Eleven salty seasons

Over the weekend, SALT premiered Spring 11. SALT doesn’t disappoint, bringing a show that highlights their talents and wows the audience. It begins with a performance by the Ballet West Academy choreographed by SALT dancers. Seeing SALT showcase other companies is amazing – I love to see community involvement. 

On The Nature of Being, choreographed by Ihsan Rustem, was the segway into the company’s own work. Ihsan’s choreography was powerfully evocative — epic music, lighting, movement, full white costumes with white cargo pants. One moment that remains unforgettable came when the lights turned warm above the dancers. Hovering from above, the audience saw a golden outline of the dancers’ skin and white costumes. The partnering was strong, fluid, and seemingly effortless — liquids of different viscosities pushing, pulling, and contorting against each other. They moved together naturally, but couldn’t mix. 

Next, SALT2 made an appearance with Amy Gunther’s piece Heart Shaped Cookies. So silly, romantic, and weird — a type of weird that’s so authentic you can’t help but love it. This whole piece was lovely; different nostalgic love songs would switch on and off to cue the dancers, a couple of moments of yearning would be depicted by dancers traversing the space on a carriage made of others’ bodies, and a great amount of sass was present. The lights helped add finishing touches to the sense of story book romance. As each dancer sprinted to the corner and stopped in a graceful, lunging pose, it felt like a natural downpour. At some point, I noticed the cool wash painting these dancers was becoming warmer and warmer. The light made this moment seem like time was moving. This piece was one that definitely warmed the heart. 

Noche No Te Vayas by Omar Román De Jesús came after intermission. This piece faded the line between daydream and reality. Before I read Omar’s program note, I jotted down, “Dancers, you are the magic that enables the world to dream without boundaries.” That narrative sang through the piece. Through gentle repetitive movement, shapes expressing longing, and a single lift, dancers were able to bring a sense of comfort to the stage. At times, dancers would move outside the light, and their image would seem like a distant memory. The pinterest style workwear made the movement in this piece feel like a romantic, optimistic dream — indulgent, ethereal, almost existential, completely lost in thought. As snow fell on stage, magic was achieved. 

Last came All Too Human by Peter Chu. I didn’t get the pleasure of seeing this piece when it premiered last spring, but I have no ill feelings after having seen it for the first time Friday night. As an audience member, my attention went exactly where the piece wanted me to look. Although this work was highly emotional, the flow was excellent, showing many layered conflicts. One moment dancers were struggling to stay vertical in a shoulder stand, and then we’d see them fall heavy and quickly become vertical again. Another dancer performed a forceful internal monologue. Dancers were crossing back and forth from upstage and downstage pulled in multiple directions. I loved the ending, which felt like a return to the beginning refreshed by a change in perspective.

At the curtain call, the crowd rose from their seats to show the artists what they thought of their show. They were wowed. The dancers showed their great athleticism and beautiful artistry. The production team melded movement, visuals, and music. And the choreographers were able to build stories for the audience to live through. What a wonderful opening night!

Edison Corvera (they/them) is currently a queer Filipinx performer living around the SLC area. They attended Southern Utah University and studied theater arts and dance performance. Since moving to the Salt Lake area, Edison has worked with Myriad Dance, Ogden Movement Collective, and SONDERimmersive. Whatever artistry they find, Edison hopes to continue to find ways to implement their art with the community around them.

Legislative manuevers on behalf of our water

The stage of Kingsbury Hall receives you with its open curtains and a large platform simulating a podium, like those found in various nations’ congresses, extending along almost the entirety of the stage. This is with justifiable reason, as this performance is about passing a bill to reduce global bodies of water — oceans — into tiny and humanely “controllable” bodies of water, to reduce their “threat” to human life.

The Ocean — masterfully performed by Jennifer Kidwell — presents itself at the Global Senate to filibuster the bill. Mr. Majority — also masterfully performed by Jennifer Kidwell — is pushing to get the bill passed. Impressively, Kidwell jumps with ease from one character to the other through voice modulation, singing, and the manipulation of the costuming. 

The stage is also framed by a white screen and several columns of white fabric. As a whole, these will become the screens of large-scale projection. immersing the audience into the narrative. Projection has been used in the performing arts for centuries — the use of candle light to project a shadow is one of the earliest antecedents of what we can do now with a little electricity — and it remains very effective in this context, particularly in the immersive sequences in which the Ocean is speaking.

Photo by Pim Lin, Forest Photography at the University of Houston, 2022.

