Sugar Space presents Sample Tracks

Sample Tracks, presented at Sugar Space Arts Warehouse, featured a compilation of varied artists from the community – just a bite of each. I attended Friday for the “B” program, which featured works by Sonali Loomba and Katie Sheen-Abbott, Fiona Nelson, Temria Airmet, and Aileen Norris. (Thursday night’s program highlighted the work of Cat + Fish Dances, Abbie Simpson, and Rebecca Webb.) 

A demonstration of Kathak and flamenco opened the program, the first form hailing from northern India, the second arising in the south of Spain. “Passion for Percussion” illustrated the common language of these two dance forms and their accompanying musical traditions by placing them side by side. Sonali Loomba and Katie Sheen-Abbott were joined by Abhishek Mukherjee (sitar), Debanjan Bhattacharjee (tabla), Jake Abbott (guitar and vocals), and Sandy Meek (guitar). The musicians were as central as the dancers, in keeping with the leveled partnership between song and dance in both traditions. They started the night with an incredible display of technique enmeshing the two styles, each soundscape a perfectly suited complement. 

Loomba and Sheen-Abbott didn’t fuse their styles as the musicians did, rather each performed their technique in turns, first to their music, then the reverse, before appearing together to perform nearly the same sequences side by side. It was an extremely effective demonstration. Twisting palms attached to undulating arms, twirling skirts, rhythms of the feet and the heels or bells to accentuate them, upper body held upright and forward, intensely expressive and directive eyes illuminating the surrounding space. Both dance styles are centered on expressive storytelling through codified imagery created by the upper limbs, while the feet keep a lighting-sharp and playful dialogue running with the musicians, whose instruments and compositions are uncannily alike. Or maybe not so uncannily – Jake Abbott briefly mentioned the historical development of flamenco out of Indian traditions, a relationship I hadn’t considered before that now seems a curious and obvious probability to look in to. 

The program note for “Semblance” by Fiona Nelson referenced “illuminated faces, phases of the moon, memory, duets in time and space” and a Mark Twain quote – “everyone.. has a dark side which he never shows...” These referents remained somewhat nebulous in relation to the choreography. Black costumes and stark, single-sourced lighting sort of invoked moonscapes, but my mind mostly wandered into aquariums and their dark neon-infused jellyfish rooms as I watched. Side to side, circling, rising, falling, pausing, passing, the dancers maintained a flatly dynamic liquidity suited to the circular twinkly drones of the music. Bright white and subtle green lights overhead reflected off drifting skin surfaces, the particulars of choreography becoming something passed over for the pleasant haze of a windmilling ebb and flow. 

Third on the program was a solo performance by Temria Airmet. As in previous works, Airmet took a very large bite at a contemporary political topic (this time, “the current societal movement of feminism” and #metoo), attempting to distill nuance and context to a pithy minute drama with an uplifting final cry. Spreading a large bolt of white tulle across the stage, Airmet began a monologue on her version of feminism, religious doctrine from her youth and its impact on her self-perception, personal traumatic experiences, and a quick list of some topical social and political crises. She shuffled around in the tulle, punctuating her story with interpretive gestures and two more dance-y interludes, the first to a glitching dream-pop track of unknown origin (for some reason Airmet’s was the only piece on the program to forgo musical credits) and the second to David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” The piece ended with the fist-shaking cry that “this revolution... is working.” Which is fine and good and perhaps true, sometimes, except that in many places and for many people, it is also not. 

The final work, by Aileen Norris and dancers Alexandra Barbier, Arin Lynn, and Emma Sargent, was “The Convoluted Love Ballad of V___.” Tracing something unseen, Sargent was soon joined by Barbier, Lynn sliding in unnoticed upstage. The three spiraled into each other, becoming entangled and entranced in turns. When the music turned to sloshing ocean sounds, they became isolated rocks in its currents, static and shifting in turns until Barbier and Lynn fused together. From there it got... convoluted. The three slid in and out of complicated loves and betrayals; the movement was loose, swinging, and easy. Smiles were a treasure, then a dagger. Nico crooned overhead in a track about a dangerous femme, and when the rushing water returned, all three were linked, pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling in the same direction. 

