A new series, 801 Salon, showcases new work at Vis eyeware store

On the third Saturday of each month, Vis optical shop stows away its designer eyewear and opens its doors to the local arts community for intimate evenings of art curated by 801 Salon. 

November’s installment featured dance works by Jasmine Stack (accompanied by musician Benjamin Swisher), Corinne Lohner and Peter Farrow, Courtney Mazeika, and Myles Tracy. 

Stack’s choreography for The Fifth Season was pedestrian and repetitive, yet elegant. The movement vocabulary consisted of pensive steps forwards and backwards and pivot turns, mostly taking place on the downstage right to upstage left diagonal. Every now and then, she added sweeping, linear arm movements to this patterned footwork. Swisher’s live score was minimal and atmospheric, complementing Stack’s simplicity. A sparse, post-modern dance work, The Fifth Season lulled me into a bit of a peaceful trance within a few minutes. When I refocused myself, I realized that the pattern-making, repetition, use of linear and diagonal lines, and Stack’s bobbed hair and A-Line midi skirt that both whipped cleanly from side to side with each pivot turn reminded me of Belgian choreographer Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker’s Fase.

The 801 Salon audience. Images courtesy of Roxanne Gray, organizer.

Lohner and Farrow, both company members of Ririe-Woodbury, presented Ambulation. Much of the piece consisted of them leaning the full weight of their bodies onto each other, and taking quick and calculated steps across the floor while doing so. When they parted from each other, they performed a series of angular, quirky, gestural movements side by side. Each of them held that classic, unaffected, modern dancer stares past the audience gaze throughout the majority of the piece, which felt like a bizarre choice considering the cozy, intimate setting of the crowded boutique. However, in the few instances that the two made eye contact with each other, I felt a deep sense of care and friendship emanating from them.

Mazeika’s Heart, Innacurate.

The word writhing comes to mind when I recall Mazeika’s Heart, Innacurate. Her twisting movements and contorted shapes communicated uncertainty and discomfort, but her ever-pleasant facial expression (she even fully smiled at one point!) revealed a sense of acceptance, maybe even gratification. The incredible sense of control that she demonstrated over her supple spine and hyperextended joints was refreshing, considering the amount of seemingly aimless noodling that many have participated in via Instagram over the past year (myself included).

Myles Tracy performing his solo.

There was a square of white tape on stage right of the performance floor. I noticed it at the beginning of the show and wondered if one of the dancers intended to interact with it. When Tracy, clad in all white, entered for The Thing We Made of the Thing, I just knew the tape was there for him. As the Salt Contemporary dancer meticulously moved in and out of the floor, it became apparent that the tape was not actually part of his solo, just coincidentally positioned there.

For inquiries about future 801 Salon events, contact 801salonslc@gmail.com.

Alexandra Barbier is a dance artist and performance-maker. She received a modern dance MFA from the University of Utah and has taught courses on creative process, queer performance art, and dance in culture.

Junction Dance dives in

This past weekend, Junction Dance Company director Megan Adelsberger welcomed the audience to their first show of the season. The program notes explained the symbolism of each character in the show and gave a story line synopsis and a definition of the show’s title: Hypnopompic. The “hypnopompic” is the state of consciousness leading out of sleep — we were about to be taken on a journey through the subconscious by dance.

In a bed in the upper left corner of the stage, we see soloist Lydia Forsgren (who portrays Roya) for the first time. She lays there while a projection of her is shown above. Forsgren’s moves matched the music perfectly. She never missed a beat, while showing off flexibility and clean lines.

Courtesy of Junction Dance.

After the opening number, the audience began to understand the work’s relationship to the hypnopompic. Roya’s dreams would include multiple characters. “The Sand Sweepers” were first, a projected night sky giving us more context than the movement alone provided. Inspired by Neil Gaiman’s “The Sandman,” these young women created circular visuals as though they were casting a spell on Roya. Seamlessly, they whisked both Roya and her bed offstage to make room for the next stage of dreaming. “Ehno & The Protectors” were next with sharp, staccato movement. They flew through the air and mixed dance with difficult tricks. I had to reach for the program to remember what Ehno represented — he was a protector, but could also be representative of Roya “putting up a wall.” 

As the show went on, the audience was introduced to other characters, such as Bastet, Daryah and Ghadra. Costuming and projections helped me to understand exactly who these characters were. Bastet was Junction dancer Allison Wright, who represents Roya’s feminine side. As a “Lady Leopard,” she was fierce and feminine, her group's movement was clean and cute. Ghadra the Gorilla came in next — dancer Josh Curtis was featured on the front cover of the program. While the rest of the gorillas danced behind, Josh and Lydia had a duet and finally established the relationship I had been waiting the whole show to see.

