This past week, the earthquake in Haiti awoke in me a sense of simultaneous helplessness, as well as deep appreciation and gratitude for life. Over the past week, watching the news with only a vague understanding of the scope of the tragedy, my eyes were dry until today. On ABC news, I saw a 5-year old boy, who miraculously survived for eight days without water or food, pulled by his uncle from the wreckage of a house. Seeing him lift the small body out of the rubble and hearing the people yell for joy made my eyes well up and sent a shiver of disbelief down my entire body. He must have desired life so badly, with all of his being, in order to survive eight days without sustenance, and it seems that in some wildly distant state, he was connecting his lungs and heart to his body with all his might. I realized, curiously, how it was this scene, not the awful piles of bodies and shaking video, by which I felt the most moved. (I was instantly reminded of how, when I visited the Holocaust museum in Israel, Yad Vashem, I did not begin to cry until I came to the hall of the Righteous Gentiles, which documents the courageous deeds and sacrifices non-Jews committed for the sake of saving Jews during the Holocaust.)
I am conscious of my thirst for life, and I express this through dance. I took a great class this morning, by an fantastic teacher I recently discovered, (Ronn Stewart, originally from Moving People Dance in Santa Fe) who is committed to dance as a human, living, breathing art form. The class actually reminded me extraordinarily of Ohad Naharin's Gaga Technique that I studied two summers ago in Tel Aviv. Both techniques (I believe Ronn's is called MoPed) utilize elements of improvisation--experimenting with the geometry of our bodies, testing our balance, walking/running through space, grooving to our own beat, shaking out the limbs, falling to the ground and recovering--to feel and gather energy to move and dance. Ronn said our bodies are "miracles." Some dancers, he continued, "dry up" after a while, becoming too committed to the mechanical execution of steps, and forgetting their expression and musicality. Sometimes all we need to do is breathe, and we will be reminded how dance is inherently human and an expression of life.
I feel occasionally removed from this understanding, amist every-day monotony, worries of finding work in the dance world, lack of great financial or romantic success at this time in my life...However, terrifying images of wreckage in Haiti remind me to put things in perspective. For how can I take for granted what was so cruelly taken away from them? Similarly, amazing stories of heroism and survival exemplify the miracle that we are.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Saturday, October 31, 2009
"Live Animals" Review--Hamlin Park Fieldhouse
The progressive modern dance company, “Live Animals Performance Collective and Friends,” premiered Go at The Hamlin Park Fieldhouse on October 29 and 30. The company is directed by Kate Corby, also on the dance department faculty at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. The performance inspired viewers to consider their own choreographic patterns in any seemingly ordinary day. The pieces in Go were connected “through their explorations of identity, borders and geography,” Corby explained in the program notes. Some of my vivid recollections of these discoveries are as follows.
Carrie Hanson, faculty member at the Dance Center of Columbia College and director of the dance company, The Seldoms, choreographed the first of five short pieces, “Right of Way Management.” Kate Corby and Chris Walker, the two captivating performers, used pedestrian movement as an impetus for motion, but frequently froze together as if caught in a still frame. Initially, I found their intense focuses to be looking, but not truly seeing each other, and their movement with straight legs sweeping the floor appeared deliberately awkward. As the piece continued, curiosity grew in their gazes, and awareness of each other’s presence heightened, even if the connection was one of conflict and negotiation of space and direction.
Dancers in “Always in April,” choreographed by Corby, demonstrated juxtaposing emotions by conveying the power of dancing alone but simultaneously the desire to connect with another. As they progressed across the stage in an accumulation of balletic movement, they punctuated their movement with sharp contrasting movement such as slapping their chests or spinning rapidly. The women finally recognized each other’s presence and began awkwardly touching each other’s shoulders, then backing away. That first acknowledgement established a sense of intimacy and tension, and I became aware of their female sexuality, an energy that grew as the piece developed.
“Excerpt in Blue,” choreographed primarily by Emily Miller from the “Get Down/Pick Up Company,” was a beautifully musical piece that seemed to describe the motion of waves and ocean tides. As they came together to dance as partners and were separated from each other in an ebb and flow, it was fitting that they danced to ocean effects and the soaring voice of Joni Mitchell’s “California.”
