LMN Mov't No. 1 at Sugar Space

Long associated with DIY art-making and performance, warehouse venues demand a conscious balance between activating cost-accessible spaces and making them both functional and inviting to viewers. LMN Mov’t No. 1, a collaboration between Meagan Bertelsen, Natalie Gotter, and Peter Larsen, fully realized the production potential of Sugar Space Arts Warehouse more so than any other performance I have experienced there. The thoughtful staging under the technical direction of Larsen framed compelling works from artistically mature creators and performers. The white flooring contrasted with the dark drapes to delineate the stage and beautifully captured the shadows cast from diffuse lighting (otherwise often unequal to the space). Barn-door framing later shaped this same soft light into hard lines that effectively limned stage sections.

LMN Mov’t No. 1 was an hour-and-a-half-long work comprised of four pieces, fronted with the admirably concise artists’ statement, “The works seen tonight invoke the role of the individual and their surroundings, examining how we interact, work, and create with the world and other people around us.” After viewing the show, I interpreted the statement in the following way: “Experienced people making the art they want to make, with the people they want to make it with, in the way they want to make it.” This was, I think, a very successful composition from artists who are not defensive about their work’s intention and value, who collaborate willingly and meaningfully. It was certainly an exploration of human action/interaction within the scope of the intersection of subject and environment - but it largely did not demand that you acknowledge it as such. The theoretical underpinnings were less visible than the experience of dance, which I took to be a great sign of maturity and aesthetic confidence. I was personally struck with the notion that a solo can be a remarkable encapsulation of collaboration, and to a greater degree than ensemble pieces.

The opening solo, “Hunter,” illustrated this beautifully: the stage was set with a lovely tableau - two chairs, one holding a lush houseplant and the other a box fan, with several can lights loose on the floor. Bertelsen first activated the fan, and later played its grid like a harp (after the recorded notes of Alice Coltrane’s harp were several minutes past, a wonderfully subtle evocation); she adeptly inverted a long buttoned coat and turned on the lights, trailing them along the path of their floorwork, and, memorably, affectingly embraced the fronds of the houseplant, all of which made Bertelsen an immediate and sustained active agent in the space. Bertelsen’s performance seemed to simultaneously inhabit and connect on several layers of abstraction - the venue, the stage, and their body - with an ease informed by years of thesis research in solo improvisation. Under the direction of Brianna Lopez, “Hunter” fluidly passed through discrete ideas, each with a radically different movement quality and intensity. This was accurately and succinctly reflected in the program notes, invoking “the evolving role of subject and its surroundings” and “constant shifts of attention...through the explored body states and interactive environment,” a description which was met and exceeded.

The accompanying notes for “Carry From Below” were less illuminating. A quote by famous NFL coach Vince Lombardi was gender-inverted to evoke ideal woman as triumphant samaritan-warrior. It was presented without author attestation of Lombardi or otherwise, so I assumed the substitution to be choreographer Natalie Gotter’s. The conceit was very interesting - an act of reaction and also creation, claiming something in a way that thoroughly unseats it. However, there was little evidence of this notion in the work itself. I was inclined upon viewing to examine some aesthetic biases I personally hold - namely, the feminine-but-pragmatic ensemble conventions of hair half-back-half-down and similar pedestrian clothing (here, flowy florals) with black sportswear, accompanied by overtly lyrical singer-songwriter music. I realized I dislike these conventions not because they are traditionally feminine (which is wonderful as a deliberate choice) or not-quite homogenizing (which uniform costuming can achieve and individuated costuming can belie), or overly emotive. Rather, because they are so familiar as to provide a blank slate that the work then is responsible to fill, which “Carry From Below” never quite achieved. Partner contact appeared under-motivated, without the physical weight or gestural context to lend it gravity. The lyricism of Nico’s “I’ve Been out Walking,” paired with on-the-nose walking-path choreography, borrowed emotional content from the external musical modality without embodying its own.

