Municipal Ballet Co.: Wilder, at Storm Mountain Amphitheater

“Are you looking for the Municipal Ballet performance too?”

 A bunch of us wandered around the Storm Mountain camping and picnic area, criss-crossing each other on winding paths, following different hunches about where we might find the show we had driven up Big Cottonwood Canyon to see: Municipal Ballet Co.’s Wilder. There was a sign for the Storm Mountain Amphitheater at the parking lot, but no further signs after that, and no signage at all from the ballet company.

 Audience members trickled into the amphitheater continually throughout the 45-minute performance. The amphitheater is surrounded by dramatic rock faces and trees with gently wavering leaves, and the graduated seating made for perfect views of the stage for everyone.

 In this beautiful setting, costumes with flowing hi-lo skirts in shades of pink and purple added to the visual impact, enhancing movement and bringing softness to the color scheme, a perfect choice to match the music and choreography. Kudos to the multi-talented director, Sarah Longoria, who dyed and sewed each costume.

Municipal Ballet Co. performs on their own stage, made of two layers of plywood, and taped-down marley floor, laid out over the concrete surface, set up and taken down for each performance. This transportable stage is what they practice on as well, and creating that predictability and familiarity seems like an excellent way to reduce dancer stress.

 There was no backstage, but it appeared that some of the dancers forgot this, slouching and adjusting their costumes as soon as they stepped off their custom dance surface. I love the idea of being casual about the backstage, and I think the concept read best when the dancers kept their serene and beautiful presentation by simply holding still while sitting or standing beside the stage. An alternative way to go about this casual backstage would be to have all the dancers be very casual when ‘off stage’ - and this would have created an interesting contrast. As it was, the sometimes-casualness was distracting at times.

 For the most part, the dancers moved gracefully, with gorgeous softness, and nice unity in the unified parts of the choreography. One dancer’s inarticulate feet and trouble finding balance stuck out disappointingly.

Live music was played from directly beyond the portable stage surface: a cello and a piano attached to a bicycle (which the pianist rode up Big Cottonwood Canyon to get to the venue). Though there were two talented musicians creating lovely and peaceful sounds, the accompaniment was credited only to Eric Rich. The music was loud enough to be heard and enjoyed, but quiet enough that audience members, who had been encouraged to bring picnics to the event, felt somewhat uncomfortable eating, not wanting to ruin the auditory part of the experience by adding wrapper-rustling or chip-crunching sounds.

 The choreography was much more strongly rooted in classical ballet, as opposed to contemporary styles, than other recent performances by Municipal, which made sense based on the more classical accompaniment. It was also a great example of choreographing to the strengths of the dancers, who all have strong backgrounds in ballet. The inclusion of difficult turns and grand allegro moves was minimal, which I imagine allowed the dancers to be less stressed about executing challenging moves, and more focused on matching each other’s lines and enjoying dancing.

 The performance was free to watch, which supports Municipal Ballet’s mission of making ballet more accessible. They accepted donations, to be split 50-50 between MBCo. and Save Our Canyons, which seemed appropriate for the setting.

 Overall, Wilder was a wonderful show that combined live music, graceful dance, custom costuming, and a unique venue beautifully. I love that Municipal Ballet Co. can always be counted on to check those boxes and I also love that they are always mixing things up, as they are inspired by their different local musician collaborators. In Wilder, Municipal created a refreshingly beautiful and pleasant work to experience. I look forward to seeing what’s next for them.

A post shared by Municipal Ballet Co. (@municipalballetco) on Aug 12, 2017 at 9:45am PDT

Kendall Fischer is the Artistic Director of Myriad Dance Company, and a regular contributor to the blog. She has performed with SBDance, Municipal Ballet Co., La Rouge Entertainment, and Voodoo Productions, among others. She teaches pole dance at Onyx Pole and Aerial Fitness and ballet-inspired workouts at Pure Barre Draper. She also judges dance competitions.

