Municipal Ballet Co.: The River Speaks Plainly

When Sarah Longoria, director of Municipal Ballet Co., stepped to the microphone last night to thank Fisher Brewing Co. for hosting their performance of The River Speaks Plainly, she mentioned it was “the first ballet they’ve ever had here.” She admitted that the company hoped to perform this piece on a river, but those plans didn’t work out: “If you can’t go down the river, go to Fisher,” she added.

Indeed, the setting was perfect: flash flood warnings were issued at 6 p.m., but by 8 p.m., the sky was clear, with streaks of pale blue, pink, and lavender adding to the dancers’ backdrop. A dance floor had been set up behind the brewery (where cornhole games are typically played), and there were folding chairs for the sold-out audience. More people stood in the back, and the atmosphere was lively and supportive.

Pixie and the Partygrass Boys, a fantastic local bluegrass band, set up their instruments at the edge of the floor, and eleven Municipal Ballet dancers turned the stage into an evocative platform for stories of river-runners: John Wesley Powell, Bert Loper, Glen and Bessie Hyde, Buzz Holmstrom, Martin Litton, Georgie White Clark, and Kenton Grua.

A narrator, Colby Frazier, introduced scenes choreographed by the company’s dancers, designers, and guests. Frazier’s writing and delivery added to the casual vibe, especially when he began with, “I don’t have any of this memorized.” His vignettes, beautifully composed, presented a balance between historical facts and resonant images, and his writing made me think of Municipal Ballet’s niche in Salt Lake City: the dancers present a compelling balance of craft and creativity, they are well-trained and inviting performers, and there’s a refreshingly diverse range of heights and backgrounds in the company. When they dance together, there are moments where they acknowledge one another and smile. This kind of camaraderie is both enjoyable and rare.

When I asked Nora Price, a dancer and choreographer, about her choice to perform with Municipal Ballet, she wrote in an email, “I think standard proscenium dance performances, and many site-specific and unconventionally-staged shows as well, hold audiences captive; I’d rather feel free to be captivated, or not. I don’t respond happily to being held aesthetically hostage as an audience member, OR as a dancer. I like feeling that folks’ pleasure in an experience is not wholly contingent on my perfect execution of unremitting whimsy/edginess/technical mastery. Even if they can expect to remain seated throughout, being in an otherwise engaging environment with beverages or snacks and a visible live local band sets a distinct tone.”

Last night’s distinct tone was enhanced by the support of a local business, the brewery, and local heroes, the river-runners. Frazier’s narration introduced an atmosphere for each scene, and the choreography extended his tales. For instance, Frazier disclosed details of the Hyde couple’s adventure of 1928, but the dancers’ performance, choreographed by Nora Price and Emily Snow, added details to his story of the couple’s demise.

Introducing Holmstrom’s adventures, Frazier quoted from the river-runner’s journal, “The last bad one above me--the Bad Rapid--Lava Cliff--that I had been looking for, nearly a thousand miles--I thought: once past there my reward will begin, but now everything ahead seems kind of empty and I find I have already had my reward, in the doing of the thing…” The ensuing dance, entitled “The Doing of the Thing,” choreographed by Olivia Mason, created an apt comparison: Nora Price, Nick Gibas, and Stacie Riskin presented images of intertwining and interdependence. There seemed to be a distinct joy in discovering what was possible and supporting one another. It reminded me of a quote from Merce Cunningham, “You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive.” Similar to Holmstrom’s “doing of the thing,” Cunningham’s words conjure links between river-running and dancing.

Throughout the evening, choreographers presented different approaches to conveying the river’s propulsion and force. In the first scene, choreographed by Longoria and entitled “The River,” the cast performed recognizable ballet steps, from waltzes to chaîné turns. Her choreography conveyed a sense of momentum as the opening solo, performed wonderfully by Sierra Williams, morphed into duets, quartets, trios, and the entire ensemble dancing together.

