tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58572858221445189662024-03-19T04:46:53.937-04:00Ephemeralistby Susan YungUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger600125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-21553494332632632462024-03-03T11:01:00.000-05:002024-03-03T11:01:14.965-05:00New York Notebook, Feb 2024<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Art—History in Process</span><br /><br />Life is history. In the course of life, we accumulate things. Objects and material stuff, but also memories and lived experiences, including physical knowledge, rituals, and patterns. A sampling of culture in New York provided a fascinating survey of how artists gather and translate information into dance and art that, with luck and perseverance, is woven into our collective history.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-iRA00WoGxlB9-tch6icVWQKdvgPdYpb4RdOiPgRvWl_-e0OmN8U2XU-19ioFw1g7JsDyxa0XmZ9HNblOcdjxZI0OR1inXO3iCXq4aqfmekS62IQiOybXYI_SNs36m04vrgVTxjuIL16w1D6rB1_hpj5k3-UWCp7kfrmdNn5vssCayQLORSThhJE-vi8/s5081/Encores!%20Jelly's%20Last%20Jam_Uggams_pcJMarcus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5081" data-original-width="3387" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-iRA00WoGxlB9-tch6icVWQKdvgPdYpb4RdOiPgRvWl_-e0OmN8U2XU-19ioFw1g7JsDyxa0XmZ9HNblOcdjxZI0OR1inXO3iCXq4aqfmekS62IQiOybXYI_SNs36m04vrgVTxjuIL16w1D6rB1_hpj5k3-UWCp7kfrmdNn5vssCayQLORSThhJE-vi8/w213-h320/Encores!%20Jelly's%20Last%20Jam_Uggams_pcJMarcus.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Leslie Uggams. Photo: Joan Marcus</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Encores!—the series title says it all. In February it was <i>Jelly’s Last Jam</i>, with</span> book by George C. Wolfe, music by Jelly Roll Morton, and lyrics by Susan Birkenhead. New York City Center carefully selects Broadway shows to remount for brief runs, many of which haven’t been staged in a long time. It unites incredibly talented performers, including Tony winners, here led by Nicholas Christopher as Jelly Roll Morton. With a relatively short rehearsal and performance cycle, and the option to perform with a score, it attracts big name stars between projects. Some of the cast bore the richness of history: the three Hunnies appeared in the original run, the legendary Leslie Uggams—smoldering and lucid in voice—played Gran Mimi, and Billy Porter, entering and exiting with nonpareil swagger, the Chimneyman. Milestones in Broadway’s history are revived in Encores!, performed by new and established talent and appreciated by hungry audiences. Plus, Broadway transfers are possible.</div></span></div></span></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnaXQzLwcOySrF2i-qfLEZ-k42r3pWLFcKCMUfRZhIcG9BqAJLVtMqi3jdtIcMYPVt-cDT9VzyObBkmppP6aXY7gIVtuocpBq3sXajiNKUT6PyfJudUlvQhj8YtET26jKqkc41b6mO6MolrJzsA0Wnioy2QhebGBUmVqE0fpPiFHZ20ts2vvvGqPe7kCk" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnaXQzLwcOySrF2i-qfLEZ-k42r3pWLFcKCMUfRZhIcG9BqAJLVtMqi3jdtIcMYPVt-cDT9VzyObBkmppP6aXY7gIVtuocpBq3sXajiNKUT6PyfJudUlvQhj8YtET26jKqkc41b6mO6MolrJzsA0Wnioy2QhebGBUmVqE0fpPiFHZ20ts2vvvGqPe7kCk=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">James Greenan in <i>What We Hold</i>. Photo: Nir Arieli<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">In<i> What We Hold</i> (which I’ll review in longer form for the <i>Brooklyn Rail</i> in April) at the Irish Arts Center, choreographer Jean Butler reframed classical Irish dance with a cast of varying ages and experience in the form. Her baggage is formidable as a one-time star of <i>Riverdance</i>. James Greenan led off with a 10+-minute solo of rapid, athletic tap drills. Spoken memories of going to class are heard in one section, as we were seated below a catwalk stage, staring at the dancers' artfully-placed legs. The passage between rooms (a "promenade performance") and mixing different subgenres of Irish dance, plus the knowledge of Butler’s history, made for an immersive, tantalizing experience.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJvhCJ8BDqLbZj4TjMG-CqywfS9G4Wh_MbVTS7U9fgWcRBe4ieoDg8EwPQRoNC5CV0BPfzH6v0aFhbJbToN4O_8j7IkMVGiRPO_hcjHoPX479xadQ1Db7WLTah3rBNuTWriE44advaW7_e1S1S5c7rXZqlfRz1N0EAQsvVoU2wEYj-mDngqzz2uo0OLQ4" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3268" data-original-width="4896" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJvhCJ8BDqLbZj4TjMG-CqywfS9G4Wh_MbVTS7U9fgWcRBe4ieoDg8EwPQRoNC5CV0BPfzH6v0aFhbJbToN4O_8j7IkMVGiRPO_hcjHoPX479xadQ1Db7WLTah3rBNuTWriE44advaW7_e1S1S5c7rXZqlfRz1N0EAQsvVoU2wEYj-mDngqzz2uo0OLQ4=w640-h428" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Pavel Kolesnikov and Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker. Photo: Anne Van Aerschot</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker, one of the most accomplished choreographers of our time, also founded a successful school in Belgium, PARTS. She has earned to right to do whatever she wishes, and recently she choreographed a nearly two-hour solo, <i>The Goldberg Variations: BWV 988</i> (seen at Skirball as part of Van Cleef & Arpels' Dance Reflections). Watching her work has always demanded focus, from the early themes of boundless repetition, to subtle hand gestures, limb swings, and skipping steps. Pavel Kolesnikov, playing the <i>Variations </i>on stage with his back to us, rendered the iconic score with incredible delicacy and nuance. This immersive mid-career movement compilation, tedious for spans, with several costume changes, was bolstered by the sturdy music. In any case, we witnessed the source—mind and body—of her immense oeuvre at work and play, at times in disparate fragments.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZqiem1c2us_ijwsoh7dQAgGorIDE3gepY1k6vcDEXv-_UHfj652IGA-2_fX58JG3j2-9jOcHdCTGWKv_TbWCVtBclVJuD8ZNW8HLHNCQP_Q-c59oukqDosH4cd4yIVgvVb8h2-Vj2c8kBWCoYa8UBFFEQ2b5vnzetV8dYGSJeHbPwjM7gw6ibbSv5d3U" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4430" data-original-width="6788" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZqiem1c2us_ijwsoh7dQAgGorIDE3gepY1k6vcDEXv-_UHfj652IGA-2_fX58JG3j2-9jOcHdCTGWKv_TbWCVtBclVJuD8ZNW8HLHNCQP_Q-c59oukqDosH4cd4yIVgvVb8h2-Vj2c8kBWCoYa8UBFFEQ2b5vnzetV8dYGSJeHbPwjM7gw6ibbSv5d3U=w640-h418" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Beatrix Potter, pencil drawing, April 7, 1876. Linder Bequest, Museum no. BP.741.<br /></span>©<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"> Victoria and Albert Museum, London/courtesy of Frederick Warne & Co. Ltd.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">In ways, this sketched overview of her style parallels the exhibition <i>Beatrix Potter: Drawn to Nature</i>, at the Morgan Library. Her great output of children’s books accrued over time, and the show lays out the various interests and threads which Potter wove together in her beloved books (which I loved as a child). Her skill as a technical illustrator allowed her to document her interests—the landscape, and of course animals including rabbits, cats, frogs, and ducks. Her letters are filled with sketches, precursors to her classic books which encapsulated every skill and talent she had honed until then. Walking through the show elicited both strong feelings of nostalgia and a newfound admiration for her craft. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg32uDbJ3ZCpUlAKOZhn4k33kbfeHCZAIKOphe_Ch9_XobEO_YychuNjWkoUIFqQITKbU0gvuMpa58TVz-5RqXYJ-JxVCZPKmIdFeFw643bNOXbdqIS_SYf0lbmBk0e_enWoxy815Lk1nnf2A5OdWDqarvumCScYfawaJELOJQ3p8C3RFH4DaDDL3O3vT8" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2571" data-original-width="3600" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg32uDbJ3ZCpUlAKOZhn4k33kbfeHCZAIKOphe_Ch9_XobEO_YychuNjWkoUIFqQITKbU0gvuMpa58TVz-5RqXYJ-JxVCZPKmIdFeFw643bNOXbdqIS_SYf0lbmBk0e_enWoxy815Lk1nnf2A5OdWDqarvumCScYfawaJELOJQ3p8C3RFH4DaDDL3O3vT8=w640-h458" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Mira Nadon, Sara Mearns in <i>Solitude</i>. Photo: Erin Baiano<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">In <i>Solitude</i>, a new ballet by Alexei Ratmansky for New York City Ballet, one horrific image taken from the news prevails—a man (Joseph Gordon) kneeling over his dead son, killed by Russians in the Ukrainian war. As others pass them by—bursting aloft, pulling close, spinning chaotically—the man remains stone-still. He finally dances a solo of grief and intense emotion, representative of millions of Ukrainians and others in recognizing the destruction and futility of a miserable war. Ratmansky has made a snapshot of tragedy plucked from history in the making, creating a vocabulary that evokes the urgency and surrounding emotions of war without tipping into the cliche or maudlin. Mira Nadon and Sara Mearns also led the company in this first premiere by Ratmansky in his new company position, artist in residence.