During the intermission, spaces behind the stage and the lobby of the second floor are activated, as we are invited to explore, interacting with the actors or scrutinizing an app through which augmented reality unfolds facts related to the ocean.

One element I consider a success and a smart choice is the integration/participation of local performers. Students from the Musical Theatre program at the Theatre Department at the University of Utah, are “the ocean ensemble,” an extension of the life that proliferates in The Ocean and of The Ocean itself. This illustrates the increasing challenge and complexity of today’s performing arts logic. This production might seem easier to tour because there is only one touring actor on stage, however, building or transporting those bulky set pieces and even hosting the company for more than four days is costly, and fewer and fewer venues can afford it. Partnering with local organizations and soliciting local talent reduces costs, which is why more productions have opted for this model. However, what is not sustainable in this case is that Ocean Filibuster was only a one-night show. Once a date is secured, this kind of production should be presented for more nights and in other venues around the area. I cannot imagine how expensive building or transporting the biggest set piece was just to present this performance one time.

Ocean Filibuster — written by Lisa D’Amour and directed by Katie Pearl — is an enjoyable musical that through humor, a lot of scientific facts, and visual immersion, unfurls the specifics of how poorly our anthropocentric approach has managed and exploited natural life and resources. Nevertheless, I do not think what it offers is wholly new to the audiences of this city, especially considering the awareness of the current situation of the Great Salt Lake. If anything, Mr. Majority reflects how this city and state’s leaders have overlooked, and put at risk the future even of their own children on behalf of business, greed, and profit. 

Photo by Pim Lin, Forest Photography at the University of Houston, 2022.

This performance is straightforward, didactic, and easy to digest. In this sense, this kind of show accomplishes certain objectives and is necessary in the arts ecosystem. Watching from the comfort of my seat, I wondered if it wouldn’t be useful to try to present this kind of educational performance outside as well as inside the city, which already has better-than-average access to information and spectacles like this one. I can foresee how this performance might be important in regions where beliefs and education play a fundamental role in access to information. I had a good time recognizing the incredible work of the performers, but what I am curious about is reaching the right people. Will we use public transit more often, reuse instead of disposing of massive amounts of waste? Are we willing to make sacrifices, measurable in terms of commodities? I am authentically curious if any of us who made it to the theater that night have power and a say. Will we go back to work on family business or in political affairs and will we refrain from signing the next contract, passing the next bill, or taking actions that, in particular, negatively affect the Great Salt Lake, or any other natural resources at stake?

While I was watching, I asked myself all these questions. I appreciate that art can — like a mirror — reflect on matters that need our attention, but maybe we should become better not only as viewers but also as agents. Of what we applaud after a show, how much do we actually practice in daily life?

Stephanie Garcia is a multi-awarded Mexican artist, arts advocate, and arts administrator living between Salt Lake and Mexico City. More info at stephaniegarcia.art.

Kingsbury Hall echoes with the Rhythms of Step Afrika!

In Celebration of Martin Luther King Jr. Week at the University of Utah, Step Afrika! performed at Kingsbury Hall on Monday, January 15, 2024. The theater was packed to capacity, and I must admit, I have never seen Kingsbury so full. Every seat was occupied by an enthusiastic and engaged audience member. Stepping, traditional West African dances, and the South African Gumboot were woven into the afternoon’s performance, resulting in an educational and culturally rich experience.

Step Afrika! distinguishes themselves as a professional company dedicated to the energetic, percussive, and polyrhythmic dance form known as stepping. Originating from African American fraternities and sororities in the early 1900s, stepping embodies grounded body positions, dynamic foot movement suggestive of tap dance, and the integration of hands, body, and voice to create intricate tempos and rhythms. The artists form a unique community of dance and music on the stage.

Courtesy of Step Afrika!

However, Step Afrika!’s performance surpassed traditional aesthetics by seamlessly blending in various dance styles, ranging from West African to more contemporary forms. What sets Step Afrika! apart is the sense of invitation extended to the audience. It goes beyond mere entertainment by inviting me, as an audience member, into their community of inclusion and passion for dance.

The West African section of the performance was undeniably the highlight for me. Positioned upstage and center, the energetic beat of the drums set the tone for a captivating display. Utilizing the entire space, the dancers formed a semi-circle. The choreography had a seamless transition of each dancer taking turns in the center before passing the opportunity to the next. The movements were characterized by explosive and fast kicks, elements of combat, and moments featuring long extensions, pointed toes, and intricate floor work. This combination of dance aesthetics resulted in a visually dynamic display of energy and motion. Despite this mesmerizing experience, a minor critique I have is the performance’s duration. I see a potential benefit from an intermission or selective editing of some pieces.