Dan Higgins: “( ____ )” at the Fringe Festival

I stepped inside the door to darkness and intense humming noise, like you’d put in a movie soundtrack at the part where the main character is putting it all together to discover the horrible, terrible truth that she wants so badly to deny.

After a minute I decided to keep walking the same direction and hope that I would run into something and be able to turn a corner to get to somewhere that I could see. My bravery was rewarded with the sight of a small audience, which I joined to enjoy a captivating show as a part of the Great Salt Lake Fringe Festival held at Westminster College.

Organized mainly in duets, with moments of larger interactions, this Dan Higgins choreographic work featured Dan himself along with Natalie Border, Jalen Williams, Micah Burkhardt, Nell Josephine and Jessica Liu.

Jalen and Micah performed choreography in which they twisted their spines violently (which I thought must have been painful to repeatedly rehearse), clutched at each other desperately, and lifted each other smoothly.

Throughout this section, Jalen and Micah pointedly avoided a square kerchief that was laid flat on the floor. Later, Nell and Jessica ended up wrapping the kerchief around themselves and each other in a nice exploration of ways to dance with a scarf. Both dancers exhibited gorgeous movement quality, with unclear inspiration.

The kerchief ended up with Dan and Natalie, and though they didn’t do as much with it, the prop was successful in helping to tie together the various sections of the performance (which continued without any breaks for applause, something I very much appreciated).

The choreography featuring Natalie and Dan stood out among the short series of duets. They started with a stare-down from either side of a table with a chair in front of it, and made good use of these props without being overly focused on them. Natalie didn’t move of her own volition very much, but was more often moved by Dan in a controlling, maybe even abusive manner. Natalie reacted, but very much seemed to accept without question whatever fate he gave her.

Dan mumbled quietly and incomprehensibly at first, which I found delightful, especially because his volume eventually grew and his words were repetitive. He was telling the same story with varying order of events, like someone who was traumatized and trying to sort out the memories they had instinctively pushed out of reach. The haunting narrative, by Cooper Smith, mentioned running alongside a white wolf, wolves surrounding a small girl who told them ‘I’m lonely,’ the wolves eating that girl, and the wolves always coming back.

One of the most memorable moments was when Natalie was sitting on the floor, leaning against the table, and Dan, with a vocal outburst amid his story-telling, swiftly lifted her off the ground and slammed her onto the table. She reacted as if he had done something much milder, and slowly raised her arms, allowing him to lay the kerchief over her face.

Moments of quiet and stillness in combination, with the outbursts of loud speech and stretches of oppressively intense music, kept the audience on-edge the whole time, and I found myself gripping my wallet and not breathing very much.

Lighting also played a role in setting the tone. I thought it was most effective when a bright spotlight cast harsh spooky shadows on Dan as he ended the show by reiterating that the wolves always come back.

My friends and I discussed “( ____ )” and its potential meaning for a while afterward. The mystery was captivating enough in the performance, but to make it even more so, the title of the show is the answer to a riddle featured in the one-page program:

I was birthed in shadow,

nurtured by repetition and time,

I am friend to no one, yet I know many intimately,

my strength, invisible, yet I am more powerful than you can imagine.

I have no legs, but can be found anywhere,

Especially when the conditions are just right. just right.

You can be sure I am just around every corner, waiting to visit again.

I want to guess “anxiety” or “self-doubt,” but according to a preview of the show by Dat Nguyen of MotionVivid, Higgins said, “The answer is four words, often heard as an acronym.”

The best guess I’ve heard is post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), but even that doesn’t seem to fit the riddle quite perfectly enough. I wish the show would have led me to a more clear ‘ah-ha’ moment. But maybe self-doubt is just making me anxious about my guesses?

Overall, I thought that “( ____ )” was very interesting and beautiful, and I look forward to seeing more Dan Higgins creations in the future.

