Cat + Fish presents an evening at Missio Dei

Last Saturday evening, Cat + Fish Dances showcased a night of calm strength despite the abrupt storm outside. Held in the quiet space of the Missio Dei Church, the concert was a traditional, black box-style dance performance of three works-in-progress. After running across the parking lot through the downpour of a thunderstorm, the quiet hum of the audience was warm and welcoming. To open the night, Cat Kamrath and Daniel Do shared with the audience some of their goals and values as a company, including providing the artists with fair compensation and acknowledging the Indigenous peoples who came before us. The directors also expressed that, as they are all people of color, it’s important that the company work alongside others in the fight against racism in both the Salt Lake community and beyond. In alignment with this goal, they planned to give a portion of the funds raised to Melanin Squad, an organization committed to providing opportunities and resources for women of color in business. 

The program opened with a trio titled Recount, choreographed by assistant director Daniel Do. The dancers started with a walking pattern and took turns featuring each dancer performing a personalized gesture-based phrase. Those phrases combined spatially and rhythmically to become foundations for the rest of the work. As the performers layered their phrases on top of each other and blended their solos, the piano music intensified to match the dancers’ pace of rising tension and strength. Suddenly the dancers huddled in a tight triangle and performed their phrase work with a new sharpness and repetition until it came to a surprising end that left me wanting more. 

The show moved on to A Study, the second work in progress by choreographer and project director Mar Undag. This was an ensemble piece featuring five dancers. The dance followed the theme of strength and began with a steady, composed duet. I found myself intrigued by the subtle hand gestures that would return as a motif throughout the dance. The immediate hook was established by a static trio, standing to the side and staring back at the audience as if waiting quietly to begin. As the duet came to a calm resolution, the trio took over with their heart thumping beat. The dance revelled in the spiraling movements of the dancers, the costumes and even the loose hair of the performers. They moved through the space with each other, creating light moments of duets, trios, and solos. The dancers found a moment of stillness and unison as the music shifted. The storm could be heard pounding on the roof while the dancers quietly lived in a slow gestural moment. The work found a final exhale in an emphatic solo.  

The show closed with another trio choreographed by the artistic director Cat Kamrath: Gathering I. This was a tremendous feat of lifting and falling, and continued the exploration of calmness, strength, and flowing circular movements. Kamrath said that some of the choreographic process was based on sensations in relation to the self, such as the feeling of stretching skin. The dancers began with a simple rhythm of posed geometric shapes. The dance’s rising action grew exponentially as the performers began sharing weight and lifting one another. The piece transitioned to a duet of stunning physical partnering. I was most impressed and inspired by one of the performers who was at least a foot shorter than the others, of a lean build, yet lifting and falling with just as much control and care as the other. It was so exciting to watch truly genderless choreography, as well as nostalgic to see technical movement executed so well. In some moments the partnering was tender, other times it was purely functional, and it was always breathtaking. The dance shifted as a lo-fi beat came on, which contrasted the previous works of piano and ambient sound. With this shift the dance ended on a climax as one of the dancers boiled in a whirlpool of movements that threw them around the space, then stood and slowly motioned to cover their eyes. 

Overall Cat + Fish Dances delivered an evening that offered themes of finding new in the old and exploring the steadiness of strength. The show was also a way for the whole company to process togetherness again. When I asked the choreographers what dancing with others was like after such a long time of contactless art making, they all expressed a desire to re-learn what togetherness meant for them as individuals and a group. Mar Undag elaborated, “It has been an immense gift to not only create art with these talented and deeply passionate humans, but also to reach outside of ourselves and be able to provide substantive support to others around us as well.” The night was a breath of fresh air for many as the audience buzzed with comments that this was many folks’  first dance performance since the beginning of covid. It was refreshing to see such virtuosic movement in a space with a history of bringing communities together. 

Arin Lynn is a movement artist, multimedia artist, and hoosier based in Salt Lake City. They have recently had the pleasure of working with local organizations such as Finch Lane Flash Projects, 12 Minutes Max, and Queer Spectra Arts Festival. Outside of art, Arin enjoys fried food and collecting vinyls.

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Interdisciplinary Art Collective in a show that was forced to move

I went to see Interdisciplinary Art Collective’s operetta titled, Unidentified Subject. The show was rescheduled and at a new venue due to Covid. When the cast entered the stage all masked it was clear that they are boldly adapting to our current situation.

