Ragamala Dance at ADF

Ragamala Dance in Sacred Earth.  Photo by Hub Wilson.

Ragamala Reveals a Sacred Earth

7/12/12

Ragamala Dance unfurled an intricate, complex, and lovely world last night at the Reynolds Industries Theater at Duke University, with the evening-length Sacred Earth.  The circular rice flour designs the dancers drew and drizzled on the floor, the glowing gold, orange, and green pleats of the dancers’ skirts, the precise hand and head gestures, and the detailed Warli wall paintings projected throughout the dance—all conveyed a sense of reverence, of unfolding mystery, of celebration.

Trained in the South Indian classical dance form Bharatanatyam, Ranee and Aparna Ramaswamy (the directors of Ragamala Dance) understand the dance as a dynamic art form.  They do not fuse the classic dance with contemporary dance forms, but rather draw on the tradition to create dances that speak universally, that have relevance for our 21^st century world.  The sense of tension between tradition and innovation seems to heighten both, rather than take away from either, creating a bridge, not a tug-of-war.  A similar tension seems to bind other elements of Sacred Earth, as well: secular and spiritual life, inner and outer worlds, rhythm and stillness, human and natural concerns.

After a slow, meditative opening, in which the 6 dancers walked a slow circle, knees bending softly with each step, rice flour powdering down from each open palm, the live musicians transitioned into a more rhythmically complex and percussive beat.  The dancers contributed to the music with each pound and tap of their feet, the bells around their ankles lending a raspy jingle.  The performance was structured around sung poems in the Tamil Sangam literary tradition, celebrating mountainous, forest, seaside, and farmed landscapes.  The songs were strung seamlessly together, though each section seemed to feature both a soloist and the group.  Each soloist told a story through the deliberate, precise, and evocative gestures that are characteristic of Bharatanatyam—a wrist turned just so, the elbow at just this angle, fingers fluttering like the wings of a butterfly or bird.  The specifics of the narrative did not always come through, but the essence, the image, was clear. 

During the final section, the dancers snaked across the stage, lunged and reached side to side in a low, wide-legged stance, traced their arms in an arc overhead as if describing the sun’s path through the sky.  In their multiple passes, they recombined in varied groupings, their satisfying unison modulated by an occasional variation.  The ending image was particularly striking.  An intricate drawing of a tree was projected upon a translucent screen, behind which Ranee and Aparna Ramaswamy could be seen.  All the thematic tensions of the dance coalesced in their movements, as they reached down into the roots and up towards the branching limbs—their physical bodies bridging groundedness and mobility, history and new growth.

ADF continues with Vertigo Dance Company this weekend at the Durham Performing Arts Center (7/13-7/14).

Anne Morris

Pilobolus at ADF

Another guest post by Michele Trumble!

Pilobolus by John Kane

Pilobolus Returns to the American Dance Festival

In theory I am in love with Pilobolus. The company was founded on the belief that each individual is as important as the next and together they could make something larger than themselves while still maintaining a personal voice. To this day collective creative process and collaboration remain at their core, even as they enter their 41^st performing season. Unfortunately, I was anything but in love with Pilobolus on stage at the Durham Performing Arts Center on July 5, 2012.

The almost two and a half hour long program consisted of five works, three created in 2012 (two of these commissioned by ADF) and two older works. The variety of repertory shown was impressive, as were the visual images created by the talented dancers. Besides Azimuth and Transformation, however, Pilobolus failed to capture my imagination.

Opening the show was Azimuth, an ADF commissioned collaboration with award winning master juggler, Michael Moschen. As the red curtain rose, a black and white film of cells dividing, fungi growing and amoebas shifting started to play on a little screen. As the film ended, lights faded up on angled bodies, large silver hoops and arcs, and brightly colored balls, creating what looked like an abstract sculpture of the solar system. The six dancers brought the props to life as they juggled balls, partnered the silver hoops like ballroom dance partners and balanced the silver arcs on their shoulders, thighs, hips and feet. Toward the end of the piece a male and female broke out in a lovely duet downstage. The two slid, spun and supported each other in lifts, all the while holding a ball between them with various body parts, like penguin parents trying to keep their egg off the cold ice. The music by Alva Noto & Ryuichi Sakamoto, Yann Tiersen and Rene Aubry created an eerie circus-like atmosphere that was delightful yet mysterious. 