After Ghadra came Daryah. She was the first soloist since the beginning of the show, and it was great to see something more than unison. Daryah’s movements flowed one into the next and there was breath in everything she did, she hit every beat, and moved like a dolphin.

During intermission, discussions of how Roya and the other dancers related to each other ran through my brain. It was difficult to understand what were her dreams and what were just unrelated dances. Roya herself was only seen interacting with others in four out of eleven pieces in the first half of the show. Hoping the second half would bring more cohesion, I watched the curtain bring us back into the hypnopompic state. We would see Roya interact with all of Junction’s main members in both duets and large unison.

Courtesy of Junction Dance.

There’s no denying that these dancers are trained well and are all extremely talented. Junction stands out in that they know how to work the crowd, as well as boasting excellent costumes and music. Cheers arose from the crowd throughout the show, creating a loving and supportive atmosphere. When it comes to storyline, I am unsure where I stand. After one more duet between Ghadra and Roya, I was left wondering whether Ghadra represented something good or evil. I also wondered whether he was only a part of her dreams or if there was a stronger relationship between them in real life. His symbology and the notes about him from the program failed to bring more clarity. Overall, the production relied too heavily on costuming and projections to tell the story. Without these elements, the movement and facial expressions didn’t cohere — only showing off what the dancers could do, not how their characters might interact. Junction needed to dive deeper into narrative and character development. Hypnopompic was fantastic and unique, but in the end, it slightly missed the mark.

Alexis Guerrero is a Salt Lake City born and raised dancer and choreographer. Creating and performing for the majority of her life, she will graduate in 2022 with a BFA in Modern Dance. She recently performed in a new work by local artist Alex Barbier and will present a work of her own this spring. 

And Artists and Dan Higgins bring a split bill to the Rose

Industrial lights in hand, five female dancers shared the stage for the opening of Sandbox this weekend at the Rose Wagner. The opening soloist, Rachel Andes, pushed boundaries physically and her commitment was breathtaking. The remaining four dancers – Melissa Younker, Haleigh Larmer, Kellie St. Pierre and Laura Baumeister – followed Andes with their lights. No music for this collaboration by And Artists: the dancers embraced the silence and filled it with breath and laughter. All that was heard were the sounds of the audience and dancers' responses to each other. These casual encounters pulled the audience in and kept our attention for nearly an hour. 

St. Pierre above and Larmer below, photo by L.M. Sorenson.

Once the first solo was over, the lights were hung up and the intimate setting opened to include all five of these Bold, Bad-ass, Beautiful women. Simple but colorful costumes allowed the dancers’ movement to shine as they switched seamlessly between partnerships, solos and a short section of unison. Each dancer took their turn showing what they had to offer and making the choreography their own. These five women work so well with each other. And Artists chose such an incredible group of artists to present this piece. Their strength, commitment and friendship shone as each section played out in front of our eyes. Changing notecards in the left lower corner of the stage allowed the audience insight into the choreographic process at play. The dancers seamlessly changed these cards, the transitions so subtle I almost didn’t notice this beautiful little recurring surprise. 

Mertz in her solo, photo by L.M. Sorenson.

After a brief intermission, Dan Higgins presented his newest work. This included another group of five local artists, traditional theater lighting, and varied but cohesive costumes for the performers. Higgins’ piece also opened with a soloist, Cameron Mertz. Her commitment to staccato and sharp movement was in beautiful opposition to her flowy, smooth costuming. Sharp, clear movements prevailed throughout, showing off the work’s skilled performers. Unison sections were so in sync I believe they could have done them with their eyes closed. Performing without masks, facial expressions added to the movement something that audiences have missed for almost two years now. There was not only emotion bleeding into what the body was doing, but their faces matched these feelings. After a unison section, a partnership – Kayla Hansen and Bashaun Williams – took the stage in a display of trust and strength. Hansen soared through the air and effortlessly transitioned back down to the ground and into new movement without a hitch. Here Higgins highlighted Williams’ strength, and yet there was a sense of artistry that was feminine but masculine at the same time. His capability to encompass both is such a rare find. Higgins also chose to highlight Hansen’s beautiful female lines and flexibility throughout this astounding duet. You could tell that they had spent hours rehearsing together and building on a natural artistic chemistry.

Williams and Hansen, photo by L.M. Sorenson.