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzMagP9W8UFhNMi0MbB9021f9dgITxa7VuohHyJVkIeLqGBZNqc1mGz6mKNEOJbmVZ_Ust2YYE9SCmLbxEEdnmuzjm4vy8zNWgG209OylruOWswjlZEEJlj82ly1Yyqfa3R70NcbBwWkJq9VjrnYpqrNRpERPpY0ZJXhkaTs1Xjw_fSastK3jY6nUAbAo" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzMagP9W8UFhNMi0MbB9021f9dgITxa7VuohHyJVkIeLqGBZNqc1mGz6mKNEOJbmVZ_Ust2YYE9SCmLbxEEdnmuzjm4vy8zNWgG209OylruOWswjlZEEJlj82ly1Yyqfa3R70NcbBwWkJq9VjrnYpqrNRpERPpY0ZJXhkaTs1Xjw_fSastK3jY6nUAbAo=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><text class="_textbox_jifpk_15" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="8.390380859375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: Verdana, serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="119.927536010742" x="139.165756225586" y="-615.460021972656"> Adji Cissoko, Shuaib Elhassan in Deep River. Photo: Richard Termine<br /></text><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">The Feb 23 performance of Lines’ <i>Deep River</i> at the Rose Theater is memorable for a different reason—a man yelling disrupted the show halfway through, forcing the curtain to lower for several minutes. It was at odds with the mellifluous, elegant dance onstage, the coursing jazz score by Jason Moran, and the powerful voice of Lisa Fischer. Choreographer Alonzo King is enamored with the elegant lines of ballet and connecting gorgeous poses with fluid phrases, and with his lithe, athletic dancers. At times, it feels like an overabundance, so much beauty blurring together. The interruption felt even more invasive for the idyll it broke.</span> </div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">So much is happening in New York on any given day; it's perhaps easy to take it for granted. But art will persist after we're gone, and this slice of culture in New York was an testament to its vital importance in recording and making history. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-90411785550100122682024-02-04T12:13:00.000-05:002024-02-04T12:13:27.857-05:00New York Notebook, Jan/Feb 2024<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRfw7RPFrHyyH8PyH1HQ8DvW_gi9zJ9CGs_sY0rnCWcb2wDthi_EvidpMwUxxjYTyY6Juh12-EKP51o7JIPN6L0mxBKRjs-AXIo0VQ-XsvDg4Fmpze3JIXcXwpt2Lcj_bejXDA4fPymrqooMPmdtbDZWfQr1Uh3S0Ps0KPQn82ZTQ3fm3w2pVSgcv2exA" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3667" data-original-width="5500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRfw7RPFrHyyH8PyH1HQ8DvW_gi9zJ9CGs_sY0rnCWcb2wDthi_EvidpMwUxxjYTyY6Juh12-EKP51o7JIPN6L0mxBKRjs-AXIo0VQ-XsvDg4Fmpze3JIXcXwpt2Lcj_bejXDA4fPymrqooMPmdtbDZWfQr1Uh3S0Ps0KPQn82ZTQ3fm3w2pVSgcv2exA=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Timothy Ward and Justin Lynch in </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: start;"><i>De la Lumière, Entre les Lampes</i>. </span><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: start;">Photo: Steven Pisano<br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><h2><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Molissa Fenley, Roulette</b></span></h2><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Molissa Fenley’s program, <i>From the Light, Between the Lamps,</i> at Roulette was most likely not intended as a glowing source of optimism to pull us back from the looming abyss of life, but it wound up working that way on Jan 31. It comprised six dances made or revised very recently—a remarkable output given her incredible decades-long career—one that seemed in doubt after a serious knee injury in 1995. The unfettered joy and experimentation revolving around simply moving the human body felt like a salve and a return to what’s essential, in addition to the ongoing creation of work by a modern pioneer. <br /><br />Fenley began presenting her work in 1977, drawing attention for her cyclonic, athletic solos and punk aesthetic. She incorporated elements such as percussion and South Asian dance influences that mostly hadn’t been seen together in a New York modern dancer. Flexed feet and hands, the latter to frame the head and upper body, and explosive jumps and spins, marked her fresh style. She made the most of the Covid-imposed rules for dance with her 2020 Joyce run of her virtuosic 1988 solo, <i>State of Darkness</i>, featuring seven powerhouse dancers from top modern and ballet troupes. (Three of them guested at Roulette on later dates.)</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8CdCsQ5gvgfzxyC2urwS72BP4ONegCwy3O3xwpMHzuMe4SmXSZvRJ_n5tPIxGHKamPkY-TqGBFZ4MXopBTyBwhAQOocbTJcW0nu2zSnahEbM6Qd3umtU4D5bvizBCfwS-mgO0R-7IYiUjIAl7yTINMuGjcJ--eGNkwDVC4D1aMDXIF-_kK2A7J4WPD3s" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8CdCsQ5gvgfzxyC2urwS72BP4ONegCwy3O3xwpMHzuMe4SmXSZvRJ_n5tPIxGHKamPkY-TqGBFZ4MXopBTyBwhAQOocbTJcW0nu2zSnahEbM6Qd3umtU4D5bvizBCfwS-mgO0R-7IYiUjIAl7yTINMuGjcJ--eGNkwDVC4D1aMDXIF-_kK2A7J4WPD3s=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: start;">Christiana Axelsen, Molissa Fenley, Timothy Ward in </span></span><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Lava Field</i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Photo: Art Davison</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><br /></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-family: arial;">In the new program, she showed new or revised work paired with music by thought-provoking composers like John Cage, Philip Glass, and Ryuichi Sakamoto. Perhaps most surprising is that Fenley (born in 1954) performed alongside three outstanding dancers (Christiana Axelsen, Justin Lynch, Timothy Ward). Some of the movement felt softer and more organic than her earlier work. While Fenley's work is not prone to sentimentality, at times the dancers linked hands and passed under these arches, or leaned on one another tenderly. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">One solo gave way to another, or dancers entered in phases, or danced on three different levels. Some scores were played live, notably the Glass </span><i style="font-family: arial;">New Chaconne</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> written in 2023. The intimate environs of Roulette (an old auditorium) combined with Fenley’s sui generis modernism to evoke a golden era of dance. And while it might feel halcyon relative to the chaos of today, to remember the horrors of the late 20th-century AIDS crisis might put current mayhem in perspective.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_85lE4FqpSdfVD738sjCsPVQRTeI2xyhCvXS7QuprhWFjK-gsIfDgPCh-TcvTBVzXY_LjFYN10BRMq-dmyr1UJAazJbHeoyrREDWNS7W0amWZhysqB1VP6rkAac7uib2b3saKb6mqTqQUQpnoZuvmriO2fb9cw0e39AM4nZK7hXmmO2G8axPO588ZUqY" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2325" data-original-width="3600" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_85lE4FqpSdfVD738sjCsPVQRTeI2xyhCvXS7QuprhWFjK-gsIfDgPCh-TcvTBVzXY_LjFYN10BRMq-dmyr1UJAazJbHeoyrREDWNS7W0amWZhysqB1VP6rkAac7uib2b3saKb6mqTqQUQpnoZuvmriO2fb9cw0e39AM4nZK7hXmmO2G8axPO588ZUqY=w640-h414" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Roman Mejia, Mira Nadon, and Chun Wai Chan in <i>Concerto for Two Pianos</i>. Photo: Erin Baiano</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">New York City Ballet, Koch Theater</span></h2></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The same week, New York City Ballet premiered Tiler Peck’s first work for her native company, where she continues to perform as a beloved principal. She has been choreographing elsewhere for a few years, including for the Vail Festival, which has encouraged young choreographers and collaborations, unlikely as much for the scheduling involved as any artistic barriers. <br /><br />For the premiere, Peck chose Poulenc’s <i>Concerto for Two Pianos</i> (the title for her piece), an exuberant and dramatic composition with highly modulated dynamics and heroic melodies. Her choreography has many of the qualities that distinguish her greatness as a dancer—clarity, musicality, and joy. She gave Roman Mejia a blank canvas on which to display his formidable athleticism in countless spins, jumps, and soaring leaps, at times buddy-battling with Chun Wai Chan. Besides their technical prowess, both have lots of charisma—a welcome asset in a company that can produce skilled but politely distant men. Dancing with both in turn, the e</span><span style="font-family: arial;">legant and glamorous </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Mira Nadon sported a crimson dress (by Zac Posen), which stood out among a sea of blues and browns. A gaggle of men lifted and sailed her about, placing her gently on a row of mens’ backs. India Bradley and Emma Von Enck handled allegro passages with skill and vibrancy.