“Reflections” choreographed by Arnsenio Andrade-Calderon, a celebrated Cuban dancer and has worked with the National Dance Theatre Company of Jamaica (NCDC), was an incredibly strong presentation of the power of the human body. The solo dancer, Chris Walker, who has also performed with NCDC, began in a red-tinged spotlight. He began to twitch and flex his muscles like an insect, the light and shadows emphasizing the power in is back, shoulders, and arms. As he continued through a series of athletic floor work and controlled standing legwork, his sweat and struggle was visible. Walker’s performance could be viewed as either a decay of life or an affirmation; it reminded me of how we are truly amazing creatures.
The final piece, entitled “Go,” by Kate Corby and dancers, was the only trio in the show, and it shed light on the dynamic of groups of people as they meet and depart; cliques, anxieties, and opinions all were apparent in the dancers’ faces as they chose with whom to partner. At times, two of the women stood with deliberate, but not affected looks and glances, while the third dancer performed full-bodied, quirky movement upstage. I was intrigued by the power of a simple glace and the array of emotions—inclusion, invitation, uncertainty—it can convey.
The cohesive show inspired me to consider the everyday interactions between people and the power that non-verbal language possesses. The patterns we weave in space leave traces of us, both literally and metaphorically. Each personal interaction can be a frozen frame of a duet or trio, as we choreograph moments in each day.
Live Animals will perform Go for New York audiences in February, and Carrie Hanson’s The Seldoms will perform on March 12-14, 2010, at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago.
Carrie Hanson, faculty member at the Dance Center of Columbia College and director of the dance company, The Seldoms, choreographed the first of five short pieces, “Right of Way Management.” Kate Corby and Chris Walker, the two captivating performers, used pedestrian movement as an impetus for motion, but frequently froze together as if caught in a still frame. Initially, I found their intense focuses to be looking, but not truly seeing each other, and their movement with straight legs sweeping the floor appeared deliberately awkward. As the piece continued, curiosity grew in their gazes, and awareness of each other’s presence heightened, even if the connection was one of conflict and negotiation of space and direction.
Dancers in “Always in April,” choreographed by Corby, demonstrated juxtaposing emotions by conveying the power of dancing alone but simultaneously the desire to connect with another. As they progressed across the stage in an accumulation of balletic movement, they punctuated their movement with sharp contrasting movement such as slapping their chests or spinning rapidly. The women finally recognized each other’s presence and began awkwardly touching each other’s shoulders, then backing away. That first acknowledgement established a sense of intimacy and tension, and I became aware of their female sexuality, an energy that grew as the piece developed.
“Excerpt in Blue,” choreographed primarily by Emily Miller from the “Get Down/Pick Up Company,” was a beautifully musical piece that seemed to describe the motion of waves and ocean tides. As they came together to dance as partners and were separated from each other in an ebb and flow, it was fitting that they danced to ocean effects and the soaring voice of Joni Mitchell’s “California.”
“Reflections” choreographed by Arnsenio Andrade-Calderon, a celebrated Cuban dancer and has worked with the National Dance Theatre Company of Jamaica (NCDC), was an incredibly strong presentation of the power of the human body. The solo dancer, Chris Walker, who has also performed with NCDC, began in a red-tinged spotlight. He began to twitch and flex his muscles like an insect, the light and shadows emphasizing the power in is back, shoulders, and arms. As he continued through a series of athletic floor work and controlled standing legwork, his sweat and struggle was visible. Walker’s performance could be viewed as either a decay of life or an affirmation; it reminded me of how we are truly amazing creatures.
The final piece, entitled “Go,” by Kate Corby and dancers, was the only trio in the show, and it shed light on the dynamic of groups of people as they meet and depart; cliques, anxieties, and opinions all were apparent in the dancers’ faces as they chose with whom to partner. At times, two of the women stood with deliberate, but not affected looks and glances, while the third dancer performed full-bodied, quirky movement upstage. I was intrigued by the power of a simple glace and the array of emotions—inclusion, invitation, uncertainty—it can convey.
