(cutie &) The Boxer

Tonight I had the great pleasure of seeing Ushio Shinohara perform at the new CUAC building near the corner of 2nd East and 2nd South. Recently re-located from Ephraim CUAC (pronounced Quack) is presenting Ushio’s work in conjunction with the screenings of Cutie and the Boxer at the Sundance Film Festival. While the exhibit of his work extends through March this was, to my knowledge, the only time he would be performing in Salt Lake City.

As the movie title suggests, Ushio boxes his paintings. Wearing gloves covered in foam pads, he dips them in paint and, always traveling from right to left, he aggressively maps out the terrain in flashes of color. While I’d seen online videos of his process, nothing could compare to the act of his live performance. Ushio, who turned 81 last week, is really boxing. He warms up, sharply shifting on his feet and forming attention at the canvas before him.  His translator tells me he is in a group of artists after WWII who each respond to their relationships with American culture. As he begins it’s like a comic book come to life. The POWs and BAMs are enacted through color and texture. I can make the connection to Jackson Pollock and also pop artists but it seems so much different because it’s designed for me to watch; it stems from (and embodies) the traditions of competition and violence inherent in boxing. I don’t only see the action taking place, I hear and feel the paint being arranged before him. Furthermore, I’m interested the whole way through.

I realize that this blog is about “dance”. But something about this performance awakened the audience. Everyone was hollering and noticeably gritting their teeth and his old hands connected with the wall. So many people were gathered in such a such space and with such energy that I was reminded of the vibrancy I so frequently lack at concert engagements. So often we, in modern dance, talk about the “visceral” relationship our work has with audiences; Ushio’s hands creating a landscape before me was the closest I’ve come to comprehending “visceral” in a long time. His performance was clear and expressive and singular in idea as well as form. It was repeated over and over without the expectation of change. It reminded me about what performance can be and how many people could be watching it, with bated breath and free expectation.

The Sugar Show

Now in its 5th incarnation, the 2013 Sugar Show featured choreography that was short and sweet and in my opinion the strongest collection of work in my three years of attending this event.  The panel discussion that followed, however, was unfortunately long and arduous. I feel like much of my frustration over the event is because I see so much potential in it for nurturing emerging choreographers and cultivating audiences of dance enthusiasts. Therefore, I applaud Brittany Reese and co-producer Stephen Brown for continuing to experiment with the format of the show.  While I don’t think they’ve landed on the exact right formula yet, I am glad to see that they are continuing to let the show evolve and adapt to best suit the needs of the local dance community.  I also want to acknowledge Reese in particular for her selfless contributions, of which the Sugar Show is just one, to dance in Salt Lake City.

The opening piece of the evening was a sumptuous duet entitled “Nightsong” by choreographer Monica Campbell. Largely inspired by performer Ismael Arriata’s original score, it explored the “haunting magnificence of the night” and the “ritualistic existence of two lonely vampires.”  In the velvety shadows of the stage, the adept pair enacted a rich language of fully embodied gesture.  I particularly enjoyed watching Mindy Houston’s performance as she flowed easily between attending to her partner and addressing the audience.  I have seen several pieces by Campbell over the years and this work stands out as a fresh choreographic exploration.

“Dance of the Greedy”, choreographed by TaCara De Tevis in collaboration with performers of local hula-hoop troupe Hula Hoopology, brought a unique genre of performance to the concert dance stage.  The piece began with the striking, albeit brief, image of nude bodies huddled in a pool of light.  I could have watched this shape morph and evolve for far longer, but the dancers soon broke apart to manipulate their individual hula-hoops.  As the program notes and title suggest, the theme of the piece addressed the human experience of greed.  The bulk of the dance vacillated between literal representations of greed and interesting collaborative shapes created by the connection of human bodies through multiple hula-hoops.  I think it is unfortunate that the panel discussion seemed to glance over this piece as I feel it stood to benefit the most from the constructive feedback process.  While clearly less choreographically sophisticated than some of the other works in the program, this dance opens up a new avenue of investigation for the fusion of hula hooping and concert dance and the earnest performers seemed eager to engage with feedback.