Skyscrapers started off with a drawn out film where all we saw and heard was the view from the front of what one can imagine is a moped or motorcycle as the driver careens down a European city. Like most of Pilobolus’ work in the program (both film and choreography) the idea is interesting, but somehow it never evolves to where it can hold my attention. The small screen disappeared and the cyc was suddenly lit up with a picture of a bright red building. Three couples took turns sashaying in different ballroom dance styles across the backstage to music by one of their latest collaborators, Ok Go. Each time the background picture would change to another color of the rainbow, the dancers costumes of suits and dresses would change to match. Skyscrapers was fast paced, contemporary and cute, but technically awkward.

The first half closed with a repertory work, Sweet Purgatory, which was commissioned for ADF in 1991. A soloist shuffled in jagged little lines across the stage, one arm bent over her face, the other reaching for the sky, like a leaf that was just barely hanging onto a branch in the wind. Five other dancers shuffled onstage joining the soloist in the journey from purgatory to hell and back again. The beautiful weight sharing and slow, almost magical lifts that Pilobolus is known for were showcased wonderfully in this work. At times the dancers melted into each other for support while at others they threw themselves to the ground and pushed each other away in a fight against something larger than the six of them.

The Transformation, an adorable play of scale and puppetry where a giant transforms a little girl into a dog, opened up the second half. Clever, humorous and to the point, The Transformation was a breath of fresh air in the program.

Automaton closed the program with a look at the human within the machine. Like Skyscrapers and Sweet Purgatory, this piece started off promising. The six dancers, dressed in layers of gray, beige and white pants and shirts were accompanied onstage by three large mirrors. A fourth mirror was attached at a forty-five degree angle to the back wall so the audience was able to view the mirrored world at multiple angles. With bent elbows and twitching heads, the dancers mimicked machines and robots – coming together to create images with their bodies such as a car or assembly line. The visual appeal started to fade, however, as the choreography stayed stagnant. Even when the mood changed and the dancers began to shed their clothes and partner each other in a sensual and soft manner in what I imagine was a look at the human being amongst all the machinery, I was not invested. It seemed fluffy and self-indulgent.

I left the concert feeling very torn about my experience. Pilobolus had sown many creative seeds within the pieces of the program, but as the choreography never felt fully developed, so too, the creative ideas never came to their full blossom.

The American Dance Festival continues with Ragamala at the Reynolds Industries Theater (July 10-12) and Vertigo Dance Company at Durham Performing Arts Center (July 13-14).

Michele Trumble

Copyright Michele Trumble 2012

Monica Bill Barnes & Company at ADF

Look for a few reviews coming up by guest reviewer Michele Trumble.  Like this one:

Monica Bill Barnes & Company by Christopher Duggan

Exciting or Exhausting?: Monica Bill Barnes & Company Returns to the American Dance Festival

July 1, 2012

The world of performing can be intoxicating, but it can also be heartbreaking. The tumultuous world of showbiz was a common thread binding Monica Bill Barnes'  three works, "Luster", "Mostly Fanfare" and "Everything is Getting Better All the Time" performed by the Monica Bill Barnes & Company at the Reynolds Industries Theater on July 1, 2012. Blending a wide range of movement styles from vaudeville to Latin, Monica Bill Barnes showed the audience the hopeful and sometimes fragile human being behind the bold and attention seeking performer. 

"Luster", an ADF commissioned duet for Monica Bill Barnes and her long time collaborator, Anna Bass, opened the evening with a look at camaraderie and endurance, two keys to success in the business. Barnes and Bass, clad in sneakers and sequined gowns, bopped around the stage hand jiving, clapping, and snapping pictures of themselves holding bouquets. The chemistry between the two was contagious as they shimmied, saluted and sambaed in perfect unison, while each maintaining an individual flair. Sitting on two wooden chairs, the women flapped their arms, leaned back into smooth fan kicks and hit punctuated poses as though jamming out to the radio on a road trip. Somehow all the scattered elements of sweat wiping, sneaker squeaking, and formal posing made sense, as though two friends were looking back on a scrapbook of moments shared and triumphs celebrated.