The cohesive show inspired me to consider the everyday interactions between people and the power that non-verbal language possesses. The patterns we weave in space leave traces of us, both literally and metaphorically. Each personal interaction can be a frozen frame of a duet or trio, as we choreograph moments in each day.
Live Animals will perform Go for New York audiences in February, and Carrie Hanson’s The Seldoms will perform on March 12-14, 2010, at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Review of Bill T. Jones' "Fondly Do We Hope...Fervently Do We Pray"
Ravinia Festival was the ideal venue for the premiere of Bill T. Jones’ newest work, “Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray,” which was commissioned by Ravinia and premiered on September 17th. Using a variety of mediums, the evocative dance theater piece, performed by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dane Company, used Abraham Lincoln as a lens through which to view today’s society and questions.
The show opened with a solo singer, Clarissa Sinceno, singing a chilling spiritual that set the tone for the multi-layered show, which frequently featured accompaniment of American folk music and sound affects of distant trains, a symbolic linking of the past to the present. Act I of the performance featured various narrations of a stories, each accompanied by a solo dancer who gracefully inhabited the text. Among the tales of seemingly ordinary people were the stories belonging to Abraham Lincoln’s, his wife, Mary Todd, and Bill T. Jones himself. Lincoln’s biography was instantly recognizable, and the dancer who portrayed him, Paul Matteson, danced with fluid grace and strength. Each narrative began with “He/she was born…” and struck me as a different imagining of Copland’s Lincoln Portrait.
The choreography did not mime or mimic the text, but the movement seemed to move through the text as if using the words as a brief catalyst for bodily inspiration. There were a few instances where the words and movement harmonized together in a stirring moment; Asli Bulbul, the dancer playing Mary Todd, used a gesture of covering her face in her hands, when it was told of her son’s passing, a gesture that was later used by the company to signify war and death. Among the narratives of these historic figures were also the biographies of every day people. One dancer played a present-day soldier who had served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the text told of his conflicted opinions of war and service to our country. Another played a small-town woman opposed to change. Another biography told the story of the dancer himself, and his struggles to fit in with the classical model of the traditional American. Each story harkened back to Lincoln’s story of the quintessential Midwestern man who became one of the country’s most famous heroes. Bill T. Jones’ narrative reminds us how he is the great-grandson of slaves, and how the taste is still bitterly with him. The many dimensions of the literal narrative and more abstract tale in the form of dance allowed the audience to be absorbed in story in an incredibly engaging way.
Set and media also added dimension to the work. A large, circular netting enclosed the majority of the stage, and while the featured soloist and orator were outside of this net, the rest of the company would be less prominently featured behind this frosted lens. It is my interpretation that these dancers represented the whole of a community, while the soloist came forth to represent the individual and his or her story. Lighting is also used to create ghostly silhouettes, which was coupled with the sound of distant trains (both as purposeful sound affects, as well as the occasional live accompaniment of the Ravinia Metra).
Another truly beautiful aspect of Jones’ work were the live musicians, who took on the amazingly difficult role of both providing hauntingly beautiful melodies as well as tying the whole theater piece together. The musicians provided accompaniment for the dancing, and even became more intimately involved at times by coming on stage. Also, in between each narrative, a folk or spiritual song was used, and engaged the whole company in athletic dance that used ballet, modern, and folk dance vocabularies.
Act 2 was entitled “The War,” and demonstrated a break down of this calm story-telling setting. With Lincoln’s assassination at the end of Act 1, the second act brought this violence to life. The dancers struggled with each other by breaking linked arms, diving wildly into each other’s bodies, spinning, and jumping with amazing athleticism and technicality. The dancers also took microphones and assume a shouting debate about freedom and how we should be allowed to express it. The musicians broke out into a garage-band style of loud chaos, organized solely by its complex meter and common key.