The pure movement created by Gotter and the dancers, and their performance of it, was truly strong and graceful; notably, a solo moment by Christine Glidden and a duet by Xochitl Marquez and Ashley Creek, each of which I wished would have lasted longer. I did, however, appreciate being given cause to examine my biases and have concluded that at their root, my dislike of these conventional forms rests on how much harder this nullity of stagecraft makes it to appreciate the hard work and interesting product. I wished the identity theory cleverly used to such effect in the notes had been used visibly in the performed work - otherwise, I am not, as an audience member, able to credit its presence.

During the brief intermission, it felt as though the lobby might break into a contact improv jam. The local dance community was out in force to support LMN Mov’t even at a matinee, testament to the contributions of its creators to this scene. The second half began with a request to hold all applause to the end, as there would be transitions - an injunction that was perhaps unnecessary. For one, because it is always destined to go unheeded, but also because the slightly contrived visual continuity of lighting was superfluous. The works shown were all capable of standing alone, cohesive because of the strength of their refined craft and artistry.

Choreographer/performer Emma Sargent began  “Firmament” in an upstage corner, and immediately held every gaze with a series of progressively intensifying leg swings, her grounded torso static and shadowed. Thus obscured by her own legs, Sargent subtly stroked the floor with her toes, an image later mirrored with her fingers in a standing inversion, and in the final supine gesture of sweeping circling hands. These variations of levels and distal articulation were thematic touchstones in an utterly captivating performance. In contrast to the opening solo work, “Firmament” was fierce but also spare and contained, even insulated, which created a gratifying sense of observing, of beholding. Side light was brought in and out, which created shadows that contributed to the sense of communion and dialogue with the space. The quote included in the program was deftly chosen, speaking to natural universal enfranchisement in personal isolation from the artist Björk, and which, in consideration of the well-chosen music of Sigur Rós and Jónsi & Alex, bespoke a certain Scandinavian brand of lonely and lovely.

“Fractals” began with directed light illuminating alternatingly one far lateral third of the stage and then the other. Bertelsen and Larsen each occupied one segment, in well-chosen, completely matching minimalist attire that flattered their strong builds, and the two executed powerful phrases in silence as they were lit in turn. The lights came up, they met on center, and began a partnership of inversions, rolls, and lifts, laborious over-the-shoulder carries accomplished by each in bursts of energy. Gotter’s staging choices and movement creation/direction were extremely effective here. You were given no choice but to appreciate two driving forces whose encounters were continuous, dynamic power shifts without any internally acknowledged power disparity. It worked, and wonderfully, leaving the viewer to confront any expectations to the contrary and their internalized source. The dancers exited the stage only to be reproduced as projections on the wall in Gotter’s screendance iteration of the work.

“Fractals” was a very well-made piece, but I generally question whether a screendance paired with live performance is incorporated meaningfully, whether it literally or figuratively reframes the work in an additive manner, and if it does or does not undermine the live component. The video piece shown in ‘Part One’ of “Fractals” touched briefly on the continuation of a single movement from one dancer to another, and the accelerated reiteration of movements, like the oft-repeated handstand, which are attainable only through editing. These were prominent enough to enrich the texture of the evocative screendance alone, but not enough to appreciably speak to their conjunction with the live work.

‘Part Two’ of “Fractals” finished the show with a duet between Gotter and Bertelsen. They took their places with heavy footfalls in athleisure neutrals and knee pads, as though to promise floorwork and weight-sharing and good times ahead. They absolutely delivered, establishing an intensity borne out until the end. Bertelsen’s movement was controlled even at difficult speeds and phrases, her energy continuing beyond the line of the limbs, and with a steady gaze. Gotter’s initiated movement from the center, which then exploded outward, even in a posture as ostensibly staunch and static as a held développé to the side, with a gaze consistently fierce and challenging. Watching these very distinct but complementary artists embody moments of unison and contact was endlessly appealing - with endless appeal being a preferred way to finish a show.

