Joining the Corps: Ballet West’s Iconic Classics

New Yorker magazine critic Arlene Croce spent a good deal of her career finding words for Balanchine’s choreography. In 1975 she got to the heart of the emblematic nature of Balanchine’s objectives: “To make plain to American audiences the dynamics of classical style. In [“Symphony in C”] the dancing grows from simple to complex structures, and every stage of growth is consequentially related to every other. It is partly because of their structural logic that his ballets make such great sense—or such vivid nonsense—to us years after they were completed, but it’s also because such logic isn’t the featured attraction; it’s only the means by which a particular kind of entertainment is elucidated.” Ballet West clearly agrees with Croce’s sentiments, having regularly presented Balanchine. Iconic Classics doesn’t only revive “Symphony in C” but completes it, showing the full ballet after formerly excerpting the work.

Last week, Ballet West presented a rehearsal of the piece with live accompaniment of the Bizet score by Jared Oaks, a frequent conductor at Ballet West’s performances. The new Jessie Eccles Quinney Ballet Centre studios, where they performed, are as large as the Capitol Theatre stage, plus wing space, making it possible to take in the full ballet. The setting is sizeable but still more intimate than what audiences typically experience.

The soloists were, as usual, formidable; Emily Adams in particular captures joy through striving, a quality inherent in Balanchine’s work. But it was the corps that continued to draw attention as their power grew with proximity to the material. Artistic Director Adam Sklute persistently suggested that the corps dancers keep thinking about lengthening their backs. From a seat in the house it’s impossible to see how heavy the breathing of the corps is and unlike a soloist who may exit the stage, the corps primarily returns to the sides with their bodies held precisely. The difficulty in this task is easy to overlook which is particularly interesting considering how it is their role that holds the work together, keeping it turning like a kaleidoscope rather than a variety show of smaller acts.

Sklute also gave affirmations to members of the corps who were moving fully off the standing leg, a key characteristic of Balanchine’s work. This gesture is more visible sans costuming and theatrical lighting. Letting an audience in on the complexity of a posture makes the magic of pointe, in which a dancer supports all her weight entirely on the tips of her feet, more visible. Some of this magic may be hidden to audiences who attend the Ballet’s season opener this next week, but they can still consider these moments, opting to let their eyes drift across the action, not needing to be tied to the center. In particular this thought extends to those who find non-narrative ballet inaccessible but who may be persuaded by the sheer difficulty of small moments.

“Symphony in C” isn’t the only work presented in Iconic Classics. In a triple bill, it joins “Fancy Free” by Jerome Robbins and “Overgrown Path” by Jiri Kylian. The programming choices Sklute makes are never easy and in a post-rehearsal discussion he revealed that there are always subtle negotiations between what longtime patrons may expect and what newer audiences may crave. A craving coincides too with Sklute’s common metaphor for a program, a good meal. In the case ofIconic Classics he considers “Fancy Free” an appetizer, “Overgrown Path” a dense main course and “Symphony in C” a concluding hot fudge sundae. To return to critic Croce, she looked at “Symphony” again in the ‘80s and overheard a man in the lobby greeting a companion by saying, “Oh, I couldn’t miss ‘Symphony in C.’ It’s my bread and water.”

Ballet West’s “Iconic Classics,” at the Janet Quinney Lawson Capitol Theatre, Salt Lake City, Nov. 6 -14, www.balletwest.org.

Ashley Anderson is the director of loveDANCEmore community events as part of her non-profit, ashley anderson dances. See more of her work on ashleyandersondances.com  This piece was written for the November edition of 15 BYTES and can be found here.  Check both sites for a review of the production this weekend.

7&1 at Art 270

Alexandra Bradshaw & Jon Yerby’s 7&1: A Guitar and Dance Performance Eventtook place this past Friday at Art 270, a gallery in downtown SLC run by artist Terence Stephens. Bradshaw performs with Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company and Yerby is an established performer and teacher of classical guitar. This performance was the first time the husband-and-wife duo have combined their crafts.

Amid walls of artwork and a full audience, Bradshaw and Yerby took their places opposite each other, lit by just two shin lights. Though the gallery space is fairly small once chairs are set up, Bradshaw’s expansive movement utilized the space to its fullest potential. She cut deep lunges and full contractions with casual bourrees and moments of stillness. Bradshaw has a strong elegance about her, visible even in moments such as when she pushed a chair backwards with her feet while in a handstand.