<br /></span><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHxFhAOgqO05obgoBJHstn5nlFctvJjf35Oj0smQSF11JFNk7-LfIMt48PEglQzxuogSTvDn5g1WhH3sf8bTRl-v0PEHXs9r8ApXATjWHWdgjPRDfKn-odmidWMW198dhFTN7LZzlSKEQCCiuU-NjBA2qJrtSXnxrX0KRNFw_-tvJAA0RxadccrlujEuY" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="3600" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHxFhAOgqO05obgoBJHstn5nlFctvJjf35Oj0smQSF11JFNk7-LfIMt48PEglQzxuogSTvDn5g1WhH3sf8bTRl-v0PEHXs9r8ApXATjWHWdgjPRDfKn-odmidWMW198dhFTN7LZzlSKEQCCiuU-NjBA2qJrtSXnxrX0KRNFw_-tvJAA0RxadccrlujEuY=w640-h454" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Emma Von Enck and India Bradley in <i>Concerto for Two Pianos</i>. Photo credit: Erin Baiano</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: arial; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHxFhAOgqO05obgoBJHstn5nlFctvJjf35Oj0smQSF11JFNk7-LfIMt48PEglQzxuogSTvDn5g1WhH3sf8bTRl-v0PEHXs9r8ApXATjWHWdgjPRDfKn-odmidWMW198dhFTN7LZzlSKEQCCiuU-NjBA2qJrtSXnxrX0KRNFw_-tvJAA0RxadccrlujEuY" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">Peck is smartly immersed in the working world of the theater. The striking curtain-up moment featured seven pairs of dancers in stark silhouette, performing snappy lifts and spins. Often, a light-hued cyc provides the needed contrast for darkly-lit dancers to highlight their shapes. (This was not the case in the evening’s closer, <i>Odesa</i> by Alexei Ratmansky, where the mens’ black-clad legs were hardly legible against dark backgrounds. On purpose, no doubt, but very hard to see.) The company of a community is important, as are robust solos. And hopefully Peck will have the chance to choreograph more for City Ballet, where she has worked since 2005. <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><i>Concerto</i> followed Justin Peck’s <i>Rotunda</i>, created in 2020 to music by Nico Muhly, and Justin’s 19th ballet for the company. He has created dances of differing styles, including elements of street and tap, but he hews to ballet here. Many of the themes that underpin his dances are present—the group, often clustered, facing in, exploding outward to seek individual paths. A childlike playfulness, the joy in moving freely, but also moving precisely. <br /></span><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMkyNFy94Zvfnr_z79MCyGCxKnkO-yMVR7fSi0btv9OJr3Yx_T9gOMSclE7FDoJS2xVtaD3J1eViqfKAOTTUYpG3lLWARoEYyR8aJEiNgPqMuJXjW01HtWTuLL0ykbboFrtOkv6L_X31SdeZbdgP5GhsBwg-ykKXa-DpoJcF4Ke5iaxLI6xnApKzQnFrw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMkyNFy94Zvfnr_z79MCyGCxKnkO-yMVR7fSi0btv9OJr3Yx_T9gOMSclE7FDoJS2xVtaD3J1eViqfKAOTTUYpG3lLWARoEYyR8aJEiNgPqMuJXjW01HtWTuLL0ykbboFrtOkv6L_X31SdeZbdgP5GhsBwg-ykKXa-DpoJcF4Ke5iaxLI6xnApKzQnFrw=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><text class="_textbox_mtetp_15" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.66175842285156" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="190.980926513672" x="72.9513549804688" y="-76.223991394043">New York City Ballet in Alexei Ratmansky’s </text><text class="_textbox_mtetp_15" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.48512268066406" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="30.128173828125" x="264.668212890625" y="-76.223991394043"><i>Odesa</i>.</text><text class="_textbox_mtetp_15" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.5072021484375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="109.847991943359" x="298.097381591797" y="-76.223991394043">Photo credit: Erin Baiano</text></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div>Ratmansky’s </span><span style="font-family: arial;">richly-hued<i> </i></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Odesa</i>, to music by Leonid Desyatnikov, displays the choreographer’s skill at narrative suggestion with the barest of gestures—a woman refuses to take a man’s hand, at once conjuring all sorts of questions about their relationship. A group of men circle the stage in a softly lyrical phrase, which feels refreshingly different from the more strident, powerful vocabulary often given to men. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">In a sense, this choreographic trio of Peck, Peck, and Ratmansky represents the company’s near future, with the two men in formalized positions, and given the success of <i>Concerto for Two Pianos</i>, almost assuredly more to come from Tiler Peck.<br /></span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-77703653560733907622023-12-29T09:25:00.000-05:002023-12-29T09:25:07.872-05:00Favorite Novels of 2023<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6zgQ5YKdXWqjO2j7ddHQrIZxQ10rQAHnZnDvmIhFY0tHWXXJdq5L3rOzdkfDVG8D3TB3H9SQO4QDfB2-2NrPfeBiuP5seg3PYKx1w39XppCpWlunpBv37VJpksoE00urr5iGqIbt2PYDYA4BNSaqPgnz0QWmLVNeckOoyJs_mokjGBSmVqJGfInhEhM/s1470/Fave%20books%202023%20Graphic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="241" data-original-width="1470" height="104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6zgQ5YKdXWqjO2j7ddHQrIZxQ10rQAHnZnDvmIhFY0tHWXXJdq5L3rOzdkfDVG8D3TB3H9SQO4QDfB2-2NrPfeBiuP5seg3PYKx1w39XppCpWlunpBv37VJpksoE00urr5iGqIbt2PYDYA4BNSaqPgnz0QWmLVNeckOoyJs_mokjGBSmVqJGfInhEhM/w640-h104/Fave%20books%202023%20Graphic.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63241104-tom-lake ">Tom Lake</a>, Ann Patchett<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/101673225-land-of-milk-and-honey">The Land of Milk & Honey</a>, Pamela Zhang<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62919162-whalefall" target="_blank">Whalefall</a>, Daniel Kraus<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62952130-the-vaster-wilds" target="_blank">The Vaster Wilds</a>, Lauren Groff<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61771675-hello-beautiful" target="_blank">Hello Beautiful</a>, Ann Napolitano<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60784757-birnam-wood" target="_blank">Birnam Wood</a>, Eleanor Catton<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60177466-age-of-vice" target="_blank">Age of Vice</a>, Deepti Kapoor<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61272702-hang-the-moon" target="_blank">Hang the Moon</a>, Jeanette Walls<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58065033-lessons-in-chemistry" target="_blank">Lessons in Chemistry</a>, Bonnie Garmus<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62039166-the-bee-sting?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=CR3xcOdeGW&rank=1" target="_blank">The Bee Sting</a>, Paul Murray</span><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-69119913873710625302023-12-05T16:40:00.003-05:002023-12-05T17:13:29.042-05:00John McDevitt King in Intersections I at Anita Rogers Gallery<span style="font-family: arial;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCjuee3h1Uep6Tie1TPlel8oSJKAdPSirlfWpw28gH_BkrsOKw6y7eC7vLO2NZSTMhda2iwf6PsPk2DU-VtJlIq2jt3uwR2vjHuPN2tLQ3g3qTALNzDLo4VjmVFKUYdK3kyrLtD5w9EEnsQbv6Y88RDdnhMWu6uQlaTTsPu6SkX44BZ4c7mhvxjekIqnI" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="1740" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCjuee3h1Uep6Tie1TPlel8oSJKAdPSirlfWpw28gH_BkrsOKw6y7eC7vLO2NZSTMhda2iwf6PsPk2DU-VtJlIq2jt3uwR2vjHuPN2tLQ3g3qTALNzDLo4VjmVFKUYdK3kyrLtD5w9EEnsQbv6Y88RDdnhMWu6uQlaTTsPu6SkX44BZ4c7mhvxjekIqnI=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Anita Rogers Gallery. Photo: Jon-Paul Rodriguez</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></i></span><i style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://www.anitarogersgallery.com/exhibitions">Intersections I</a>, a three-person show, is on view at </i><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Anita Rogers Gallery in Soho through January 7, featuring Gary Gissler, Barbara Knight, and John McDevitt King. I'm sharing excerpts from a catalogue essay on John's work, published on the occasion of his solo show at MERGE Stone Ridge in 2022.</i></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmeH0nUJyW2DACMJ9LmQzShlU5P8b9XP1g9PNkFHm1crdjOBQBmDK74cIvt8w2BVnMS6pBscjZkbK1fcYrnmBAZA_M6de2BzXnDUJ9g0k_7DfpVKaoFiPKv5IVBhoWOsIMPzly99_O6KaqbANJ76AMf4SmrB_jfpjjc5I4mibb7FBOy_7b83l8C0G82Sw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1492" data-original-width="1187" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmeH0nUJyW2DACMJ9LmQzShlU5P8b9XP1g9PNkFHm1crdjOBQBmDK74cIvt8w2BVnMS6pBscjZkbK1fcYrnmBAZA_M6de2BzXnDUJ9g0k_7DfpVKaoFiPKv5IVBhoWOsIMPzly99_O6KaqbANJ76AMf4SmrB_jfpjjc5I4mibb7FBOy_7b83l8C0G82Sw=w509-h640" width="509" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">John McDevitt King, <i>Evening in August</i>, 2023. <br />Encaustic on wood panel, 60" x 48"</span></td></tr></tbody></table></i><br /><b>Excerpts from <i>Stealing Light</i></b><br /><br />In the field of gemology, <a href="https://johnmcdevittking.com/" target="_blank">John McDevitt King</a> has evaluated some of the world’s legendary gemstones, including the Hope Diamond. A specialty of his involves noting subtle variations in color, undetectable to most of us, as well as degrees of clarity and other qualities that factor into each stone’s evaluation. But before working with gems, John was a practicing artist. Over decades, as his professional expertise has been honed, his artmaking has evolved in tandem. The two are intertwined, creating an essential, sui generis dialogue that emerges in his artwork.