Other text and poems were also spoken throughout the piece. Featured prominently was Walt Whitman’s Poem of the Body, which expressed an itemized list of body parts. The first time it was used, at the beginning of the show, it was a lens to view the stunning soloist, Shayla-Vie Jenkins, as she gracefully allowed us to view her dancing body with admiration. Later in the second act, inserted into Whitman’s poem were other more violent words that highlight the decay of civility during war. At the finale of the piece, we were left with Mary Todd in her black mourning dress, and a solo dancer in a bright spotlight, seemingly representing the present woman or man who dreams of having a legacy.
Jones’ choreography was graceful and fluid, and the dancers carried with them a sense of presence in their bodies and physical strength. Jones demonstrates that a ballet-based vocabulary is not antiquated, and can powerfully describe human emotion.
This production was different than other overtly political work of Jones’ in the way that it was successfully both accessible and provocative. “Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray,” whose title echoes the words of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address, certainly was a lot to digest. It was at times a dance performance, at others, a rock opera, a play, a live concert, or political debate.
Fall was clearly on the wind at the Ravinia Pavilion, and it reminds us of an election season nearly a year behind us. Jones caused us to question how far we have come since 1862, when the Emancipation Proclamation was written, and how far we must still travel.
“Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray” continues to tour nationally and internationally through July, 2010.
The show opened with a solo singer, Clarissa Sinceno, singing a chilling spiritual that set the tone for the multi-layered show, which frequently featured accompaniment of American folk music and sound affects of distant trains, a symbolic linking of the past to the present. Act I of the performance featured various narrations of a stories, each accompanied by a solo dancer who gracefully inhabited the text. Among the tales of seemingly ordinary people were the stories belonging to Abraham Lincoln’s, his wife, Mary Todd, and Bill T. Jones himself. Lincoln’s biography was instantly recognizable, and the dancer who portrayed him, Paul Matteson, danced with fluid grace and strength. Each narrative began with “He/she was born…” and struck me as a different imagining of Copland’s Lincoln Portrait.
The choreography did not mime or mimic the text, but the movement seemed to move through the text as if using the words as a brief catalyst for bodily inspiration. There were a few instances where the words and movement harmonized together in a stirring moment; Asli Bulbul, the dancer playing Mary Todd, used a gesture of covering her face in her hands, when it was told of her son’s passing, a gesture that was later used by the company to signify war and death. Among the narratives of these historic figures were also the biographies of every day people. One dancer played a present-day soldier who had served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the text told of his conflicted opinions of war and service to our country. Another played a small-town woman opposed to change. Another biography told the story of the dancer himself, and his struggles to fit in with the classical model of the traditional American. Each story harkened back to Lincoln’s story of the quintessential Midwestern man who became one of the country’s most famous heroes. Bill T. Jones’ narrative reminds us how he is the great-grandson of slaves, and how the taste is still bitterly with him. The many dimensions of the literal narrative and more abstract tale in the form of dance allowed the audience to be absorbed in story in an incredibly engaging way.
Set and media also added dimension to the work. A large, circular netting enclosed the majority of the stage, and while the featured soloist and orator were outside of this net, the rest of the company would be less prominently featured behind this frosted lens. It is my interpretation that these dancers represented the whole of a community, while the soloist came forth to represent the individual and his or her story. Lighting is also used to create ghostly silhouettes, which was coupled with the sound of distant trains (both as purposeful sound affects, as well as the occasional live accompaniment of the Ravinia Metra).
Another truly beautiful aspect of Jones’ work were the live musicians, who took on the amazingly difficult role of both providing hauntingly beautiful melodies as well as tying the whole theater piece together. The musicians provided accompaniment for the dancing, and even became more intimately involved at times by coming on stage. Also, in between each narrative, a folk or spiritual song was used, and engaged the whole company in athletic dance that used ballet, modern, and folk dance vocabularies.
Act 2 was entitled “The War,” and demonstrated a break down of this calm story-telling setting. With Lincoln’s assassination at the end of Act 1, the second act brought this violence to life. The dancers struggled with each other by breaking linked arms, diving wildly into each other’s bodies, spinning, and jumping with amazing athleticism and technicality. The dancers also took microphones and assume a shouting debate about freedom and how we should be allowed to express it. The musicians broke out into a garage-band style of loud chaos, organized solely by its complex meter and common key.
