Porridge for Goldilocks at the Urban Arts Festival

Porridge for Goldilocks has become quite an impressive group of dancers. They performed last Saturday at the Urban Arts Festival at the Gateway, accompanied by Wachira Waigwa-Stone. As much as I loathe going to the mall, I am glad that I forced myself this one time. The ensemble possesses stylistic variety that seems organic, though I suspect it has cost a lot of effort on the part of instigator Amy Freitas.

If you had described to me what I would see there I might not have wanted to go. The dancers, who reflexively refer to themselves and each other as “bears,” warmed-up to the side of the little stage as an impromptu dance party for festival attendees wound down. One by one, Porridge entered during a Queen song, which I initially thought to be interlude music provided by the festival emcee. The song cut out, and they dancers and Waigwa-Stone (who’d just finished setting up his drum kit) carried the tune to its conclusion. From there, they segued into other familiar improvisation devices and tricks: flocking, solos, dance against text and poetic manifestos of art-making and identity.

Again, if you’re as jaded as I am, this probably sounds like the kind of thing worth avoiding. That’s not how it actually felt at all. Sitting there, watching that particular group of people, I knew I was seeing some of the most talented and interesting dancers in Utah. They were figuring out how to participate in a collaborative situation that I would never put myself in because I have lost faith in such things. And yes, it was somewhat unfocused and disorganized as a “piece”. But it wasn’t really a “piece” so much as a structured jam. What I am trying to say is that it was very successful as that, a jam turned inside out, so that the ecstatic experience of dancing in a room full of fascinating peers was somewhat visible and palpable to the audience.

The cultivation of a mini-community like this takes a lot of work. I imagine that much of this is undertaken by Freitas. Also indispensable here are Waigwa-Stone’s unique skills as a musician attuned to the vicissitudes of dance. I hope opportunities to be on stage like this one will help to keep some of these very talented dancers here in Utah. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Samuel Hanson is the New Media Coordinator for loveDANCEmore and also writes about dance for SLUG.

Dinomato at Sugar Space

You may have seen an excerpt of Ching-I Chang’s “Dinomato” at the recent “Daughters of Mudson” showcase. The piece was reviewed in SLUG and for the blog alongside 15 BYTES.  As a producer of Daughters of Mudson it’s uncharacteristic of me to write about the piece–– it’s certainly hard to be neutral about something one had a stake in. While it wasn’t my creative work nor my creation, it did have my name attached to  it. That said, I have to confess that upon the first viewing I agreed more with Karin Fenn’s criticisms than I did Danell Hathaway’s praise for the excerpt Ching-I presented as part of the group showcase in the Rose Wagner. In it’s original, excerpted viewing, I felt alienated from the narrative. The title indicated to me that the piece explored boredom, and my knee-jerk reaction was that it was unfair to ask the audience to be subjected to boredom for no apparent reason. My opinion shifted after seeing the work in its entirety at Sugar Space this past weekend. The full version of Ching-I’s work left me noticing small details, the tenderness and harshness which can be shared among dancing partners, and the nature of bewilderment.

“Dinomato” takes its inspiration in part from Andy Warhol and his use of iconic imagery and bland repetition. The audience gathers outside and our narrator, Efren Corado Garcia, appears to tell us what may unfold. He lifts paper to reveal the interior of a small alcove in the theater where we see Temria Airmet and Tara McArthur wearing white dance garb and Andy Warhol wigs while they rearrange cans of tomato soup. Already this felt more fresh for me as a viewer than the previous iteration at “Daughters”. Because we were shown a small glimpse through a window, it felt we were let into a secret that before felt distant and unexplored. I was drawn into the fractured narrative that would unfold and was physically close to my peers in the audience as we were led into a space too small to hold us. Efren soon handed us photos of dinosaur skeletons as a welcome gift and led us into the more forgiving space of the theater. The seats were sparse and in the round, as the audience chose carefully their vantage point Tara and Temria traced vague imagery onto opposite walls with their bodies.

