OSBA presents Collage Dance Collective

The Ogden Symphony Ballet Association presented Collage Dance Collective, a decade-old company directed by Kevin Thomas that has, in their own words, “inspired the growth of ballet by showcasing a repertoire of relevant choreography and world-class dancers representative of our community.” Who is included in their community is perhaps hard to define, though one could carefully say that this company is challenging the Eurocentric elitism and lack of racial and economic diversity that has pervaded the art form for centuries. There have been many companies and individual artists that have pushed and continue to push who ballet is for, who can perform it, and whose stories it will tell: Alvin Ailey, Arthur Mitchell (Dance Theatre of Harlem), Alonzo King, Carlos Acosta, and Misty Copeland, to name only a select few.

Collage Dance Collective obviously takes its place among those who strive to usher ballet into an age of inclusivity, exposure, and diversity, and the executive director of OSBA, Emily Jayne Kunz, even encouraged us to read the bios in the program to notice “how far some of the performers have traveled to be with us.” This sentiment was further echoed when I overheard a fellow patron remark, “These dancers are not all trained in New York; that is where you usually come from if you ‘make it.’”

While I cringe to think of agreeing with that sentiment, I cannot entirely disagree, and even think back to my graduate studies when a New York-based performance artist came to the University of Utah and remarked, “All my friends thought I was falling off the face of the earth when I told them I was going to Utah.” Just as it brought me a level of satisfaction to have to drive forty miles from the bigger, “better” Salt Lake City to Ogden to see Collage Dance Collective, it also brought satisfaction to know that while the company was founded in New York, their home is in Memphis, and they are enriching that particular community with their outreach, virtuosic dancing, and quality programming.  

Ella Suite Ella opened the show with a triptych: a duet, a pared-down solo, and a culminating trio. The piece, choreographed by Arturo Fernandez, celebrated the life of Ella Fitzgerald and thus featured her music (with Joe Pass). Fernandez has worked as ballet master for Alonzo King LINES Ballet for the past 25 years, and there is a recognizable connection in approach and aesthetic between his work and King’s: partnering based in contemporary ballet, lines that hit, undulation and extension with equal attention and value, and a clarity and focus in compositional structure. This was a short piece and a great way to begin the evening: embodied, exact dancing to Fitzgerald crooning, “How could I know about love, I didn’t know about you...”  

The Rate in Which I Am, choreographed by Joshua Manculich, featured music by local artist and University of Utah faculty member Mike Wall (as well as Dustin O’Halloran) and was a choreographic highlight. The piece featured six dancers and an exploration of the spotlight, the overhead light revealing, concealing, and casting shadows. Just that morning, my three-year-old daughter had asked me, “Mommy, what comes first, the day or the night?” and the continuous play of light and dark left me wondering the same thing.

I was captivated by Manculich’s accessible yet refined sense of drama and tension, but I struggled to find footing in Nicolo Fonte’s Left Unsaid. This was the longest work of the evening and multiple sections were marked by the upstage curtain lifting gradually to reveal a white cyc. During one section, three women danced in the foreground while three men sat in chairs, fully clothed in black suits, watching the movement unfold. I tried to ignore swirling dialogues dissecting the power and implications of the male gaze and instead to appreciate the architecture of the space, the moving foreground cutting against stationary background, but I could not resist imagining an alternative version of this section: three women holding the space, watching, monitoring the movements of three partially dressed men.

Another section continued with a man and a woman and two chairs, initially set far apart on the diagonal. Throughout the duet, the chairs were moved together until the man and woman were reluctantly forced into proximity, their faces manipulated to confront one another as the ending image. True of other sections, the ending provided a clean resolution to what was previously established.

Left Unsaid was in many ways a multi-faceted theatrical work that perhaps deserves a second viewing to unwind theme, metaphor and image; regardless, I struggled to reconcile what was presented into a cohesive work. When the cyc was finally revealed, and then covered by a quick drop of the back curtain, it was like the boy who cried wolf; I failed to be convinced of the impact upon the wolf’s arrival.