I viewed an in-progress presentation of “Fractals” at the last Mudson at the Marmalade Library; I was intrigued then, and am very gratified to have had the opportunity to see how the work has evolved and grown. Indeed, seeing these local artists utilize local platforms to produce works of such full realization is an inspiring look into what is happening in the Salt Lake dance community. Much of the best dance I have seen recently has occurred at two branches of the public library system. The consummate accomplishment of this LMN Mov’t collaboration reminds me that the dedicated work of public servants and independent artists is creating and maintaining the infrastructure of this community in an incredibly heartening way.

Nora Price is a Milwaukee native living and working in Salt Lake City. She can be seen performing with Municipal Ballet Co. and with Durian Durian, an art band that combines post-punk music and contemporary dance.

Junction Dance Co: Zero Flux

Zero Flux is the first full-length performance presented by Junction Dance Co, but in many ways, this did not seem like the first show of a company that was just starting out.

The 31-dancer cast of Zero Flux includes artistic director Megan Adelsberger, nine company members, and 21 Junction II members (who pay to be involved in this training opportunity), and so much talent. Zero Flux showcased many styles of dance, such as hip-hop, contemporary, house, b-boying, jazz, and tap.

The show was clearly well-rehearsed (as I understand it, the dancers have worked for several hours a day, two days a week, since January on this project). Most of the choreography was by Adelsberger and it was cleaned to her style, which includes sharp movements, gooey moments, and expressive faces. Adelsberger’s strong vision and impressive execution are highly commendable. I appreciated the high energy of everyone on stage, how the variety of styles meshed together, and how the show flowed smoothly with quick transitions between pieces.

Some of my favorite choreographic moments were a few times when dancers were placed closely together and seamlessly transitioned from highlighting one dancer to highlighting another elsewhere in the group. I especially loved the unique lifts and other connected movements in these parts.

The theme of the first act, entitled “Zero Flux,” seemed to generally cluster around bold expressions, and a celebration of life and dance. It reminded me a lot of Underground Dance Crew (because of the large group, inclusion of various dance styles, and different costumes for each piece).

I generally enjoyed it, although I was mildly disappointed in the lack of originality in music choice for the lone Fosse-meets-contemporary-sexy piece: “Fever.” I’m glad that at least it was a less common version of the song. And maybe the dancers felt that disappointment too, because I don’t feel like they shined as brightly in that piece as in the rest.

After a 15-minute intermission, the next section, “Love Journals,” was all one piece, with extra-smoothly connected parts.

Then, following a five-minute pause, came “A.Live,” which included a variety of live audio to accompany the dancers. For me, the most memorable part of this act was a piece titled “What Do You Desire?,” which included a live actor, Isaiah Cook, delivering a speech by Alan Watts. The content of the speech included the concept that financial practicality keeps many people from doing what they truly desire to do. It was relatable to artists, wherever they are, who may exist on a spectrum from full commitment to their art to completely giving up on their art in favor of practicality. Choreographers Adelsberger and Jeffery Louizia danced along to the words in ways that highlighted the humor and irony of not doing what you love in order to fund the continuation of not doing what you love.

Another thing that stood out about this show was the strong, clean, fun tap dances featured throughout the performance, and how they seemed to be a main part of the plan, rather than an afterthought. Tap was a big part of the final piece, which included most of the cast, and was highly energetic, ending with everyone yelling something triumphantly.

The Zero Flux program states eight goals, and I think that Junction is already achieving some of them, such as, “uplift and celebrate local artists,” and “encourage artistic expression to inspire healing and instill purpose in individuals throughout the community.” There are also some bigger goals, including, “save lives through dance,” and, “create local and international opportunities, events, performances, and outreach to unite with other communities around the world.” I wish Junction the best with all of their goals, and I will be eager to see what the future holds for them.