Step Afrika! offers a performance that transcends the boundaries of concert dance that many of us are familiar with. While I encourage you to explore Step Afrika! on various social media platforms, I wholeheartedly recommend seizing the opportunity to witness their live performance for an unforgettable encounter.  

Wren Foster carries an unwavering passion for the art of dance, with a particular focus in ballet. Beyond practicing himself, he finds joy in writing his thoughts about ballet. Eager to inspire and foster a commitment to excellence, Wren shares his feedback to uplift and motivate individuals in the dance community toward reaching their highest potential.

Sixty Years of Ririe-Woodbury

Ririe-Woodbury recently celebrated sixty years with Groundworks, a show that honors the company’s long standing relationship with Alwin Nikolais, its founders, Shirley Ririe and Joan Woodbury, and the current artistic director, Daniel Charon. The opener was Tensile Involvement, an iconic Nikolais piece that uses elastics coupled with movement to create dynamic visuals. This piece was first created in 1955, and 68 years later still feels fresh and innovative. BYU dancers, under the direction of Alberto del Saz, performed, and they all rose to the occasion and looked every bit the part of mature, professional dancers. There are moments in this piece that are breathtaking, the eye traveling between individual movement, to group composition, to the choreography the elastics create. The body becomes augmented, even otherworldly, as their movements stretch and ripple endlessly. 

Guest dancers from BYU performing Tensile Involvement.

All of Nikolais works are multimedia, with the choreography just one piece of the puzzle. The costuming, lighting, props, and music are integral to achieve his vision. Liturgies, the second piece of the evening, continues to highlight what Nikolais described himself as a “polygamy of motion, shape, color and sound.” This work has a darkness, an underbelly of sorts, as if Nikolais took his gift of being able to turn the human body into something else and married it with his nightmares. It was during this piece that I started to wonder what caused/allowed him to stay so close to his vision of stripping the body of its emotion and humanness and creating these otherworldy places. Was it a refuge to depart from our messy existence and sometimes cruel world and descend into a sphere of shape, light, shadow and sound? That is what it feels like to watch his work, a place to escape from feeling human and living in an ordinary body of flesh and bone.  

If Nikolais was less concerned with the individual moving body, Daniel Charon reminded us that sometimes, the moving body can be enough. On Being premiered in 2021, and I watched (and wrote about it) then. I loved it the first time I saw it, and I still love it.  Additionally, I stand by my first take. I can see why it would be included in a program that honors the past, but also wants to nod at the current era of the company. It has a soft, yet clear structure, is devoid of any angst or ego, in short, it feels like a piece that one would create after a global pandemic where so much had been stripped away. Not to say that the piece references that time in any way, or relies on that context for it to thrive. This time watching I specifically appreciated how the form of the moving body is allowed to breathe and seemingly organically evolve, bodies sweeping and filling the space, movement tails and tendrils lingering long after. The music by Edyis Evensen tugs and pulls out emotion, and after the electronic scores that Nikolais used, gives the heart somewhere to get warmed up from the cold.

A tribute for Joan Woodbury and Shirley Ririe closed out the show, and it was satisfying to watch dancers from the past (via video projected on the cyc) juxtaposed with the current company performing the same choreography. Seeing the passage of time unaffected by movement composition somehow makes this ephemeral art form feel more concrete and real, connecting past and present before our eyes. 

The first section shown in this tribute was Boot the System, an excerpt from Electronic Dance Transformer, commissioned by the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in 1985. This section had a lecture demonstration structure to it, complete with narration from education director Ai Fujii Nelson. I have sat through my fair share of lec dems, and this is one that I would welcome the chance to sit through again simply because the dancers are fantastic. They are a joy to watch, all technically proficient, clean lines and dynamic movement qualities. It reminded me of the pure joy that movement can bring, the intoxication of being able to create imaginative worlds with your body.

Excerpts from L’Invasion, choreographed in 1991 by Joan Woodbury, showed different casts over at least a fifteen year span. This highlighted the passage of time and longevity of the company, something in and of itself to be proud of.

