RDT: Dabke

In a striking moment from Dabke, Repertory Dance Theatre’s eight performers linked arms, stomping and dipping in rhythm, they wove across the Rose Wagner stage to Ali El Deek’s crooning voice. Outbursts of solos and duets juxtaposed these group interludes, with performer Justin Bass’ rapid fire tiny foot poundings and long arabesque extensions especially memorable.

After the show, performer Lauren Curley remarked that though the performance is physically rigorous, she feels carried by the energy of the piece. Similarly, the program notes from this April 6 - 8 performance conclude that “Watching Dabke is like looking into someone’s heart or diary. The dancers let the audience see their souls, frustrations, insecurities, passions, yearnings, fears and their hope.”

I longed to be carried by the energy of the work the way that she described.

All the pieces were there; the dancing superb, the concept relevant, program notes and pre-performance documentary intended to make the work accessible. Yet, I struggled to remain engaged with the performance. Was it me? Other audience members loved the work, based on tales from social media. Maybe I wasn't present enough? Or perhaps it was something to do with the choreographic scaffold, which I did not find adequate to support the dancing or the ideas.

Dabke was developed by Zvi Gotheiner in New York, and has been performed across the nation to both acclaim and controversy. Based on the dabke, a folk dance originating in “a region of the Middle East that includes the countries of Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, and Syria” (per the program notes), Gotheiner and company gathered material from YouTube videos and melded it with their own postmodern steps and structure, infusing their personal stories to build duets and solos.

At this point, I know you’re expecting me to write about cultural appropriation.

And yes, grappling with the violence of cultural appropriation has never been more relevant. This is true in relationship to concerns in dance - the topic of the most recent Conference on Research in Dance was “Beyond Appropriation” - and Thursday’s news of the US bombing in Syria - the latest in a complicated history of involvement. So did Gotheiner ‘do the dabke right?’ I don’t know. There were problematic elements on the one hand, but on the other hand, I appreciated and related to his honest grappling in the dance and program notes with a cultural history criss-crossed with appropriations and oppressions.Taking dances off YouTube and rearranging bits of them on stage is not a new idea. What did seem new was his frank discussion in the notes of this process and why he did it.

Fundamentally, did the staging do the piece justice?

I longed for a narrative through line that could carry me during the work, or more juxtaposition and disruption in the jarring musical transitions, amplifying the original score by Scott Killian that fades snippets of song in and out. Somehow Dabke was awkwardly between two possibilities, achieving neither one. Gotheiner played with different arrangements of dancers, steps, and music, lifted up the curtains to expose the wings, but this format of transition between duets and solos to group pieces still felt stale.

Choreographers need editors. Before my simple review hits your computer screen, at least two people will have edited it. Perhaps a similar process could have helped Gotheiner better include the audience in the satisfying emotional journey that the performers enjoyed.

If you missed Dabke, you can look check out Gotheiner’s new commission for RDT, Sacred Land/Sacred Waters.

Liz Ivkovich is the editor of the print edition of loveDANCEmore. She is putting her MFA in dance (Utah ‘16) to work for the University of Utah’s Sustainability Office and Global Change & Sustainability Center.

Ballet West II: The Little Mermaid

Avila, my five-year-old, and I went to a recent matinee performance of Ballet West’s The Little Mermaid. We both enjoyed the gorgeous dancing, and at a one hour length, it was just the right amount of time for a Saturday afternoon.

Snippets of narrative from Hans Christian Andersen’s original fairy tale helped guide the story, keeping both of us engaged in the magic. I was impressed with the integration of a multi-age cast from Ballet West II and the Ballet West Academy. The women were all stunning, especially Eliana Vogel, a young little mermaid, and Brittany Rand as a sensuously evil Sea Witch. The foppishness of the male characters made me laugh out loud, adding to the overall charm of the work. For example, I loved Niko Yaroslaski’s interpretation of the ambiguously religious priest/rabbi figure in his brief appearances 1) randomly and in a very worried manner helping the prince off the beach after his shipwreck, and 2) abruptly emerging to officiate the wedding.  

The plot is more along the lines of the original fairy tale than the Disney classic, which sparked some lively discussion during the show. Here are a few quotes from Avila:

“Everyone is a really, really good dancer.”

“I like the mermaids when the little one goes to the surface.”

“I like how she saved the prince.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell the prince that it was the little mermaid who saved him, not the other girl?”

When the little mermaid’s sisters trade their hair for a knife for the little mermaid to use to kill the prince and win back her tail, Avila loudly suggested that the little mermaid should just kill the prince’s new wife. I thought that put an interesting Fatal Attraction-esque lens on the whole story.