In contrast, Jessica Liu’s choreography for Nick Gibas, called “Ballad for Glen Canyon,” drew from more modern vocabularies, with extensive floor-work and idiosyncratic phrasing. Gibas performed this swirling and spiraling choreography with compelling power and abandon, an evocative image of the Colorado River. His solo recalled the words of Wendell Berry, read by Frazier before the “Ballad:” “Men may dam it and say that they have made a lake, but it will still be a river. It will keep its nature and bide its time, like a caged animal alert for the slightest opening.”

There were other scenes that merged ballet and modern vocabularies, as in Katie Davis’s quartet, “Litton’s Boats,” inspired by the driving music of the band. As the tempo increased, so did the dancing, and the investment and stamina of the performers - Hannah Bowcutt, Katie Davis, Stacie Riskin, and Tristana Yegge - were thrilling. The quartet ended with one of the dancers giving a thumbs-up to the musicians, a moment of conviviality that made visible the collaborative spirit of the evening.

While presenting ballet in this hybrid setting - with musicians, a narrator, and an interactive vibe - may be atypical in today’s dance world, The River Speaks Plainly reminded me of ballet’s roots: in 1581, Catherine de Medici commissioned “Ballet Comique de La Reine Louise,” which is considered the first ballet. It too was an evening that merged dancing with instrumental music, songs, and spoken verses. It too was propelled by a woman’s vision.

In contrast to The River Speaks Plainly, “Ballet Comique” was an exclusive affair, designed to reinforce and glorify the power of the state. To see Municipal Ballet is to see how far ballet has come: it’s an art form that can be inclusive, inviting, and fun. My attention was drawn to the clarity and vivacity in dancing by Sierra Williams, Nora Price, and Emily Snow. I imagine that other audience members were drawn to other performers and their unique attributes, and to me this speaks to the mutability and sustainability of ballet.

Wrapping the dancers in a blanket of bluegrass, the evening’s terrific music was composed by Ben Weiss and performed by Zach Downes on upright bass, Amanda Grapes on fiddle, Andrew Nelson on guitar, Weiss on mandolin, and Katia Racine on ukulele and vocals. When I asked Grapes during one of the beer breaks about the difference between a violin and a fiddle, she said, “A violin has strings, and a fiddle has strangs.” The band’s unpretentious and powerful playing was a symbiotic partner to Municipal Ballet Co.: together they created an evening that brings ballet into the 21st century.

The final performance of The River Speaks Plainly tonight, August 23, is sold out, but you can see Municipal Ballet Co. perform excerpts at the inaugural Busker Fest on Friday, August 24.

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.

OSBA presents BODYTRAFFIC

The Ogden Symphony Ballet Association (OSBA) kicked off their new Dance Series last Friday with a performance by L.A.-based BODYTRAFFIC. Rounding out OSBA’s annual presentations of Ballet West and the Utah Symphony, the new series will also feature Collage Dance Collective and Parsons Dance in early 2018.

It’s a trek from downtown Salt Lake up north to Weber State University’s Val A. Browning Center, but BODYTRAFFIC’s four-work, mixed bill proved ample justification for braving the traffic. (The show also featured SLC native and U of U alum Jessica Liu and fellow NCSA grad Lindsey Matheis!)

An aptly long-titled work by Barak Marshall opened the program: “And at midnight, the green bride floated through the village square…” was as strange and rambling as its name first let on. An exciting initial outburst of unison gesture sequences too quickly dispersed into two of the dancers speaking in fake accents into a microphone, describing specifically, and sexually, the preparation for a fish dish. This became the pattern for the rest of the dance -- captivating gesture bursts which quickly unravelled into narrative interjections that left me confused, rather than intrigued, by their randomness.

Every time the dancers re-entered for another round of unison gestures, the repetitive structure of the phrase they returned to, its sharpness (and impeccable togetherness), and the movement motifs themselves complemented the musical structure so well (as noted in the program, the music for the piece was an assemblage of Jewish love songs and hymns in the Yiddish, Ladino, and Yemenite traditions). While the gestures weren’t accompanied by much lower body movement -- just simple side-steps and drops into lunges -- they triggered a kinesthetic involvement. I felt my investment in the dance wander when, one by one, the women were mysteriously “killed” by the men and slid backwards off a bench, and when a woman hopped around with her feet secured to a board.