Photo of Temria Airmet at Sample Tracks by Laura De Backer.

Emily Snow is a Denver native who now calls Salt Lake City home. She has most recently been seen performing with Municipal Ballet Co. and with Durian Durian, an art band that combines electronic music and postmodern dance.  

Great Salt Lake Fringe Festival 2019: Alexandra Barbier

It is difficult to review something that by its nature seems to defy the expectations of viewership. Yes, while tickets were purchased, and a performance setting was defined, my relationship with Be My Guest Performer by Alexandra Barbier was ultimately one of participation, if not straight-forward collaboration. Barbier’s interest in developing this work is expressed as a desire to blur the audience-performer line. What does it mean to perform for an audience? What does it mean to be in attendance for someone else’s movement experience? My writing about this performance therefore has to be a reflection of myself as a performer as well. It was not a performance to be critiqued or analyzed, but rather a shared space with multiple voices and approaches.

From the beginning, Barbier crafted the space in one of The Gateway’s abandoned storefronts in a way that informed the participants that their bodies, their voices, and their experiences were just as important to the evening as Barbier’s were, if not more so. One of the biggest sources of discomfort in “audience participation” is the fear of participating against your wishes. Barbier offered a solution to this by directing (through projected text) the audience to put on a sticker expressing their level of desired involvement. Among varied discussions of audience consent in performance, I found this to be unexpectedly thoughtful. No one was put on the spot by being asked to relocate, being asked to verbalize their consent, or feeling any pressure from the performance itself. The power was in the audience’s hands throughout the evening.

I’m still intrigued by the premise of the evening, especially when it comes to questions of defining what a performance is. If audience and performer are in a shared space together, everyone is inherently participating by being present. So, why, not just for dance artists, but for anyone who makes a living on “stages,” is the meaning and the focus directed at those who have “choreographed” the evening? Barbier examined this principle by upending the “rules” at the beginning of the show. She spoke directly to us, encouraged us to leave our phones on and take pictures, and sat in the traditionally observational space.

Photo of Barbier’s Be My Guest Performer by Natalie Gotter.

The structure of the evening was fairly simple. Barbier presented a series of choreographic structures that the audience was invited to participate in. The most remarkable element of these structures was how removed Barbier felt as a performer. The piece was structured in a way that felt almost like a less-expositional, composition classroom, with Barbier guiding the experience as opposed to being a to-be-observed performer. She built a score through loop pedals that utilized audience voices, offered paper bags with movement directives, and taught a gestural phrase. But then she removed herself from the space and just allowed the audience to play. At one point, when speaking to the audience, she removed herself from the space by facing away and speaking into a camera that projected her image. Even though she was physically present the whole evening, by the end it truly felt like a dance improvisation with everyone in the room participating.

That said, even though the space was inhabited by dancers (mostly), it took a little bit of time to shed the notion of defined roles. To that end, I’d be curious to see how a longer experience could develop and be guided in varied ways. Knowing that this is Barbier’s MFA thesis research, I’m sure she will continue to grapple with these questions, but in the meantime, she created a safe exploratory space that felt fun rather than pressure-laden.

Be My Guest Performer continues Friday, August 9, at 7:30 p.m. and Sunday, August 11, at 1:30 p.m. at the The Gateway - in a storefront on the east side of the fountain, near the north end of the mall. Tickets and details can be found on the Fringe Festival website.

Natalie Gotter is a dance performer, choreographer, instructor, filmmaker, and researcher. She holds an MFA in Modern Dance with emphasis on Gender Studies from the University of Utah. She is a Visiting Assistant Professor of Dance and Muhlenberg College.

Cat + Fish: Forge

Dancing is this big ongoing thing. More than anything else, it continues – past the blackouts, wings, and curtain calls – far beyond where the bodies come in and out of view.