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>John perceives the way light is projected, filtered, or reflected, and how it clarifies or obstructs vision; gauges its ephemerality and opacity; and harnesses those perceptions for inspiration. How does he continue to find source material for subject matter? “More often, I start from something observed. That could be a fragment of a photo, something I see around me, direct observation… that goes through transitions as I being to work on it.” He often returns to objects of earlier inspiration, such as a series based on broken plates of glass and the chance patterns therein. At other times, he looks—and then sees. “Some works are reflective of being in my studio and looking at the windows… what I’m seeing on the surface, past the surface, and behind,” similar to the process of looking at a diamond. He nods at Jasper Johns: “You take an object and turn it a different way, or block something out, or twist this, or change the focus of the form—and you see it anew.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6tJURFjX9UA5D4Xg2-Fn9y_qPrhhnrBo5XMxJE2V3d_bFiSrGyaC44L0v_9bfrxdCylxztoUWN4u88dJX912aZsLusVeidoinKBxtscvViWIzdmfW7R9U6s-igiSfAKcJ2sxI765YNfytIGEVHRrBW5NK6sP_UqNQF-Adc_fjl5Ulugv4g3kkdrR_eGI" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2894" data-original-width="2540" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6tJURFjX9UA5D4Xg2-Fn9y_qPrhhnrBo5XMxJE2V3d_bFiSrGyaC44L0v_9bfrxdCylxztoUWN4u88dJX912aZsLusVeidoinKBxtscvViWIzdmfW7R9U6s-igiSfAKcJ2sxI765YNfytIGEVHRrBW5NK6sP_UqNQF-Adc_fjl5Ulugv4g3kkdrR_eGI=w563-h640" width="563" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">John McDevitt King, <i>Outside In</i>, 2021. <br />Graphite on paper, 26" x 22.5"</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s one thing to create subject matter. It’s quite another to render that in a typically two-dimensional work using traditional media. John has been experimenting in recent years with such divergent materials as 3-D printing, video, printmaking, and paper fabrication, but he continually returns to drawing and encaustic painting as the most pure means of expression. “Drawing and encaustic painting somehow embody my personality and the way I put myself in a position to make art.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmbDhXfd8z7jhokG4hZ2OfbpU1Lj3UwV9FPmdxj-yHay4961cnWKQ32Bx8Yj474nnbWP3iBzvOJcZkooiYDDQcZ6HW0PG5zxWRMOPXaZxGVwP9_WMcqkHrgp2c2xqAWoVhqnPEKwukivKY-Scg8cei6-7fWtyBH2edHEeJMZyEOiboyEugOcD70VvyYUY" style="clear: right; font-family: arial; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3192" data-original-width="2337" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmbDhXfd8z7jhokG4hZ2OfbpU1Lj3UwV9FPmdxj-yHay4961cnWKQ32Bx8Yj474nnbWP3iBzvOJcZkooiYDDQcZ6HW0PG5zxWRMOPXaZxGVwP9_WMcqkHrgp2c2xqAWoVhqnPEKwukivKY-Scg8cei6-7fWtyBH2edHEeJMZyEOiboyEugOcD70VvyYUY=w293-h400" width="293" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">John McDevitt King<br /><i>By Barcelona, 2021</i><br />Colored pencil on paper, 15" x 11"</span></td></tr></tbody></table>Encaustic involves combining melted beeswax with pigment, which can be layered and textured to create dimension. John notes: “I continually explore ways to handle the paint, move it around, pouring, layering, different strokes.” He most often draws with graphite on white or light paper, but he has also used white pigment on black paper. In any case, he says,”Drawing goes back to childhood. I continue to find that one of the most pleasing forms of interaction that I have in my work.” And his technical methods in grading diamonds have been put to use in painting. In a recent conversation, he noted: “There’s a certain touch that I use in diamond grading that I tend to use also in painting—a movement of the hand focused on attention to detail.”</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">John finds general inspiration in New York City, whether from cityscapes or simply within his studio at the Brooklyn Navy Yard; his work expresses “a specific kind of feel, but not a specific place.” One look at <a href="https://www.instagram.com/johnmcdevittking321/" target="_blank">his Instagram feed</a> is a glimpse of how a given visual cue can be the impetus for a new composition. Identifiable objects might become the framework for an abstraction; a lightbulb, the pinpoint focus in a drawing; a window, a mysterious portal. For a non-artist, it can help to understand how a simple walk can produce an endless array of inspiration.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">—</span><i style="font-family: arial;">Susan Yung, 2022 </i><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><a href="https://www.anitarogersgallery.com/about" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">Anita Rogers Gallery</a><span style="font-family: arial;">, 494 Greenwich Street, below Spring St., open Tues-Sat, 10 to 6.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-33661428711223482472023-12-05T11:41:00.002-05:002023-12-05T16:33:18.799-05:00New York Notebook, Dec 2023<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfg8w96pTmYpxDVz4tRJ1IDUw0iwkpfKweRgB3dkiG4wCKS4Hm7dWGFbshlbkrklMPFDn4RV5p_EYe79ElLMaxKwuFvKGnoL8TfMVis5zPFFoB_PWJUEpXqwq1V-s2bNgqkowvLvskkQZnxr6lgc6RBtlTSCB2n8V3x_ccwpKtdveQKayjtvea9mP3Xm0" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3840" data-original-width="5760" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfg8w96pTmYpxDVz4tRJ1IDUw0iwkpfKweRgB3dkiG4wCKS4Hm7dWGFbshlbkrklMPFDn4RV5p_EYe79ElLMaxKwuFvKGnoL8TfMVis5zPFFoB_PWJUEpXqwq1V-s2bNgqkowvLvskkQZnxr6lgc6RBtlTSCB2n8V3x_ccwpKtdveQKayjtvea9mP3Xm0=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>adaku, part 1: the road opens</i>. Photo: Tony Turner</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><b>adaku, part 1: the road opens</b></i><br />BAM Next Wave Festival, BAM Fisher</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />In murky light, seven clustered women tread a circle, shuffling and hopping, at times chanting, grunting and singing. This begins while the Fisher audience for <i>adaku</i> is seated, and basically continues for 75 minutes, with shifts in step patterns and pull-out dramatic scenes. This continuous human orbit is the work’s backbone—a nod to the endless grind of daily life, the need to keep pushing, even a literal metaphor for the passing of time. The hypnotic repetition mesmerizes, puzzles, and bores, but it rarely flags. At some point, the women punctuate their circles with contractions and shoulder thrusts. Slight variations between each one’s technique provide interest. <br /><br />A drama emerges—a carving commissioned on the occasion of her impending second marriage (this time, to a woman) is causing Okwui Okpakwasili nightmares. They begin to come true; children are disappearing. Her daughter witnessed the creation of the carving by Audrey Hailes—poetically enacted by lights swung in arcs, leaving glowing trails. Okpakwasili, the village leader and a powerful presence, in anger threatens Hailes for conjuring evil; her daughter suggest compromising and destroying the cursed carving. While carrying out this task in the wooded edges of town, the daughter disappears, leaving her mother swooning in grief.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsnp1sAmgX0HZ6vAJ9dk0pcKthbHZR8Hsr5OAQ-280xm0YLNktKx4nZ5Zotbt51rHsPPed3uAypR7SBNQLiJhhVUvIhToNdfNMTPzfiMoxzu9rVnBG2Lh0v4I4SrLiWSaJm-s6ybmEJ-f0m-jRoz4rmIjfxJ1ck0Bup417NJgj6i-haDAJyM3fD7RJoqs" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="5172" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsnp1sAmgX0HZ6vAJ9dk0pcKthbHZR8Hsr5OAQ-280xm0YLNktKx4nZ5Zotbt51rHsPPed3uAypR7SBNQLiJhhVUvIhToNdfNMTPzfiMoxzu9rVnBG2Lh0v4I4SrLiWSaJm-s6ybmEJ-f0m-jRoz4rmIjfxJ1ck0Bup417NJgj6i-haDAJyM3fD7RJoqs" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-9363a99e-7fff-78b3-cf51-67397ef92bfb"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Samita Sinha, Okwui Okpokwasili,
mayfield brooks. Photo: Tony Turner</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The vague story unspools in Okpakwasili’s songs and chant, driven by a</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> constant beat and textured sound by Peter Born. The set, also by Born, comprises two small overhead lamps, a bar of light, and a large, pink, plexi, bisected disc—the sun, or a screen to receive video. There’s friction between the clean, modern set elements and the pre-colonial village setting. Behind the action hangs a crumpled, silver, mylar cyc, which in the finale, the dancers pull downstage and air out in the darkness, creating the convincing sound of a deluge.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><i>adaku</i> engages all the senses to sketch out the elusive narrative. The power of the work lies in the hypnotic physical repetition and endurance for which Okpakwasili is known; the close physical interactions between the women, who move as one much of the time; and evoking a distant era and place while expanding time.