Marshall’s mother, Margalit Oved, is also an artist and the dance is based on a story about her family’s neighbors in Yemen. I would love to know more about this story and how it is woven into the narrative Marshall has constructed; upon my first viewing, its disjointed fragmentation gave an impression of many false endings.

Stijn Celis' "Fragile Dwellings", courtesy of BODYTRAFFIC website.

Stijn Celis’ “Fragile Dwellings” was a lovely study in serenity, not unlike a dream from start to finish. Clad in all-white, on a hazy stage cut by beams of light, a series of soloists swept, reached, and spiraled fluidly to soaring choral music, and then in silence. A fourth soloist began and then, just as I had the fleeting impression that the structure had become monotonous, the other three appeared as if conjured by my thoughts. The four dancers wove amongst one another, lightly taking hands and gently partnering. The final image of “Fragile Dwellings”, two watching while another supported Lindsey Matheis in a lush backbend, served to extend the dance’s spectral suspension long past when the curtain fell. Celis, whose name was new to me, showcased an incredible knack for crafting liminal magic with choreographic elements that might seem obvious in another setting.  

Victor Quijada's "Once again, before you go", courtesy of BODYTRAFFIC website.

Until this show, I’d yet to see Victor Quijada’s work performed live. “Once again, before you go” was an excellent formal introduction, as it encapsulated everything I anticipated from the creator of hip-hop/modern dance crossover company RUBBERBANDance. An opening duet for two men was the ideal mashup of contemporary and break dance techniques. I found that the combination of the two also affected my interpretation of the men’s onstage relationship; while in either form, there are expected ways that two males might be presented together (for example, a relationship duet in a contemporary setting and a rivalry in break dancing), the blurring of the two provided a new take on how two men could exist together in performance.

The dancers always had their hands splayed wide: like starfish ready to receive and connect, giving them an air of trepidation mixed with confidence in their transitions from move to move, especially when partnering. I assume this comes from break dancing, hands held out to absorb and anticipate contact with the floor -- it had an intriguing effect transposed to the vertical.

At the end of “Once again, before you go,”, a side beam dramatically illuminated a dancer scooped up by two more; she was held aloft for a brief second before the lights cut to black. The image was striking, but its effect was also due to timing: if it had been any other dance you’ve ever seen, the end probably wouldn’t have come for awhile longer. Here, Quijada placed it unexpectedly, and its suddenness was breathtaking.

Richard Siegal's "o2Joy", courtesy of BODYTRAFFIC website.

BODYTRAFFIC’s program up to this point consisted mostly of “serious dance” -- enjoyable, certainly, but cerebral all the same. Sensibly programmed, “o2Joy” by Richard Siegal closed the show with a gleeful romp set to jazz classics like Ella Fitzgerald’s “All of Me.” Sock slides, a tombé coupé jeté circle, and the spirit of hamming it up all found their places in this finale. A solo lip-syncer elicited many laughs from the audience as he refused to fully exit the stage time after time. As a different sort of mashup, Siegal wove together a fun blend of technical kicks, turns, and partnering with sock-hop-style hip twists and flapping hands.

After a bit of meandering, the ending image of “o2joy” was also surprising, as a woman melted at the knees in the hands of her partner.

The entire evening was a delight, and so were the exceptional dancers of BODYTRAFFIC. Kudos to the OSBA for the new programmatic endeavor, and I hope it sticks. Looking forward to their spring offerings, and to seeing more Salt Lake folks up at WSU.

Amy Falls is the development coordinator at Ballet West, and manages loveDANCEmore’s online journal. If you’re interested in adding your voice to the community conversation by covering a show, please email her at amy@lovedancemore.org.

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.

SALT II: In Concert at the Rose

SALT II, the junior company of SALT Contemporary Dance, had its first full length show at the Leona Wagner Black Box this past weekend. It showcased thirteen strong female dancers that approached the program’s seven works with artistry and technical skill.

The lights brighten to a soundless scape of several couples buttressing up against one another, shoulders to chins and chins to shoulders. This symbiotic relationship eventually gives way to more conflicted ones in local dancer and choreographer Eldon Johnson’s The Truth Of The Matter Is. Structurally this piece vacillates between animal-like movements, the spine continually experiencing a tickle that can’t be scratched, and brief moments of stillness, the dancers forming human still-lifes that are framed against a red cyc.

