouded in personal biases and unfair allegations and assumptions, Mr. Fairley’s review comes off as accusatory and somewhat angry in it’s tone. This kind of diatribe does not seem in the spirit of loveDANCEmore.

Notwithstanding the fact that I hold a deep awareness of the importance of the issues brought forward by the reviewer, I am utterly “overwhelmed” with the negative tone and endless litany of bold,unfounded accusations made by Mr. Fairley and am completely “underwhelmed” with his review.

Kim Strunk is an Associate Professor of Dance (UVU 2002-2014) She danced professionally with Repertory Dance Theatre (1984-1996) and holds an MFA in Modern Dance from the University of Utah (2002). In 1996, she founded RDT’s Community School African dance class. Kim Strunk now lives abroad and continues her research and teaching as an Independent Dance Artist/Educator/Scholar.

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.

“What We See” from learning to loveDANCEmore volume 8

The latest edition of our performance journal, edited by New Media Coordinator Samuel Hanson, will arrive this coming week. Volume 8, displacement, features the work of many talented artists and critics from Utah and beyond. It’ll be available at Daughters of Mudson, get your tickets here. To whet your appetite, here is a piece by Ashley Anderson, which deals with how we see dance from ballet to Monica Bill Barnes.

What We See: Thoughts on Ira Glass, Monica Bill Barnes and The Rite of Spring

Several weeks back I got to see Monica Bill Barnes and Anna Bass perform Monica’s choreography as part of Ira Glass’s show at Kingsbury Hall, and later on I got to see Ballet West’s Rite of Spring. Both experiences left me asking questions about what frames my experience as a viewer, and also placing myself in the position of other audience members. The writing below is my way of grappling with my identity in relation to my peers in an audience. I am trying to see what they see, which is a task I don’t always consider while writing (or thinking) about dance.

I have long loved Ira Glass’s radio show This American Life on NPR. The show transports me to other parts of the country, but also to empathetic and interior parts of myself. When I had finished my MFA and was feeling extremely deflated at the difference between the work I was creating in the supportive environment of a liberal arts college versus my first apartment in Philadelphia, This American Life was one of the only things I enjoyed about my week trudging to and from a day job as a paralegal.

When I learned that Ira Glass was sharing the work of Monica Bill Barnes as part of This American Life performances and later, planning an entire tour, I got heated. My feelings about her works I’ve seen are best summarized by a piece by Andrew Boynton in the New Yorker (November 13, 2012). The title of the article is “Dance that tries too hard”. I’ve always felt that the jokes were just to get a laugh, and that it made me feel talked (or danced) down to. In addition to my hesitance about the creative work itself, I became frustrated that Ira Glass got to  “discover” modern dance for all these people in the audience. In descriptions of the project, modern dance, a vast tradition, was deemed generally unlikeable or un-gettable, by Glass himself. It made me wonder why people couldn’t discover something without it having been curated as extremely palatable for them. What if, instead, I was the person curating someone’s first viewing of modern dance through some of my most favorite things…

…Emily Wexler with walnuts pouring out of her skirt in Yvonne Meier’s Mad Heidi or better yet, her black boots narrowly missing colorful glass bottles in her own solo Fact or Fancy inspired by her grandmother’s radio program of the same name.

…Naughty Bits by Jen McGinn where some dancers wear tails, feathers or priest collars while performing the most difficult and intricate musical patterning I can imagine.

…Children’s Dance Theatre teenagers embodying Water Study and trying to explain to their parents the importance of silence and breathing.

…Katie Meehan lying on the floor listening to the Beach Boys playing out of a seashell covered television; Leah Nelson & Cortney McGuire pulling dresses over pregnant bellies before a re-staging of a duet they made as fivefour; Linda Denise Fisher-Harrell performing Cry in rehearsal in the smallest studio at the American Dance Festival; Dawn Springer breathing life into cover song after cover song in a token of one’s affection; Tara McArthur first performing Duet for Ririe-Woodbury, looking so unbelievably cool; Miguel Gutierrez working on Retrospective Exhibitionist in the small basement studio of the Dana Science Building at Hollins University as my childhood best friend Sarah Crass strides through having no prior knowledge about the artist she will witness and no suspicion of how well-known this piece will become…

Why would those introductions to modern dance be things that anyone would get “less” than highly choreographed jokes? They might not be inherently better than the introduction provided at Kingsbury Hall that night, but would they be as awful as Glass made the rest of “dance” sound?