Other text and poems were also spoken throughout the piece. Featured prominently was Walt Whitman’s Poem of the Body, which expressed an itemized list of body parts. The first time it was used, at the beginning of the show, it was a lens to view the stunning soloist, Shayla-Vie Jenkins, as she gracefully allowed us to view her dancing body with admiration. Later in the second act, inserted into Whitman’s poem were other more violent words that highlight the decay of civility during war. At the finale of the piece, we were left with Mary Todd in her black mourning dress, and a solo dancer in a bright spotlight, seemingly representing the present woman or man who dreams of having a legacy.
Jones’ choreography was graceful and fluid, and the dancers carried with them a sense of presence in their bodies and physical strength. Jones demonstrates that a ballet-based vocabulary is not antiquated, and can powerfully describe human emotion.
This production was different than other overtly political work of Jones’ in the way that it was successfully both accessible and provocative. “Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray,” whose title echoes the words of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address, certainly was a lot to digest. It was at times a dance performance, at others, a rock opera, a play, a live concert, or political debate.
Fall was clearly on the wind at the Ravinia Pavilion, and it reminds us of an election season nearly a year behind us. Jones caused us to question how far we have come since 1862, when the Emancipation Proclamation was written, and how far we must still travel.
“Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray” continues to tour nationally and internationally through July, 2010.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Lollapalooza rocks, despite the rain
Chicago's Grant Park hosted one of the nation's largest rock music festivals this past weekend. I was lucky enough to attend the festival on Friday, for free, as a volunteer!
First, about my job...I was a volunteer for the "Rock & Recycle" program. A new green initiative began a number of years ago when Chicago began hosting the festival, and the Rock & Recycle program was officially launched in 2008. Eco-friendly activities paved the way for rewards. By filling up a plastic bag with recyclable goods (Lollapalooza invited vendors that serve beverages and food in recyclable containers), festival attendees received a free Lollapalooza T-shirt. Also, by taking one of any number of green actions such as riding a bike or taking public transit to the park or refilling a water bottle, participants earned Green Card stamps. Receiving three stamps entered them into a raffle to win a Honda Insight Hybrid. On “Green Street,” festival guests browsed booths selling eco-friendly and fair-trade merchandise. Lollapalooza partnered up with Green Mountain Energy in order to raise money to counteract effects of ever-day carbon emissions. For $5, participants could buy a souvenir BeGreen™ Fan Tag to help offset their carbon footprint. 8,500 tags were purchased at Lollapalooza 2008, which Green Mountain states had the equivalent environmental impact of taking almost 500 cars off the road.
One of the best perks about the job was that I was able to request where I was stationed. I asked to be placed the north end of the park (in a tent, sheltered from the rain!), and was therefore able to hear the bands I wanted to while on my shift. Ben Folds rocked on piano and vocals in his usual fun-spirited, youthful way; I love how he still has a bit of nerdy-student look to him with his glasses and occasionally self-deprecating lyrics, like "I'm rockin' the suburbs/Just like Michael Jackson did/I'm rockin' the suburbs/Except that he was talented..." (though the song was released in 2001, the MJ reference is especially striking). The Decemberists put on an impressively strong show, performing their newest album, The Hazards of Love, written in the style of a rock opera, in full. Shara Worden joined the band as the powerful female soloist in this narrative performance. I was also able to hear the mellow Bon Iver from a distance, and was introduced to the Fleet Foxes. I really enjoyed their folk/rock hybrid, and bought their self-titled album yesterday. In the evening, the rain had stopped, and I was free to enjoy the two headliners. I watched about half an hour of Kings of Leon, and enjoyed their drive and southern soul. I headed over to the other end of the park, to hear the darker, 80's British rock band, Depeche Mode. They were powerful and passionate, and we all shouted for more, even after their encore of "Personal Jesus" that we had been craving.
