Malpaso Dance Company visits Utah

I have heard nothing but praise for Malpaso Dance Company over the years and on April 24, I finally had the opportunity to see the Havana, Cuba-based company perform live. The dancers’ sheer physicality and honest commitment to their performance pulled me in and kept my attention through all three works presented.

The evening opened with Ephrat Asherie’s Floor…y Ando, a trio of male dancers. I first noticed the dancers wearing everyday sneakers–a choice that made the performance feel grounded and relatable. The choreography and production elements invited a sense of personal connection, dissolving the distance the proscenium stage can sometimes create between performer and audience. The dancers’ contemporary attire–a button-up shirt and pants–further emphasized the piece’s focus on humanity and relationships. The specificity of the lighting captured the poignancy of time and moments, underscoring the seamless transitions in partner work. Flow and ease were beautifully juxtaposed with staccato footwork, reflecting Asherie’s research and expertise in street dance. The abstract nature of the work allowed for open interpretation, encouraging personal connection rooted in shared human experience. I did find myself missing the internal drive in the dancers’ performance. Compared to their connection to the inner fire and depth of connection displayed in the works that followed, their presence in Floor…y Ando felt somewhat restrained.

I often find that when I have a lot to say, it means I am intrigued and hungry for more. Osnel Delgado’s A Dancing Island inspired many thoughts. Delgado, a co-founder of Malpaso, also serves as Artistic Director and company dancer. One of Malpaso’s greatest strengths as a company is their commitment to elevating Cuban choreographers in their repertoire. While I do not know much about Cuba or its culture, A Dancing Island made me feel welcomed into its community. The work featured all eleven company dancers and leaned more toward narrative structure compared to Asherie’s abstract piece. Clear relationships emerged through playful tableaus and interactions between male and female dancers. At one point, a dancer begins to sing, sparking a shift in energy that awakened the individuality of those around her and initiated a joyful journey of celebration. The music’s layered rhythms prompted the dancers to explore polyrhythms within their bodies, playing with pulses and accents simultaneously. From my perspective, the dancers’ performance felt second nature–vital and deeply rooted in their identities. The cast was exceptionally well-rehearsed. Movements were crisp, with precise slicing of limbs through space and a strong sense of connection between dancers. I was surprised when the house lights rose to reveal a dancer seated among the audience, who was beckoned to return to the stage. This gesture emphasized the idea that dance extends beyond the proscenium-more than performance, it is a way of life, deeply woven into Cuban culture. 

While the dancers exhibited impeccable timing in their movement—knowing exactly how long to hold a shape or let a ripple travel from head to toe–I felt the timing in the overall choreographic progression could have been stronger. Transitions between musical scores and sections felt abrupt, and some images or ideas left the stage too quickly. I wanted to linger longer in those moments. Compared to the natural rise and fall of the music, the choreographic movement was very even and never fully embraced urgency. I also wished the female dancers had been given more opportunities to demonstrate their technical prowess; the more athletic and physical feats were performed exclusively by men.

The final work of the evening, Why You Follow, was choreographed by Ronald K. Brown, whose extensive résumé includes commissions for Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, Philadanco, and Ballet Hispánico. The collective of nine dancers wore casual black, grey, and red costumes–I craved a more distinctive wardrobe to match the energy and intricacy of Brown’s choreography. This work echoed Delgado’s work in its use of polyrhythm and the dancers’ full-bodied commitment to the movement. However, I was puzzled by the bow at the end: the four female dancers bowed together, while the men came forward individually. Though one male dancer had a featured role, the structure of the bow didn’t seem to reflect the overall ensemble contributions of the piece.

I left Malpaso’s concert wondering why the men appeared to be featured more prominently than the women, but would still see Malpaso Dance Company perform again if given the chance. I eagerly anticipated this evening and would like to thank Utah Presents for bringing them to Salt Lake City. Throughout this season, Utah Presents has curated a stunning lineup of performances, and I leave each concert feeling energized and inspired–especially when the audience rises to its feet in celebration with the final bow of the evening. I’m proud to be a part of a community that shows such love and support for dance.