Kendall Fischer is the artistic director of Myriad Dance Company, and has enjoyed performing opportunities with Voodoo Productions, SBDance, Municipal Ballet Co., and La Rouge Entertainment, among others. Her choreography has been performed by Myriad, Municipal Ballet, and at Creator's Grid, and her dance film project, 'Breathing Sky,' received the 2017 Alfred Lambourne Movement prize.

Justin Bass: No Bueno

When I arrived at Sugar Space Arts Warehouse in the early evening, it was sweltering. Inside, the AC was blowing to its max while a very small crowd milled about. Comprised almost entirely of other dancers from around Salt Lake, and presumably some close friends and family of the performers, the gathering was intimate and very casual. Once we were seated, Justin Bass came out to say hello. Grinning and shrugging and cracking jokes, he performed the introductions. As a preface, he let us know, “No Bueno is about everyday life, crossroads we reach, how we react… there’ll be a Q&A at the end, we can talk about why it’s not very good.”*

The dancers of No Bueno were Bass, Marty Buhler, and Natalie Border. All are fantastic performers to watch, and they executed the work with richness and ease. During the short performance, each took a solo, Bass and Buhler performed a duet, and the three came together as bookends. The group began with walking patterns back and forth, contracting in and out. They shifted mostly in unison to a bouncy and driving groove, sliding into deep grand pliés in second, sometimes stopping to reach an arm out to the side, elbow cocked. When Bass and Buhler exited, Border grabbed a folding chair and slunk to it center stage. Hotly shaking off its gravity to do a jerky, windmill-armed, off-balance tip-toe before relatedly retreating back into its support, her anxious solo was the most explicitly emotive segment of the show.

When Bass and Buhler reappeared they were side by side. Here as in the group sections, they moved together without eye contact. Their far-off stares went out above our heads, while the closeness of bodies and movements in unison established connection. Simple shuffling steps combined with sudden held extensions, and with repeated gestures that were shared and passed back and forth. Buhler’s solo was next, characterized by more wide, slow grand pliés with the head rolled back and clasped hands stretch out long– matching plaintive vocals and a slower, heavier beat. Bass turned his back to the audience for much of his solo, reprising those pliés again, this time a little sharper and paired with elastic undulations of the torso and fluttering fingers.

As all three dancers reappeared, the music turned to soft piano and the choreography drew a line through everything that had come before, restating themes from each movement. A final tableau transformed the dancers into a small flock of birds - perched in deep, forward lunges, wings back, fingertips fluttering, heads swiveling, before they walked upstage away from us as the music flared again and cut to black.

Surrounding the simplicity of each dance were elements unfolding texture, depth, and tone. The music was Bass’s own composition, born of a self-proclaimed deep love for amateur tinkering in GarageBand. It was mostly in the realm of electronic dance club music, beat-heavy but also pop-y, dipping between a pulsing groove and something more moody and sweeping. The costumes were likewise home-hewn, beautifully busy fabric of jumbled blue squares turned into knee-length skirts paired with plain black tees. Bass later elaborated that there was no specific intention behind the costuming, just an easy sewing pattern and the chance to practice another favorite hobby. And then there were the vocal audio recordings woven into Bass’s solo and the final section – the first was a spoken word poem, "The Revolution Will Not Be Digitized" (a modern take on Gil Scott Heron’s iconic 1970 recording), from a YouTube video posted by poet Danny Mahes in 2011, and the other a 2015 viral video wherein high schooler Shea Glover walks around campus telling people she wants to photograph them because she is “taking pictures of things I find beautiful.” Bass re-cut and looped the latter, placing it over a tinkling piano. Afterward, in the Q&A, he expounded rhapsodically about his love of ambitious gesture, how he first found that video, and how he sort of included it on a whim just because he found it so delightfully affective and sweet.