The final two pieces, Lineage by Darrell Grand Moultrie and Wasteland by Christopher Huggins, were both large-cast numbers that showcased the technical virtuosity and absolute kinetic joy that Collage Dance Collective harnesses as an ensemble. At one point during Wasteland, I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. The driving music, the ever-changing formations, and entrances and exits: it was spectacle in every positive interpretation of the word, and performed flawlessly. After a prolonged standing ovation, I began my drive back to Salt Lake, happy that I had been able to experience this company.

Ogden Symphony Ballet Association will next present Parsons Dance on March 3 at 7:30pm, at Weber State’s Val A. Browning Center for the Performing Arts.  

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

Myriad Dance Company: Perspective

Myriad Dance Company recently presented its winter offering, Perspective, at the Utah Museum of Contemporary Art (UMOCA). The company’s first publicized performance under the artistic leadership of Kendall Fischer, Perspective lived up to its name by subverting expectations for the venue and format in which dances are presented.

If you’re not familiar with UMOCA, the downtown museum’s largest gallery space is one level below ground and surrounded by a glassed-in mezzanine. Fischer placed audience members behind the glass in two rows, one sitting and one standing. At last, a bird’s eye view, erasing all sightline issues! (Those who choreograph floorwork in small spaces with shallow risers, take heed.)

Myriad members, alongside a handful of guest dancers, entered the gallery floor from all sides, gazing up and around as they wove in and amongst each other. As they wandered in silence, I wondered if they were truly looking up at us, or if their gazes were oriented more internally. That gray area between connection with and separation from the performers below was a thread throughout, intensified by the layer of glass that wouldn’t normally come between a viewer and a dance.

Fischer choreographed two of the program’s five total movements, with others by Ashley Creek, Sierra Stauffer, and Fiona Nelson, all frequent Myriad performers themselves. Each movement featured an occasional signature marking a choreographer’s unique touch. As a whole, though, each dance was more similar to its companions than not - on the one hand, begging the question of why the program should require the billing of five separate dances, but on the other, making the case for a very cohesive program despite contributions from multiple voices.  

Transitions between each dance, so smooth as to become invisible at times, swept varying configurations of the evening’s performers in and out of the center of the gallery floor. Long, diaphanous, burnt orange-colored skirts accentuated the eddies and swirls of the dancers, taking on a life of their own, while sometimes appearing to get in the way of supported partner work (the skirts were later abandoned for a more practical choice of leggings, allowing greater visible freedom).

I did wish that choreographers had paid closer attention to the orientation of audience to dance - upright choreography did not always make the case for why the dance should be taking place below us; my eye was most satiated when a choreographer utilized all the dancers lying on the floor, marking out kaleidoscopic patterns layered on top of the wooden floor’s repetitive squares, taking advantage of the audience’s privileged, aerial view.

In these instances, the more was truly the merrier: with the complete cast of dancers, I was able to see the full flesh of the design in space and watch it expand on a larger scale across the cavernous room. Such was notably the case in a diagonal line from which dancers would peel out and sweep back in, finding a new position while traveling backwards in a grand flocking.

All of the program’s music was electronic and trance-y; with only a faintly discernible meter, one track could blend unnoticed into the next. Working in tandem throughout, as choreographic mimicked musical quality, both became a vessel for an overall effect that washed over the space - one overarching feeling, like a long thought train or an extended music video (thinking Andrew Winghart here, and his powerful swarms of contemporary yet Graham-inspired women). Changing it up toward the end, I believe in Nelson’s piece, a noticeable meter emerged, congealing some previously scattered choreographic unisons to stronger effect.