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>Rite of Spring/common ground(s)</i></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Dance Reflections, Park Avenue Armory</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhGukm0nwNMizmQf_bLMDAbvumBsrBfll-qNeli_urRVYZaY3IdqNkBy8u6hYhibTJ9T3ts6mjXkaGTLIDf3t9W9P0sfe4JpYCEt_vJbsUc5mHSR8ibf1w9IaZlI41x9UfLahLoJcmtRRXZzb-CIlouBEj3_2M77U-QOGUl1aMcGrENy1Fsxt2SVBZvskw" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhGukm0nwNMizmQf_bLMDAbvumBsrBfll-qNeli_urRVYZaY3IdqNkBy8u6hYhibTJ9T3ts6mjXkaGTLIDf3t9W9P0sfe4JpYCEt_vJbsUc5mHSR8ibf1w9IaZlI41x9UfLahLoJcmtRRXZzb-CIlouBEj3_2M77U-QOGUl1aMcGrENy1Fsxt2SVBZvskw=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Rite of Spring</i>. Photo: Stephanie Berger</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I saw Pina Bausch’s <i>Rite of Spring</i> the next night at the Armory, performed by dancers from 14 African nations. Two days before, it might have epitomized works with physically demanding steps utilizing repetition to great effect. After seeing <i>adaku</i>,<i> Rite</i> nearly felt much tamer on the endurance scale. It is danced on plushy-looking dirt (which no doubt is far more difficult than it looks, what with sliding and uneven surfaces and, well, dirt!) by a large company of women and men dancing a breadth of tempos and dynamics in bursts; the ensemble sections thrill. Of course there are spans of convulsions, flinging limbs, jumps, and falls, but they are over quickly.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAEdSIbi6Qtu2KNSArO1ClAM909VQxRzV_DgpjKfwWHKN25fKnmYUhDkp4_R-eikwFaA_Y8V3_gsszUAN29BNDRG7_nkZGLkFu8LVF9t1xNErXycqwVCccS0gJuZuT7CMqryuzRyYeKta7Lo6vRJeLBVh6M_kpJLPUshwwbv-YpGaIfpAklQegP5LhqtU" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAEdSIbi6Qtu2KNSArO1ClAM909VQxRzV_DgpjKfwWHKN25fKnmYUhDkp4_R-eikwFaA_Y8V3_gsszUAN29BNDRG7_nkZGLkFu8LVF9t1xNErXycqwVCccS0gJuZuT7CMqryuzRyYeKta7Lo6vRJeLBVh6M_kpJLPUshwwbv-YpGaIfpAklQegP5LhqtU=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Rite of Spring</i>. Photo: Stephanie Berger<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">The identification and sacrifice of the One is predictably dramatic, if no surprise. In the most poignant scene, the women cram together upstage, and each in turn springs from the group, takes the red dress, and walks toward us warily, bearing captivating expressions of fear, curiosity, resignation, etc. The ensemble sections enthrall, with plunging pliés, side-whipping Pina arms, and dirt kicked brusquely. The dancers were assembled for this project, so naturally they don’t have the deep connections of Tanztheater Wuppertal, nor the distinct characters that repeat viewers have adored over the years. The men here are technically excellent—perhaps a little too, mechanically jumping their maximum and hitting the beats early. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">But seeing Pina’s work is a rare treat, even if it’s not at BAM, her (nearly) forever New York home until now. Tanztheater Wuppertal performed <i>Rite</i> at BAM in 2017 on a program with <i>Café Mü</i></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>ller</i>—a satisfying balance of Bausch’s visceral and socially captivating milieus. At the Armory, <i>Rite</i> was preceded by <i>common ground(s)</i>, a duet by Germaine Acogny and Malou Airaudo. Acogny founded Ecole des Sables in Senegal, which worked with the Pina Bausch Foundation and Sadler’s Wells to stage this <i>Rite</i>, part of Van Cleef & Arpels’ Dance Reflections festival.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4wMa2HK0Y64rTr7xpdPLVb9DQKcVnPIe50mI1r7AVRC4-apNJB-n1qXqOgIDs3Jn84t3NBTdTCxHkW69OsYFXM9_GzAyJohnZAkKOEnrGZ4FG3xwrfpdadugL-NB90S82ffU_yzhKWfonqXyu9O-GEz79sNgVaqVa9k6jBMDeL5aYEqgW5ypAZ142lvU" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4wMa2HK0Y64rTr7xpdPLVb9DQKcVnPIe50mI1r7AVRC4-apNJB-n1qXqOgIDs3Jn84t3NBTdTCxHkW69OsYFXM9_GzAyJohnZAkKOEnrGZ4FG3xwrfpdadugL-NB90S82ffU_yzhKWfonqXyu9O-GEz79sNgVaqVa9k6jBMDeL5aYEqgW5ypAZ142lvU=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Germaine Acogny and Malou Airaudo in <i>common ground(s)</i>. Photo: Stephanie Berger</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Since <i>Rite</i> is about half an hour long, it should logically be presented with another work to make an evening. Acogny (79) created the work with Airaudo (75), who danced with Pina for many years, along the way performing the role of the One in <i>Rite</i> several times. Unfortunately, the Armory is not the ideal venue for this intimate, subtle work that emphasizes arm work, soft caresses, and contemplation. (Ironically, it would probably look great at the cozy BAM Fisher.) They speak at one point, but it was barely audible without mics. I did hear, “Thinking about Pina,” but I wonder why they bothered with lines if the audience was kept out. There is value in seeing aging dancers move (I mean, Merce!) but this needs some shaping and a better venue. Nonetheless, the pre-Rite buzz and ceremoniousness of the Drill Hall added some ritual excitement that carried through the entire program.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-16317531444982679072023-11-23T13:54:00.001-05:002023-11-23T15:39:52.965-05:00Fallen Trees Find New Life in Art<div class="separator"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa3bf9c6-7fff-7f39-a526-1ea4d437734f" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 8.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><img height="468" src="https://lh7-us.googleusercontent.com/Sql7-nhPb5wdz4QToRJXAhDqOB8rCZHBFiA_vWEhy7BuPRw4UQu0lSa7mHZOCsgrGJ4Prbi7UxLNknfp3E3cl_-u-DSNkybKDqXEfESuZQtAh-pfKUiFOZEnsnkJ6SQUc277CcWLvIFNob3Pk4KaLOA" style="font-size: 12.5pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 8.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The final sculpture</span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />My friend <a href="https://bangiola.com/sculpture" target="_blank">Bob Bangiola</a>, an artist in Hudson, asked me to help him construct a sculpture in his back yard, which overlooks a vast, marshy expanse. He uses found wood—tree limbs, branches, and trunks—to connect post-and-lintel frames to make rudimentary edifices. At maybe eight feet tall, this was among the largest Bob has made; other works in his yard are about three feet tall.<br /><br />The process entailed Bob positioning two primary, pre-constructed frames an appropriate distance apart to eventually form a rough cube. He then hoisted and tilted one upside-down “U” frame perpendicular to the ground. This is where I came in (plus a bit later, two people who were filming the process for a documentary). I stood by one post and helped position it to the point of zero gravity, as Bob checked in with me by voice, look, and balance so that both sides felt weightless. He used the phrase "tuning fork" on occasion, an apt term for the process of refining the work's balance through the most minute adjustments. </span></span><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa3bf9c6-7fff-7f39-a526-1ea4d437734f" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;">To help keep one of the two main frames in place, Bob used a separate limb with a forked end, like a crutch, to prop it up. To support the other frame, he parked his Jeep against it to take its weight. He then positioned cross bars between the two frames, plus braces to make triangles, and drove in lag bolts to stabilize it.<br /></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYR4riS6hNo9BLEagDJ9bFC1y8zUwg1NLgmqf4R7AdPhaq3eDGHWNPES4iV6i00KOgVFzd4lLi_ZzfOU6SGZhX4nGyigSq9-9Y4sq4aZ7sxvftmfi_7-4R47IpUTaIt8jmPnHXCd9GI9B_cECxKk580rUPu-9cVzRAbtMsHeXpBwI9LFt0x06ACaoYOc/s4032/IMG_1849.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYR4riS6hNo9BLEagDJ9bFC1y8zUwg1NLgmqf4R7AdPhaq3eDGHWNPES4iV6i00KOgVFzd4lLi_ZzfOU6SGZhX4nGyigSq9-9Y4sq4aZ7sxvftmfi_7-4R47IpUTaIt8jmPnHXCd9GI9B_cECxKk580rUPu-9cVzRAbtMsHeXpBwI9LFt0x06ACaoYOc/w480-h640/IMG_1849.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">A crutch-like branch and the Jeep support the frames</span> </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa3bf9c6-7fff-7f39-a526-1ea4d437734f" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Because of the nature of how trees grow, some of the tree lengths have slight twists and bows, so when they are positioned as crosspieces, they might rock or pivot. The differing density and heft of various woods is surprising. Each piece has its own characteristics that need to be factored in. As the work ages, it will settle.</span></span><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa3bf9c6-7fff-7f39-a526-1ea4d437734f" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When the framework was stable enough to stand alone, Bob pushed and pulled on various parts to test its strength. He hung from the cross bars and pulled up his weight, bouncing to test its stability.</span></span><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa3bf9c6-7fff-7f39-a526-1ea4d437734f" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Eventually, the structure will most likely collapse—most of the wood was dead to start with. But the process of decay and dissolution is part of the artwork. The piece evokes many things: shelter, a gate or passageway, a playground or acrobatics apparatus, to name a few—each viewer will form their own associations. For now, these fallen trees live anew.