Repertory Dance Theatre: Emerge

This past weekend, Repertory Dance Theatre presented its fourth annual Emerge program, a collection of works choreographed by company dancers and staff. I appreciated that no unifying theme was forced on the show, so that each piece was free to be what it was.

The evening opened with “Indebted,” choreographed by RDT member Jaclyn Brown in collaboration with the performer, Angela Banchero-Kelleher. This understated piece featured gorgeous lighting and a regal yet simple feel.

“This Is What It Feels Like,” choreographed by company member Daniel Do and Mar Undag in collaboration with dancers Morgan Phillips and Nicole Smith, featured alternating solos and duets. The dancers moved with matching stylization, which was especially enjoyable to watch during a brief section of unison choreography. 

Choreographed by company member Lauren Curley in collaboration with performer Mikaela Papasodero, “Soliloquy” demonstrated impressive navigation of floorwork with a full long skirt, and lovely moments of uplifted posture and gaze.

I loved the flow of overlapping parts and the contrast of fast and slow movement in the group piece “Proto,” choreographed by RDT artistic associate Nicholas Cendese and dancers. Within the group, partnering between company members Megan O’Brien and Jonathan Kim stood out to me as feeling both natural and interesting, and I appreciated that one of their sequences together was performed twice within the work with different directional orientations each time.

“I… Me… We” was a delightful piece choreographed by company member Dan Higgins, who also performed spoken word live alongside the solo danced by Morgan Phillips. The vibe was generally silly, and the movement was floppy and weird in the best way – I imagine it would be fun to perform. Through eye contact and action-reaction pairs, there was a nice connection between dancer and speaker/choreographer, as if they were trying to figure something out together but not taking it too seriously and finding amusement in the idea that they weren’t really sure of whatever it was they were exploring.

“femme.” featured beautiful and well-rehearsed partnering between dancer/choreographers Ursula Perry (of RDT) and Laja Field. I interpreted the piece to be about female friendships until a friend pointed out that the title is a word that refers to an aesthetic presentation by a lesbian that fits into society’s typical conception of a feminine look.

After a brief intermission, we saw “Trick Mirror,” choreographed by RDT dancer and education associate Megan O’Brien in collaboration with the four dancers. The part of this work that I enjoyed most was the end, the dancers lip-syncing exaggeratedly to The Bee Gees while facing the audience at the front of the stage – I’m not sure what it had to do with the rest of the piece, but it made me smile.

“Trapped” (1974) by former RDT member Lynne Wimmer was well-performed by Tiana Lovett. I loved the small, sharp movements at the beginning, Lovett’s amazing leg extensions, the grand use of space, and how Lovett seemed to break out of her trap by the end of the piece.

Comparatively, “until you are no more,” by company dancer Jonathan Kim, was much less clear in its theme. For me, the most distinct and memorable part of this piece was a simple yet effective silhouette of purposeful walking, from the downstage to upstage at the beginning of the piece, and from upstage to downstage at the end.

The program ended with “The Hours,” directed and structured by Cendese with choreography and performance by twelve dance educators. This piece got exciting during a transition where three benches, which had been stationary for the first part, were creatively moved and interacted with – I would have loved to see this section extended with more choreographic exploration of this concept. Then the benches were placed in three rows and the dancers sat facing the audience like a congregation in church pews, and from there performed a very satisfying series of movement in canon.

Within the otherwise very professional presentation, I was distracted by the amount of backstage noise throughout, including multiple instances of doors closing, cast conversations, and, once, what sounded like keys being dropped. 

Overall, Emerge presented beautiful dancing alongside choreographic talent, coming together in a likeable show. I think it’s wonderful that RDT offers this opportunity for their dancers and staff to both create and share their creations. 

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.

The Penguin Lady, joBdance & LAJAMARTIN in SPHERE: Phase One

SPHERE: Phase One brought together three distinct choreographers in a shared evening in the Leona Wagner Black Box Theatre, presented by The Penguin Lady. Unique in their voices and visions, Natosha Washington, LAJAMARTIN (Laja Field and Martin Durov), and Joseph “jo” Blake shared themes of identity, resistance, and empowerment. 

In an excerpt of “Pinot Noir,” Laja Field and Martin Durov (LAJAMARTIN) invited us into a day in their lives, in both mundane moments rooted in reality and the fantastical musings of a dream-state. Truly dance-theater in style, “Pinot Noir” transitioned between twisted floorwork and elastic partnering to grounded pedestrian action without hesitation - one moment suspended in an elegant balance, the next casually propped in an everyday stance. Both ways of being (the trained mover and the human) existed in equality, and neither had hierarchy onstage. Fleeting scenes, from lip-syncing lines of “Cat On a Hot Tin Roof,” to a hip-swaying, skirt-whipping quick step, to catching a flopping Field on a fishing pole, painted a holistic story of a couple. They were not clichéd, but relatable in their whimsy. None of us is a cohesive sentence; we are all a mess of dreams and fantasies.