In "Mostly Fanfare", blue lights rose up on Monica Bill Barnes, Anna Bass and Christina Robson dressed in simple white tank tops and black skirts with cumbersome feather headdresses reminiscent of vaudeville showgirls. The trio carefully pranced down the diagonal with heads held high and elbows jutted out to the side, like show ponies in a parade. They reached downstage only to chaine, run or stumble back upstage where they stopped and stared at the curtain, feet wide and arms outstretched in a grand gesture, waiting for some sort of entrance. They transversed the diagonal several times, each journey ending upstage, where they waited expectantly. Whatever they hoped for never came. Instead Barnes and Robson trotted offstage leaving Bass in the spotlight alone to entertain us. Bass weaved through slumped shoulder turns  and generous arabesques with outstretched arms as she wavered between her own need to perform and the obligation of entertaining one's audience. Complicating Bass's search for approval were large boxes thrown out of nowhere into her open arms. Bass strove for composure, stacking the boxes into piles as though trying to make sense of failures, regrets and broken dreams even as more boxes tumbled from the rafters. Just when Bass's struggles reached a crossroads of hilarity and heartbreak, Barnes and Robson returned to the stage. In a final attempt to woo their audience, the trio balanced chairs in their mouths, pranced into the wind from an offstage fan with silver confetti flying and hit pose after pose with wide smiles, hoping and yearning for applause, the one thing that might keep them going. As the piece ended and the women stood with an elegantly pointed foot in second position and wide expecting arms, I was not sure whether to applaud or cry for them.   

Crew members rushed onto the stage, whisking away the ruins of boxes, chairs and fallen confetti. Giulia Carotenuto stepped out in a business suit interrupting the bustle by dropping into a grande plie while cycling her arms in front of her, signaling the start of "Everything is Getting Better All the Time".  Barnes, Bass and Robson in matching suits, joined Carotenuto center stage as the crew members scurried off.  Keeping in close proximity to each other, the four women shadowboxed, primped, clapped and cheered their way around the stage to live recordings of Otis Redding. At first the individual, quirky gestures of the foursome were heartfelt and light, but the circus-like atmosphere that unveiled as the piece continued became overwhelming and off-putting. The dancers tried to top themselves by balancing chairs, twirling batons and stripping down to white tanks and basketball shorts, all the while smiling and winking in the spirit of showmanship. While it was clear that Barnes was examining the culture of performance and entertainment, "Everything is Getting Better All the Time" walked a fine line between using ridiculous gags and repetition as witty commentary and tripping over itself into a trap of excessiveness. 

With a fresh and witty start, I was surprised to find myself slightly disappointed in the choreography towards the end of the program. However, what surprised me even more, was how much I started to care about the dancers on stage. Barnes and her dancers are endearing and infectious - you cannot help but root for them the entire show, even as their antics become repetitive and exhausting. 

The week of performances continue with Pilobolus returning to the American Dance Festival, July 5-7 at the Durham Performing Arts Center.

Michele Trumble

(copyright Michele Trumble 2012)

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago at ADF

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago in Too Beaucoup.  Photo by Todd Rosenberg.

Here is an excerpt from my review from this past weekend:

The curtain rose on William Forsythe's "Quintett" (1993) to reveal a stark square of stage, two sides covered floor to ceiling with white screen (I could not see the stage right side, but discovered later that the regular black wings remained). A large projector on wheels and a round, convex mirror balanced the diagonal, with the dancers standing or crouching around the edges of the stage. The music started quietly at first, so that it gave the sense that someone was singing backstage, but gradually became louder, a quavery voice singing "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet," set to a simple instrumental accompaniment in a repetitive loop. The movement was characterized by Forsythe's distinctive style, a tightrope between vertical classical technique and disjointed, off-balance collapse. The five dancers passed in and out of solos and duets and an occasional trio; some of the duets were formal, while others seemed more emotionally connected, with intimate or playful gestures. The movement seemed to unravel as the dance continued, becoming harsher, more out of control. In a memorable solo, a man dressed all in green tossed himself around, lunging and falling as if fighting an invisible opponent, though the one throwing punches and cutting his legs out from underneath him was himself. 


Read the rest of the review here (and excuse the typo in the title!  It should say: Beaucoup?  Yes.).


I might have more to say on this concert later, but I wanted to get the review posted quickly!

Resurrected!

Yes, this blog is creaking back to life for another summer of dance reviews from the American Dance Festival.  Life and work has kept me too busy to review any other performances this year, though I've seen no shortage of dance concerts!  I hope to keep up more of a constant presence throughout the year, but I probably shouldn't make any promises.

Nonetheless, at least we have the summer!

I've been to three of the performances at ADF this summer, the Festival's first season under new direction.  Jodee Nimerichter took over as director after long-time leader Charles Reinhart retired at the end of last season.  As usual, the season line-up features both established power-houses and relative newcomers--it's been exciting to see some new companies this year.