I think about such ongoingness when I see a show like Forge, presented at Westminster College this weekend by Cat + Fish. Artistic Director Cat Kamrath’s contributions to the evening form a suite – Strong Back, Soft Front, and Wild Heart. The mark of the university as a container for dance – a recent historical phenomenon – is strong in these works. It might be easy to criticize these pieces for the straightforwardness of how they use basic compositional tools. It might be easy to criticize the bodies getting tossed in the air based on a logic common to dances made to make better dancers. But, here indeed are strong, vivid, well-trained but still human performers. They feel their way through what they’re doing with a presence that’s more than academic. They don’t leave you feeling left out of a secret. The pleasures are infectious and intended to be available. 

The dancers even swim upstream a little. Micah Burkhardt, Madaline Maravillas, and Ursula Perry make a striking, unexpected threesome in Soft Front. Mostly, the way they touch each other is exactly what I expect, but there are junctures where the script seems to fall away. Daniel Do, Mar Undag, and Emma Sargent have solos in which I see a much freer practice that I imagine belongs to each of them privately. 

I do find myself wondering if Camrath’s use of sound as wallpaper is what’s keeping these pieces from transcending their context. She might do well to take risks with music that would make real choreographic demands, or to play with more silence. 

Daniel Do’s work Fortitude, though at times melodramatic, gestured toward such an approach. Performed by Kamrath, who’s more unorthodox as a performer, Fortitude seemed to be about a woman in search of a self-knowledge available only through sweat, trial, and error. Five lonely balloons shivered eerily in moments when Kamrath paused to reflect. 

Natalie Gotter contributed Anna, a duet for Molly Cook and Conner Erickson. Dressed in matching gray and white uniforms, the two drew pictures on butcher paper and eventually on each other. This twinning pair seemed inevitably a couple – it’s still so hard for us not to imagine a man and women partnering as such. Anna had a coldness that somehow put me in mind of science fiction. I appreciated the commentary about how we relate to each other through increasingly banal signs and symbols. By the end, they might have been tattooing each other with emojis.

Forge continues this Saturday, July 20, at 7:30 p.m. at Westminster College. Photos above by Zach Nguyen.

Samuel Hanson is the editor and executive director of loveDANCEmore. 

Dance West Fest: Topography

topography n. the physical or natural features of an object or entity and their structural relationships

The inaugural Dance West Fest combined workshops hosted individually in the past by Repertory Dance Theatre, Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company, and the University of Utah. The newly branded workshop culminated on Thursday night with Topography, an aptly titled program that featured a hybrid of dances in varying stages of completeness. The evening served as a preview, both of the upcoming local dance season as well as of work from outside the state, and provided an instructive side-by-side of pieces that would not share a program otherwise.

With no printed playbill, directors and choreographers personably introduced each dance and cast; the informality was a nice foil to an otherwise surprisingly polished presentation in the Rose Wagner black box, complete with lighting and (light) costumes. 

Doris Humphrey’s 1949 “Invention,” staged by Limón company alum and veteran repetiteur Nina Watt, opened the program with jubilation. RDT will perform this new acquisition in its coming season; here, it was danced with aplomb by seasoned company members Jaclyn Brown, Lauren Curley, and Tyler Orcutt. 

Difficult feats such as a series of tours en l’air, with bow-and-arrow arms, and suspended hinges to the ground appeared effortless, buoyed by the performers’ horizon-focused gaze. As Norman Lloyd’s piano score transitioned from effervescence to effort, so too, and seamlessly, did the relationships between dancers. Though “Invention” clocks in at just eleven well-paced minutes, “through form and music and shape and gesture, [Humphrey] creates a world." 

Lauren Curley and Tyler Orcutt of Repertory Dance Theatre in Doris Humphrey’s “Invention.” Photo by Tori Duhaime.