Kara Robertson is a Choreographer, Director, and Educator based in Salt Lake City, Utah working towards her MFA in Modern Dance at the University of Utah. She founded and served as Artistic Director of Karar Dance Company, a 501(c)3 nonprofit professional contemporary dance company, for seven years. She is a 2024 Virginia Commission for the Arts Choreographic Fellow. Her work has been performed throughout the country including at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and at the Ailey Citigroup Theater and Gibney Dance. Kara holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Dance and Choreography from Virginia Commonwealth University. Find her at kararchoreo.com and on Instagram @kararchoreo.

Roxanne Gray curates a mix of border art and dance

Over at Finch Lane, 801 Salon opened their gallery show Nepantla: Border Arte on Friday, April 18. Nepantla showcases the Hispanic and immigrant identities of its artists, and their experiences navigating identity in a country with a history of cultural erasure. The work showed tradition, craftsmanship, great use of different media and materials, and a beautiful pride built through resilience and love.

Roxanne Gray remounted her work, itself called Nepantla, which also explores identity and resilience. During the first section, the dancers made their breath purposely audible. The breaths were rhythmic, and at times it felt like they were really animating the dance. The performers were wearing bright colors and flowing skirts which were used to create movements in a style similar to Mexican folklórico. Modern dance was also embedded seamlessly with the traditional styles. Since the audience was seated in the round, the flow of the skirt would sometimes create a breeze in our direction. Full of breath and flow, the piece truly felt alive.

Photo by Edison Corvera.

At one point the dancers dispersed, and Leslie Jara entered the space sporting a Rapunzel-like hair prop, a long braid with a red ribbon. The solo starts to build a narrative with Jara gathering up the braid to a sounds resembling tension on a rope. Sometimes, the tension snaps but Jara continues her efforts to gather the hair. Jara breaks this repetition by going to make a shape with the hair on the floor then sitting inside this shape. The imagery of sitting in the space she created tugged at my heart strings. I thought of my own parents. They too were trying to create space for themselves in foreign land while still keeping their cultural identity alive.

After the solo, the other dancers join the floor. The energy was up, and the dancers would take up the space while cheering each other and the audience on. Sometimes the dancers would traverse the space together, sometimes one would take a turns occupying the whole floor. Either way, the cheering continued. Festivities kept going on. Yes, these dancers are powerhouses — having the dancers move while celebrating each other was moving. I could not stop smiling.

This exhibit is healing and necessary during our current political climate. Art has a power to reflect what’s going on in society, and this exhibit and dance reflects the beauty and resilience of a community. Relatives before the current generation were given an important task keeping culture close whilst finding kin within a new community. Today, we thank our past relatives and we continue to honor our cultures by evolving. By doing so, we allow our community to grow and support each other the best we can.

(Also recently having been performed at the Rose, Nepantla originally started as a part of Gray’s MFA thesis research, and the cast is raising money to take the work to the American College Dance Association Gala in Washington DC.)

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.

Pole dancing, tree tops, and sunsets

The stained glass windows at Salt Lake City’s Church & State reflected a moving performance by Morgan Phillips and Nora Price. ROOTS, performed the evening of April 12, was described as “a night of contemporary pole, original music, and film.” The event was filled with stunning moments of improvisation, skill, and choice.  The sunset flooded through the windows as audience members entered the venue, performers greeting people as they arrived. To my utmost excitement, a dog sat in the front row.

The program also stated that ROOTS would be “an exploration of movement and music drawn from our earliest memories, defining personality traits and the places where we feel the most grounded to ourselves.” The performers invited the viewer into intimate creations through music, film, and movement. The night began with Nora Price on the guitar. Chords echoed off the walls and cathedral ceiling as the space filled with sound. Lighting by Tori Meyer shined throughout the performance with color stories of warm and cool lighting intersecting and playing off of one another, similar to the two performers. As Price was playing the opening of the performance, her body was cast in blue light, a motif that continued throughout the night. To add further depth to the sound score, Price incorporated vocals that were hauntingly beautiful, using what appeared to be an old telephone. 