All in all, a fantastic day of environmental activism and music. I even felt, amidst the rain, a touch of Woodstock spirit among us.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Reflections of Interlochen
Sunday, August 2nd, marked the close of another music-filled summer at Interlochen Arts Camp. I always get nostalgic when I think of Interlochen, as I attended the camp as a dance major for three amazing summers high school.
The closing performance takes place in the Interlochen Bowl, the stage of the open-air pavilion filled to capacity with all of the performers of all the advanced instrumental ensembles. It adds up to over 500 musicians! The summer of art and music is concluded with this performance of Franz Liszt's symphonic poem, Les Preludes. During the last six minutes of the piece, dancers suddenly emerge onto the scene! First they are seen walking down the aisles through the audience. Next, balletic couples partner each other on the bandshell. Finally the audience is most surprised when dancers appear on the roof of the bowl itself!
I performed in Les Preludes, once, as one of the dancers walking down the aisle, and the following summer I was promoted to a roof-top dancer. I vividly remember awaiting our musical cue on the back side of the roof, looking down through the skylights on the low-brass section of the massive orchestra. When we entered the "stage," we had to be careful not to overstep the chalk line that is about a foot 1/2 away from the edge! It was honestly a little scary, but more than that, thrilling and truly magical.
I have so many countless memories of my wonderful summers there. Each day was hard work, and dance majors' daily schedules were particularly long. Every student in each discipline worked long and hard at their art, and often spent additional time practicing and rehearsing (especially the music majors spent many hours in the "practice huts.") We were able to reap the rewards of our efforts by our performances. For us dancers, our work concluded with Dance Ensemble, at the end of the session. (I have one bone to pick with Interlochen, and that would be the changes that were brought upon the Dance Department the year after I left, in 2004. There were a number of campus-wide changes, such as making the eight-week camp into a six-week camp. Some of the main consequences fell on the the dancers, and due to the space being occupied, they longer enjoy the luxury of performing in Corson Auditorium. Dance Ensemble now takes place just simply in the studio. Granted, the beautiful dance building sits on the lake with large glass windows overlooking the landscape, however, I feel like there must be a way to collaborate with the rest of the departments. I hope that the future dance students will soon be able to enjoy the professional performing experience like the rest of the artists at the camp.)
When not working hard at one's art, campers enjoy more traditional activities of evening/weekend camp life. I enjoyed being immersed in the arts all around me; almost every night I would hear a band/orchestra/choir concert, see a theatre department play or musical, view an art gallery opening, attend a poetry reading, or catch another artistic endeavor. Often we would go as a cabin or support our fellow cabin-mate's performance.
On nights when I took a break from seeing a show, I might hang out on main campus and get to know my counselor or fellow campers, who became incredibly close to me over the four weeks, take a swim in the late, practice my french horn (which I had brought with me and was inspired by the excellent music majors to practice), or journal-write on the lake at sunset. We were called to our cabins at night by the trumpet "call to quarters," commanded to turn off lights by the sound of "Taps," and risen in the morning by another trumpet sound. I found being surrounded by art in this way to be so incredibly inspiring, and the summers of 2001-2003 became some of the best summers of my life.
At the end of every music performance, the ensemble would play or sing the Interlochen Theme, a piece of Howard Hanson's Symphony No. 2, "Romantic." Applause is "shh'ed," as the concert traditionally ends in silence, the last notes ringing out into the night void.
At the end of Les Preludes, the conductor (who is always the President of Interlochen, currently Jeffrey Kimpton) breaks the baton, symbolizing the end of another musical season.
Two summers ago I visited the Interlochen campus again, a number of years behind me since I had been a camper. Stepping into view of Kresge Auditorium, the other main pavilion for music performances, proclaiming "Dedicated to the Promotion of World Friendship through the Universal Language of the Arts" across the top of the arch, I felt my eyes mist over. Interlochen will always be home in my heart, and I hope to someday return to teach or somehow be a part of this amazing transforming place again.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Jazz Dance World Festival--Chicago, 2009
Jazz dance dominated the scene at the Harris Theatre in Millenium Park July 22 through July 25, as the Jazz Dance World Festival returned to Chicago. Gus Giordano, who passed in March of 2008, is hailed as one of the most influential founders of concert jazz dance. Giordano initiated the first Jazz Dance World Congress, a five-day celebration of dance, in 1990. Master classes are held throughout the day, and inspirational performances are given in the evening. In 2002, the Congress was held in downtown Chicago for the first time, and the performances were presented as the “Jazz Dance World Festival.” The event has been held in numerous international locations, and has been in Chicago every other year since 2005.