Tara McArthur’s work “Skewered”, in collaboration with Efren Corado Garcia, created a landscape of illumination and darkness through the use of several freestanding electric lights.  In the opening solo, McArthur highlights Corado’s mercurial flow via hand held work light.  The two proceed into a circular and egalitarian duet, each lifting the other in turn.  Simply put, I love to watch these two bodies move.  Watching them move together and mimic each other’s distinct movement styles?  Even better.  I also particularly enjoyed the bold colors and disjointed prints of the dancers’ costumes.  So often in modern dance costuming seems to be a game of avoiding the issue rather than a task of artistic choice.  It was refreshing not to see dance pants and tank tops in muted tones blending in with the backdrop.  As far as what the piece was about–I’m not sure and that doesn’t really bother me.  For me it was enough to relish in the images of golden light and waves of movement comprising McArthur and Corado’s intimate world.

The program concluded with the powerful all male ensemble “Sojourn” choreographed by Michelle Player and Tami Whatcott.  Men in khaki pants and black T-shirts flooded the stage alternating between moments of randomized, individual movement and unison.  Repeatedly, interesting ideas erupted and dissolved back into the group with an unsatisfying easiness.  I would have enjoyed seeing the choreography hold onto these potential moments of tension and select specific ideas to flesh out more fully.  Thus, the piece lacked a clear sense of progression and seemed like a soup chocked full of delicious ingredients that had not yet had the time to meld into a full-bodied flavor.  The connection between so many dancers sharing the stage, however, elicited a wonderful emotional response for many in the audience that reminds one of the role dance can play in bringing people together in community.

While I thoroughly enjoyed the creative presentations of the evening, the ensuing panel discussion was disappointing.  From the onset of the feedback process, facilitator Stephen Brown deferred to the “expert opinions” of the selected panel members.  It was nice to have several visiting guest artists included in the panel; however, three of the five were connected to Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company.  When asked a question regarding bias, Brown commented that Salt Lake is a small community, but I think that more of an effort could have been made to include artists of different backgrounds and aesthetic viewpoints.  Even more frustrating was Brown’s facilitation style.  After listening to multiple panelists speak in jargon ripe for a graduate-level composition class, he offhandedly invited the audience to contribute to the conversation as well.  All in all, the “discussion” seemed more didactic than engaging and it discouraged me from sharing my thoughts and opinions, of which I had many, on the works.  If I were an audience member with less dance experience, I can only imagine how much more uncomfortable I would have been to think for myself and connect with the work on a personal level.

In the end, the audience voted in favor of “Sojourn” and the panelists for “Skewered”.  Given the tie situation, producers Brown and Reese made the final call and awarded the $1,000 cash prize to Michelle Player and Tami Whatcott for “Sojourn”.  In last year’s Sugar Show, although a single choreographer was chosen as the winner, the award money was shared between several choreographers.  It seemed curious that given the tie situation, this year’s format could not accommodate the idea of financially supporting multiple artists in their future artistic endeavors.

My final thoughts on the evening are that the Sugar Show has a great amount of potential, but that the producers haven’t quite figured out what the goal of the show is yet and in turn, the format to best support this goal.  In spite of all of this, I look forward to seeing next year’s installment.  And hey, maybe they’ll read this review and invite me to be on the expert panel!