Lastly, the Mertz entered again and danced through the static. Her movement took turns going with what was coming through the speakers but also sometimes pushing strictly against it. A soft spot light showcased her quick, sharp kinesthetic signature. With a slow fade to black, these artists closed the show and all bowed together to a standing ovation. And Artists and Dan Higgins put on a great show. They created a sense of space for the community, a place for where both artists and non-artists felt invited to savor in the choreographic process. 

Alexis Guerrero is a Salt Lake City born and raised dancer and choreographer. Creating and performing for the majority of her life, she will graduate in 2022 with a BFA in Modern Dance. She recently performed in a new work by local artist Alex Barbier and will present a work of her own this spring. 

SALT Contemporary Dance Returns to the Stage

SALT Contemporary Dance’s Fall ‘21: A Return to the Stage featured works by renowned  choreographers Garrett Smith, Ihsan Rustem and SALT’s Artistic Director Joni McDonald. This  particular show was meant to premiere in April 2020, but when it was postponed due to the  pandemic, SALT continued to develop and rehearse it until it was time to take the stage again.  

“It has never meant more to us, to be here and to have you here with us than it does now,” said  SALT Contemporary Dance President, Michelle Nielson as she introduced the show. It was  evident in the dancers’ larger-than-life performance that they have been eagerly anticipating  sharing what they have been working on for over a year.  

I expected to experience a sense of disjointedness considering each of the three works were  created by different choreographers, at different times, and with different intentions. Each segment did indeed have clearly distinct qualities. However, the dancers’ authentic connection as  a group as well as their commitment to expansive, dynamic movement were enough to create a cohesive evening of movement and emotion.  

The show opened with Garrett Smith’s If We Linger, which was originally premiered on SALT in 2015. After a satisfying moment of established cohesion in the beginning of the piece, the  majority of the work explored a sweeping, expansive use of space. The continuous movement of  dancers on and off the stage kept my eyes moving and the momentum flowing. The theme of  lingering was clear with the intentionality of each entrance and exit, whether brief or extended. When individuals, duets and trios did linger on the stage, they demonstrated striking musicality  and seamless, intricate partner work. I enjoyed the moments of aggressive, manipulative  relationships between dancers as well as playful, mischievous connections. A boisterous laugh  from SALT dancer Haley Johnson signaled an abrupt shift in the fast-paced music and  movement, bringing all dancers back on stage for a section of group work. This startling laugh would have been a sudden, yet satisfying end to the piece. Smith instead opted for a more  predictable bookend approach, closing with the tight formation and gestural movement that  opened the piece.  

Photo by Myles Woolstenhulme, courtesy of SALT.

The second work of the evening was After Discussing, choreographed by Joni McDonald. “This piece was designed to explore dynamics and range in a way I had been craving,” says McDonald in the show’s program. The lighting, music and movement fulfilled McDonald’s intentions. The  piece featured distinct segments marked by stark shifts in music, movement quality and most  

notably the bright color of the stage backdrop. The piece as a whole did not feature a discernable narrative, but instead explored a broad range of emotional tones. I enjoyed seeing movement  motifs change meaning as they appeared in the different color-segments of the piece. The  repetition of a casual skip around the stage felt entirely different in front of the deep red  backdrop versus the sky blue. Throughout the piece, the SALT dancers further demonstrated the spacious, skillful movement they had shown from the very beginning of the show. After  Discussing undramatically ended mid-sentence, allowing the dynamic nature of the piece as a  whole to speak for itself. 

Finishing the show with Ihsan Rustem’s Long Story Short was a beautiful choice, as it features a captivating range of emotional tone and an incredible display of artistry and skill. The show’s  program shared that Rustem’s intent for the piece was “an exploration of how one may progress  from questioning to clarity, as one chapter ends and the next begins.” Through strong, technical,  expansive duets, solos and group work, Rustem and the SALT dancers dove into an exploration  of the intense turmoil of questioning. Dancers emerged and disappeared from the low-lit upstage,  creating a depth of field one does not typically experience when watching on-stage works. This  lighting choice along with the vehement narration of Allen Ginsburg’s “Howl” set an ominous,  uneasy tone. The dancers too oozed with a restless, confrontational tone that reawakened my  senses. The dancers did not hold back in their direct, glaring focus or in their tremendous range  of movement. It was incredibly satisfying to witness each dancer embody such assuredness in  their solo work and then see them all move cohesively. The movement slowly became patient  and flowery, dancers blooming, sweeping and settling after such an extreme build of intensity  and turmoil. This contrast spoke to the breadth of emotions one experiences in a period of  questioning and demonstrated the ability of these dancers to dive into opposing ends of physical  and emotional spectrums.  

Courtesy of SALT.