Phillips then approached the pole, the light from the projector casting her shadow on the screen behind them. I was stunned at the ease and physicality that Phillips displayed. There was a strong sense of both stability and risk in her movement. Film of tree tops filled the projector, a scene that transported me to memories of my childhood, looking up at the light peeking between the leaves. The pole mirrored one of these trees projected on screen, acting as a natural tether between Phillips and the space. Later on in the work, Phillips places one hand on top of another as she climbs higher and higher on the pole. As she reached the top, Phillips peered out at the audience with a look resembling longing. I found this moment impactful, a sense of struggle and triumph wonderfully articulated.

Partnering between the performers was exquisite. Their bodies created images of support that stuck with me in the days following the performance. I was not able to identify what was choreographed and what was improvised, solidifying a sense of connection and trust in each other. How can dancers partner with something separating them? And how can that very thing lead them to be more interconnected? Phillips embodied Price’s score throughout the night with her movement quality and performance. It was truly magical.

Allison Shafter is the 2024-25 loveDANCEmore intern.

Flamenco at Westminster

This past weekend, the Florence J. Gillmore School of Music at Westminster University presented A’Lante Flameco, a company based out of Ausitn Texas run by Isai and Olivia Chacon. This particular show was called Amor Flamenco, and was a love letter to flamenco. Oliva Chacon, originally from Texas, the artistic director, choreographer, and dancer, has been immersed in flamenco for twenty years, and spent five years studying and performing in Seville and Madrid, Spain, places that have rich flamenco history. Isai Chacon, the musical director, singer and guitarist, is originally from Mexico, but also lived for a time in Madrid, Spain accompanying many of the world’s best flamenco artists. 

Photo by Doug Carter.

I am hardly well-versed in the world of flamenco, however I did spend a year in college living in Granada, Spain, which is another epicenter for this art form. I took flamenco dance lessons while I was there, and fell in love with the passion, intensity, and musical complexity of this form. I will never forget watching my first performance; I sat front and center in an outdoor venue, unable to take a full breath the entire night. I was utterly transfixed, and so was then curious how I would feel twenty five years later, sitting in Salt Lake City, Utah watching flamenco. For me, it was equally as powerful, and this was a well programmed performance showcasing talent, artistic maturity, and a range of human emotion.

The first piece of the night, Ni de Aqui, Ni de Alla combined musical influences from Mexico, Cuba, and Spain, which spoke about the various cultural identities represented, and what it means to belong and honor immigrant stories. When vocalist Celia Corrales Sellers began singing it was impossible to not feel the sadness that can arise from complex situations, whether they be lost love, displacement, or mortality. The dancers added to the musical landscape by clapping and hitting their bodies, in between the rhythms  created by their feet and the swirling and twisting of their torsos. They created a beautiful community on the stage, each performer seamlessly going in and out of the spotlight, like a long braid being formed before our eyes.

In Cuando Yo Me Muera, Sofia Hurtado dances the somber seguiriya using the manton de Manila, which is an ornate shawl. She twists and turns with the fringed fabric, creating movement trails and pathways that long surpass her own limbs. Her facial expressions are serious and at times pained, which is common to see in this form where it feels like the audience is gifted a glimpse into the performer's deep emotional, and more often than not, sad storytelling.   

Spain, composed by Chick Corea and Paseando por La Havana (Guajiras), choreographed by Bianca Rodiguez and arranged musically by Isai Chacon and Jose Manuel Tejeda, both explore lighter experiences of the human condition. Rodriguez coyly incorporates a fan, and playfully dances around herself, the fan opening, closing and obscuring various parts of her body in conjunction to the beats of the music.