Giordano helped shape the definition of jazz dance as a form that derives its soul from the expression of rhythm and musicality. Arguably, there is no company that can deliver this sense of intonation better than the Windy City’s own Giordano Jazz Dance Chicago. The company’s performance of Pyrokinesis, choreographed by Christopher Huggins, was sizzling with energy. The first section, set to solo piano music, was modern-dance based, and the movement, with pleading contractions and flexed hands and feet harkens back to Martha Graham’s technique. The second half becomes an explosive expression of jazz, exemplifying how the movement is the music (a spicy jazz piece by the United Future Organization) made visual. The trumpet trills became rounds of fouette turns, the percussive underlying beat transcribed as an African-based step. Truly, the Giordano dancers appear so tight with their unisons, bold in their solos, and in tune with each other when harmonizing, that they act as musicians with their bodies.
River North Chicago Dance Company also impressed the audience with its incredible physicality. The athletic piece, called Take a Seat, by Frank Chaves, featured five male dancers from the company and five chairs, on which they jumped and turned. In the second half, they commenced to do a whole section of turning, jumping, weaving in an out of each other, and even back-bending with the chairs mounted on their backs. I couldn’t imagine how much rehearsal (and how many injuries) this must have taken to perfect.
LehrerDance, a new company founded in Buffalo, New York by former Giordano Associate Director Jon Lehrer, performed their premiere performance at the Harris Theatre. Lehrer’s Fused by 8, as the title implies fused modern and jazz forms, while also adding elements of gymnastics or break-dancing. This echoed the music, which was a hybrid of classical and electronic/hip-hop. Though they did not quite possess the poise and perfection of the Giordano dancers, in time, they have potential to mature and become more in tune with each other as artists and athletes.
Other highlights from Friday night’s program include Billy Siegenfeld’s Chicago company, Jump Rhythm Jazz Project. This theatrical company combined elements of comedy, drama, vocalization, singing, body rhythms, and tap dance to make for an extremely entertaining experience.
All of the companies that performed graced the stage with technicality and musicality. The Las Vegas Contemporary Dance Theater showed off incredible extension combined with a balletic style. Two dancers from Philadelphia’s “Philadanco” performed a serious duet with utter beauty and concentration. Finally, the Cuerpo Etéreo Danza Contemporénea, hailing from Mexico performed a highly technical, athletic, and intricately rhythmic piece. All of the companies performed with the energy, grounded power, and expressive lightness that epitomizes jazz.
Monday, July 27, 2009
The loss of a creator
As I reflect on the recent passing of Merce Cunningham, I recognize the philosophy and achievements of the innovative choreographer and creator. Perhaps he is most recognized for his Chance techniques, which were so revolutionary in the 50s when he began utilizing them. Personally, when I think of Cunningham, I have images of arrayed and partnered dancers using ballet vocabulary to communicate the randomness of the directions that has been given to them. I recognize the intelligence of the dancers and everyone involved to put together such an intellectual performance. Of course, he should also be recognized for his collaboration with brilliant composer John Cage (also credited for the ideas behind chance operations). The two artists were so mentally in synch when they were working together that the end result of their creations was genius. Cunningham's use of modern technology as it advanced is also incredibly impressive.
For all his achievement, I find this quote of his own to be most moving:
"You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive. It is not for unsteady souls."
(www.merce.org)
To me, this most clearly shows Cunningham as a moving, thinking, dancing human being. It is a beautiful way of describing the life and spirit that is the epitome of dance, and why we are brought together to move and be moved. Cunningham, certainly, was anything but an unsteady soul, but was bold and confident as he paved the way for many modern dancers to come.
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