The twelve dancers of Weber State University’s Moving Company paid tribute to the female voice in their excerpt of “Take Us As We Are,” a continually evolving work, much like its subject matter. Choreographer Joseph “jo” Blake reiterated in a program note that the choreography remains responsive to the discussions it catalyzes.

Clad in long, flowing fabrics in watercolor shades, the dancers surrounded a long table, fixed in shifting tableaus. Soon, they began to work together to break down the structure of the table into thirds, laying it flat, clearing the center of the stage. The work was not without tension - at times they moved in synergy, at times with resistance. Voices of iconic women echoed through the theater: Michelle Obama, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Yursa Amjad, Emma Watson.

Soon they enveloped a single dancer with her back against a wall (in this case, one table’s top). They evoked memories, both personal and historical, of female fortitude against diversity. Solo moments, with the community never far away, each reminded us that even when an individual seems to stand alone, an army is behind them. As the table barriers cleared, they danced with exuberance and freedom. Finally, the group climbed over a last wall toward the audience, their faces open and resolute.

We had the opportunity to see Blake’s choreography course through his own body in “only he might know?” - a solo that grappled with identity expression. His back exposed to the audience, Blake rippled his shoulder blades, the beginnings of phrases percolating through his spine. As these motions sometimes stopped at his neck, sometimes escaped through his fingertips, it felt as if something was gradually working its way to surface. With staccato movement, he brought himself to his feet, then shifted back to the bench where he began. The action was both sinewy and sharp, fluid and broken.

The music stopped to reveal Blake’s breathing, another exposure. His space was one of quiet vulnerability even in its voyeurism.

In The Penguin Lady’s “Pluck,” a band of women gripped apples. Shuddering, vibrating, they seemed inseparable from the force that the object had over them. Their faces suggested something beyond fascination. Something more menacing. Corinne Penka, dressed in apple-red silk, whipped and darted in all directions, diligently following the apple in her hand.

Apples immediately connote original sin, the story of Eve tempted in the garden. There was certainly something tempting in this reference, particularly when paired with this all-female collective. But as the dancers furiously explored a changing relationship to their apples, spanning from obsession to repulsion, other associations arose. At one moment, Penka gathered armfuls of abandoned apples. Trying to protect them, the group restrained her with long red cords, her limbs stretched in opposite directions.

In both scenarios, she was controlled by an outside source. It was only when both apples and restraints were shed that the dancers gained liberty, moving in nurturing pairs. We are so often bound by our personal narratives, yet lost when we shed the things we believe encompass our identities. The dancers went back to the apples, this time with reverence. They took a bite.

The common threads running through SPHERE: Phase One are perhaps the natural workings of a viewer’s mind forging connections. But in a dance community this tight-knit, this inherently supportive, it cannot be all coincidence. As artists, our work influences, inspires, and catalyzes our circle. On to phase two. 

SPHERE: Phase One continues through tonight, Saturday, December 7, at the Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center.

Emeri Fetzer is a dancer and communications specialist. She works at the University of Utah and performs with Phantom Limb Company, and is looking forward to developing new choreography in the coming year.

Brine: Disembodied We

Brine’s Disembodied We (presented by Repertory Dance Theatre's Link Series) was performed to a sellout crowd on Friday at the Rose Wagner’s Leona Wagner Black Box, one of my favorite venues. It was lovely to see the theatre filled with an enthusiastic audience. “Take your own interpretations from the works presented and glean your own meanings from what you witness,” exhorted Ashley Creek in the program notes; and so, I will venture to do so.

“A.D. Part Two: Terra”, choreographed by Creek, set the evening off to an intriguing start, with two masked faces peeking out from behind black curtains. They parted to reveal a sea of shimmering black-clad bodies and masked faces, and … yet another black curtain. That too parted. The dancers moved and drummed insistently on the floor, as they rolled, pulled and pushed, leapt and gesticulated. As a lone, unmasked dancer gestured repeatedly in the foreground, the masked crowd seemed to be both menacing and supportive in turns. It simultaneously evoked the facades we wear to smooth our daily social interactions and, at the same time, there was a hint of the aggression with impunity empowered by anonymity of the mask, as on internet message boards. When the masked dancers marched up along the aisles to engage the audience in an intense turbulent conversation, it was a powerful moment, if somewhat overwrought. It indicated that this was a sequel to another work, which this viewer has not had the pleasure of watching. As in Greek theatre, the masks with the exaggerated expressions were successful in inducing dread and disquiet that the music and the mostly-dim lighting also amplified.