Elizabeth Stich is based in Salt Lake City. You might find her teaching at various universities, Aerial Arts of Utah or performing at venues all over town.

dog & pony

This past Friday and Saturday Samuel Hanson and Kitty Sailer presented their show dog & pony to a very respectable turn-out at the Rose Wagner Studio Theatre. The show was what one might call dance theatre, where the movement, text, song, and in this case, some berry flavored popsicles are all employed to create the desired affect. Throughout the hour long run-time two pieces where shown, the first choreographed by Sailer, and the second a collaborative duet between Sailer and Hanson.

honey cake pony begins with a group of bodies moving on an unlit stage, their self-absorbed undulations and body rolls only seen when another dancer switches on a small light that is moved up and down their bodies. It is a stunning, unexpected way to open the show. This small light that reveals or conceals the dancers experiencing somewhat intimate moments with themselves, making a voyeuristic moment in which the audience has been granted a quick peek.

Suddenly the dancers stop touching themselves and form a group stage left. The transition is abrupt and unapologetic, and sets the stage for a post-modern experience where anything can happen. The anything that happens is a bunch of random musings, problematic sore muscles, virtuoso tap solos, and child swimming pool games. These happenings are eventually taken into the audience, crashing and burning that once sacred fourth wall. Sailer and Hanson have a duet where Sailer requests a lap dance, and Hanson shows us a perfectly extended line. These two seem to be trying to get something just right, and have a start and stop, back and forth rhythm between them that feels fresh and unrehearsed, yet still investigated.

This was the second time that I have seen this work, and must admit that I enjoyed it’s previous showing at Daughters of Mudson. While the bones of the piece were the same, the first time was left more open with a subtle, mysterious, even ambiguous sexuality/sensuality. This latter showing was more bold and even confrontational in its sexual nature, with the dancers boldly touching themselves and indulging in charged cinematic kisses. I love that this work is being explored with different intentions and appreciate seeing different versions, but for me, the quieter version spoke more loudly.

dog & pony begins with Sailer and Hanson moving in perfect unison, relaxed yet specific, their two bodies orbiting the space and one another, yet never once colliding or merging. Both of these artists are extremely skilled at navigating between the world of I am a performer and I am a human being. They are able to causally speak to both one another and the audience, while moving or not, in a way that is organic, at times humorous, ironic and poignant, all while maintaining a performative sensibility. They also are skilled at shocking, or at least surprising, the audience, whether it be Kitty devouring the popsicle that was just down her skirt, or a naked Sam being guided by Kitty in a self exploration of his own body, popsicles in each obedient hand. These moments are successful not necessarily because of their shock value, but because they merge within the context of the work as a whole, and provide more clarity and depth. My only wish for this work was for the dancers to, at one point in the latter stages, break the unaffected start stop controlled structure and let pure physicality take over. Yes, I know it is old fashioned, even indulgent of me to want it, but I do. There was a lengthy Chopin section where I started to disengage and tire from the repetitive structure. Perhaps this was the intention, and I should learn more patience, but I would have loved to see remnants of the fluid, soft yet driven opening duet explored again.

The piece starts to finish with Sam reminding Kitty with what comes next, you don’t remember, do you?, and includes Sam putting on some clothes once again (Kitty’s shorts). The two eventually make their way over to the loading door, which they pull open. And then suddenly, we the audience, are left in the theatre, watching the two performers walk away into the real world; a snow covered freezing parking lot. Once again the stage life is blended with real life, and this time it is pure magic.

Erica Womack is a choreographer based in Salt Lake City. She teaches at SLCC.

Trey McIntyre Project — some notes from Kathy Adams

Trey McIntyre Project’s performance at Kingsbury Hall this past week was so uniquely off the well-worn path of non-classical dance that many couldn’t recognize it as such. This work is astoundingly beautiful, emotionally engaging, original and highly detailed. It takes the best of what ballet technique can give you and fills it with purpose. It plays with dramatic intention. The purpose of art is to move us emotionally. So much choreography is either about nothing or so intellectual that it lacks heart.

The title of the first piece, “The Unkindness of Ravens,” is poetic in its efficiency and like so much else in the choreography is both literal and metaphorical.  A group of ravens is by definition “an unkindness of ravens.” The etymology infers the birds’ characteristics and ultimately is fascinating source material for a piece of choreography – so it’s funny, it’s strange, it’s sad, it’s twisted. But it is about something, and something interesting.