The fully-mined finality of an archival work was followed by an exploration of something brand new, as Ann Carlson introduced an onstage rehearsal featuring Ririe-Woodbury artistic director Daniel Charon. Carlson explained that, for her, the audience always completes a dance; this is evident in her 2017 work for Ririe-Woodbury, “Elizabeth, the dance,” which the company will re-stage this fall. 

Charon tap-danced to “Moses Supposes” from “Singin’ in the Rain” and Carlson admitted she knows nothing about tap as she mimicked his movements while calling out directions, her hands fluttering behind her like quaking aspen leaves. Her coaching interjections, which functioned both for Charon and for us, made the case that, even here, the audience remained her final ingredient. 

Molly Heller (left) and Arletta Anderson presenting the start of a new collaboration with Katie Faulkner. Photo by Tori Duhaime.

Bay Area choreographer Katie Faulkner presented a collaboration with Arletta Anderson and local artist Molly Heller. The three women live in different cities, and Faulkner introduced their piece, the beginning of an evening-length one (shown in front of an audience here for the first time), as an experiment in working across distance and time. 

Performed by Heller and Anderson, the duet focused on percussion (audible, prancing pony steps, body slaps, and half-intelligible, breathy muttering) to create an abstracted narrative verging on the humorous. Like a contemporary art rendering of two Stooges, Heller and Anderson’s foibles (literally) pushed off and built upon one another, the two garnering laughs as they raced in circles around the stage, one clearly imagining herself the triumphant winner. 

Rebecca Aneloski (foreground) performing in a piece created by Dante Brown during Dance West Fest. Photo by Tori Duhaime.

New York-based choreographer Dante Brown mined both poetry and personal life in his offering performed by four students of the workshop, which he introduced as a “text to movement experience.” For the most part, any clarity was derived from the poetry read aloud by Brown at the front of the stage. The dancers began by moving in a rather amorphous blob and Brown’s relationship to them, as well as his choice to wear feathered wings, was not abundantly clear, lending the selection the air of a classroom exploration (in fairness, it was created in just several hours over the course of the workshop). But a solo by Rebecca Aneloski colored the space between performers and text beautifully, providing both heft and purpose. 

Yin Yue, also based in New York, presented twice on the program; first, a duet performed with Grace Whitworth, who is rehearsal director for Yue’s YY Dance Company, and then, to close the program, an excerpt of a new commission for Ririe-Woodbury to premiere in April 2020. 

Yin Yue (left) and Grace Whitworth in Yue’s “The Time Followed.” Photo by Tori Duhaime.

Lights rose on “The Time Followed” (2019) on what appeared to be one figure - the soon-revealed duo of Yue and Whitworth continued the idea of a singular, eight-limbed body with responsive, intelligent, and close-quartered partnering. Each manipulated the other through challenging weight shares and elegant promenades, both remaining in simultaneous control throughout. The ending image had Yue and Whitworth facing each other, arms outstretched and hands slowly rising while moving closer together, like moths seeking the light.

The program-concluding excerpt of Yue’s Ririe-Woodbury commission gave an enticing glimpse of company newcomers Dominica Greene and Nicholas Jurica. Similarly task-oriented partnering once again emphasized movement itself as concept (if the chosen selection is any indication of the whole). The dancers of Ririe-Woodbury appeared freer to inject daring in their approach to Yue’s choreography, or perhaps their sense of abandon was a product of their bodies’ interpretation of a new language - either way, it was a rewarding expansion upon the previous, more carefully calculated, pas de deux. 

Dominica Greene and Brian Nelson (pictured in rehearsal attire) performing an excerpt of a new commission by Yin Yue for Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company. Photo by Tori Duhaime.

Amy Falls manages and edits all reviews found on loveDANCEmore.org. Please send press releases for upcoming shows, and inquiries about writing, to amy@lovedancemore.org.

NOW-ID: Rite of Spring

Industry, productivity, labor, ritual, depletion, exhaustion.

These are some of the themes that emerged while watching Now-ID’s Rite of Spring. Even the path to the stage, surrounded by railroad tracks, chain-link fencing, and brick and concrete block buildings, felt like part of the performance.