The large cast number settles into a duet with dancers Haleigh Larmer and Morgan Phillips that features innovative partnering that could be categorized as the great-granddaughter of contact improvisation and a cousin to contemporary ballet. It incorporates the idea that  ‘any body part can be a support structure’ paired with clear and clean lines splicing and undulating through the space.

Jessica Liu multitasks as dancer, SALT II assistant director, and choreographer of Preserved Peals, and shines in this duet with guest artist Ismael Arrieta. This piece starts with an upbeat song by Bahamas and a hit-hit-gesture rhythm. Liu is that rare dancer that showcases beautiful lines with grounded strength, and attention to detail while gobbling up the space. In this piece she manages to do all this while exuding a believable joy and feel-good happiness. It’s believable in part because I cannot doubt it would feel amazing to dance that well.

Arrieta does his part in keeping up with Liu, and displays his own brand of laidback California cool. The work has a middle section of weight, release, and rest, but does not dwell there, instead quickly returning to high wattage, sparkling movement. The dancers end by sprinting offstage.

Deditionem by Mady Beighley, Dust Seeds Clouds by Gabrielle Lamb and Tracing the Steps You Left Behind by Jason Parsons were well-investigated and deserving of singular attention, but suffered because they were all full-cast pieces positioned one after another and drew on similar movement sensibilities. The inclusion of a sock-induced slide is one of those sensibilities, (are bare feet bygones of yesterday?) and while this move worked well in Preserved Peals (because it had the fun and frolic of a Tom Cruise in Risky Business moment), it felt contrived in the other pieces.

Distinguishing characteristics of the Beighley, Lamb, and Parsons pieces are:

• The slight Pina Baush Rite of Spring-feel to Deditionem, complete with Hayley Smihula as the sacrifice in white.  The movie-esque score by Johann Johannsson helps elevate the drama and crystalize the stakes.

• Lamb’s piece uses the instantly recognizable music of Zoe Keating, which is just waiting to be used in concert dance again and again and again as it so clearly provides a dynamic structure and rich texture with which to base movement off. The score drives and fills and emotes urgency and modern-day drama. That being said, the choreography of this work has its own two legs, and ends with a beautiful solo by Lauren Bonan while the rest of the cast bears witness upstage.

• This was the second time I watched SALT II perform Tracing The Steps You Left Behind, and this showing felt more distilled and seasoned than the first. Amy Falls reviewed the first showing, and while much stays the same, the unfocused walking seems to have been replaced with a simmering undercurrent of control and predator/prey relationship.

A welcomed departure was Joni McDonald’s solo for McKenna Chugg.  While it did not take pains to explore theme or variation, it was refreshing in terms of costume (a bright red leotard), showcased a single dancer in the space, and ended abruptly.

The evening concluded with BODYTRAFFIC dancer Lindsey Matheis’ Chimera, and after reading that a chimera is a single organism composed of cells from different zygotes (in other words, one thing can in fact be many things combined), this piece is appropriately titled.  The work begins like Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, full of mischievous wonder and magic, and ends as Depp in the snow scene from Edward Scissorhands, dancers bathed in white, both sculptural and yearning in the space.

In my wildest fantasy, guest artist Logan McGill would not be the only male and the one gifted the role of puppeteer in Chimera. He sauntered around the cast of women, controlling them with his gaze and movements, even at one point leading out two crawling ladies as if they were animals on leashes; but this is Matheis’ world, not mine.

Despite this grievance, Chimera is an interesting, even spell-binding piece that has lingering theatricality and an unpredictability that has stayed with me long after the lights went dark.  

Erica Womack is a choreographer based in Salt Lake. She is also an adjunct faculty member at SLCC. 