Kendall Fischer serves as the Artistic Director of and performs with Myriad Dance Company. She has also enjoyed recent performance opportunities with SBDance, Municipal Ballet Co., La Rouge Entertainment, and Voodoo Productions, among others.

Myriad Dance Company: Tides

Myriad Dance Company presented Tides at The Clubhouse SLC, the space formerly known as the Ladies Literary Club. Seven short dances were choreographed by different members of the company and strung together with recurring piano and rainwater music.

Tides intended to explore how life changes while also remaining the same. To that end, the company used water as a metaphor. The water motif was incorporated in their transition music and costumes -- variations of watercolor blue pants and crop tops, though the dances themselves seemed to be less focused on the concept.

The evening opened with the full eight woman company leaning back against the stage in artistic director Temria Airmet’s “The Roof is on Fire.” Temria broke away from the group, gesticulating and fanning herself as she climbed the steps to the stage for a brief solo before being joined by the group in a fast-paced unison sequence.

Those who have attended a performance at the Ladies Literary Club may be familiar with the unique layout of the space. A small stage is in the center, as well as a large floor area where the audience chairs are arranged. The performers utilized both stage and main floor in their dances and entered and exited from behind the audience, as well as either side of the stage.

Myriad Dance Company’s dance aesthetic could be described as contemporary modern dance; movements that flow between jumps, extensions, and floor work, and accompanying head rolls and gestures. To this vocabulary, Kendall Fischer’s “In a Drop” added surprising moments of partner work, with dancers appearing out of the group to fling each other in a circle, or transfer a performer onto the stage upside down. Ashley Creek’s final solo in “Everything is Temporary” also played within their aesthetic, captivating the audience with her intense effort to create tension in her muscles, tightening up until she was visibly shaking.

The company was at its strongest when they found a musical beat that could drive their sharp, discrete movements as evidenced in several moments of Alyx Pitkin’s solo “Dear Carter.” Transitions between each piece were also intriguing, as the dancers improvised while navigating the space and beginning a new idea. Fiona Nelson’s brief solo before the final work stands out in my mind for the clarity of her fluid travel through space.

With director Temria’s impending transition to graduate school out of state, Tide’s theme of transition seems particularly salient for the company at this moment and provided interesting material for their evening of dance.

Photo by MotionVivid.

Photo by MotionVivid.

Temria Airmet (front) and Myriad Dance Company in Tides. Photo by MotionVivid.

Liz Ivkovich moonlights as loveDANCEmore’s New Media Coordinator and daylights at the UU Sustainability Office and Global Change & Sustainability Center.

Keith Johnson/Dancers: Panoramic Throat

Keith Johnson/Dancers, from Long Beach, California, were in town this past weekend. The Sugar Space Foundation presented their latest performance, Panoramic Throat; the company also hosted a workshop, in partnership with both the Sugar Space Foundation and the Mestizo Institute of Culture and Arts. I was able to attend both.

Panoramic Throat, performed at Sugar Space Arts Warehouse, opened with two dancers on stage. Alvaro Nunez and Andrew Palomares wore striped leotards reminiscent of 1930’s swimwear. Nostalgic, the music began for “Sea of Possibilities”. The duet was continuous, laced with moments of stillness and subtle jazz hands. Nunez and Palomares shared a focus of awareness towards the audience. They knew they were being watched. This first work introduced Johnson’s beautiful choreographic quality of vulnerable technique.

Keith Johnson/Dancers' Alvaro Nunez and Andrew Palomares in "Sea of Possibilities". Photo by Motion Vivid.

“Mercy, Mercy, Me” followed. A trio of women wearing shades of red gracefully haunted the space. The music reminded me of sirens, beautifully wailing their sorrows. Haihua Chiang, Bahareh Ebrahimzadeh, and Katie Istvan looked as though they had been dancing together for years. Every move, every gesture, was a reflection of each other. There was a human focus and feminine energy within this piece that reminded me of home, or a comfort zone. They were speaking their story and it was one I knew too well.