I thought I was going to a dance performance but it was an operetta. A form that lends itself to brevity and light heartedness. The program gives clues to what the operetta is about. Textual and musical excerpts are given — referring to others who have investigated the Ancient Greek myth of Electra.

When studying Greek mythology, it becomes apparent that these stories give insight to a different era and culture — one that cannot be understood in the present mindset. Perhaps we need a cultural paradigm shift to understand our present state. The story of Electra is so far from our reality that it becomes a conceptual piece.

Photo by Sara Caldiero.

The chorus is dressed in draped white dresses. The two main characters in suits of paper pieces. The chorus forms human hallways that the soloists walk through. The main characters skip through like children. When they find each other they begin a dance of following one another. Divided then dispersed into a modern hoedown they commence some funny line dancing.

All the lines are lost.

The soloist jams out and the chorus gathers around, creating form from the chaos. They enter a new realm — rising and falling — catching each other as they drop down. A whole body is lifted and carried as duets begin to form.

The stage is taped with a long corridor with a door on one end and an octagon on the other end. The soloist crawls backwards and backstrokes as they move creating a flow back and forth across the stage. The two main characters meet at the door. What appears as a door is a mirror where they reflect each other’s movement.

A new duet forms.

There are brown rectangular pieces of butcher paper hung in the wall. The first one is taken off and laid on the floor. The soloist lies and their body is traced with white chalk. The chorus manipulates their body and props up their limbs with little boxes. Little boxes in various sizes help accomplish the held position. They are picked up and carried away to a new piece of butcher paper. The first piece of butcher paper with the body outline is displayed in front of the stage.

The chorus enchants operatic tones — as if each position is making a sound.

Repeatedly they are moved, traced and repositioned. They hold each position uttering melodic songs full of emotion. The chorus voices join to harmonize. One person whispers in the mic and the ambient singing mixes together.

They all become objects.

They build a half wall around the soloist and sing, “Ring the bones coins in her hand.” It becomes dark and small dots of light turn on as an angelic chorus begins. They are the creatures trying to figure it out — what is the unidentifiable subject? 

In all this human brilliance little lights shine.

Sara Caldiero is a writer, book artist, folk dancer, and creative arts instructor. Her proximity to wilderness has inspired her to teach, write, and perform. She enjoys bringing poetry to people in classrooms, on desert adventures, and to drifters on the street. She is in a MFA program for creative writing and completed a BA in English from the University of Utah. She is the creator and director of Hunger for the Arts, an art program that provides workshops and food for homeless teens in Salt Lake City. 

Her work has been made public through chapbooks, a broadside by Dreamgarden Press, literary anthologies, and performance. Book art publications include: Hotels, Snatch ‘N’ Sniff, and The Headless Housewife: A book of Anarchy and Imaginary Solutions. Some notable performances as a featured poet are: Utah Arts Festival, Utah Humanities Great Salt Lake Book Festival, and the City Art poetry series.

Ballet West at the Red Butte Garden Amphitheater

There was a pleasant pervasive hum throughout Ballet West in the Garden at Red Butte Garden Amphitheater last Friday evening. Not from the bees that earlier menaced their onstage mark-through, but rather the audience sprawled across the lawn, emboldened in commentary and conversational asides by the open air.  This performance venue provided the sight lines, sound, and lighting production of a theater experience, with the liberating addition of the free-form gathering of general seating, food and drink, and personal mobility familiar to musical concert-goers. There were more families with children present than typically attend a triple-bill mixed repertory evening; the many kids roaming and twirling around heightened the communal feeling. 

Ballet West soloists Chelsea Keefer and Jordan Veit.

This social/communal experience was reflected in the first work, Piece of My Heart by BW resident choreographer Nicolo Fonte. The piece was earlier set on Ballet West II in 2019 at a Beer and Ballet event, and is well-suited to these more casual and explicitly fun performances.  Piece of My Heart was high-energy and not overshadowed by the prominent and powerful delivery of the Janis Joplin songs to which it is set. The crowd was drawn into the evening by the dancers’ exuberance and sharp execution within the shifting ensemble formations. The seven-member cast circling up to foreground solo moments was a very familiar device for echoing social dance conventions. It did however showcase their true virtuosity, especially after such a protracted pause in regular training during the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic.