Speaking more about the choreography, Bass touched on the specific and personal nature of his work. He explained how he created movement and method to be uncomplicated and purposely “lowbrow,” choosing to reflect the dancers, the process, and the vast minutiae of day-to-day experiences over labored sophistication and grander ideas. Referring to the process of creating No Bueno, Bass described it as a sort of experiment – if awarded an opportunity by Sugar Space to do a show, what could he come up with given the limited time and resources he had available? Might as well try it.

The assorted elements of No Bueno shared an appreciable thread of purposefully D.I.Y. and resourceful creativity similar to previous works by Bass. Discovered elements and those at hand were dissected and reassembled and inserted alongside movement phrases of irrelative origin without precise bearing in mind. The work took shape as it was created, and the different pieces ultimately came together to form a sort of tapestry, reflective of Bass himself in that moment in time and of the people he worked with - likes and dislikes, relationships, media consumed, activities enjoyed, social climate. This meandering approach through personal hobbies and cultural touchstones bestowed a nice, nuanced layering on the sensibility of the final product, which was never overly heavy on conceptual detail or framework to begin with. If No Bueno was a sort of casual and sprawling experiment, it was also passionate, crafted, and intuitively well-defined self-expression.

*Partial paraphrasing by the author

Emily Snow resides in Salt Lake City, where she performs regularly with Municipal Ballet Co. and with Durian Durian, an art band that combines post-punk music and contemporary dance.

Municipal Ballet Co. & Color Animal: Night

I began driving to the Commonwealth Studios upset that my tidy and prescribed theater route was disrupted on a hot night. But upon parking (finally) I discovered that the Municipal Ballet Company had found yet another magical space for something to happen.

The company’s newest concert, “Night” is, in a word, disarming.

In its sixth year of presenting concerts, this collaborative group directed by Sarah Longoria has consistently used charms to relieve the suspicion of both dance skeptics and dance critics. By carefully choosing venues off dance’s beaten path, collaborating with local bands (in this case, Color Animal) and always ensuring that beverages are provided, it’s challenging not to find something to enjoy about the experiences created by Municipal Ballet Co. whether you are a regular dance goer or, more likely, new to the field. For the former, there are new faces and places (did I mention beverages) and for the latter, there are entry points beyond movement.

Many of these entry points are stylized —  garage tracks juxtaposed with ballet steps in a commercial studio, but they are also unwitting and spatial. I am able to turn to the band on my left and notice that Felicia Baca is concentrating and therefore chewing her gum in a particular way. Or, that the audience member to my right closes his eyes at a certain cadence in Andrew Shaw’s voice. If I am choreographically disinterested, I can also see who has snuck to the bar or the black and white photographs in the back of the space. With each of these passing glances, I can just as easily return to the strips of gray marley where a handful of dancers perform the twelve works that comprise “Night.”

Theoretically these dances each represent an hour of the night, from dusk to dawn, and relate to the contemporary political moment. But in my view, that topical idea is less present than something that continually rises to the surface in Municipal Ballet Co. concerts, the complicated way in which so many individuals fill so many vibrant roles in Salt Lake’s art and social scenes.  

In this work, no choreographer, dancer, or musician holds a singular title and I am aware as I’m watching that this not just a dance concert but a dance concert which includes: radio personalities, writers, gallery directors, parents, arts administrators, neighbors, and even one of my first dance teachers. The audience reflects this multiplicity back to the stage and returns a vibrant energy of friends, family, and future collaborators eager to participate in something new.

The atmosphere of possibility has some moments of particular excitement. In “Destruction,” Mary Jessie Floor bourres while David Ayala and Tim Dwyer (literally) juggle fire around her port de bras. In “Disconnection,” Ben Estabrook’s films take the stage in new contexts, and in “Dismantle,” Nora Price impossibly cooly departs her own solo to harmonize with the band.