Municipal Ballet + Conquer Monster: Metatransit

METATRANSIT was a joint production by the musical duo Conquer Monster and Municipal Ballet Co. Being a sci-fi buff myself, I was excited to learn that the premise of the show was an abstract dance narrative inspired by the comic series, “Purge Worlds” written by Joshua Oman and illustrated by Chris Black. Conquer Monster originally crafted a custom soundtrack, METATRANSIT,  which was designed to be played while reading the comic series. To my delight, the soundtrack was played live for the show. Video-glitch artist Tanner Hawkins was also involved in the mix by providing video content.

The event was held at Urban Lounge. To be honest, this worried me. I had only ever seen music concerts there complete with beer sticky on the floor, and sweaty millennials bouncing only slightly to the music. My worry proved unwarranted as the space was transformed for the show. Company director Sarah Longoria took to the stage and introduced the evening. She mentioned that her company does “experimental ballet” and that this show was a little more than that, being their first time performing to electronic dance music. I settled into my seat as the fog machines hissed, spurting out smoke that set the atmosphere.

DYSTOPIAN UNDERWORLD by Sarah Longoria was the first piece in the show. It opened with dancer Hannah Bowcutt seated mid-stage with her back to the audience. The movement for this work contained the most classically recognizable ballet moves. There were long and beautiful lines in the choreography which fit Hannah perfectly. My favorite moment was when she took her socks off and tossed them to the side. This action somehow signaled to me that Hannah was preparing to dive in a little deeper for when she returned to dancing she had a new and visible determination with each movement. Extensions appeared as a motif throughout the work. While Hannah was captivating to watch as she held her legs impossibly high, I couldn’t help but notice that the graceful movements did not match the title of the piece.  

Hannah was joined by Amy Falls and Nora Price for the second work, FLUX PERIPHERAL by Erica Womack. The ladies were wearing white and gray and each had a different Ziggy Stardust-esque facepaint. This trio had moments of scrambled video bits projected on their bodies as well as onto the backdrop. The ladies moved with a lovely sense of timing during all of the unison phrases. The choreography highlighted the music with dynamic accents. The motif for this piece seemed to be a deep second position plié while in unison, and it was very satisfying to watch. The dancers all had stoic facial expressions and seemed to represent some disciplined yet graceful ideology through their movements.  

GALAXY SURFER was the first video work by Tanner. My favorite images were of the the killer scorpion robot. I didn’t recognize any other images used from different sci-fi movies or shows, but the futuristic theme was apparent in showing images of explosions, robots, fancy switchboards and distorted bodies.  

WAVEFORM DISTORTION by Kaya Wolsey was the next work presented. The music definitely added a new tone for the show. It was driving and lightning fast. I noticed myself and others tapping along in time with the beat, caught in the energy that Conquer Monster was creating. The choreography mirrored the pace of the song with moves executed on every count.  Cynthia Phillips was so precise yet fierce with every phrase. She was vibrant and moved with a determined force. The lights were dramatic, dark and colorful, making this setting very different from the light, ethereal moods of earlier on. Cynthia wore all black and was smirking a little wickedly throughout her solo. While I was very impressed with the athleticism of the piece, I also found myself wishing there had been more moments of dynamic time changes like the one repeated variation Cynthia did in the middle of the dance.  

The energy from the previous piece carried us into a duet with Cynthia and Kaya Wolsey.  TRANSMITTING DNA AT 299 MM/S was a fitting name as the movements continued to  a crescendo. Choreographer Jessica Liu used partnerwork and lifting with the duo to create moments of suspension. Cynthia and Kaya locked eyes with each-other, becoming the first dancers to visibly see and acknowledge their shared presence. The lighting continued with dark washes of solid color changing with the pulsing beats. Both dancers were emotionally invested, and proud. Both clad in black, I immediately concluded that this group of dancers was meant to be in opposition to the white/gray group. This second group had smaller numbers, but seemed very powerful in their movements which set them apart from the aloof aesthetic of the other dances.  

The second video, POSTHUMAN, showed much if not all of the same images from GALAXY SURFER but in different sequencing. This time around I noticed smaller details such as the repeating sign “Oasis” despite other images of war, high tech robots, explosions and distorted people. I found myself having little moments of nostalgia whenever I could see “Play” flashing on the top of the screen like an old VHS player.  