The raised stage underneath the 600 North on-ramp (498 West 600 North) emerged like a destination in the midst of this industrial setting, an oasis for people curious to see what unfolds when an opera singer, four phenomenal dancers, and Igor Stravinsky’s landmark score come together to create an event. The performance began at 9 p.m. and ended less than an hour later, just as the sky had darkened and night had come.

Now-ID’s Rite was a study in contrasts: between the vibrancy of the dancing and the desolation of the landscape that surrounded it, between the glimpses of mountains and the concrete that surrounded the stage, between the timelessness of the music and the ephemerality of this moment, between the perseverance of the performers, and the ultimate collapse that ended this Rite.

Avoiding an explicit narrative, Rite unfolded as a series of images: beginning with the four dancers seated on stools at the corners of the stage. Evoking boxers waiting on the edges of a ring, they seemed focused and primed. Jo Blake stood, as if to signal the beginning of a ritual, and slowly walked by the other dancers (Sydney Sorenson, Liz Ivkovich, and Tara McArthur) to greet Joshua Lindsay as he stepped onto the stage and began singing. Lindsay’s voice, sonorous and lush, heightened my attunement to sensorial engagement, of letting the sounds, sights, and actions of this event convey meaning.

When Lindsay exited, Stravinsky’s score began, and Blake’s solo presented a transformation: from human to extra-human, with arms that morphed into wings as if he were performing an invocation. He danced like he was propelled by forces, and the clarity and strength of his performance was mesmerizing to watch.

Although the performance was choreographed by Charlotte Boye-Christensen, with Nathan Webster providing the concept, the dancers made their ideas into realities with a performance that was impressive in terms of both stamina and precision. Each dancer presented distinct qualities, while also maintaining a sense of coherence. Sorenson danced with a rare combination of power and extension. Ivkovich had a compelling expansion to her movement, limbs stretching away from her center of gravity in ways that seemed to resist gravity. McArthur presented a flickering, quicksilver quality, with movement that was so fast it seemed superhuman.

In unison sections the women generated a sense of solidarity, bounding across the stage with a loping gait that seemed to gain momentum as they moved. At other times, the four performers divided into pairs that suggested rival tribes: Ivkovich and McArthur wore red-ish pants that contrasted with Blake’s and Sorenson’s attire. In partnering sections, they seemed to engage in combat, like wrestlers grappling.

Tara McArthur and Jo Blake in NOW-ID’s Rite of Spring, in costumes by Mallory Prucha. Photo by Jeffrey Juip.

The costumes, by Mallory Prucha, added to the rough and exposed environment: pants were made of heavy cotton (“monk’s cloth”) but shredded at the hems and stained with dark streaks. Make-up and hair by Stephanie Ericson, Rikki-Lee Thomas, Brittany Botarri, Kevin Truong, and Vanessa Alfaro enhanced the sense of severity with body paint and spiky hairstyles. As the performance continued, the body paint disintegrated, leaving traces of colors just as the surroundings presented traces of former industries and communities.

It’s hard to decipher the connections between this landscape and this Rite: in some ways the choreography presented a familiar tale of a woman’s sacrifice for the betterment of a community. In other ways, the dancers seemed to be exposing the exhaustion and depletion of cultures and sectors that are no longer sustainable or viable, perhaps suggesting that we become more judicious in where we invest our energies and resources. No matter the interpretation, the dancers’ commitment to the choreography was impressive, and their ability to execute the phrases while maintaining a sense of understated calm was riveting. Each one is a compelling artist, and the lighting design by Cole Adams made it appear, at times, as if their bodies were glowing. A gorgeous and appropriate effect.

NOW-ID’s Rite of Spring, with lighting by Cole Adams. Photo by David Newkirk.

Kate Mattingly is an assistant professor of dance at the University of Utah. She has a doctoral degree in performance studies from UC Berkeley, and has had writing published in The New York Times, The Village Voice, Dance Research Journal, Dance magazine, and Pointe magazine, among others.