A week or so later, in the Capitol Theater I watched Ballet West’s The Rite of Spring. The evening featured the title work by Nicolo Fonte, Forgotten Land by Jiri Kylian and Divertimento No. 15 by Balanchine. I experienced the same phenomena of an audience viewing something fresh while I saw different things living inside the dancing.

In the opening piece by Kylian, the audience gasped as the dancers did backbends or offered any kind of yielding in their partnering. What they found surprising I found to be comforting, as I could see inside it the dancing of Jose Limón and Helen Tamiris, or Alvin Ailey’s careful groupings, Doris Humphrey and every other modern dance choreographer who was inspired by the Shakers. While I know the piece is uniquely inspired by visual art, I can see inside of it numerous dances that share the same themes or physicality.

This isn’t to say the choreography is derivative because it wasn’t, it was complex and fascinating. But, in my viewing of both concerts, dances became houses for memories of other performance experiences. And in both cases, the people around me seemed, for the most part, to be watching something new, something singular rather than simultaneous. It almost gave me envy, of what I might experience if I had seen somewhat less.

After Kylian, an overlong Balanchine piece rolled around. The friends I was with asked how I could possibly like something so boring and conventional. My only reply was that based on my experience in ballet class, it seemed like it would be fun to do. I’ve always loved the slightly off kilter petite allegro of Balanchine because I’m good at it; that’s why I was watching his work enthusiastically. Maybe Balanchine is my Monica Bill Barnes, something I find infectious or likable despite my objections to the particular hierarchical structures of ballet including endless pas de deux and stationary corps. It’s something I like just because it makes me personally happy.

Ballet West’s final piece, a new Rite of Spring by Nicolo Fonte, was another exercise in viewing a real life performance simultaneously with other things, namely, Pina Bausch’s dancers running through the dirt and my toddler son watching a T-Rex brutally murder a brontosaurus on a VHS tape of Fantasia in the living room of my childhood home. For others in the audience this Rite, leather clad and featuring an industrial set characteristic of the choreographer, was their first taste of a narrative that, to me, was already distinctly experienced.

Despite it’s newness, ballet audiences can recognize The Rite of Spring the same way they recognize a Bolero, as a system where new ideas can play out rather than a purely new work. I remember in college learning that during the reconstruction of the original Rite, pointe shoes were examined to explore the steps. We all called it “Ballet CSI” but really it’s more magical than that, and speaks to what I’m after here–– that steps performed fleetingly do hold a lot more of a moment inside them than we offer credit for when we engage in conversations about the way in which dances disappear in time. While this wasn’t my favoriteRite, it does remind me just how many exist and that’s a kind of gift.

Despite my preferences, or those of the New Yorker writer mentioned above, the audience at Kingsbury Hall and Capitol Theater on those nights seemed to be eating up what was presented, whether it was because of a witty radio host or an astute artistic director. The landscape of performance is inevitably dominated by what we are told is likable or good rather than what we may find on our own.

As I write this I can already predict the response from my peers: “but don’t you think Ira Glass opened the doors for people to think differently about dance?” My answer is unequivocally no–– it only opens doors for people to think differently about Monica Bill Barnes, a person they’ve now been given permission to understand. I significantly doubt that anyone left Kingsbury Hall choosing to look into what modern dance offerings were made by comparable regional artists. Similarly, I’m curious if Ballet West audiences were motivated as viewers to seek out other Rites, or if they simply enjoyed the work of Nicolo Fonte, who will make many more ballets for the company, then left the theater.

All of that is fine. Beyond my curiosity over my relationship with other dance goers, I ultimately left both theaters glad that people enjoyed dance. It’s the same way I felt when my young students at the American Dance Festival enjoyed Pilobolus. You couldn’t have payed me to watch the concert, but when something seems magical or fresh to you, it just is.

Ashley Anderson is a choreographer based in SLC. Her recent work has been presented locally at the Rose Wagner, the Rio Gallery, the BYU Museum of Art, Finch Lane, the City Library, the Ladies’ Literary Club, the Masonic Temple and Urban Lounge.