An improvisation followed with each dancer performing solos based on emotive words chosen at random by audience members from a stack of paper. I have a name for dances of this sort, BOSSWIP: Based on Secret Words Written in Private. My dance professor in college invented the term and I’ve tended toward being critical of dances which presume that we should know or care what imaginary terms had helped craft the movements we were seeing. Yet, something about the visual design and the allure of the trio of performers transcended my expectation of what the improvisation would look like. It was clear that Tara drew a card that said “desperate”. Her sad and desperate dance drew me in. On the other end of the spectrum I had no idea what Efren drew but his precise and smooth impersonation of a potato being peeled made me want to know.

Once again the audience was led somewhere new, this time the lobby where Tara and Efren danced a sad duet featuring an upturned couch and the sense that one performer was leaving the other. The walls were covered in curious figures made by Ching-I, as well as two large faces on the wall, one full of color and texture, the other empty. Efren led us past the record player and behind the black traveler. Being a dancer walking through the traveler was a familiar feeling, but the curiosity still built as we emerged on the other side to Temria throwing soup spoons off of a loft onto the floor. Back in the stage space there was more dancing, more soup, more posturing and more text about topics to which the audience wasn’t exactly privy.

I left fundamentally interested in the three curious figures who led me through Sugar Space in a way I’ve never seen it despite having viewed a good bit of dance there. I left wondering how and why they made the dancers made their choices to interact with one another which is, for better or worse, something I think about nearly every day with everyone I see. I left imagining whether the little universe they’ve created is something that Ching-I will continue to explore, and I hope that’s the case.

Dinomato from Jeremy Bigelow on Vimeo.

Ashley Anderson is the director of loveDANCEmore programs through her non-profit, ashley anderson dances. 

Daughters of Mudson 2014

If you missed the show, check out Daughters of Mudson 2014 from loveDANCEmore on Vimeo.

Having reviewed last season’s Daughters of Mudson, I came to the 2014 performance last weekend with much expectation.  The 2013 show lingered with me long after I left the Studio Theater at the Rose Wagner. and this year’s iteration didn’t disappoint, leaving me pleasantly surprised, often amused, and a bit bewildered — which is a good thing…

The minimalist design of the Rose Wagner Studio Theater maintained a sleek, progressive atmosphere, but the addition of strip lights refined the look of the concert while creating the intimate environment patrons of the series have come to expect. The collection of works presented here were curated by Ishmael Houston-Jones from loveDANCEmore’s works-in-progress series at the Masonic Temple in the last year. Despite simplistic beginnings — relationships, self-discovery, boredom, transitions — the material shared relatable themes. It was clear the topics addressed weren’t cutting edge but through skilled execution and a sense of play, the dances created space for meaning and purpose to sink deep into the complexities of the human experiences.

Erica Womack’s Dear Son opened the show, serving as a perplexing work, simultaneously alienating and bewitching. Two dancers exchanged intimate, repetitive gestures focused on the cavity of the belly, coupled with a series of supportive and concerned touches. The dancers shared companionship as they whirled in sweeping unison, rendering spiritual solemnity. Excerpts of “This Little Light of Mine” were sung intermittently which furthered a ritualistic undertone. While the audience was encouraged to hum along, it distracted me to hear a few brave souls in the crowd sing the tune.  I questioned the context of the piece of music but settled on the most logical connection presented by the choreographer and new mother: bearing witness to the pain, joy, and surreal yet primal act of childbirth. I was unable to relate to the subject matter personally but was intrigued by the structure. I did desire to see less drapery in the costuming and more emphasis on the physical body as the choreography placed an emphasis on transfiguration.

When Efren Corado Garcia appeared next in heels and a biketard for My Little Man. By my side, eyes fixed on me, he moved, I braced myself for an alter ego, gender-bending caricature carousel ride but instead was presented with a stunningly personal and poignant portrayal of acceptance and empowerment.  Imploding stereotypes surrounding gender-exploration, this three-part installment instead offered honest slices of Garcia’s self, not particularly masculine or feminine, just a succession of lightning fast vignettes encapsulating the story of his moving body. A warm-colored light flipped on mid-dance to project a soft silhouette as  Garcia stroked, caressed and revealed himself with obscure but striking vulnerability that lingers in my memory. In the final section, amidst a soaring sound score, Garcia stripped 3/4 of his biketard away, as if to shed the old aspects and reveal something more powerful and confident.  As Garcia scanned the audience with minimal movement, he offered himself with a “take it or leave it” stance as the lights faded.