<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />Photos: Susan Yung</span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-48855053878179942542023-11-15T16:55:00.001-05:002023-11-15T16:55:59.886-05:00Sobelle's Enticing, Gluttonous, Enlightening FOOD<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepkYKqefFjwfT7iSg_9Of2ZBK2ZoOtjzK96RofWOLnhTv8soVR4E6uaEU1Jk5yvxJ8uB3H6UxciRX_HQGjTNo6Qxj2NO3hDSYczHjntcK_dmshYu3ds00dtcAP4TCeax1uwxiqLaxhqtbNRiOAdQhu319VbMeZc4zAGCXBjIC2BaeY1jJboZyTiDHRiI/s3600/FOOD_Geoff%20Sobelle_PC%20Stephanie%20Berger%20(7).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepkYKqefFjwfT7iSg_9Of2ZBK2ZoOtjzK96RofWOLnhTv8soVR4E6uaEU1Jk5yvxJ8uB3H6UxciRX_HQGjTNo6Qxj2NO3hDSYczHjntcK_dmshYu3ds00dtcAP4TCeax1uwxiqLaxhqtbNRiOAdQhu319VbMeZc4zAGCXBjIC2BaeY1jJboZyTiDHRiI/w640-h426/FOOD_Geoff%20Sobelle_PC%20Stephanie%20Berger%20(7).JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Geoff Sobelle, exemplary waiter. Photo: Stephanie Berger</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Geoff Sobelle taps into just every imaginable topic surrounding <i>FOOD</i>, the title of his latest theater work. These range from how city dwellers most often encounter it—in a restaurant, accompanied by wine—to its consumption by a gluttonous waiter after his shift, to the origin of wheat crops that have come to signify Big Ag and the ensuing destruction of the American landscape and diet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Sobelle is as polite as you’d expect a waiter to be in a fancy establishment, albeit with a 300-square foot table. He enlists those at the table (most of us sat in surrounding seats) to pour wine and read aloud from cues written in menu folios, or answer questions such as “what is your favorite diner food?,” and then magically produces said meal (meatloaf and mashed potatoes). After his shift, he consumes the leftovers and whatever else lies around—apples, raw eggs, tomatoes, salad, a steak, a fish, two bottles of wine, the leftover meatloaf, then cigarettes and money. It’s a pretty convincing act that leaves you wondering what trickery he used, because he simply can't have consumed all that!</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTesH9MXNODCaOCjwc2bMlw9LhefRTTXVm2TdqXB19dPm1i12_Nvi1hS4Z0e1Ei0DPfckYja3QqTamFDGu9xOJBgST35agaGpQuL7NmjQWyYj9XhHiu4Y9vqGAWM1XaWgkZmJFjJtmw2uttQXYo_XNIDEgCR2fHUi2v38IU4nBfUYiMtH4gKoGYGEiySU" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTesH9MXNODCaOCjwc2bMlw9LhefRTTXVm2TdqXB19dPm1i12_Nvi1hS4Z0e1Ei0DPfckYja3QqTamFDGu9xOJBgST35agaGpQuL7NmjQWyYj9XhHiu4Y9vqGAWM1XaWgkZmJFjJtmw2uttQXYo_XNIDEgCR2fHUi2v38IU4nBfUYiMtH4gKoGYGEiySU=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Chandelier, recycling bottles and stuff. Photo: Susan Yung</span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In another trope of magic, he yanks off the enormous tablecloth (it sits beneath an elegant, tiered chandelier made of recycled items), revealing a plain of dirt. Shifting gears, he crawls around the dirt on all fours, plucking adorable little bison out of the dirt, moving them foot-by-foot around the plain in an expanding herd. Following a tiny tractor that self-drives across the field, sheafs of wheat grow. Sobelle plunges his arm deep into the earth and retracts it, covered with oil. Derricks and rigs pop up, model houses are placed willy-nilly by the diners from passed trays, and high-rises with interior lights emerge from the soil. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9l_C9ToKAUjUF90PAR0O708ROYq-19w5IKsCf7PhQhaP2_zHZyRMhtgJisFuhaX5CBCGYyrU89UlsdCpoM1YrjohB-JBv2dvk8cR3hhsW8Ag3VJNvGios8zrdetd_7eeIVqd81vHzLXjYFAM3H_8RDtmUG1dlLrStUR7x6HIA21gkR4xA2WYqzgcRZM/s3600/FOOD_Geoff%20Sobelle_PC%20Stephanie%20Berger%20(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9l_C9ToKAUjUF90PAR0O708ROYq-19w5IKsCf7PhQhaP2_zHZyRMhtgJisFuhaX5CBCGYyrU89UlsdCpoM1YrjohB-JBv2dvk8cR3hhsW8Ag3VJNvGios8zrdetd_7eeIVqd81vHzLXjYFAM3H_8RDtmUG1dlLrStUR7x6HIA21gkR4xA2WYqzgcRZM/w640-h426/FOOD_Geoff%20Sobelle_PC%20Stephanie%20Berger%20(2).JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Post-shift imbibing. Photo: Stephanie Berger</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The bison are returned to the earth, now extinct, and Sobelle himself digs a plot and disappears into the ground—the final feat of magic. We’ve experienced nothing less than the history of America in a physical re-enactment, as well as the endgame of late-stage capitalism and gluttony in its rawest form.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <i>FOOD</i> is the third in a trilogy presented at BAM, with previous shows based on hoarding (<i>The Object Lesson</i>) and the complexities of a domicile (<i>HOME</i>). </span></span></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">It's also the most demanding for Sobelle himself, the key element powering his entire extremely popular theatrical enterprise. One wonders long he can continue to throw body and soul into his works, but in the meantime, there's no one else like him.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><i>FOOD</i>, BAM Next Wave, BAM Fisher, Nov 2—18, 2023</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-63235745944675462142023-08-31T16:00:00.000-04:002023-08-31T16:00:43.010-04:00Hanging Dance on Frames of Fiction and Technology<div class="separator"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5oVY4nC8ahAbQ4dPxYd2moinT7niCJKbxTgXxNj_pJ2MMB7Vf8Up_aczm1Tj7ZuSsy2auvIvT0nWS856vunVAkljLUOxOkL1V6XxWetExrzSnGNt-dAwnVwI1wrKYSPAciZlMf8rxiV_KjTvXpZRiWZN3gPU6RcP2FQk8b8FW6ZJ3dUKMC5Md0SfLvPA/s16000/AOF_AGVI_089%20HI%20RES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="9000" data-original-width="16000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5oVY4nC8ahAbQ4dPxYd2moinT7niCJKbxTgXxNj_pJ2MMB7Vf8Up_aczm1Tj7ZuSsy2auvIvT0nWS856vunVAkljLUOxOkL1V6XxWetExrzSnGNt-dAwnVwI1wrKYSPAciZlMf8rxiV_KjTvXpZRiWZN3gPU6RcP2FQk8b8FW6ZJ3dUKMC5Md0SfLvPA/w640-h360/AOF_AGVI_089%20HI%20RES.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: AvenirNext-Regular; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Maya Lee-Parritz and Jodi Melnick in <i>Água Viva</i>.<br />Photo: And Or Forever (Carr Chadwick & Kate Hawkins)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>Água Viva</b></i><b>, by Jodi Melnick and Maya Lee-Parritz</b><br />Hudson Hall, Aug 27, 2023<br /><br /></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">“You don’t understand music: you hear it. </span></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So hear me with your whole body.”</span> </blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span> </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">—</span><i style="font-family: arial;">Água Viva</i><span style="font-family: arial;">, by Clarice Lispector</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Maybe it was best to overlook, on purpose or coincidentally, that the sublimated foundation for Jodi Melnick and Maya Lee-Parritz’s <i>Água Viva</i> is the same-titled book by Clarice Lispector. There’s no apparent plot in the dance, and none to be obviously deduced from the movements—live and on film—that fill an hour. Better to absorb their deceptively simple phrases and gestures; distances, proximities, and duets; and synchrony (or lack thereof) with the sound score, by Jon Kinzel.<br /><br />Melnick’s movement continues to be entrancing, filled with delicacy, fluidity, and rationale. Her hands make idiosyncratic shapes, contrary to the rote ones ingrained in many dancers from years of ballet training—tensile flexions or oddly skewed fingers. For the middle section, she dons clunky, heeled oxfords, clomping around on stage. Lee-Parritz dances with a boldness and accentuation that simmers below a very coordinated surface. She looks directly at us with the hint of a knowing smile. Her thigh-length braid whips around her body; Melnick tugs on it at one point, like a rein. While they mostly move independently, in sections they sync up, and finally interact, supporting and leaning on one another.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkADSJr3gbmLRExl3YJT-6Y_pgSR9ondIiNt1merW2PFIsAOnmNRpjx19jYEcJRKOflGVih9-sCDJccasNFUzWbSlXYnZvctVSIMc1FkKc1QiMu7PwbqbBmyt4Qed55Nji_GvzpKsp2iGMTJdgwxRhcvu-AfmvDTpJLDL0YVGmDc9OOB5gTvihw8WLTI/s1958/Screen%20Shot%202023-08-31%20at%203.05.00%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-family: arial; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1397" data-original-width="1958" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkADSJr3gbmLRExl3YJT-6Y_pgSR9ondIiNt1merW2PFIsAOnmNRpjx19jYEcJRKOflGVih9-sCDJccasNFUzWbSlXYnZvctVSIMc1FkKc1QiMu7PwbqbBmyt4Qed55Nji_GvzpKsp2iGMTJdgwxRhcvu-AfmvDTpJLDL0YVGmDc9OOB5gTvihw8WLTI/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-08-31%20at%203.05.00%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Maya Lee-Parritz. </span><i style="text-align: start;"></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i style="text-align: start;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: AvenirNext-Regular; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo: And Or Forever <br />(Carr Chadwick & Kate Hawkins)</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></i></div></td></tr></tbody></table>The piece was performed mostly on Hudson Hall’s proscenium stage, with</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> the audience seated in traditional rows. But the dancers began by walking up the aisles, placing one hand on the stage apron as if it were a ballet barre, and doing a cursory dance before mounting the stage. A hypnotic video by And Or Forever (Carr Chadwich and Kate Hawkins) featured the dancers mostly individually, upside-down, in front of a saturated dark background, lit by flaring lights that twinkled off their bodies. It’s a dream-like interlude, only slightly asynchronous from the overall tone of <i>Água Viva</i>.