Avila drew this picture of the ocean waves and sea foam, seamless duets and quartets danced by the Ballet West Academy Professional Training Division, both of our favorite part.

Drawing by Avila, 5 years old, inspired by Ballet West II's The Little Mermaid.

Liz Ivkovich is the editor of the print edition of loveDANCEmore. She is putting her MFA in dance (Utah ‘16) to work for the University of Utah’s Sustainability Office and Global Change & Sustainability Center.

Tanja London & collaborators: Save Your Own Skin

The performance content of Save Your Own Skin is inspired by questions arising from a prototype of bulletproof skin and other ways that we attempt to shield ourselves from vulnerability. The collaborators of the work include Tanja London, Carloss Chamberlin, Jason Rabb, Nick Foster, Ami Hanna.

The performance takes place within a ‘thought exhibition,’ which, based on the event descriptions I had read, I initially thought meant that there would be a well-explained exhibition that would give context to the performance. It turned out a ‘thought exhibition’ can look like a modern art-inspired set with no explanation.

The thought exhibition is located in a small storefront of the Salt Lake City Public Library. Though the audience is limited to 20 people per performance, there were maybe half that many chairs at the premiere this past Friday. People who arrived less early filled up the floor space near the chairs. The audience was hushed, and it didn’t feel appropriate to speak at more than a whisper.

Slowly, I realized the cool statue near the entrance was actually a live person, dancer and thinker Tanja London, covered in blue foam triangles, Velcro-ed together to resemble a sculpture by Xavier Veilhan.

It’s unclear at what moment the performance ‘began.’ The fog machine went off three times with pauses in between each time. Then London twitched - or did she?

For a long time she barely moved. Gradually her movements became larger. They were stiff and ungraceful. Bit by bit, London broke through her costume, and of course was wearing nude clothing underneath. Nude costuming is commonly used in modern dance, because it’s visually striking and because it suggests the ideas of natural, vulnerable, and human. This costume change said to me, ‘you’re more natural yet more vulnerable without the man-made things you surround yourself with.’

At some point within this first section of the performance, a thin bright blue line of light in the shape of a rhombus was cast across London’s scene. I felt this made this part of the experience less enjoyable, but maybe that was the intention.

Blue triangles shed, London ducked under and behind the sheer white fabric that decorates the space. She proceeded to press her way along the fabric stretched in front of the walls, interacting with it in a manner that seemed an expansion of a concept that Salt Lake City has recently seen from SBDance, which they first showcased in their Wine Theater Food and Box Bar performances of early 2016.

Much of the audience had to move to different seating arrangements in order to get a view of London as she transitioned from section I to section II. There were great moments of quiet eye contact and smiles that seemed to say ‘modern dance, right?’ and people scooting over to make room for others on the floor.

Emerging from behind the fabric, London’s quality of movement had, thankfully, changed from section I, to become more natural and attractive. In section II, London expressed vulnerability, wearing nude-colored clothing, fumbling with the thin ropes and carabiners that dangled from around her waist, asking the audience for help her with clipping the lines to various parts of the set, stumbling around within her skirt-turned-stage. It struck me as wonderful use of space as a collaborator, and a great way to involve the audience in the experience of vulnerability.

Vocal text accompanied London’s movement, in what is called by the performance’s program ‘a quote clash collage’ including London’s own thoughts and quotes from 20 other sources. It covered a wide range of topics, all vaguely related. There were fragments about technological improvements, and war and security as their justifications, and lots of repetitions of ‘man-made.’

She asked us to consider ‘this’ the ‘house of white supremacy,’ and asked if we felt at home. Silent answer: um, no, not really, when you put it like that.

The ambient music began to seem more involved with the live dancer / speaker, at times echoing her words. Live musicians, Rabb and Foster, were attentive to London’s actions, glancing back and forth between her and the keys of their laptops and their unique percussive instruments while staying aware of each other’s cues.

Among their instruments was a fork-sized rocking statue of a seahorse in a top hat, which at first rocked regularly, and I thought maybe it was a quirky metronome. Later, a percussion performer put what looked like a water glass beside it, so that the seahorse knocked into it making great clinking noises.

Also notable was what I will call a ‘tiny woodpecker with crazy hair’ that a musician placed along the top of a thin rod, allowing it to vibrate and make quiet pecking noises as it slid down the rod. Really, I recommend making sure to go see these guys perform live. I hope they read my descriptive attempts and get a good laugh.

After allowing myself to be distracted by Rabb and Foster, I turned my attention back to London. She suggested that vulnerability is what has made humans ‘the dominant species’ on Earth. I waited for an explanation, but she offered none directly. Instead I thought about it some more after the show and realized that our attempts to make up for our vulnerability have driven much of our technological progress.