The evening provided a truly unique viewing experience and it was exciting to see Myriad shake things up from past performances in more intimate venues. There was great potential in the possibilities unlocked by Fischer’s choice of space, though with perhaps still a bit of room left for exploration. I would eagerly press my nose up against UMOCA’s mezzanine glass for Perspective, round two.

Amy Falls manages loveDANCEmore’s cadre of writers and edits its online content. She works full-time in development at Ballet West and still occasionally puts her BFA in modern dance to use, performing with Municipal Ballet Co. and other independent projects in SLC.

Repertory Dance Theatre: Emerge

Repertory Dance Theatre is a collection of noticeably varied talents. Its company members possess distinctive personalities that can be glimpsed regularly in all RDT productions, no matter the program or how seamlessly they may move as a group. The second year of RDT’s Emerge, a choreography showcase for the company's dancers, gave us a chance to see those individual interests continue to develop. The program presented eight works that, while formally unconnected in content and style, all benefitted from RDT’s acutely personal approach to the work. Below is a small window into each.  

Dancers in Lauren Curley's "The Sum of None." Photo by Sharon Kain.

THE SUM OF NONE

Set to a Philip Glass score, Lauren Curley’s choreography was a complex study in pattern and numerical manipulation. Six identically-clad dancers performed sweeping athletic movements that multiplied and varied as they traveled along parallel and intersecting trajectories. The movement built up from simple walking and continued at a steady pace, adhering like clockwork to the unending and obfuscating evenness of the music’s rhythm.

Tiana Lovett in Tyler Orcutt's "Blue Sun." Photo by Sharon Kain. 

BLUE SUN

A solo for the lovely and intense Tiana Lovett, “Blue Sun” by Tyler Orcutt was well-crafted and even better performed. Lovett is a clear and technical dancer, suited to the fast and rolling fluidity of Orcutt’s style, and she sold the frenetic emotional drama of his contemporary-lyrical work perfectly. Chronicling a story of coping with an unavoidable “ending of a cycle,” Lovett shook and thrashed and fell to the floor over and over in passionate protest. The piece ended in silence and with a fade-out as she continued to jerk and twitch, suggesting any measure of peaceful acceptance might be out of reach.

Lacie Scott and daughter Shae in "Jammies" by Scott and Jaclyn Brown. Photo by Sharon Kain. 

JAMMIES

Cue audible squeals and cooing from the audience - newborn Layla Brown and small, giggling cherub Shae Scott accompanied Jaclyn Brown and Lacie Scott onstage in a testament to the life of dancing mothers, and what was very likely the cutest thing ever presented on stage. Inspiration drawn from the games, rocking, bouncing, and cradling of real life to create the choreography, the two mother-daughter pairs sweetly bobbed and capered around the stage to the tune of Bob Marley’s “Be Happy.” Their hijinks were punctuated by a section for the mothers alone who danced a weaving duet, nodding to the compound layers of identity that come with motherhood.

Dan Higgins and Natalie Border in Higgins' "Denizen." Photo by Sharon Kain.

DENIZEN

Dan Higgins’ choreography for “Denizen” depicted an intense relationship between a pair of strong and violently entwined forces. Natalie Border was tremendous and compelling in her uncompromising intensity. Brooding and moody, Higgins battled her. The exact nature of their spiraling relationship remained unclear, alternating between roaring aggression and something that was not quite tenderness, but maybe the insular comfort of familiarity. She got in his way and he attacked, neither able to extricate themselves or eliminate the other.

Dancers in "Doors" by Justin Bass. Photo by Sharon Kain.

DOORS

Justin Bass has been with RDT for four years now, and recently announced this season will be his last. “Doors,” likely one of his final pieces with the company, reflected this dawning life-shift, exploring themes of change, saying goodbye, nostalgia, and keeping faith in oneself, communicated through a spoken monologue by Bass that played over soft instrumentals. Four dancers stood apart, oriented toward each of the stage’s four corners. They performed subtle movements, sometimes in unison but holding the distance between them. While each dancer was lovely and interesting to watch on their own, the choreography of the piece as a whole underwhelmed when paired with Bass’s personal, moving, and deftly crafted poem.