In contrast to the individuated casual seventies attire of Piece of My Heart, Soloist Chelsea Keefer’s entrance in the rich red costume of The Solo Year was instantly arresting.  The modern fit bodysuits coupled with the elaborate patterned embellishment and wind-catching back-panel skirts captured the quality of this contemporary piece set to Baroque concertos. Keefer’s signature attack and sustain, especially in partnership with Jordan Veit, is well-matched to choreographer Matthew Neenan’s movement. This movement was characterized by a classically-inflected elegance interpolated by exaggerated gestures intended to jar and surprise, ranging from sensual to silly. Duets and quartets dominated the eight-person piece, each playing out fully before its structured ceding to the next.  When they eventually arrived, the regal stature and bearing of Katlyn Addison and Emily Adams was thrilling. I’m eagerly awaiting Addison’s first full season as a Principal dancer.

The evening was capped with excerpts of the classical Romantic ballet Paquita, choreographed by Elena Kunikova after Marius Petipa, first ballet master of the Saint Petersburg Imperial Theatres. Which is to say- really, really classical. The piece began with corps lines of many mazurka steps, a kind of chugging brush, and heel-clicking cabrioles, and would continue in that vein of exciting, but exacting.  The dancing in this ballet really finishes, fully completing before the next step commences, which is challenging but technically rewarding to watch. The dancers of Ballet West carried it off remarkably, especially without a full dress rehearsal on the unfamiliar stage, and the presence of some unexpected flora and fauna. With its pancake tutus, neck and headpieces, and lace, and its traditional compositional elements of variation like grand pas classique and finale, Paquita felt like a subsequent context for the referents of The Solo Year. It was a nice complement to the anteceding works.

The sequencing of the pieces drew us deeper into a classical ballet experience, as the night deepened and our glasses emptied.  With the night-blooming flowers fronting the stage, crescent moon overhead, and the susurrus of appreciative murmurs, Red Butte provided a comfy and human gathering place for taking in a performance on a less-smoky, rather lovely evening. I hope they repeat this program in future summers.

Nora Price is a Milwaukee native living and working in Salt Lake City. She can be seen performing with Durian Durian, an art band that combines post-punk music and contemporary dance. Check out Nora’s performances from this spring’s artist-in-residence program.

Fem Dance at the Fringe Festival

New collective Fem Dance Company began exploring their boundaries with a succinct debut, Home Bass, performed this past week at the Great Salt Lake Fringe Festival. 

Home Bass was a twenty-minute work featuring five female dancers all of whom shared an expansive, soft movement quality. After consuming so much virtual, separated art, it was refreshing to witness the company members move with such a connection to one another.

As described by company director Alicia Ross, Home Bass was an exploration of humans’ innate attraction to heavy bass music. Ross explained that this comes from our connection to the low frequencies of the heartbeats and voices of our mothers when we are in the womb. While this was quite an interesting concept to have in mind while watching, the show didn’t necessarily explore this thesis.

Courtesy of Alicia Ross/Fem Dance Company

A continuous, captivating twenty minutes

The dancers did indeed feel a deep connection with the beat of the music. They moved with a soft heaviness that felt in line with the low frequency music and warm, moody lighting. 

The first section featured a heavy, constant beat. The dancers began in a pile on the floor and moved together in an amoeba-like state, then began moving in and out of syncopated unison. They moved beautifully as a cast, but some of the unison felt out of place. I found myself longing for a lengthier exploration of the heavy, abstract movement they’d found in the beginning. 

When they seamlessly transitioned into the second section, that’s exactly what they gave. With an extended, tranquil bass sound, they returned to the investigative, slow movement while one dancer drew attention with a more precise, repetitive movement vocabulary. Throughout, each dancer moved in and out of this shared vocabulary. Something clicked choreographically. Transitions felt natural and the brief moments of unison were exciting. What really drew me in here were the moments when the dancers were authentically looking at one another.

The intensity increased immediately at the start of the third section. A stronger bass, stark red lighting and the most powerful movement so far created a distinct shift in energy. This piece featured mostly unison work and dipped further into the world of recognizable shapes and technique. It was beautiful to watch the group move together with such strength, but I would have loved to see motifs from earlier in the show return.   

They went for a bookending approach, finishing in the same pile on the floor that had opened the show. Though perhaps a predictable choice, I found it satisfying visually and conceptually. 

Discovering their edges

Fem Dance Company is a group of well-trained, cohesive, passionate artists. In Home Bass, they began to explore movement and themes beyond what they’re used to. It was an authentic push to find new ways to move and express. In this innately uncomfortable process, they filled some of the gaps with moments of clear and comfortable choices from their technical backgrounds. Sometimes this led to a sense of displacement or abrubtness, but it also demonstrates their eagerness to combine multiple worlds of movement. 