The Beatles or The Stones? choreographed by Brooklyn Draper gave a glimpse into what I’d imagine as the Mad Hatter’s road trip, complete with obtuse quarrels, oddly placed text and an awkward, family-photo motif that became an anchor to the dance. While solos showcased a breadth of engaging movement, I felt a little left out of the jokes and was unable to attach to a clear through-line helping me unpack and translate the many movement tropes within in the piece.

The superbly crafted and masterfully executed This is the Beginning of Boredom (inspired by Andy Warhol) by Ching–I Chang was easily my favorite of the evening.  A dancer carrying a suitcase and wearing an  Andy Warhol wig and Ray-bans mysteriously stumbled from the audience, discreetly unfolding a series of directions. The solo became a duet with a similarly accessorized dancer and the two completed a series of random actions revolving around cans of tomato soup, spoons, suitcases and a roll of paper.  At one point I laughed out loud as one dancer tried to stuff as many spoons and cans into her knee folds as possible. I applaud the dancers ability to seamlessly talk with each other and the audience while maintaining a certain air of tongue-in-cheek ease.  I found myself feeling as if I was back in the Warhol’s 1960’s Factory observing muses muck about with the creative process.

The final piece of the evening was an endearing and jocular exchange between Sam Hanson and Michael Watkiss in Watkiss’s With(out) Sam.  The two loosely bantered about dancing together throughout high school and college, what dance education has “done” to Watkiss and also addressed the sordid world of dance belt talks.  As Watkiss jammed to RJD2, stripped to nothing but a dance belt and performed a string of twisting and disjointed motions, re-dressed and recited a children’s story, the piece evolved into more than just a haphazard homage to their friendship but became an auto-biographical template. Engaging and empirical, the piece seemed to suggest we wear, slough off, reconfigure and transform our own history, as we identify and mark those moments that define us.

The Mudson series and particularly the Daughters of Mudson performances continually offer a much needed alternative to most of Utah’s traditional dance performance paradigms.  As the season continues to mature, I expect to see more innovation and risk-taking while maintaining the refreshing format from inception to completion.

Danell Hathaway co-directs the group Movement Forum and teaches dance at Olympus High School.

This article is published in partnership with 15 BYTES. Daughters of Mudson took place on June 13th & 14th, 2014 at the Studio Theatre Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center Salt Lake City, Utah.

The Pushers

Sex, religion, gender, race, art, and drugs. All of these topics were confidently (sometimes cockily) juggled by SB Dance’sThe Pushers, all the while gliding through the wine and beer that was served to audience members. The show is truly a modern day cabaret. Each attendee was given a velcro-backed seat marker to hold their place while they moseyed up to the bar and mingled amongst the high bar tables that scattered the stage. Eventually company members, Nathan Shaw, Juan Carlos Claudio, Christine Hasegawa, John Allen, Annie Kent, Florian Alberge, Dani Diaz and Stephen Brown himself trickled into the pre-show party, bringing with them the buzz of imminent performance. Purposeful conviviality abounded. Everyone present seemed to know that they were a vital part of setting the mood for the rest of the evening.

Around 8:45 the house lights dimmed and each audience member began to carefully find their seat, glass in hand, possibly considering what would happen if they remained onstage. They might have been forced by John Allen to take a shot (of what was supposedly hard liquor). He did just that to Christine Hasegawa, cradling her head, throwing the liquid down her throat and letting her recover, just to accost her system with another, and one more, and one more, and one more. This demonstration of power and submission recurred in other parts of the show and sometimes the gender roles were switched, but it was apparent from the onset that we were seeing a show through a primarily male lens.