Interesting point. I like the idea that vulnerability drives us. But don’t many other species also have vulnerabilities, and also come up with ways to make up for them?

Throughout sections II and III, softer and less colorful light projections rolled across the dancer and set. These projections successfully added to the enthralling nature of the performance, and maybe to the sense of passing time and of complication.

Section III involved a costume change, and continuous interaction with an unexplained prop that looked like a clear blow-up doughnut with blue dots, about as tall as London’s shoulder height. She rolled around in the doughnut. She stood inside the doughnut and let her neck ooze/flop around, and her arms drape over the edges as she spoke - it was lovely.

Probably my favorite moment of the whole performance was when London lounged on top of the doughnut like a goddess and said ‘superiority!’ in a manner of someone letting you in on a brilliant scheme or a joke that she knew you still didn’t quite get. She then folded in half, sinking through the doughnut hole.

Overall, Save Your Own Skin could be described as interesting, frustrating, and draining - as was likely the intention. The performance ended somewhat abruptly when London’s vocal text brought attention to the present, she released the doughnut, letting it roll and settle, and the lights went dark.

The small audience clapped for longer than politeness required as the lights came back on. London beamed, thanked us, and offered a Q and A session that she took longer to make good on than I was patient enough to wait.

Kendall Fischer currently performs with Myriad Dance, and has also enjoyed recent opportunities with SBDance, Municipal Ballet Co, La Rouge Entertainment, and Voodoo Productions, among others.

Black Grace at Kingsbury

Coming to Kingsbury Hall March 22, 2017. Tickets at utahpresents.org Led by Neil Ieremia, Black Grace is New Zealand's leading contemporary dance company, fusing Pacific and contemporary dance in an extraordinary and dynamic form. Neil draws from his Samoan and New Zealand roots to create innovative dance works that reach across social, cultural, and generational barriers.

When Black Grace dances in unison, the effect is breathtaking.

Brightly percussive clapping and stomping, women thrown from one part of the stage to the other, and crystal clear jumps and turns from a modern dance lineage, this New Zealand-based company never stopped moving. In their recent performance at Kingsbury Hall, Black Grace demonstrated why they are icons of contemporary dance, earning oohs and ahs from the crowd and an extended standing ovation.

I have wanted to see Black Grace since their 2004 PBS documentary. At that time, the company was composed of men from Pacific, Maori, and New Zealand heritage. Since then, they have added women.

Founding Artistic Director and choreographer Neal Ieremia ONZM* is unapologetically directive.  His directing style (as portrayed in the documentary) felt like a combination of a football coach and your meanest Russian ballet teacher. Black Grace’s website notably lacks a space for dancer biographies, but prominently features a header for “Founding Artistic Director.” Clearly, Black Grace was and remains his company, with his voice.

It was satisfying to see that voice unfold over the course of an evening via five selections from 22 years of his repertory. Presented in this way (rather than as one piece included in a bouquet of different choreographers), I could see what he wanted to talk about, how he wanted to say it, and with which kind of bodies.

This voice grappled with masculinity. In Ieremia’s bio he describes himself a Samoan working class kid who ‘broke his parents’ hearts’ with a dance career. During a brief segment of an upcoming 2017 work, three men struggle to connect but fail to find each other on stage, stuck in their own light paths. The concluding piece of the evening, 2016’s As Night Falls, addresses the topic of war and violence.

My Memories:

The opening piece, Minoi (1999), featured a pyramid of men, stomping, clapping, and chanting. A perfectly timed flick of left arm and head to stage right caused us all to audibly gasp.

As the evening progressed, the rushing from moment to moment left me feeling breathless. In those few moments of stillness when the artists were catching their breath, I caught mine too.

As Night Falls, the final piece of the evening. The stage had no wings or backdrop, illuminating golden statues of Greek war gods. Rows of dancers walking from stage left and right, pass through each other in a trance.

My favorite moment, a closing coda for As Night Falls, a duet between two of the female dancers ended too soon.

These dances are all very driven by/tied to the music.

Stray Thoughts:

Can a gal get a pair of pants?

Ieremia’s grappling with the gender roles that men play is great, but jarringly juxtaposed against his presentation of women. While I appreciated this struggle, I longed for a similar thoughtfulness about how he was presenting the female-bodied artists of the company. These bodies were on display…. in dresses… in every piece… in front of men… being thrown around.

Dancers are better with age.

By the end of the night, one understands why most of the (particularly female) dancers are so young. It was so hard! And aerobic! But the artists I couldn’t stop watching for their nuanced and emotional performance of the repertory were the older members of the company.