In the final piece of the night, Hacia la Mar la Vela (Cantinas) Olivia Chacon dances one of the most popular styles of flamenco, which is the Alegrias de Cadiz. She dances with her bata de cola, which is a long ruffled red train. It extends several yards behind her, creating a visual of red waves lapping against the shore. When she wants to display her footwork, the zapateado, she gathers up the train in one hand and throws it over her shoulder, like a backpack. The long train is her partner, giving more visual interest to the dance, and also creating logistics to explore and solve. This piece was a wonderful ending to a wonderful night, and what a treat it was for Salt Lake to be visited by this company.

Erica Womack is a Salt Lake City-based dance educator and choreographer.

Victor Quijada brings a pleasing mixed-bill to Kingsbury

A thirteen year old, a forty-three year old, and a seventy-three year old walk into Kingsbury Hall to watch UtahPresents host Rubberband Vic’s Mix, a compilation of Victor Quijada’s works. Can this concert please all of these ladies from very different generations? The answer is a resounding yes! This was a fantastic evening of dance, and my mom, my daughter and I all left the theatre energized, excitedly talking about the show. We had that post show buzz, the distinct feeling of knowing that you were a part of something special, that you witnessed other humans in a creative, elevated state. In this scenario it was a company of seven athletic dancers performing a choreographic style that blends hip hop and contemporary dance with classical music. Quijada opened the show introducing himself and his journey, he grew up in Los Angeles and was swept up in hip hop culture. That was his first exposure to dance, and he found it empowering. When he was later introduced to modern dance and ballet, he felt he had to choose a direction. He chose the latter, and had a successful career with Rudy Perez and Twyla Tharp. He eventually moved to Canada and started to develop the Rubberband Method, which explores the combination of urban pop and classical composition. The first section of works were choreographed between 2002 and 2005, and showcased the beginning of his movement vocabulary. The second half of the night, choreographed between 2006 and 2014, relied on this established language to go beyond movement exploration and say something more.    

Secret Service, the opening section, uses Sergei Prokofiev's iconic score that is also used in the classical ballet Romeo and Juliet during the Dance of the Knights. I have always loved this section of the ballet, it’s a menacing line dance showcasing ornate costuming, strict family order, and tradition. Quijada’s version matches the intensity of the music with full-bodied movement, the dancers urgently moving in and out of the floor with recognizable moves from hip hop. They’re clad in pedestrian clothes and boots, and the classical score often offers a feeling of vulnerability that the athletic movement sometimes lacks.

In the following section, Meditations, with music from Jasper Gahunia, we see partner work, which is not something you often find in hip hop. Men sharing weight with women and vice versa, various body parts used as levers and fulcrums, liquid spines — these are all traditions within contact improvisation. 

Photo by Bill Herbert, courtesy of UtahPresents.

Mi Verano, with music from Antonio Vivaldi, has delightful musicality with moments of laugh out loud playfulness. Towards the end of the work, two men hold up the two women in a sustained lift, and when they put them down they rub their backs, with exaggerated expressions of exhaustion and pain. It was all perfectly musical, and reminded me of a hip hop version of a Mark Morris piece. As soon as it ended I wished I could rewatch it from the beginning. 

Photo by Michael Slobodian, courtesy of UtahPresents.

In Second Coming, we once again see Quijada’s sense of play and humor as three dancers fight over whose turn it is to begin their solo. They clarify with the sound booth how their solo starts, and it all develops into an entertaining trio of the blended music of Beethoven, Paganini, and Bach. The three dancers' personalities collide alongside their movements, and they bring new theatrics and complexity to the traditional dance battle.  

The night ended with a dance circle, complete with Quijada taking his turn to the delight of the audience. It was an appropriate nod to his upbringing, and further highlighted that social dance forms have what concert dance sometimes lacks: fun, community, and a groovy good time. That being said this show wove all these aspects seamlessly throughout the night, including artistic and choreographic excellence.  

Erica Womack is a Salt Lake City-based dance educator and choreographer.