The scene eventually morphed into a more upbeat one. The tables were removed, and SB Dance’s signature pole entered. Then the entire cast accelerated the show, walking fast and dipping underneath the fifteen-foot-tall pole held limbo-style by two or three people. Curtis Mayfield’s “Pusherman” accompanied this movement sequence, which became the interim activity for the entire show. The pole was expertly wielded by each company member like a weapon of fate, forcing others to duck out of the way; or it was held perpendicular to the ground and became a stripper pole that catapulted individuals above their counterparts to slither down to the ground. The movement in the show was intensely physical, including many lifts and group-dependent formations. This physical prowess supported the overtly sexual positions that the dancers landed in so naturally. Repetition of movement and verbal lines sometimes highlighted farcical situations and at other times simply energized the show–– the repeated lines becoming mantras.

Continuing in traditional cabaret fashion, Stephen Brown was the master of ceremonies, contextualizing the sex, drugs, and alcohol with anecdotal monologues about his life as a young, straight, male dancer in New York City in the eighties. Juan Carlos Claudio augmented these stories tremendously by acting the part of a quintessentially gay Puerto Rican: excited about sex, constantly erupting with emotion. The show took some poignant turns, acting as an homage to victims of AIDS in the eighties. Brown’s rehearsed lines on this subject were somewhat moving, but what was more moving was the vibrant energy of the show as a whole, demonstrating the legacy of the young artists that were being remembered. The performance was a celebratory wake rather than a morose funeral. It paralleled Patti Smith’s memoir Just Kids, about her life in New York City as a young, lost artist with the late photographer Robert Maplethorpe. One of the most charged scenes in the show was set to Smith’s “Horses.” The hypersexual nature of the show referenced Robert Mapplethorpe’s photography, which also focuses on sex and sexuality, BDSM and human vulnerability.

SB Dance has a history of pushing conventionally taboo subjects into the public’s (or at least their audience’s) eye. Sometimes it seems to be in direct response to conservative antics, but the alternately passionate and deadpan demonstrations of desire, confusion, and power come from personal experiences of the seasoned group of people that make up the company. The Pushers is scrumptious for the eyes and revealing for the mind. The show will continue this weekend, June 13 and 14 in the Rose Wagner Blackbox. For more information visit www.sbdance.com.

This article is published in collaboration with 15 BYTES.

Emma Wilson is an intern for loveDANCEmore, studies dance at the University of Utah, and performs with PDC and in Porridge for Goldilocks, among others.

NOW ID’s FEAST

FEAST, NOW ID’s second production since its founding in 2013, began with a casual pre-show. Cellist Jesper Egelund, from Denmark, improvised upon the backdrop of the setting sun as it kissed the Great Salt Lake and all of the wandering guests at Great Saltair. As Egelund moved inside he complimented the location, saying it was one of the most beautiful places he has been privileged to play. The expectant audience was filled with food truck fare and ample socializing time within Mother Nature’s beauty, before gathering inside Saltair. Inside, a large table shaped like a runway served as a stage while also representing Utah’s Lake Bonneville. Chairs for the audience lined the two longer sides of the table in congested rows, allowing for only partial views in some spots.

At its inception, co-founders Charlotte Boye-Christensen and Nathan Webster stressed that their new company would be international, interdisciplinary, and collaborative, adjectives that aptly describe their most recent production. In addition to Egelund and a troupe of talented dancers from around the country, NOW ID added to the menu the words of New York-based playwright and filmmaker Troy Deutsch, performed by Flying Bobcat Theatrical Laboratory’s Robert Scott Smith and Alexandra Harbold, both of Salt Lake City. Deutsch created what Smith calls a “rhythmic obstacle course for the actor.” They recited his lines on and around the table throughout the feast. The two actors held an expressive focus within their performance while being direct and dynamic with Deutsch’s writing. Regarding the process of having Deutsch as a collaborator, Smith says, “We purposefully wanted to keep it as vague as possible to see what would come out of just a few ideas we threw his way. Troy was up for the challenge and created a really powerful and specific-to-SLC work that allowed space for movement and interpretation.” The actors’ clear intent throughout the performance showed their pride in personal development with the script.

Dancers Yumelia Garcia and Jennifer Freeman initiated the show and their tension carried throughout, with a slow walk around the perimeter of the lake bed stage, eyes staring deeply at one another. Precise and pleasurable to watch, the two dancers performed grammatically correct movement vocabulary. With one facial expression and a stifled focus for each throughout the entire show, individuality and personal research were not displayed. They were less humans explaining ideas through movement and more figures transcribing choreography.