Stephen Petronio Company by Sarah Silver

The Stephen Petronio Company performed at the Durham Performing Arts Center June 15-16.  They presented the evening-length "Underland," a dark collection of danced scenes set to several songs by Australian rocker Nick Cave.  Here's an excerpt of my review:

 Three white panels were spread across the back wall, upon which images splashed, seeped and scrawled: tangled lines, billowing smoke, flames, car crashes, soldiers, drifting clouds, rain. A man crawled headfirst down a ramp from the wings, a slow descent onto the stage. A deep metallic creaking, the underwater rumblings of a large ship, echoed through the theater. Into this darkened world, a look, perhaps, under the surface of our consciousness, the dancers sliced across the stage. Their shirts were torn, limbs fierce and precise as they stabbed, flew, and swept through the darkness. Despite their ragged appearance, and their slight off-kilter alignment (one leg was often bent while the other was steely straight), the dancers did not strike me as denizens of this dark world. Rather, they flashed like bright shards of glass, or the thin edge of a dagger--sharp, clean, and dangerous.

Read the full review here.

Keigwin + Co. by Matthew Murphy.

Next up was Keigwin + Co., at the Reynolds Industries Theater June 19-21.  Another group of dynamite dancers, the company presented five works that showcased the range of the company.  An excerpt:

 Insect behavior, waiting rooms, Darwinian theory, and brotherly love--Larry Keigwin finds inspiration everywhere. The program of five works presented by Keigwin + Company at the Reynolds Industries Theater on June 21st reveals Keigwin's range as a dance-maker, as well as the bonds between these diverse dances. These works are all music-driven and deeply rooted in strong dance and choreographic technique. Even when the movement draws from very human gestures, the style cannot be called pedestrian. Keigwin maintains that dance can--and should--be both artistically expressive and entertaining, and he brings his experience with various pop culture genres to his choreography. The entertainment factor also seems to be created by the close connection between music and dance, the use of clean and complex unison and group work, and a style that tends to shift movement ideas before they go on too long. Above all, perhaps, is Keigwin's use of drama.

Here's the full review.

Scottish Dance Theatre in Drift.  Photo by Sara Davis.

Finally, this last weekend I saw Scottish Dance Theatre, and they blew me away.  The three dances moved me, inspired me, set me thinking.  I struggled to find the words to adequately describe the dances, though I still haven't figured out what was so elusive about them!  Here is an excerpt: 

Kate Weare's work is often described as raw, but hers is not a messy, chaotic rawness that bursts into the open, at least in "Lay Me Down Safe," created especially for SDT. Rather, this dance pulls you down below the surface of human intimacy and vulnerability, sometimes plunging suddenly into an uncomfortable space, other times peeling away one layer of tender skin at a time--just a little wince, but it bleeds just the same. The eight dancers of "Lay Me Down Safe," three women and five men, are all clothed in dresses of muted blues and greys. The skirts swish as three men slide forwards and backwards, swinging their hips suggestively, their arms crossed above their heads. They introduce the fluid sensuality that characterizes much of the movement, from both men and women. Hips swivel, legs sweep, arms wrap lightly and tightly around torsos. As the dancers switch from one partner to another, they slip between an honest vulnerability and a harder-edged, sometimes violent, eroticism. A man and woman tangle themselves in each other's arms, staying close even as she begins to thrust out her chest, faster and faster bashing her breasts against his head. Is this a violation? Is this pleasure? It's almost funny, but hard to watch, too. Even the soft parts of ourselves can hurt another.

And the rest of the review is here.

Scottish Dance Theatre in Lay Me Down Safe.  Photo by Nicole Guarino.

I'll be heading back to Durham on Friday to review Hubbard Street Dance Chicago.  Watch for an excerpt here over the weekend.

Thanks for tuning back in!

Emanuel Gat Dance

The World According to Gat: Emanuel Gat Dance at ADF

July 7-9 Reynolds Industries Theater

I like to imagine, sometimes, that every dance reveals a certain vision, a certain conception, of the world; that each dance says, “here’s what the world is like, through my eyes.” (I don’t actually believe every choreographer intends this for his or her dance, nor do I assume that each dance speaks its creator’s worldview, just as books are not always speaking their author’s opinions. Rather, I find it an interesting way to make sense of and find the essence and possible significance in a dance.) Looking at some of this ADF season’s offerings from that perspective, the world according to Dayton Contemporary Dance Company is one of struggle and passion, of great internal and external strength, one in which the body speaks eloquently of its condition; Rosie Herrera’s world is a dream-state, where reality is as surreal as fantasy, and dreams are weighted with truth.