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Hudson Hall presented the event in association with The Hudson Eye, an annual festival that blankets a variety of events taking place in Hudson, NY.<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvEnqof7r5c-47xiA-27d_sdJwvdqDY7ZMYm2POmWlDVPHDiv-QZhTeSQoHxg8KFtHERfnHGayUeKKQaf9CIw82EJwavX7155zOuQcKPmH02ek5TqrKOwvsxT0Xk88ql7kICwqLo1sraLL_xIEwpZyXbb2W-9ujGjM5Iw6AzzTsxo2I-hnypnhWarkQU/s3600/20230823_CompagnieKafig_pChristopherDuggan_0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvEnqof7r5c-47xiA-27d_sdJwvdqDY7ZMYm2POmWlDVPHDiv-QZhTeSQoHxg8KFtHERfnHGayUeKKQaf9CIw82EJwavX7155zOuQcKPmH02ek5TqrKOwvsxT0Xk88ql7kICwqLo1sraLL_xIEwpZyXbb2W-9ujGjM5Iw6AzzTsxo2I-hnypnhWarkQU/w640-h426/20230823_CompagnieKafig_pChristopherDuggan_0003.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Photo: Christopher Duggan</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><b>Compagnie Käfig, <i>Pixel </i></b><br />Jacob's Pillow, August 25, 2023<br /><br /><i>Pixel, </i>by Compagnie </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Käfig</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> of Lyon, France, choreographed by Mourad Merzouki, is an evolutionary step forward for hip-hop/street dance created for traditional proscenium theaters. When hip-hop hit the dance scene decades ago, the sheer physicality, daring, and newness of the form bowled over audiences. But it’s not easy to tailor the explosive, rebellious, battle-ready form into a digestible evening of dance for seated, ticket-buying audiences in hallowed venues. The style born on sidewalks, subway platforms, and clubs is by its nature best seen in short bursts.<br /><br />In <i>Pixel</i>, digital effects by Adrien Mondot and Claire Bardainne elevate the 70-minute production to another level. Projected dots and geometric shapes blanket, mass, and blizzard, at times seemingly activated by the performers’ actions. In one scene, a cave-like portal appears. In another, two dancers freeze amid a starry field of snow and as they pivot slowly, the entire graphic plane also pivots, Matrix-style. Robotic candles zoom about the stage, at moments leading on a digital scrim like a drum major. The lighting, designed by Yoann Tivoli with Nicolas Faucheux, on the whole is gorgeous and warm, if slightly dark in segments. Armand Amar is credited for the music, which flows nearly continuously in pleasant waves and rhythmic patterns. A sole woman contortionist (Nina Van der Pyl) performs alongside 10 men; unfortunately her impressive if unnatural flexions become wearying after a few minutes.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1S6tCphvVftcwNvyvDKgJ4t5y8G3QJuvLHZo8Bam6vLG5HKOfFGltE0HvjwCcPruXNpHuTHivOWZm9sNz2ifAo86CF5TBySKw7gcROx9kCgQcFOzLh3V8j5vEwFpFRT1MJvPGNBb3rL3OMA72GiYNbiCrGaNDpEkL0h2Ov4K63k1LFHqsgfAS0O53oYs/s3600/20230823_CompagnieKafig_pChristopherDuggan_0058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1S6tCphvVftcwNvyvDKgJ4t5y8G3QJuvLHZo8Bam6vLG5HKOfFGltE0HvjwCcPruXNpHuTHivOWZm9sNz2ifAo86CF5TBySKw7gcROx9kCgQcFOzLh3V8j5vEwFpFRT1MJvPGNBb3rL3OMA72GiYNbiCrGaNDpEkL0h2Ov4K63k1LFHqsgfAS0O53oYs/w640-h426/20230823_CompagnieKafig_pChristopherDuggan_0058.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Photo: Christopher Duggan</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />The final sections of <i>Pixel</i> reveal a fundamental weakness of hip-hop performances in the traditional theater setting—the essential vocabulary is fairly restricted, both in breadth and expressiveness. The use of dollies to glide across the stage feels like a forced attempt at stretching out the show, as did yet another segment featuring Van der Pyl folded in half, backward, and a man on rollerblades. But the dancers’ interactions with the digital designs impressed, adding a solid chapter to the art form's story—now celebrating 50 years.</span><br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-8872431317122097242023-08-15T16:18:00.000-04:002023-08-15T16:18:18.740-04:00Mark Morris Dance Group Finally Alights at the Joyce<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkjXZWeQebngoilafNuBlzOzSmXmf90-gsT8yANR3mGr5ZwvYadWQE48qG2fzAVCOxXiwtyM19o09IrIros2YB28GDK3I_e6_-6DYkl2LhHG8z-nXxe-JlmOHi-lYF15uxhFDjTGRNwkEIPkuwlOgqYwkijcnJ7ASYtF5Fs7vkH32wN0cbbMZwyB-JQo/s5932/TempusPerfectum_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3955" data-original-width="5932" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkjXZWeQebngoilafNuBlzOzSmXmf90-gsT8yANR3mGr5ZwvYadWQE48qG2fzAVCOxXiwtyM19o09IrIros2YB28GDK3I_e6_-6DYkl2LhHG8z-nXxe-JlmOHi-lYF15uxhFDjTGRNwkEIPkuwlOgqYwkijcnJ7ASYtF5Fs7vkH32wN0cbbMZwyB-JQo/w640-h426/TempusPerfectum_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Tempus Perfectum</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Mark Morris Dance Group performed at the Joyce for the first time, finally! Some fable would be an appropriate metaphor, whether it’s Goldilocks finding the right bed, or Cinderella getting that right-sized glass slipper on her foot. In any case, MMDG’s small-to-medium scaled rep looked right at home at the Joyce in front of enthusiastic audiences. I saw the second program, but the first bill featured <i>Grand Duo</i>, which seems as if it might feel large on the Joyce stage, but apparently fit just fine.<br /><br />The company performed two live premieres: <i>Tempus Perfectum</i>, done online in 2021, and <i>A minor Dance</i>. Just four dancers performed <i>Tempus</i>, set to Brahms’ Sixteen Waltzes, Op. 39—Noah Vinson, Dallas McMurray, Courtney Lopes, and Karlie Budge—and they were perfectly matched. A repeating gesture, spreading arms welcoming the viewer, felt geared to a camera, probably a consideration during Covid restrictions, when many dances were made that way under duress (indeed, a largely dark chapter in dance making). In person, as on camera, it emanated warmth and inclusion. </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">McMurray has a remarkable sense of center and balance, on full view in a hypnotic sequence where he repeatedly spins and brakes, but his body keeps twisting. He and Vinson have a preternatural sense of calm, balanced by Lopes’ and Budge’s more fervent approaches. The impulse for Budge’s movement seems to emanate from within, conveying a deeper source. All are riveting, and Morris’ dance here is impassioned and emotive.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvseTMO2o-sSyJEyHdEpJ-zgNRVb2c8gHWWbuLhX78xjZUweY03ez27VLho_Wx--Pc3ffllGt8pYuWjIckYMGgBHQfHnPeCt-GH1DPvfVL8QZ9m26LxoenZsXa9hrUg33pgHHupeKI4cc8VpCKdwZoD0xtwp2-QOxipi9odytxnflXVwnG4dKy9PI0Vw/s5735/AminorDance_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3823" data-original-width="5735" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvseTMO2o-sSyJEyHdEpJ-zgNRVb2c8gHWWbuLhX78xjZUweY03ez27VLho_Wx--Pc3ffllGt8pYuWjIckYMGgBHQfHnPeCt-GH1DPvfVL8QZ9m26LxoenZsXa9hrUg33pgHHupeKI4cc8VpCKdwZoD0xtwp2-QOxipi9odytxnflXVwnG4dKy9PI0Vw/w640-h426/AminorDance_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Domingo Estrada and Courtney Lopes in <i>A minor Dance</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><i>A minor Dance</i> is wittily titled in a nod to Bach’s Partita No. 3 in A minor, BWV 827, which music director Colin Fowler plays live. The dance begins and ends in earnest with a crisp hand clap, first by Mica Bernas, last by Fowler. Several notable motifs emerge: a dancer rises from the floor, basically pulling herself up by her face; jogging; arms flicking to the side; graceful leaps landing in a double hop; skating strides. Most memorably, two dancers hold hands and lean apart, another dancer joins as the first lowers to the floor, forming an undending chain—a dancer wheel! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">A later section has the feel of a défilé, or lively series of stage crossings, including some of the phrases noted above, plus spins and backward slides with arms pulling at diagonals. Morris keeps inventing in small and large ways, and his straightforward way of arranging the body and moving it through space continues to amaze. It’s difficult in its simplicity and lack of affect, rendered expertly by his varied dancers.