Staying true to their purpose

Ross shared that Fem Dance Company’s central intention is to represent and empower women. Home Bass did just that. The show gave the female company members a space to explore their edges, discover new ways of expressing and create art together. 

I was left inspired by their vulnerability and wanting more. 

Elle Taylor is a BFA candidate at the University of Utah’s School of Dance. This is her first review for loveDANCEmore.

Two tastes of dance at SLC's Fringe Fest

Before I ever saw Dishy Collective’s performance Fine China, I saw their instagram campaign, which was prodigious. I hate social media, but I keep it on my phone because it seems like I need it to keep up with what’s happening. When I started editing this journal (for the second time) I was still living in New York and so I read reviews, looked at Instagram, and talked with friends to keep abreast of the scene I was covering from afar. 

A Dishy Collective press image

Since then, we’ve all been through the great distancing event of the pandemic and we take it for granted, perhaps more than ever, that we need to keep up. So I’ve been keeping up with the women of Dishy Collective, who I’ve never met, for several months now. I’m not sure which set of images will last longer in my memory, the forty or so masked minutes that I spent watching them in one of the abandoned storefronts of the Gateway, or the weeks of pausing over diaphanous images of these four dancers: hair trailing in the foothills, taking tea in pastel colored dress, snatches of phrasework meant to stall a scrolling thumb.

My experience of Cloud Library by the Free Pool Collective, headed by Rae Luebbert and Cece Otto, was altogther different. I wouldn’t have known about Cloud Library at all if I hadn’t recieved a press release, although these two events are part of the same fringe festival. Cloud Library was presented as a website, mediated by the maze-like Mozilla Hubs app, which you might have experienced this last year through Queer Spectra’s virtual offerings. We were meant to enter on our solitary laptops and have some kind of virutal gallery stroll mixed with an embodied set of choose-your-own-adventure instructions that were supposed to dictate the order and context in which you, or your avatar, watched several dance videos. I liked the idea, but I found the experience cluncky, and I’ll admit that about five minutes in, I gave up and resolved to return later to the video compalation filed under the “technical difficulties” tab. 

What worked and what didn’t work (for me) about these two experiences seemed to turn on the technology. Fine China was full of images of its dancers playing — I almost want to say “playing house” — in a series of self-consciously childish scenes: the fake tea, dress up games, a headress of fruit on Jorji Diaz Fadel. The most interesting of these involved a cryptic nursury rhyme, which devolved for one performer into a kind of manic episode from which her three comrades had to bring her down. 

The problem throughout was that I didn’t know how to recieve any of this. The images on instagram felt designed to allure. “We are beautiful and young and doing things that hint at an inner strangeness without compromising the visual appeal,” they seemed to say. I have a feeling there was much more to these images, each of which I saw fleshed out on stage. I had the feeling that they had been carefully researched. But in the end they didn’t quite unfold into three dimensions to include the live audience.

There was one moment near the end of Fine China when Bailey Sill was losing control in the middle of a solo. It’s hard to describe, but there was something compelling about the struggle, legs buckling under her, somewhat desperately but without drama, as if they were following a different set of rules than her upper body and both were under some real if invisable stress. I realized as I was watching it that it was the first image I’d seen throughout the experience that didn’t look like it would work as a photograph. Consequently, it’s the one I remember the best, and days later, it’s the one I am still pondering. 

Once I resigned myself to the fact that I was just going to watch Cloud Library straight through  — the screendance version is called 11 Walls in 7 Days — I quite enjoyed its seven vingettes. The play here revolved more around sensation than image. In Cece Otto’s section, we were locked in a car on a hot day, lost in an interminable commute somewhere along the Wasatch Front. In another, two performers shared the kinsethetic experiment of filling an apartment with maroon balloons. 

Faryn Kelly of Free Pool Collective

In my favorite, performer Faryn Kelly mixed explosive dancing with images of herself seeming to brood — dressed in red pajamas, reading a newspaper, eating pomagranites with chopsticks. Here was a confounding set of signifiers and one woman falling through them. They invited you to decode them even as they imploded on themselves in generative, metaphorically-suggestive play.

Sadly, as of August 7, the rest of the live events at the Fringe Festival have been cancelled due to a coronavirus infection amon. You can support the remaining virtual events here. 

Samuel Hanson is the editor and executive director of loveDANCEmore.