In SELF-SIMILAR FREQUENCY DOMAIN by Chase Wise we saw the two groups join forces and share the stage. While the girls danced in unison during the work, I could still see the emphasis on the differing styles of movement. The two dancers in black had a little more attack and sharpness to their movements while the gray/white group ebbed and flowed. Chase used lots of directional changes which were extremely refreshing on the intimate stage. Detailed gestures were woven into the work and punctuated by the dancers framing their heads with their hands. This move seemed to demonstrate some sort of personal obstacles or a mental block. I couldn't help but to try and find a narrative that I could follow within the movement. I caught my breath when for a moment all of the dancers were on the floor with their feet up and hands in a  “stop” position. Fast floorwork made the piece exciting and lent a contemporary edge to the show. While this piece was strong choreographically, I felt that the unison sections seemed a little under-rehearsed and the girls weren’t completely in sync.  

During ANAGLYPHIC VISION(S) by Trevor Naumann, the white/gray group returned with more dancers. I could see the group making amorphous shapes in positive and negative space. There was minimal contact during these shapes, which was something I longed to see a more of.  Naumann added little snippet solos that broke away from the group. The solos were titillating, leaving me wanting more of those highlights to break up the unison.  

After reading the program, I was intrigued that NOISE DECAY by Nora Price and Emily Snow contained an improvisational framework that the dancers could work within. At first all of the dancers were huddled on the floor in a clump. They held this position as Emily slowly and deliberately padded towards them. As she got closer to the group, they began to peel away one by one. Emily seemed to be breaking up the group, changing their paths and altering their destinations which allowed for happy accidents of interaction. Perhaps the most vivid moment of the piece was when two dancers were left downstage and center. With a slight pause the girls reached out and touched the other’s sternum with their hands right over the heartspace. The detailed moments of contact were so few and far between in the show that this moment stuck with me throughout the evening. It added a touch of humanity to the sensory overload of loud music and static-filled imagery in much of the concert.  

While STARPORT DESTRUCTION SEQUENCE had a few new images thrown into this video interlude, I wanted to see more variety the third time around. Since the dances in the show lacked a clearly outlined narrative to follow, I assumed that the videos were meant define the adventure. While I could tell that there was a story of chaos and war being told, I wished that the videos were able to provide the context that the dances were missing. I wanted to know more about the inspiration of the comics behind the dances. Perhaps in the future, more collaboration could happen between the choreographers and video artist to help further the story for the audience.  

The last piece of the evening was a composite of all that came before. SPECTRAL DRIFT started with Amy. She commanded the audience’s attention as she progressed through a repeated movement phrase from FLUX PERIPHERAL. Each dancer joined her one by one. It was extremely gratifying to see everyone in complete unison with the return of the deep, second position plié. At one point the stage was split into two parallel lines with the dancers facing the other side in a showdown. Some of the dancers would move to the middle and repeat solos they had executed from previous pieces. At the end of the piece I saw a reimagining of the opening image of Hannah, but with all of the dancers. The girls were seated at the end of the stage with their backs to the audience. Every other dancer had their elbows up and out, creating a triangular silhouette that was juxtaposed by the curled-up position of the remaining dancers. The end of the dance was choreographed to coincide perfectly with the winding-down of the music and made for a striking final image.  

This was my first time seeing work by all of the artists involved in the show. I was not disappointed. The concert was an excellent length with seamless transitions from piece to piece thanks to brilliant playing by Conquer Monster. The dancers wore the same costumes throughout, which gave a sense of continuity. The live music provided the ever-beating heart behind the movement. The videos were interesting despite being a little disconnected from the dancing. I was confused about what was supposed to be happening in the story which made me want to read the comic book and then see the show again. Overall, it is refreshing to see ballet being taken in new directions by Municipal Ballet Co. After speaking with some of the creators involved, they seemed open to working on more projects like this one in the future. This mixed media approach featuring local artists seems to echo a change of times in the performance world, by blending the lines between art forms and fostering collaboration.

Ashley Creek holds a BFA from the University of Utah. She is currently the Co-Director of Brine and a member of Myriad Dance Company. Ashley teaches with Ballet West and performs in different projects around the valley.