But that feeling of possibility is also disrupted at times: when the addition of oatmeal colored ballet skirts overwhelms the more fashionable aesthetic of clothes-we-happened-to-have, when the confines of the small space cause a choreographic glitch, or when the inevitable disparity among performing bodies is revealed -- — 

The fifth dance of the concert, “Tomb” is performed by Ursula Perry, a Repertory Dance Theater company member. Her command of the stage is tremendous and this control is derived in part from Chase Wise’s choreography but, in larger part, the amount she dances each day. It isn’t until she performs that there is a distinction between her, a dancer by trade, and the former performers who (as described) fulfill many artistic roles but simply don’t have the same degree of daily physical practice. For the casual observer, pointing this out may not appreciably change nor represent their experience, but for me, the first moment of her sharp gestures troubles the former works of the concert. Despite this sentiment, the solo is beautiful, as are many preceding and following dances -- a trio by Jo Blake that unfolds alongside the music, Joni Wilson’s crisply cupped hands and delicate movements in “Fragility,” and the unfolding choreographic pieces and earnest pairings within ensemble works.

If disarming is the first word, liminal is the final word.

Municipal Ballet Co. arrives at a boundary between showing audiences ballet steps and exploring choreographic structures; at a threshold of something commercially engaging to audiences but still artistically focused; occupying a place where I like “Night” but also (the best part is) that they don’t need me to.

Ashley Anderson directs loveDANCEmore programs as part of her 501c3, ashley anderson dances.  

Ballet West: National Choreographic Festival, Program B

The second weekend of Ballet West’s National Choreographic Festival features three pieces created by women: Jennifer Archibald’s Myoho performed by Cincinnati Ballet, Robyn Mineko Williams’s To Clear performed by Charlotte Ballet, and África Guzmán’s Sweet and Bitter performed by Ballet West. Like the first weekend of the festival, each choreographer presents a different approach to contemporary ballet, revealing a diversity of aesthetics as well as the significance of including women’s voices in ballet programming.

The director of Cincinnati Ballet, Victoria Morgan, has brought financial stability and artistic excellence to the organization during her 20-year tenure as artistic director, 8 years of which she spent in the dual role of CEO. At a panel discussion of women in leadership roles, hosted by Ballet West on May 23, Morgan said, “It’s ironic, in part, because you don’t see women in these roles, you don’t realize that you have that capability.”

Her statement speaks to the politics of representation and who has, historically, decided how women are presented and represented. Scholar and theorist bell hooks writes about how “the field of representation (how we see ourselves, how others see us) is a site of ongoing struggle.” In an essay called “In our Glory: Photography and Black Life,” hooks writes that photography was a “political instrument, a way to resist misrepresentation as well as a means by which alternative images could be produced.” In many ways the festival presented by Ballet West is another reworking of these “misrepresentations” and a place where “alternative images” of capable women are made visible and tangible.

Jennifer Archibald’s choreography exemplifies the importance of the politics of representation. Archibald was named resident choreographer of Cincinnati Ballet in 2017 and Myoho marks her fourth creation for the company (following 2014’s Sit, 2016’s Redeem, and 2017’s Never.Nest). Cincinnati’s dancers shine in her creations, which is a testament to both their talents as performers as well as Archibald’s extraordinary creativity and craft. Her choreography updates ballet’s vocabulary by intertwining elements of jazz, modern, and hip-hop with the classical vocabulary. The results are neither gimmicky nor acrobatic but rather intensely fascinating and evocative. Archibald brings ballet into the 21st century with the kind of imagination and intelligence that George Balanchine brought to ballet in the last century: sections of Myoho looked like Agon, but newly resonant. Exquisite feats of partnering and careful attention to dancers’ formations made Myoho, like Agon, a physical and emotional contest. Myoho tests the dancers’ limits and capacities, and it was incredible that, coming from Ohio the night before, they adjusted to Salt Lake City’s elevation just in time for this demanding performance.