Keith Johnson/Dancers' Haihua Chiang, Bahareh Ebrahimzadeh, and Katie Istvan in "Mercy, Mercy, Me". Photo by Motion Vivid.

The final piece prior to intermission was Johnson’s premiere, “Panoramic Throat”. Nunez and Chiang dressed in multi-print costumes, a kaleidoscope effect. The audience had witnessed male and female energy separately within the first two pieces. “Panoramic Throat” combined those forces.  It was a purposely chaotic and complex relationship of coming together and pulling away. I can’t forget the motif of Chiang pulling her own hands apart. Each movement dealt with anxiety and overthinking as if the dancers were trying to find peace within their own memories.

Keith Johnson/Dancers' Nunez and Chiang in "Panoramic Throat". Photo by Motion Vivid.

“Bodies Matter” was the final piece of the evening. I would not be giving the weight of “Bodies Matter” justice if I did not give you the full scope of this Johnson experience. Originally created at the Djerassi Artist Residency in 2015, “Bodies Matter”  was a voice to bring awareness to the AIDS epidemic. Tara McArthur joined Johnson at the residency, where they were surrounded by rich green trees, fellow artists of multiple genres, and time; the windows were open for Johnson’s creation and inspiration.

Johnson came up dancing during the AIDS epidemic in the 1980’s. He experienced the loss of friends and colleagues to this heartbreaking disease. Death can be an interesting, albeit heavy,  topic for anyone to approach in their artistry. Johnson’s take was not necessarily one of grief or even suffering, but one of people: the way people enter and leave our lives, the impact and energy those relationships have. “Bodies Matter” was formed as a solo, then became an installation piece featuring eight different dancers throughout Johnson’s dance world. Each dancer brought a specific history, their own experience, and their own physical body into the work. The eight hour installation piece premiered on World AIDS Day on December 1st, 2016. Friday night in Salt Lake City, “Bodies Matter” was a thirty minute solo performed by McArthur.

The Saturday workshop  began with Johnson and McArthur explaining the process of “Bodies Matter”. Johnson described his relationship with his father, who had served in the Vietnam War, seen death, experienced loss. Johnson never expressed emotionally the loss he was dealing with to his father and vice versa. For whatever reason, they never turned to each other for comfort. In a way, “Bodies Matter” bridged their two experiences, a tribute to both of their trying times.

McArthur respectfully wore all red. The sound score was intense (no other way to describe it). Musical noises, stark silence, and gunshots surrounded her dancing. I was drawn to McArthur’s focus throughout:  it never met with the audience but always looked beyond, as if the audience was lucky to be watching her yet not required to. At one point she took tape and distinctly marked a pathway by ripping and placing it in strong lines on the exhausted marley. Each line explained the path and turns her life had taken. The tape looked like an outline when it was all said and done. It reminded me of a crime scene, an outline of what once was.

Tara McArthur in "Bodies Matter". Photo by Motion Vivid.

During the workshop Johnson tried to give the dancers a taste of what inspired “Bodies Matter”. We worked for two hours on presence and focus, learning who we were, and how we could connect even though we had just met. This exploration concluded in a one hour performance at Mestizo Coffee. From being inside the work I can say that I have never been more aware of the dancers who were sharing space with me. It was not about me, it was about them. Were they ok? What were they going through? Could I help? It was a piece of listening and reacting.

The message I took from this experience, both the performance and workshop, is not how beautiful the dancing was. (It was beautiful.) It is that people are important: their stories, their history, and their choices are all important. And it is important that we be kind to everyone. This is an especially poignant thought with our current political climate. Humanity tends to get caught up in what divides us. Our care for each other and our kindness will pull us back.

Vivienne Glance is a poet. I wanted to end with the final stanza in a poem she wrote after viewing “Bodies Matter”:

          Bodies Matter

          Even splintered ones

          Even squandered ones

          Mine

          And yours

Temria Airmet is the Artistic Director of Myriad Dance Company. She received her BFA in Modern Dance from the University of Utah and currently teaches with Ballet West, Tanner Dance, and Millennium Dance Complex.