Yerby accompanied Bradshaw on the guitar from a seat that faced where she danced. Both Bradshaw’s moments of pause (where she would face Yerby directly) and her phrasework yielded a palpable connection to Yerby’s accompaniment and presence in the performing space. Even when she exited for an interlude, it was clear that Yerby’s guitar solo was inextricably linked to the traces of her that still lingered on the dance floor.

Bradshaw and Yerby found a satisfying joint voice in 7&1, carried by their choices as individual artists and in establishing a new relationship as performing partners. Additionally, Art 270  worked incredibly well as an intimate setting for this tandem of music and dance. I look forward to seeing future collaborations from Bradshaw and Yerby, and hope to see more dance presented in this space.

Amy Falls is loveDANCEmore’s program coordinator, as well as a frequent contributor to the blog. She performs and works in other arts admin positions here in SLC.

Photo of Jon Yerby and Alexandra Bradshaw courtesy of loveDANCEmore

Day One at the Warehouse

“Day One” handles choreographic transitions for Breeanne Saxton & Eliza Tappan, two recent graduates from the University of Utah. The self-presenting duo is finding their way in an artistic landscape distinctly different from the infrastructure of a public university. Working in a converted warehouse on Brooklyn Avenue, they make clear any new paths will be on their own terms.

Before the show, a program articulates aims to physically research partnerships and trauma. The idea of sensing your way through a topic is certainly not new but it can be challenging in its presupposition that an audience cares not only your performance but also about your feelings. I frequently find this brand of dance disappointing; as dancers, moving through a difficult moment often feels right but risks leaving visual forms under-explored. In this regard “Day One” proves at times to be both the exception and the rule.

Sitting in kelly green bleachers reminiscent of a state fair, the audience surrounds the duo as they assemble interlocking foam pads. The mats combined with matching Parkside Panthers t-shirts and wrestling shoes offer an indication of what follows. The pair rhythmically warms their bodies in the concrete space while developing hyper-aggressive personae. Petite gestures like handshakes eventually develop into intense and escalating partnering.

Both dancers maintain fierce commitment to each encounter, never giving an impression that they are performing wrestling. They are wrestling, with the cusp of legitimate injury inching closer with each pass. Two children in the audience laughed from start to finish because it’s severe enough to become cartoon-like, a dancing equivalent of characters dropping anvils onto one another’s heads. This isn’t to say it’s brute violence, buried within the hostility there is an underlying sense of support, that this is actually good for one partner or another. Whether that’s troubling, it’s also true. At one point when Breeanne kicks Eliza’s legs it seems awful but if you know what it feels like, is actually an exercise that gives relief to an aching body.

The associated emotional landscape is incidentally one that I am interested in. Unlike a persistent trope of heteronormative dance partnering which echoes domestic violence, “Day One” engages with a much more realistic, if less narrative, depiction of female friendships. Task based posturing effectively bridges feelings of being hopelessly overwhelmed with a way to be in space.

There are a few times that it appears the show will end and that cruelty has subsided. The dance doesn’t end at these times but occasionally the pair tries something new, resuming a handshake or running up and down the steps. As they repeatedly break through the surface tension there emerges the possibility to reveal new, admittedly formal, moving ideas. But at the true end it’s as if they are afraid to begin to dance.

Ashley Anderson directs loveDANCEmore events as part of her non-profit, “ashley anderson dances.” See more of her work here.

Dance reviews on loveDANCEmore are shared with 15 BYTES, Utah’s Visual Art Magazine.  

The Warehouse Theater was donated by Sackerson, a theater group performing Bride of Frankenstein through Halloween. The set photographed is from that production and more info can be found here.

Garden After Dark: Immersive Dance Experience at Red Butte Garden’s Legends of Camelot

If this Halloween season you’re looking for something with a touch more art and a lot fewer chainsaws, Red Butte Garden’s Garden After Dark: Legends of Camelot is the place to go to become enchanted. For the last two weeks of October, the gardens on Salt Lake’s east bench have been transformed into a place where legend comes alive as visitors wind their way through the grounds on an Arthurian-themed quest. At stations along the way, little ones (and large ones) have the chance to decorate a protective shield with heraldic symbols, obtain a glowing magic potion, collect healing herbs and make an oak-leaf crown, all the while looking for scenes from the Arthurian legend: the lady of the lake, the sword in the stone, the knights of the round table.