Ursula Perry in "I'm OK, I Am Okay...I'm Still Here." Photo by Sharon Kain.

I’M OK, I AM OKAY…I’M STILL HERE

Ursula Perry’s work is always a personal favorite and often a revelation for me; nearly every time I see her perform I learn something that feels astounding and vital. (Perhaps a hyperbolic statement, but it feels true.) Her technical skills and power are beautiful and unforced. “I’m OK…” displayed a devotedly tended and honed strength, bowing and cracking under the weight of a pain the body can’t expel. A story of treading water, of keeping the surface intact while the inside roils, trying to glimpse the thing that used to make you feel joy when the world keeps tossing salt in your eyes. Twisting and flaking into the most beautiful and fragile shapes, Perry’s solo was devastating.

Tyler Orcutt and Tiana Lovett in Efrén Corado Garcia’s “Collateral Beauty." Photo by Sharon Kain.

COLLATERAL BEAUTY

Efrén Corado Garcia’s “Collateral Beauty” was a light-hearted duet, simple and sweet, danced by Orcutt and Lovett and accompanied by Michele Medina on violin. The piece gave me the sensation of watching a ballet - something neoclassical, attuned only to music, lightness, appealing lines and a shimmering feeling. A little goes a long way with that kind of ebullient frivolity; the willful obliviousness and over-saturation of it in my own balletic background can feel exasperating, but it’s very refreshing in smaller doses. I particularly enjoyed the moment in which Orcutt won over Lovett with some jellyfish-esque grand pliés. The two flirted, they dipped, swooped, darted, and brushed softly into each other without allusion to any world beyond.

Winterdance Workshop participants in "The Color of Sand." Photo by Sharon Kain.

THE COLOR OF SAND

Following last year’s model, Emerge came at the end of RDT’s Winterdance Workshop and utilized the final piece as a showcase for the workshop’s participating dancers. This year’s workshop, unlike last year, was also an audition for the company. This seems to have drawn a larger group than previously: a good thing, but one that made for a somewhat uncomfortably tense viewing experience. The dancers did an admirable job with the crowded space and choreography that appeared overly tricky for a large group of newly-acquainted people to pull together in several days, but the “they’re-looking-at-me” tension was viscerally palpable. A more informal, workshop-dedicated showing might have been more appropriate, and still could have offered dancers a chance to both prove their abilities and partake in a rewarding performance experience.

Emily Snow lives in Salt Lake and can be seen performing with Municipal Ballet Co.  She is also a member of Durian Durian, an art band that combines indie electronica and modern dance.

Wasatch Contemporary Dance Company: Blue Skies

I attended the closing night of Wasatch Contemporary Dance Company’s fall concert, Blue Skies. The intimate theatrical setting of the Underground Social Hall in Provo was full of eager and attentive audience members, and the choreographic transitions between rooms showcased how dynamic the space could be.

Blue Skies was an immersive dance experience. Before entering the social hall, we were treated to a playful duet, “Hold Please,” featuring two mischievous ushers dancing in the ticket booth. The duet was a fantastic way to introduce the audience to an interactive show, and took every opportunity to explore and make full use of the unconventional dance space.

The show started casually with live music, conversation, and a corner bar for sweet mocktails. This set a nostalgic, comfortable ambience. The dances that set the concert in motion emphasized jazz rhythm, swing-style choreography, and improvisation.

Alyssa Richardson’s “Roots” began in silence, slowly building a rhythm with clapping and ending in a crescendo of live djembe drumming. The dancing incorporated staccato spoking motions and beautiful level changes, with hints of African dance motifs. It felt like a celebratory nod to the history of jazz, the dancers wholly committed to the full-body movement style.