Daniel Mont-Eton: Homeward

When I think of Dan Mont-Eton’s “Homeward” I think ambient – a word derived from ambire in Latin, meaning “to go around” - and around and around. I think of the dancers’ almost constant physical contact when dancing together, each an integral part of the other’s environment, supported by textural music composed by Michael Wall. If the dancers weren’t in physical contact, they were in unison, or at least close proximity. This relationship made it seem as if the three were one entity, all clad in cream-colored clothes.

I think of how jarring it was when Amy Falls first left the stage, breaking performative contact with Mont-Eton and Samantha Matsukawa, but watching them, waiting to be swept back into movement that never ceased for the forty-minute long performance. This sense of isolation or incompleteness when one dancer was gone was a reaction stemming from their connectivity when together; there was a phrase in which they all lay down on their sides “spooning” one another and linking their top arms to become one arm moving in a snake-like way. This phrase was repeated on the floor, and then standing; each repetition was changed by location and what came before or after it. When they did the “spoon-snake” close to the audience, they broke their connected arms by rolling to their backs and began weaving their opposite hands through their arms. I could have experienced this mesmerizing arm weave for a longer duration, but it ended as soon as it began to develop a visual pattern, like a braid left unfinished, the image quickly unraveled.

This unraveling fits the idea that homeward is not quite home - the piece did not settle, it was constantly moving to the next possibility either by relocating to a new physical location, or falling into new choreography. Falling was a constant - much of the movement was initiated by a sustained fall into a run, or collapse to the ground, or into another dancer. Toward the end of the piece, after Mont-Eton had danced separate duets with Matsukawa and Falls, he was left alone. He swept one leg into an arabesque in an upstage corner, then fell into a run on the diagonal to the opposite corner repeatedly until Matsukawa joined, then Falls. The three repeated this alternately sustained and sweeping phrase, providing a visual palate-cleanser after so much axial movement with one another.

For most of the piece, the performers expressions were stern, brows slightly furrowed, as if they really were searching for something elusive to provide a sense of comfort typically found at home. They repeatedly made a triangular shape with their legs and let one arm shift back and forth between their legs like a grandfather clock, evoking a sense of waiting, their arms like a compass hand that they would use to decide where to go next.

Sometimes the next place was an angular house-like shape with their bodies; they would shift out of this - or any shape - very quickly by running away or slapping one hand to the opposite forearm while turning or slapping one foot on the ground. At one point all three ran to the wall of the Studio Theater black-box and slapped their hands against it, leaning into it as if they were trying to push it away. Mont-Eton and Matsukawa’s duet was similar as they would move fluidly with together, but quickly become rigid towards each other, arms connected but firmly pushing away before the cycle continued. All of this pushing  in conjunction with the lighting design casting a shadow of window blinds on the ground made them seem trapped inside. It makes sense that one would not be comfortable being a house just as much as they wouldn’t be comfortable trapped inside one.

“Homeward” ended in the same corner that it began, but instead of standing in isolation, all three dancers were lying down next to one another, facing away from the audience. Falls traced a design onto Matsukawa’s back, who then traced another (secret message?) onto Mont-Eton’s back, who received the message as the lights went dark. The ambience of this piece was brooding, leaving me to wonder what a dance called “Home” would be like.

Left to right: Matsukawa, Mont-Eton, and Falls in "Homeward". Photo by Dat Nyguyen/Motion Vivid, lighting by James K. Larsen. 

Follow this link for more photos of "Homeward" by Dat Nyguyen/Motion Vivid.

Emma Wilson received her BFA in Modern Dance at the University of Utah and has since been making solo works, choreographing for Deseret Experimental Opera (DEXO), and working as the Salt Lake City Library’s Community Garden Coordinator.