In the panel discussion on May 23, Archibald said, “For me, when I walk into a studio I see more than dancers’ physical abilities. I am checking in with them emotionally… I look at them as humans, instead of what they execute from point A to point B. When you invest in that aspect of their humanity, I think the ensemble work is stronger and the experience is better for myself and for them.” These words sum up perfectly what happened on stage last night: the dancers combined steely strength with lightning-fast accents. Partnering sections allowed both men and women to occupy roles of resisting, relishing, and evading one another. The entire cast of ten inhabited Archibald’s movement as both a challenge and an affirmation, as if to say, “Not only can I dance this phrase, I can also add my own nuances to it.”  

Two men, Cervilio Miguel Amador and James Cunningham, were fascinating in a duet that was as much a demonstration of leaning into support and interdependencies as it was a showcase for their exceptional dancing. Again, Archibald’s vocabulary enables this kind of emotional insight: she has a keen eye for both formal elements, as when couples enter the stage in similar lifts, creating a sense of dynamism and equilibrium, and for highlighting dancers’ relationships with one another. In a brilliant touch, one of the women placed her finger on a man’s lips after a virtuosic duet, as if to say, “That’s enough for the moment.”

Indeed the title of her piece can be translated as “Myo” which means mystic or wonderful, and “ho,” which means law. According to the Soka Gakkai International website, “Myoho” is “the wonder of ordinary people, beset by delusion and suffering, awakening to the fundamental law in their own lives, bringing forth wisdom and compassion and realizing that they are inherently Buddhas able to solve their own problems and those of others. The Mystic Law transforms the life of anyone—even the unhappiest person, at any time and in any circumstances—into a life of supreme happiness.”

In many ways, Archibald’s work with Cincinnati Ballet brought me supreme happiness: I spent three days in San Francisco recently for the Unbound festival of new choreography and none of the works had the nuance and vibrancy of Archibald’s. This is also a compliment to Cincinnati’s dancers: they tap into a place where they are fearless and they excel. Their costume design, by Archibald, placed the women in yellow leotards with futuristic collars that extended over the napes of their necks, suggesting the top of a cape and heightening their sense of invincibility. The score included music by Nico Muhly, Robert Honstein, and David Lang and the intertwining of instruments and machines contributed to the idea that Archibald makes ballet relevant to our digitally-enhanced 21st century.

During the panel, Archibald also said, “I love teaching and I continue to teach high school through university students. How I attack all of my classes is to not only see the star in the room. It’s important for me to see the dancer that may not be at the forefront, but has the skill level and the talent, but not the confidence to step forward. It’s important to see everyone and motivate everyone.” Based on last night’s performance, it’s clear that her choreography motivates her audiences as much as it motivates her students, and Myoho received a standing ovation.

Charlotte Ballet is now directed by Hope Muir, who trained and performed in Great Britain before joining Hubbard Street Dance Chicago (HSDC). Muir selected a work by Robyn Mineko Williams, who danced with HSDC for 12 seasons, to bring to the National Choreographic Festival. Called To Clear, the piece was a brilliant choice for the contrast that Williams’ choreography provided. Working in a more exploratory and grounded style, Williams developed scenes that evoked poetic and enigmatic interactions: the piece began with one woman standing on a folding chair, as a man, Anson Zwingelberg, walked slowly from downstage to upstage, towards her. Two technicians, working hand-held lights in the downstage corners of the stage, created shadows that duplicated their actions on the backdrop. The imagery suggested that this relationship was similar to other human interactions, and as the piece continued the cast of seven created duets, trios, and quartets that felt poignant and dream-like: in one section each cast member slid a hand around one dancer’s waist, as if about to hug or embrace them from behind, but then abandoned the gesture.