At the very end of the piece, the dancers threw their masks with just a split second in which to reveal themselves and one wondered: was it joy, was it triumph; what did they reveal?

Monica Campbell’s “Passage” commenced with Lady Liberty's immortal words:

“Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, / I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

As music by Warsaw Village Band rose in plaintive notes, dancers gracefully promenaded across the floor, conjuring an unmistakable imagery of loss, regret, and longing for what lies behind whilst still looking toward the hope of the future: the epitome of every immigrant's journey. A lyrical piece, it also possessed subtle hints at the support structures, or lack thereof, for these communities within unfamiliar mores of the new land -- like safety nets that at once protect and stifle. A sense of the struggle to fit in, and then of eventual assimilation, was echoed by the physical movements of the dancers.

The exceptional item of the evening followed: Alicia Trump's “Gaslighting Blatherskites" was nothing short of brilliant, at least for this reviewer. Two dancers performed in perfect synchrony to minimal yet stirring music, with aptly chosen snippets of audio from presidential campaign debates past. Together, these elements rendered a masterful portrayal of sound-byte culture, the lack of nuanced or sustained discussion in debates, and the arguments that consume our current political and social discourse. With unceasing dynamism, pithy messaging, unimpeachably adroit choreography and equally exquisite execution that had me glued to the edge of my seat wanting more, this was one of the stand-out pieces of the concert for me. It would be hard to provide a narrative description of the movement in this chimerical piece; one had to see it to experience it. 'Do you feel safe, I don't feel so safe...' in the voice of our current President Trump -- the words trailed off as the lights went out.

Gina Terrell’s “Kwashiorkor” (or, serious malnutrition caused by lack of protein) highlighted the plight of starving children the world over, and juxtaposed images of hunger and need in the background with the soft grace of giving in the foreground. Appearing first in bare leotards, women writhed, angst-ridden, embodying a state of famine; then, the imagery evolved to that of plenty, and perhaps even of waste, as they danced to grain falling from the sky. This conveyed eloquently that it is not an absence of plenty but rather plenty of absence that allows millions to go undernourished. The piece was well-conceived, though the images of starving African children  seemed a tad bit overt, and trite. Certainly, it tugged at the heartstrings of my inner maternal persona. I wonder if they could have achieved the same effect with different, more subtle symbolism.

After the intermission, “What breaks us” by Sara Pickett explored how emotional bulwarks are erected and broken, and illustrated the effect of conformity, of complacence, and the stimulus needed to perhaps lurch us out of these malingering states into one of active response. The bare minimum soundscape for the choreography was intriguing and novel. The idea was well-envisaged, but the execution felt a little less energetic than one might have hoped for.

Symmer Andrew’s “Fragments” began with a video of dancers individually emoting to the camera, first in night-time surroundings, followed by a gathering on a grassy lawn. Shortly thereafter the dancers descended onto the stage in the same configuration, accompanied by live music (which was somewhat unsettling: intentionally so, I suspect). I confess, I was somewhat confounded by this piece, unsure of how to interpret it. While there certainly was an element of chaos as indicated by the title, the intent behind it was ambiguous, and eluded an easy elucidation in my mind.

The final item of the evening, “Lucy (Part 1)” by LAJAMARTIN, was a high-energy, technically demanding disquisition of the early origins of human civilization. A glimpse of early encounters with wild animals, the fear response, tribal bonding and rivalry, and the seeking of shelter from the elements were all beautifully illustrated in a power-packed performance of muscular, gasp-inducing moves. The dancers prowled, hunted, beat with sticks, leapt into the air, landed low on the ground; it was all incredibly athletic. Every facet that goes into the presentation of performing arts -- audio, lighting, costuming, specials effects (i.e., snow falling and blowing like a blizzard like in this piece) -- along with the sheer grace and vigorous dexterity of the dancers was optimally employed in this intimate theatre setting. It capped off a thoroughly enjoyable evening on a high note.

Overall, Disembodied We was a moving, thought-provoking, and entertaining experience to be savoured for this somewhat unschooled viewer of modern dance. It inspires me to bring the same sensibility to the milieu of classical Indian dance forms that I am more familiar with. Kudos to RDT and Brine for a well-produced, wisely curated evening.

Srilatha Singh is a Bharatanatyam artiste and the director of Chitrakaavya Dance. While interested in encouraging excellence in her art form, she is also keenly compelled to explore relevance and agency through the artistic medium.