It’s part nature stroll, part Renaissance festival, with a good dose of Halloween atmosphere. There’s nothing really scary, but plenty of eerie ambience, including blue-light effects, dry ice mist and a cast of performers that gives the entire space a sense of magic and mystery. You’ll be tempted to go early in the evening, when it’s warmer, but it’s worth putting on an extra layer and waiting until it’s properly dark to enjoy the full effect — that way you’ll be able to see the light projections on the hills on either side of Red Butte, be startled by the sudden appearance of a wandering Merlin, and enjoy the enchanted forest in all its phosphorescent glory.

Throughout, parents and children will be beguiled by “The Mists,” an immersive dance theater experience that happens in the gardens and features professionals from Utah’s dance community. “The Mists” evokes the story of Avalon, the magic-infused realm that preceded Camelot. You won’t have to get out your Geoffrey of Monmouth or Chretien de Troyes to enjoy the experience, but you may need to pause for a moment to absorb it. There are no timed performances, so what you see may depend on when you arrive, and taking a second lap along the quest trail may provoke new surprises and an expanded understanding of the story (a short guide available just inside the entrance will help).

The performances are part of a mythical realm that for these few nights in October seems to break through a fairy veil to become part of our mundane, if briefly festive, world. While the anthropomorphic herd of wild stags near Guinevere’s Meadow may prance up to you and encourage a rub or scratch with the tilt of their head and shrug of their shoulders, the denizens of the enchanted forest likely will ignore you as they play their flutes from a tree branch, bang their drums or chase after glow-in-the-dark bubbles. As you leave the magic show (which alternates nights with a raptor encounter), you may catch a glimpse of an intense, raven-like Morgan stalking the fair Guinevere, or while you’re sitting at a table enjoying a cup of hot chocolate, the Priestesses of Avalon, dressed in their long black cloaks, may swarm past you like a band of grackles, to perch on a stone wall, encircle a young tree, or puff and chant around a stone cauldron, all the while ignoring the young girl in her Snow White costume, trying to get their attention. The performances are concrete and compelling, enough to infuse the carnival-like experience of children teasing siblings or asking for another candied apple with a slightly unsettling air of awe and dread.

Shawn Rossiter is the founder of Artists of Utah and editor of its online magazine, 15 Bytes. Reviews on loveDANCEmore are regularly shared collaboratively with the site.

Red Butte Garden’s Garden After Dark: Legends of Camelot is Oct. 22, 23, 24 & 29 from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. and Oct. 30 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. 300 Wakara Way, Salt Lake City, UT 84108. Price: $6 for Garden members, $12 for the general public and free for children 2 and under.

While not required, costumes are certainly welcome.

Everything Tendentious…at the Main Library

Everything Tendentious or M in Luck, was presented in a suite at the downtown City Library this past weekend.  The inter-disciplinary performance by German artistic director Michael Schmidt featured two artists living and working in Germany alongside locals, Analeigh Sanderson, Joshua Yago Mora and Tanja London. It was refreshing to walk into a show not knowing what to expect; congratulations to Tanja London for bringing a different aesthetic and sensibility to Salt Lake.

The space was intimate with audience members sitting closely on a raised platform of real green grass (a stark juxtaposition to the explored cyber-world) or standing in the perimeter or the room.  The content is focused and developed, examining themes of technology, bodies, and human connection or lack thereof.  These are themes that many artists have been exploring lately and this particular exploration goes between actual lectures and embodied movement, exploring topics ranging from the Industrial Revolution to the vastness of Facebook and cybernetics.

While I am not sure I feel the urgency to join a revolution against technology, partly because humanity has always been pretty awful with or without the aid of computers, this show was powerful. It was strongest when the human body moved with and against themes of connection and disconnection, sweat appearing on shirts and faces as a reminder of our humanness, our flesh and blood.  However, the inclusion of text was also engaging and organic with carefully choreographed transitions serving to either dispel or create tension. An ambient video design by Scott Wasilewski reminded us of our digital age, and often was projected on the dancer’s forms, imprinting their bodies with the familiar glow of florescent light.

Ten or so exercise balls were used to offer visualization of our relationship with technology, concealing the dancers in the beginning and undeniably supporting Lena Visser while she danced and spoke of revolting against the industrial revolution, and ultimately trapping the dancers, their entire bodies hidden as their arms barely outstretched.  All performers were skilled both theatrically and physically, and blended the two back and forth throughout the show.

The show climaxed with the four women frantically moving their bodies, twisting and falling and contorting, unable to escape the bodies that we are given despite the technology we have invented.  The feeling in the room at the conclusion of the show was electric, the small audience clapping for several minutes, all of us alive in our skin while our phones and computers waited for us at home.

Erica Womack is a Salt Lake based choreographer. She teaches at SLCC and regularly contributes to loveDANCEmore.