UtahPresents is killing it.

Accompanying the performance, UtahPresents worked with Pacific Island Knowledge 2 Action Resources on programming directed towards the rich Pacific Islander community in Salt Lake City. Through this show and the other works loveDANCEmore has reviewed this season (here and here), UtahPresents has demonstrated how NEA funding can enrich communities with thought-provoking, entertaining, and diverse performance and accompanying programs. I hope their example inspires other dance presenters in Salt Lake City (university dance departments, local dance companies who bring in outside choreographers, etc.) to undertake a similarly ambitious and relevant agenda.

*Via Wikipedia: In the 2016 Queen's Birthday Honours, Ieremia was appointed an Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit for services to dance.

Liz Ivkovich is the editor of the print edition of loveDANCEmore. She is putting her MFA in dance (Utah ‘16) to work for the University of Utah’s Sustainability Office and Global Change & Sustainability Center.

Ballet West: Works from Within at Eccles in PC

Formerly known as Innovations, Ballet West has moved the newly titled Works from Within to the Eccles Center in Park City. Works from Within shares choreography from company ranks and 2017’s presented world premieres by Oliver Oguma, Trevor Naumann, Kazlyn Nielsen, and Adrian Fry. While the Eccles Center primarily presents touring groups who may stop in Park City during larger tours of the West (think Jessica Lang), it’s this Salt Lake based company who had the best turnout of any dance that I’ve seen in the space.

One choreographer, Kazlyn Nielsen, was new to the Works from Within platform and her work, “Rendering Stillness,” was perhaps the most conventional offering of the evening. But, inarguably, Nielsen achieved her goal of offering a breath in a fast-paced world with her presentation of delicate partnering to Satie. Also traditional in concept and execution was Adrian Fry’s second work for the platform, “Kinesis.” Much like his 2015 work, “Pulse,” the work relies on the propulsion of music to move large groups through the space in a neo-classical tradition. “Kinesis,” featured more than just the company dancers in performance, as principal dancer Emily Adams costumed the work.

Two former Works from Within participants offered more specific aesthetic perspectives. Last year, Trevor Naumann premiered a dance about the philosophical views of Homer and I wrote in a review that the work was reminiscent of certain moments in Martha Clarke’s “Garden of Earthly Delights” because of styling but also its content. With another score by Boaz Roberts (deliberately driving and equally grating) the dancers in Naumann’s new work, “Grief and Integration,” explore something similar and reminiscent of different portions of the same dance by Clarke. This comparison is not just because of the return of nude unitards but because of the physical explorations of confusion and pain which are outside the norm of Ballet West’s typical fare.

Some of Naumann’s metaphors in “Grief and Integration” are clear (death comes for you in a black hood and mask) but others are less so (some dancers have human adornment like suspenders and jackets while the rest are clearly dressed for dance). In this mixed bag there is nevertheless an ongoing exploration of the way contemporary ballet might interact with the contemporary moment and its address of pain and pleasure. Further, it suggests that Naumann’s ongoing investigations may take place both in and outside of ballet’s own idioms. While this dance won’t remain my favorite piece, it will always be in the trajectory of where Naumann ultimately takes these ideas which seems to be the purpose of Works from Within.

Oliver Oguma similarly fulfills this purpose as he connects threads from last year’s “Fragments of Simplicity” to the premiere of “Tremor.” In both works, the movement for men is stunning and subtle. Also in both, it appears that women are added because that’s what usually happens in this situation. Clad in androgynous tanks and leotards, I can see the case that the dance includes traditional partnering as a way to break down the common gender stereotypes held within dancing bodies and theatrical structures. But having been at more than one modern dance rodeo I can attest that an androgynous dancing body usually ends up being a male dancing body (see: Nikolais repertory with women binding their breasts and men existing ‘androgynously’ in their same dance belts and unitards).

My desire for Oguma to explore a ballet for the male movers he is so adept at carving space for ironically competes with my ongoing desire for the inclusion of more female choreographers both in Works from Within and in the Ballet West season. Last year after consulting a professor specializing in political statistics, I came up with the figure that in a randomized selection of Ballet West company members there is less than an 8% probability that only one woman would be selected for this platform given the company makeup. That this systemic bias continues to be inadvertently reflected in the programming but corrected in the choreography is an interesting counterpart to the concert itself.

In an ongoing commitment to presenting contemporary ballets, Ballet West will soon be at another Eccles venue: Eccles Theater, in downtown Salt Lake, with the new National Choreographic Festival. Tickets and information about the program can be found here.

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