At one point in the work, a third dancer, Jo Blake, joined Smith for a duet, a successful mixing of mediums. Smith’s continued performance within the rhythmical obstacle course gave rhyme and reason to Blake’s expressive thoracic spine movement. Simultaneously, Blake’s focus and shifting intent created a dynamic visual story out of Smith’s words while the two artists moved athletically through a well-choreographed dance. Art mediums merged to create something new using clear and unique communication to deliver a poetic story about Salt Lake.

In opposition to this success was the final scene, a collaboration that wasn’t quite as seamless or integrated. While Smith monumentally lost his beard to a straight razor on one end of the table, dancers moved through choreography on the other end and Harbold walked between them. Unfortunately, each performer seemed to be telling a different story to themselves instead of employing their collective voice to discuss with the audience what was transpiring. Losing his beard was a surreal moment for Smith, he noted it as “a cleansing of the palate; a beginning or a welcoming of something new.” However, this shift was not consistent with all the performers, as the work seemed to lose focus and intent.

The fact that NOW ID is utilizing a variety of art mediums is a wonderfully positive step, and speaking after the performance, Smith described the NOW ID collaborative process as something that was personally and artistically productive: “From the beginning…everything came together in a very organic, energized and thoughtful place. It wasn’t always candy canes and gumdrops, but there was professionalism and openness that allowed for risk, vulnerability and support for one another throughout the process.”

The different art forms considered in FEAST were suited for one another, based on one another and created by, with, around, and because of one another. This cohabitation of mediums read as an interesting and enjoyable experience for all parties in NOW ID. Smith states, “the dancers were beyond supportive and encouraging. Jo was nothing but gracious as we navigated the opening duet.”

Harbold commented well on what she described as “the ongoing time-release value of collaborating with artists from other disciplines. . .In our distinct roles as choreographer, playwright, composer, dancer, actor, and musician, we were all pressing into one another’s territories and blurring the lines. Collaboration can be disorienting in such a        powerfully strange, and beautiful way. It was this way with FEAST.”

As the collaborative nature of Salt Lake’s creative community increases, it is important to decipher what to carry and what to bury so that artists may continue cultivating the most efficient practices of collaboration.

NOW ID’s Collaboration with the space is just as important as any other medium. There is beauty laid across long patches of salt just outside the stone innards of the Saltair. Being that this feast was about the salty landscape, accepting it and settling upon it, FEAST would have done well outside. Use of the Saltair added no production value to the main performance however much it added to the pre-show and after party.

The collaborative model also asks questions about how funding relates to what’s currently being produced. Leading Smith to ask questions about what new models artists may find, noting that, “it takes money to produce work at any level, but there’s an added cost with site-specific, high production values, using national and/or international artists…our friends and families can only fund so many of our endeavors and the non-profit business model for performing companies is struggling.” He’s confident that new models of funding and support for projects of this nature will emerge.

Continued collaboration can fuel inspiration while audience diversity increases, especially within the independent art scene. We are not alone in our desire to make or view good art. FEAST was good art and hindsight is a powerful tool that NOW ID can choose to utilize after two site-specific pieces.

The collaborative process brings up a reminder that performance is not a competition of who can get more spectators but is about working together to build community. It is also a reminder that collaborative performances extend beyond this one-night event and include Flying Bobcat’s new work at the Masonic Temple on September 26th with the Utah Men’s Choir. Habitual attendance to one type of show stifles collaborative fuel. Attend one of the numerous dance jams hosted by Movement Forum, poetry readings by the Wasatch Wordsmiths, or bands playing at any bar or coffee shop you can imagine. Watch and experience a variety of mediums to help build a rapport with potential collaborators, allowing creativity to grow and flourish in our community.

NOW ID’s FEAST took place on Saturday, May 24th at Great Saltair on the shore of the Great Salt Lake. This article is published in collaboration with 15 BYTES.

Amy Freitas formed Porridge for Goldilocks, an improvisation collective of performers and musicians. She also performed recently with Body Logic and Michael Garber Dance Collective, among others.