The world of Emanuel Gat’s new dance, “Brilliant Corners,” a work for 10 dancers, is one in which moments of clarity and power breeze quickly by, human interaction is fleeting, and everyone, everything, is moving, moving, moving. The evening-length work takes place within a defined square of light on the floor, although sometimes the dance spills over into the dimmer edges of the stage. Gat’s dancers move in exquisitely tuned counterpoint, flocking as a loose group from one corner to another. They move with a smooth control, a sense of tumble and flow, as if they are being blown by the wind, or an incoming wave. The group movement is arranged with a satisfying amount of variation in their level, shape, and facing, so that it looks almost random, but with too many brief but real connections to not be choreographed.

There is a curious pedestrian quality to the dance, although it is not usually evident in the long-limbed, gestural movement. The dancers wear a collection of non-descript pants and shirts, with one woman in a dress, and two women in matching black shorts and white shirts. A few are barefoot, some wear socks, and others are in sneakers.

They turn their gazes on each other nonchalantly, and sometimes move past each other with a casual hand on the back or shoulder—a momentary reminder of their human connection. Otherwise, the connections that are read in their interactions are created by the structure of the choreography, not any emotional expression or even particular meaning in the movement itself. After the initial whole group work, the dancers take the stage in trios and duets; the audience can create relationships in these small group sections, but they can also be seen as pure movement exploration—how does this phrase intersect in space with this other set of movement?

In addition to the choreography, Gat has designed the lights and composed the musical score, which includes subtle piano and big swells of more electronic sounds. A large middle portion of the dance is in silence. For the most part, the changes in the music do not affect the dance or dancers in any discernable way; rather, it remains atmospheric as the dance flows on.

Although there are surely variations of certain set phrases, the dance mostly looks like one new movement after another, which begins to be overwhelming to the eye and the mind. The distinct moments, as fresh as they might be at the time, are virtually unpunctuated, and begin to blur.

Certainly, Gat presents us with a wealth of possibilities from which to draw morsels that resonate. A tightly wound and shifting clump of dancers enters, each of them resting a hand on two others; the placement of the hands keeps changing—ankle, top of head, nape of neck—as do the subtle implications of each location of contact. Amala Dianor, who started as a hip-hop dancer, skims the floor with a delightful buoyancy, movement impulses rippling up through his torso. Fiona Jopp’s final slicing solo that ends, so satisfyingly, on the music’s resolving chord.

In the end, there are simply too many possibilities to attend to with full attention. A shorter version of the dance would allow for more consistent engagement. But perhaps the blurring and the overwhelming flow of the dance is the point. Perhaps this dance speaks of a world where moments of precision and beauty cannot be held for too long, where new ideas tumble one over the other; one where we must all keep moving or be moved; one in which we travel alongside one another, and sometimes, we connect.

Anne Morris, 2011

Rosie Returns

Rosie Herrera returned to ADF a few weeks ago, with a revamped "Pity Party" that premiered at last year's festival, and the new "Dining Alone," which was commissioned by ADF.

It has been such a privilege to watch the progression of her work over the last three years, and get to see it develop and her visions clarify. It was a thrilling evening, as usual.

Here's an excerpt from my review for World Dance Reviews:

It's their party, and they'll cry, laugh, dance, stomp, and sing if they want to: Rosie Herrera's dancers at ADF

The magic is still alive as Rosie Herrera returns to the Reynolds Industries Theater for the third year in a row with her particular, quirky brand of dance theater. She has become a festival favorite in recent years, for the surreal, wild, and touching landscapes she creates in her dances. Her now familiar style--collecting separate, vivid scenes into a dramatic mosaic--serves her well, displaying her sense of comic timing and emotional resonance to full effect. The scenes--bizarre, uncomfortable, poignant, startling--don't always make sense in isolation, but together, they take on a complex significance. The two works on this evening's program both deal in some way with love, human connection, and hope; love is messy, both dances declare, and the things we do to get it and keep it, the things we do when love is over, are absurd and funny and heartbreaking.

Herrera's new work, "Dining Alone," is sparer and has a more serious tone than some of her other recent works. It is a truly beautiful collection of highly concentrated images, rather like a series of poems. The opening image starts before the lights come up, with a rush of bodies running offstage in the darkness, followed by the clatter and wobble of spinning plates. The lights come up briefly on the spinning plates, which frame a pathway through which Herrera walks, her long white dress glowing in the half-light. It is a quick moment--the lights go dark again as the plates settle and fall--but rather astonishing.

You can read the rest of the review here.