Costumes by Aimee J. Coleman contributed to the pedestrian environment, with the men and women in socks and distinct outfits, wearing long-sleeved and sleeveless tops, with pedestrian shorts, capris, and even a pant-suit. The muted tones added to the casual environment and the commissioned score by Robert F. Haynes and Tony Lazzara enriched the atmosphere with blankets of sounds that felt like they were enveloping the scenes. Actions segued seamlessly: for example, a deep lunge morphed into a turn, and then into an arabesque, allowing the momentum of each part to determine the course of events rather than lingering in any position. Zwingelberg, who graduated from Juilliard with his BFA last year, stood out among the cast of beautiful performers.

Ballet West chose África Guzmán’s Sweet and Bitter to close the program and its merger of dramatic interactions and spectacular partnering created a powerful ending. Allison DeBona and Chase O’Connell were stellar as the lead couple, and their closing pas de deux was poignant and haunting, ending with O’Connell lifting and cradling DeBona in his arms.

Katherine Lawrence, Katlyn Addison, Chelsea Keefer, Hadriel Diniz, Alexander MacFarlan, and Jordan Veit added vibrancy and playfulness to the piece, embodying the “sweet” part of Guzman’s title. The women especially lingered in balances as if savoring the movement and this added allure to their performances. Guzmán’s choreography, a fusion of theatricality and physical feats, evokes a lineage of European ballet-makers like Nacho Duato (who Guzmán worked with for 20 years) and Jiří Kylián, and was complemented by a score by Ezio Bosso, which combined both driving and demure sections.

During the panel, Guzmán acknowledged the importance of powerful women in her career, such as Maya Plisetskaya, her first director, and Hope Muir added similar observations. Great Britain, said Muir, is “quite a small island. Ninette de Valois founded the Royal Ballet and Marie Rambert started Ballet Rambert, which is the oldest company in Britain, and one that I was fortunate to dance with... Now you’ve got National Dance Company Wales with a female director [Caroline Finn] and Scottish Dance Theatre has a female director [Fleur Darkin] and there’s Tamara Rojo at English National Ballet.” For Muir, such examples of women in leadership roles led her to believe “it was possible,” a statement that contrasts with Morgan’s observation about seeing so few female directors during her performing career.

The French philosopher Jacques Rancière presents a theory that explains these observations: it’s called “the distribution of the sensible,” which means we can only see or “sense” those ideas that have been presented or framed for us. As a result, aesthetic approaches are deeply entwined with politics, and those works deemed “good” or “valuable” are supported by particular regimes of seeing and thinking. Another way of stating this idea is that aesthetic choices are also political choices: when we support the voices and ideas of people who are not equitably represented, we are enriching our knowledge of the world we live in.

What the National Choreographic Festival makes abundantly clear is that female choreographers are a vital part of our ballet landscapes. While the festival presents a vibrant spectrum, I believe there are still more artists to include. Salt Lake City is home to several distinguished dance-makers, including Penny Saunders, who just premiered an acclaimed full-length for Grand Rapids Ballet, and Melissa Bobick, who was selected for this summer’s prestigious Choreographic Institute at the University of North Carolina, School of the Arts, which is led by another vital female leader, Susan Jaffe.

As Morgan said during the panel discussion, “I might say confidence is important, but then I realize I didn’t feel confident when I stepped into these roles. I think it’s interesting that there’s this theme of recognizing the potential of dancers who are around you. It’s not always necessarily about confidence, but a lot about being vulnerable and creating relationships where dancers feel safe. The ability to generate that kind of atmosphere in a studio is essential.” As this festival proves, it’s also essential to generate support and opportunities for these women who are keeping ballet real.

Principal Artist Chase O'Connell and First Soloist Allison DeBona in Africa Guzmán's Sweet and Bitter. Photo by Beau Pearson.

Kate Mattingly is an assistant professor at the University of Utah’s School of Dance, and holds a PhD in performance studies from UC Berkeley.

She moderated the panel discussion at Ballet West, which featured the female choreographers and artistic directors invited to Salt Lake City for the second weekend of the National Choreographic Festival.

Read Kate's review of the first weekend of the National Choreographic Festival here.