The concert cleverly developed a narrative about jazz and the culture of the 1920s while feeling accessible and contemporary. I particularly enjoyed the partnering and footwork in Heather Norton’s “Swingin Scat,” with lifts reminiscent of famous Lindy hop stunts. The dancers’ synchronicity had a pretension of vaudeville flair. “Make Something Up on the Spur of the Moment” was a creation of structured improvisation. While spoken word was utilized for clarity, it never became prosaic, supporting the choreography without guiding it.

Throughout the concert, the performers showed no apprehension to being viewed so closely, easily breaking the fourth wall and making eye contact with each audience member. The patrons were free to roam or view each dance from a new angle. Any time the crowd followed the dancing action to a new part of the social hall, the chairs and furniture would be reset in the corresponding room. I was impressed that stage magic in this open space continued to happen without the benefit of a blackout or scene change.

The second half of the show highlighted a politically feminine fierceness in Roxanne Gray’s “female.” and Mikayla Phillips’ “The Secret Society of Short-Hair Ladies.” Both dances featured soloists contrasting with the group, keen shifts in stillness, sweeping motions, and a sense of frustration, strength, and emotional resolve.

“Newcomers” actively engaged the audience through mirroring and improvisation. Each performer would ask an audience member to dance with them, creating a seductively calm environment that was arrestingly broken by the ingress of the next dance, “Nearness of You.”

Blue Skies culminated in a collective celebration, the audience joining in for a dance party. Overall, the dancers’ technique and performance skills were superbly articulate and joyfully evocative, and the choreography meticulously and clearly crafted with the jazz-era theme in mind.

Fiona Nelson holds a BFA in Modern Dance Performance from Utah Valley University. Currently based in Salt Lake, she has performed and choreographed with Body Logic Dance Company, Co.Da (Sugar Space), and currently collaborates with Myriad Dance Company. 

Repertory Dance Theatre: Top Bill

With tap shoes, reading glasses, and a relaxed yet specific performance demeanor, William “Bill” Evans literally (and figuratively) stepped into the spotlight at the conclusion of his solo, "Three Preludes." This piece blended the sounds (which were unfortunately muffled on the marley floor) and rhythms of tap dance with the lyricism and emotional ventures of modern dance. "Three Preludes" was choreographed to honor Evans’ late mother, Lila Snape Evans, and was programmed in the middle of Repertory Dance Theatre’s Top Bill, an evening that included six works, all created by Evans, spanning 1970 to 2015.

It is fascinating to open the “modern dance time capsule”; RDT does this regularly, as they brand themselves as a living library, a breathing museum, of modern dance. This mission can be challenging for an art form that was born out of rejecting what came before and one that is often neurotically trying to rebirth itself with the new and avant garde, sometimes at the expense of baffled and unwilling audiences. Top Bill not only opened the history book but narrowed the scope to one artist, so we could see where modern dance was 47 years ago ("For Betty"), both in terms of trends and for one individual, and in contrast with the trends and interpretations of 2015 ("Crippled Up Blues"). This programing also brought up questions of timelessness: why, despite being impeccably performed, did "For Betty" show its age at 47 while "Tintal," just two years younger, existed in the elusive wrinkle in time, leaving me captivated enough to forget past, present, and future?

My opening-night performance companion was my mother, who was born and raised in a three-bedroom home in Cedar City when it truly was a small town. She lived in the three-bedroom home with her parents and nine siblings and, when it was bulldozed to the ground to make way for commercial development, the local paper wrote about how sad it was to see a place that housed memories for so many people disappear. It is now a car wash, wedged between two gas stations. My mother now lives in Orange County, California, where I was raised but, at Top Bill, she was taken back to her Utah college dance days of piling in Professor Whetten’s car and making the four-hour drive to Salt Lake City to see Bill Evans dance.  

Although, memories can be faulty…

Mother: “I think I saw Bill [Evans]’s company come through Costa Mesa recently.”