Watching video clips of Banner of Freedom, choreographed by Shirley Ririe in 1989, was not enough, I wanted to see the piece in its entirety. It was made after Ririe Woodbury had performed in East Berlin, come home, and then watched, with the rest of the world, the Berlin Wall coming down. The piece is a tribute to the strength and joy of those people, and speaks to universal hope and desire for freedom. The piece on video looked theatrical and dynamic, with large pieces of fabric hanging from the ceiling progressively being ripped down. The current company eventually ran out with white flags, making patterns and movements that highlight the euphoria and hope of a better life within reach. It was a poignant way to end the evening, ushering in the sixtieth year of this company with energy and optimism.

Erica Womack is a choreographer and teacher who has shown work through a variety of local outlets, as well as teaching at SLCC and Weber State University.

Cat + Fish on the roof at the Leonardo

This weekend I had the joy of attending Cat + Fish Dances’ Flow, a part of their ninth year of consistent performances. As soon as I reached my seat in the penthouse performance space at the Leonardo, it began to rain. Heavily. Directly onto the Marley floor that had been carefully laid out in the courtyard. The artists quickly closed off the doors and rotated the audience seating to face an indoor corner of the room. The show that followed was a testament to the unpredictability of live performance and the artists’ commitment to the show going on. Despite this change in facing and flooring, the performers showed professionalism and seemed completely at ease throughout.

The first and last pieces of the show were choreographed by Cat Kamarath Monson in collaboration with the dancers, and were exactly what you could expect of good contemporary dance. Fettle and Wonder/Wander were both dynamic, lively, and showed intelligent spatial design. They were dancing for dance’s sake and showed off the talent of the performers beautifully.

A run on sentence about… by Daniel Do was driving and rhythmically exciting. All black costumes added to the mystery. Even though Daniel doesn’t tell us what the “run on sentence” was about, I got the sense that it had something to do with pleasure and distraction. The dancers moved intricately, limbs close to their bodies, constantly interrupting themselves. A recurring motif from Morgan Phillips performing a little internal dance, eyes closed and swirling her hips with her hand on her belly, left incomplete impressions of desire and satiation. This was only an excerpt, I hope there is more to see of this work at another time.

Megan O'Brien and Caleb Daly, in Friday's drier performance, photo by Michael O'Brien.

It's not mine, it’s not yours, it’s ours by Mar Undag started with a playful call and response between two dancers, then adding in a third and fourth. The piece then somewhat suddenly shifted towards more isolated and individual movements, where the dancers passed by without seeing each other. Or, in some cases, they saw each other and chose to turn away. The movement became more bound, leaving a sense of yearning. Initially I felt yearning directed toward something external, however, the piece evolved and arrived at a solo by Masio Sangster. He touched his face with the same textures we’d seen other dancers using to reach into space. For me, this changed the story significantly, and I realized this yearning was not about gaining something external, but changing something internally. A duet emerged between Masio and Bayley Banks. At times unstable, they held a sense of yearning while supporting each other and finding beautiful, lofty moments in the transitions. Emma Sargent’s simple humming created a soft space around the duet, which was finally embraced by the last two dancers, leaving impressions of care and love. As Mar himself said in the program notes, “10 out of 10, no notes, these artists are incredible.”

In the program notes, three out of four pieces say they were created “in collaboration with dancers.” (The fourth, Fettle, was credited to all four of its “creators and movers” — Cat Kamarath Monson, Caleb Daly, Daniel Do, Megan O'Brien.) This aligned with Cat’s opening statements on respecting the dancers she worked with and recognizing the value of their time. Where in the past many choreographers would take credit for the final product even if the dancers contributed material, I love seeing credit given where it is due. The practice acknowledges how much dancers contribute to the artistry of a work and dissolves traditional hierarchies within the creative process. Flow was a strong program that also revealed Cat’s integrity as a longtime Salt Lake artist.

Kara Komarnitsky grew up in Salt Lake City and recently graduated with a BFA in Dance from Ohio State University with minors in Environmental Science and Business. Her work approaches the complexity of human interconnection with the planet, pulling inspiration from the natural world and environmental research. While her primary medium is dance, Kara regularly uses projections, film, sound, and interactive technology to create immersive performance experiences. Her piece Tales of the Deep (2018) recently won third place in the Midwest Climate Summit’s Climate Stories Competition and her thesis, Interconnect (2022), received an Honorable Mention at the OSU Denman Research Forum 2022. Other places her work has been presented includes the OSU Student Concert, OSU BFA Showcase, and the Ohio Dance Festival Professional Concert.