In this beautiful show, the voice of each choreographer was distinct and clear, as well as the  voice of each dancer. The SALT dancers moved together with connection as a collective, while  still offering their individual artistry. This allowed me to connect with the work in a way that I  am not able to when I see dancers cleaned into conformity. Fall ‘21: A Return to the Stage was a  stunning confluence of artistic voices that demonstrated SALT Contemporary Dance’s expertise  as collaborators, creators and performers. 

Elle Taylor is a BFA candidate at the University of Utah’s School of Dance. She’s currently rehearsing for the upcoming graduate concert and recently presented work in the School’s student concert.

The Illusion of Life in Circus

UtahPresents has brought a potpourri of performances to Salt Lake City’s Kingsbury Hall. Within this wide expanse, Cirque Mechanic is perhaps the most unconventional of troupes to tromp on its stage. Acclaimed as the most recent reincarnation of circus, the group displays a prestigious cast with many Cirque du Soleil veterans. But while Cirque du Soleil transports viewers into whimsical fantasy, Cirque Mechanic strives to find whimsy within the mundane of everyday life.

Cirque Mechanic’s Birdhouse Factory features a “widget” factory representing the depression era. The show focuses on the workers within that factory through playful shenanigans and outbursts of talent. Narratively, the injury of a bird in the factory boiler brings this group together in caring for the animal, transforming assembly line drudgery into a flourishing community. The aims of the show are simple and obvious. To quote the program directly, “Birdhouse Factory delivers a timeless message of hope, camaraderie, and the power of the human collaborative spirit.” These themes of fluxed in and out of cohesion with the inherently individualistic circus acts, sometimes getting lost in the close concentration elicited by individual performers.

Image by Larry Rosenberg

The show attempts to transplant traditional circus vignettes into one storyline by assigning each performer a character. This would create continuity if there were an equal balance of development among the characters, but Birdhouse Factory only successfully fleshes out characters with more personable talents. Juggler Thom Wall played the part of the factory’s high-strung boss, mischievously balancing cups with the same charisma of a court jester. Chase Clup’s “Clown Radio” used his facial dexterity to show an enormous breadth of emotion as he conducted the audience through a bird tweet rendition of Beethoven, games with a tape measurement, and Britney Spears cameos. These two performers were engaging and jovial in how they related to the audience.

The rest of the cast was homogenized — without a distinct role in the narrative flow; however, some value is found in how the prop-based acts engaged with the setting. Cirque Mechanic claims Birdhouse Factory is unique because of its relationship between performance and machine. It is true that the acts with mechanic components showcased well, even without character, because they were able to emulate the setting of a factory. Cornell Freeney’s strength on the German wheel invoked the image of a turning gear. The three trampoline artists’ act naturally situated their characters as workers who flipped on and off of a high beam while on break.

Meanwhile more whimsical acts, such as contortion and aerial arts, felt abstract and unanchored within Birdhouse Factory. These acts rode on memorable moments — distractions from their clunky transitions. An exception was the chair stacking act that culminated in the hanging of a bird house, which provided a concrete connection even if only in its conclusion. In contrast, the hoop dance performed by Elena Sanders felt like an anti-transition, beginning with a female worker tearing off her uniform to reveal a showgirl outfit underneath as she performed for her fellow workers during their lunch break.

I noted an overall lack of congruent female representation. Female characters were either non-existent or reminiscent of circus eroticism. Circus performance at its core embraces and enhances the exotic and sensual, which in combination with a lack of narrative representation felt overbearing for the few female performers, who were undeniably talented and could have held stronger roles. The overly imagistic and unsubstantial female characters in Birdhouse Factory served as an antecedent to the alleged injured bird, who was not seen at all until the last scene. As the instigator of the plot, the bird should have provided the binding of the show, but her image was lost among the whimsical and sensual performers of Cirque Mechanic.

I dream that all these critiques could be applied: characters could be more collaborative, smoothing the narrative flow; the pace could be quickened to avoid excessive mono-focus; and the female presence could be given more holistic roles. Ultimately, Birdhouse Factory is still a circus show with a circus format. I applaud the specialties of each individual performer, all masters of their crafts. I ask more of Cirque Mechanic, if they want success l within their own expressed themes. More hope, camaraderie, and power. If Cirque Mechanic wishes to show the circus within real life, they need to find the overlap between realism and escapism.

Brianna Bernhardt is a current loveDANCEmore intern and a BFA candidate in the U of U’s School of Dance. She aims to cultivate creative excellence and promote academia within the arts through her role as a student leader and freelance artist. She enjoys going to museums, reading books, and taking long walks without destinations. Find her on instagram @bybriannabernhardt.