Me: “No, Mom, that was Bill T. Jones.”

However, some memories do stay; often, the ones we deeply experience in our muscles and bones.

“How many times have I crossed the floor like that?” my mother whispered to me after seeing a repeated attitude jump in "For Betty."

I myself have never done that jump across the floor. That jump hasn’t dusted off all its ballet influence, with its clear air-borne shape and punctuated musicality. It resides comfortably in a past era of modern dance: an era that precedes the blended counts of release technique or the self-interest and -indulgence of Gaga; an era that continues to resurface in RDT’s programming.

In fact, this was my third time seeing "For Betty" resurface and, similar to its previous performance, this rendition was full of joy and technical mastery. However, this performance felt especially embodied with a fullness of execution and, at times, a curiosity in approach. The difference was as subtle yet as distinct as perfecting a movement in front of the mirror versus perfecting the same movement with closed eyes. The dancers were not performing what the movement should look like but rather were experiencing each curve, swing, and jump as a dimensional body in space.

Dan Higgins and Tyler Orcutt in Evans' "Alternating Current." Photo by Sharon Kain. 

Dan Higgins and Tyler Orcutt performed "Alternating Current" (1982), a duet in which Higgins played the flame, flickering and teaming with kinetic energy, while Orcutt played the moth, flighty and dangerously drawn in. A building motif, Orcutt would run into Higgins’ embrace, unable to resist its pull and then, just as quickly, would sprint offstage, leaving Higgins to writhe in solitude. I appreciated the focus and clarity of the choreography, but also wondered what would happen if the dancers traded in their costumes that were spotted with literal flames and instead dressed as themselves, two men trying to grapple with the electric, even deadly, charge between them. Could this other version have existed in 1982? If not, it could certainly exist now.

"Tintal" was the highlight of the show; Evans drew on his studies of Bharatanatyam and West African dance while choreographing it. Not many pieces cause me to lean forward in my seat in an attempt to capture every texture and layer, or to see the dancers as otherworldly. The set, designed by Ivan Weber after the original by Kay Burrell, cut the space into background and foreground and placed the dancers in a world of pre-human organisms that slumbered and awakened with curved spines and rooted bodies. Efren Corado Garcia and Lacie Scott had an especially captivating duet, their spines undulating as if boneless bodies in unison, summoning the earth and its energy. "Tintal" ended in silence, suggesting that its world continued on indefinitely; if it did, I would be there to watch.

Next up was "Suite Benny," reimagined in 2017 from a 1987 creation and dedicated to Janet Gray (an iconic Salt Lake City dance teacher), and the program closed with "Crippled Up Blues," a premiere in 2015 for the company’s fiftieth anniversary.

"Suite Benny" evoked the era of old Hollywood films, with twirling ballroom dancing and carefully paired couples circling the stage. This nostalgia was initially lost on me, and I settled in to let the movement wash over me. Enter Ursula Perry and Lauren Curley: two magnetic leaders, two chaperones that encouraged rather than monitored, two women who decided that pairing off with a partner would not suffice. Instead, they wove in and out of the on-stage couples and performed to the audience, with animation and confidence, that they would pave their own way in their created world.

"Crippled Up Blues," well-described here at its 2015 premiere, took the program full circle, exhibiting ever-changing aesthetics and how an artist evolves over time. The beginning consisted of multi-focused vignettes, emerging as quickly as they dissolved, and a constant yet morphing emotional landscape. The piece eventually settled on what felt like a more familiar trope: dancers clapping and slapping their bodies, marching in plié. This led into the cast posing as the elderly, shaking with hunched shoulders in their chairs, their bones drying out in the desert heat. I preferred the more ambiguous and disjointed beginning world, as I am a product of my own time.

Lauren Curley (left), Justin Bass, and members of Repertory Dance Theatre in Evans' "Tintal." Photo by Sharon Kain. 

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