The solo in “Bad Winter” was soulful, and the duet so personal and sensuous. I was sitting in the hole they call the front rows at Kingsbury so I could not really see the duet clearly. But I saw enough to know the articulation these dancers are capable of make the choreography clear. Everyone has experienced a “Bad Winter” at sometime in their lives.

I loved “Ladies and Gentleman” although I think the last section seemed stuck on and unnecessary. Dynamically it seemed like one section too long to me.

The dancers technical ability and the dramatic expression in their bodies and faces gave me so much information about the choreography. Clarity is just that – there really is no other way to get across the idea.

Kathy Adams is the critic for the Salt Lake Tribune and regular contributor to Dance Magazine

Provo Sites

I have seen the beautiful old church at 79 W. and 400 S. in Provo evolve over the years. It was once a private school that my siblings attended. It has also been a music school, reception center and is currently being remodeled into a residential complex. On November 12th, the church was opened for a dance concert, hopefully one of many site-specific dance concerts in the Provo area. The audience was welcomed into the historic building with hot chocolate, hand warmers and a basket of blankets, which I appreciated as the temperature both inside and out was in the 30s.

Despite the chilly evening, the concert warmed the soul and the old church was an exquisite location for a dance concert. As I sat huddled under a blanket next to my husband and hot chocolate in hand, I was greeted with a lovely stained glass window as a backdrop. We had the luxury of having each choreographer personally introduce their own piece, describing their inspiration and motivation.

Nathan Balser (BYU dance faculty) choreographed Meeting Space, danced by a quartet of men. He was inspired by the historic building where we sat and by the interactions that may have occurred in times past. The four men entered in silence and, in a pedestrian fashion, acknowledged each other. As the music began, the dancers rotated in a mesmerizing turning motif that weaved throughout the piece. The dance continued with strong, yet fluid movement choices. I wondered to myself, if these walls could talk, what would they say? What stories do they have to share?

Letters in the Sand, choreographed by Kori Wakamatsu (BYU dance faculty) reflected the emotions associated with adoption. It began with a duet that included weight bearing and mutual support. I was intrigued by how the dancers physically kept in contact and also by the connection they shared in moments when they were not. As I mother, I saw this as the connection you feel with your child, a powerful connection that is hard to describe. The piece me left with a feeling of appreciation for those who place their child for adoption.

Journey, choreographed by Doris Hudson de Trujillo (UVU Dance Faculty) featured seven UVU students and 3 dance faculty members and was recently performed at the Wave Rising Festival in New York City. I loved watching a mix of ages dancing together. This piece used 3 poles, about 10 feet in length, which the dancers held and manipulated throughout the piece. The poles held, supported, restrained, and contained the dancers. At times I saw a burden being carried, other times it was a means to connect with others. As a viewer, I was on a journey with them, I felt stuck, liberated, supported and freed as the dancers portrayed each idea through movement. The conclusion revealed a lovely sense of resolution.

Neils, by Ashley Anderson, was a brilliant collaboration of songs by Neil Diamond, Neil Young and Neil Sedaka. I was taken back to my childhood listening to those songs on the radio. The quartet’s choreography was delightfully simplistic and possessed an element of humor. I enjoyed the movement repetition and seeing the character of each dancer through improvised solos. It was the perfect contrast to watch fresh movement vocabulary that was distinct from the other concert pieces.

The final piece, Divinity, choreographed by Aaron Shaw and performed by Kate Monson was most appropriate for a church setting. It was based on Christian values and beliefs, with the notion that we try and fail and try again. The performance was a stunning emotional investment that left the audience with a sense of peace and hope.

Leaving with cold hands and nose, but a warm heart, the Provo Sites concert was a beautiful start to what I hope will be many intriguing site-specific concerts, blending stunning locations with incredible dance.

Karen Jensen is member of the BYU Contemporary Dance Faculty