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn83tDbSETcK5ZFWBhvgsTdoKlBA-th2SX3rmxVbE-fFzo9SuooWjBxCUAGGH6l-PI3JNlaBKduvttCkp0dMZoRrGfHBLO-q3P9t1l-F2T84ezbRLLoh5yEcMNbIFZlS4E9m0leOTNVzRaMvYXNpbT8y04NZOPg4iZaaxmyXNMCVQrUcFKwBUp7VmPeeo/s5936/AllFours_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3957" data-original-width="5936" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn83tDbSETcK5ZFWBhvgsTdoKlBA-th2SX3rmxVbE-fFzo9SuooWjBxCUAGGH6l-PI3JNlaBKduvttCkp0dMZoRrGfHBLO-q3P9t1l-F2T84ezbRLLoh5yEcMNbIFZlS4E9m0leOTNVzRaMvYXNpbT8y04NZOPg4iZaaxmyXNMCVQrUcFKwBUp7VmPeeo/w640-h426/AllFours_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Billy Smith, Courtney Lopes, Dallas McMurray, Christina Sahaida <br />in <i>All Fours</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />As reminders of the length and breadth of his career, also on the program were<i> All Fours</i> (2003) and<i> Castor and Pollux</i> (1980). The latter felt like a marathon for the dancers, whose bold, angular, and quick movements matched the lively South Asian-influenced score by Harry Partch.<i> All Fours</i>, to challenging music by Bartók, is more strident and darker—literally, with many wearing black costumes against a crimson backdrop, in contrast with a team wearing white. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyCCQtea29INafVBYC5NhSonG4ad_9RW4YPWIYlGiwxJ6CHN5x7RpeGyavrcbJbZufrnB8mLhWyj-cYzfL_U5wpuBA9K72Q_4rmsNEg7bRnkDB6mpds9EsgtrFoJXjDWNpPCQ_rWCYcy67d3yjgL_5ykIzawcjQOsWyewCNa9227vfK5xDJggBKXiy80/s5239/CastorandPollux_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3493" data-original-width="5239" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyCCQtea29INafVBYC5NhSonG4ad_9RW4YPWIYlGiwxJ6CHN5x7RpeGyavrcbJbZufrnB8mLhWyj-cYzfL_U5wpuBA9K72Q_4rmsNEg7bRnkDB6mpds9EsgtrFoJXjDWNpPCQ_rWCYcy67d3yjgL_5ykIzawcjQOsWyewCNa9227vfK5xDJggBKXiy80/w640-h426/CastorandPollux_Joyce2023_DanicaPaulos-30.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Domingo Estrada, Christina Sahaida, Courtney Lopes in <i>Castor and Polllux</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The dancers repeatedly held one arm outstretched, the other hand cupped over an ear as if straining to hear or notice something; they hold a thumbs-up pose; or fling their arms back, raptor style. Its more serious tone and bold movements balanced the lighter, more harmonious feel of his newer work, but as a whole, the program represented Morris’ range. I'm glad the company chose to show at the Joyce rather than their in-house black box studio, as in previous years—these works deserve the formality of a proscenium, a larger audience, and professional production elements.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Farewell to Domingo Estrada, Jr., retiring after joining the company in 2009. His lush groundedness and warm presence will be missed.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">***</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">On a more somber note, as of this writing, neither Danspace Project nor PS 122 have announced fall 2023 seasons yet. These are two pillars of post-modern dance presentation in New York, and thus the dance world. The cultural sector is rapidly shrinking, shifting, and taking drastic measures to survive a landscape decimated by the pandemic and changed priorities, likely on a personal, corporate, and governmental level. It seems like every presenter has slashed staff and programming, out of necessity. What happens next? And what happens to the next generation of artists, admin and supporters? It seems like climate change of a different ilk—if not literal life and death, then dire consequences for the life of art.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-3656681104195000112023-07-25T17:48:00.005-04:002023-07-25T17:48:55.836-04:00Running Elevated to Art at PS21<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_tjPqjheI3iPOTx0CzKA6wH7kBI1RD-YYD8wLtlxUquhB9kMKtKcRJ68I34Is2Cp3axXc22fcoAPo8dlZ4tHkhXObln3IKp9boElMEBKwkDNcCqjeqr03Nlw4s7Sfh9uICKJOV6QsnPx13n68iHAIzZXVu5zLzLbpLKOcxp0PWH0AJzUdfjhBWd4lAc/s4532/23%20july%2022%20new%20york%20chatham%20PS21%20cirk%20la%20putyka%20runners%20night%202%20DSC3208DO%20four%20runners%20in%20air%201%20crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3189" data-original-width="4532" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_tjPqjheI3iPOTx0CzKA6wH7kBI1RD-YYD8wLtlxUquhB9kMKtKcRJ68I34Is2Cp3axXc22fcoAPo8dlZ4tHkhXObln3IKp9boElMEBKwkDNcCqjeqr03Nlw4s7Sfh9uICKJOV6QsnPx13n68iHAIzZXVu5zLzLbpLKOcxp0PWH0AJzUdfjhBWd4lAc/w640-h450/23%20july%2022%20new%20york%20chatham%20PS21%20cirk%20la%20putyka%20runners%20night%202%20DSC3208DO%20four%20runners%20in%20air%201%20crop.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Ethan Law, Sabina Bočková,Viktor Černický, Dora Sulženko Hoštova. Photo: Steven Taylor</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Running… For your life. On empty. Errands. Toward something. Away from your troubles. Out of time. On pure adrenaline. Out of energy. For office. On fumes. Down the clock. <br /><br />But on a stage, on a 10-meter long treadmill, in addition to dancing, cycling, spinning a Cyr wheel, doing quotidian tasks, or reminiscing about your childhood? Yes, in <i>Runners</i>, by <a href="https://www.laputyka.cz/en" target="_blank">Cirk La Putyka</a> from the Czech Republic, at <a href="https://ps21chatham.org/" target="_blank">PS 21</a>’s intimate, open-air amphitheater in Chatham on July 22. The treadmill is similar to those instruments of torture that you find at any gym—it goes from slow to way-too-fast, but this one reverses too. (Do the ones in the gym? Hmm.) This one also serves as a metaphor for the passage of time, and with it, memory and identity. It’s also the source of hilarity, awe, and imparted terror regarding the six performers: <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Dora Sulženko Hoštova</span>, <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Viktor Černický</span>, Ethan Law, Sabina <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Bočková</span>, Veronika <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Linhartová</span>, and Jakub Rushka.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMJUI2xTecklwfb23xKStatV_s1e0xgeVKnLTDpWoUgZXb6yqmcj-9fryT7kpu0TSK2SzV9JioYwI22Zn4ffp21WL7hTNw-us_RxhQJE9KBqwc3H5HKCJGUEXyuIr1nilVQNxhBYZDIdr-cRFC3Sz5CykE_IMn_PdH4fOLzauq4pskY-hj5_6ErBUKac/s6000/23%20july%2022%20new%20york%20chatham%20PS21%20cirk%20la%20putyka%20night%202%20DSC3777-2DO%20musicians%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMJUI2xTecklwfb23xKStatV_s1e0xgeVKnLTDpWoUgZXb6yqmcj-9fryT7kpu0TSK2SzV9JioYwI22Zn4ffp21WL7hTNw-us_RxhQJE9KBqwc3H5HKCJGUEXyuIr1nilVQNxhBYZDIdr-cRFC3Sz5CykE_IMn_PdH4fOLzauq4pskY-hj5_6ErBUKac/w640-h426/23%20july%2022%20new%20york%20chatham%20PS21%20cirk%20la%20putyka%20night%202%20DSC3777-2DO%20musicians%201.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: start;">Veronika Linhartová and </span>Jakub Ruschka, strolling minstrels. Photo: Steven Taylor</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Four of them are dancers, and they are fascinating individuals about whom we learn biographical details through spoken anecdotes, many involving daredevil acts and the lure of speed. These periodic monologues, recited downstage at a mic, offer respites from the often breakneck action on the treadmill, angled diagonally on stage for most of the hour. <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Bočková</span> tells of being unable to sit still, and as a child, eagerly plunging into a deep pool time after time. <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Černický</span> recalls riding his bicycle at top speed down a mountain, and crash landing in a soft spot of grass. Law was tossed by a robotic arm high in the air before face planting on the hard floor and hence being immobilized for nine months. <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Hoštova reminisces about her mother's closet, performing an elegant dance over a rolling bed of what appeared to be gravel.</span><br /><br />Simply the act of standing up without falling while the treadmill accelerates seems impossible. They usually stand sideways, as if surfing, but then add in dance moves, lunges, rolls, arabesques, and more. The mounts and dismounts are a whole separate art—sometimes, they simply roll off, but in one section, a crash mat catches them as they leap and spring high in the air. <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Černický</span> places inflatable balls of different sizes on the treadmill, arranging them precisely so they spin on their own. Then he rides a bicycle on the treadmill, eventually going hands-free; this looks extremely perilous, even for a pro. Law, who resembles Bono, is a Cyr wheel expert, and after a routine performed on the stage floor, gets on the treadmill for a spin on the Cyr wheel and some flashy moves before setting the wheel spinning on its own. It sounds so simple, but one can only imagine the practice behind this act.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgco7lezcy4cnDumIEelExWttjff84Gjc00fr54LVL-De3S8KPuvnL42NnW_Z_56a7nb_8wPIz3CHJ4mlBQ3J3QDL05MTwyzq_Z97UPHVlPkHNfBZQXgapdGv0zzlduwzmkzH0pyQxEK71DmlKsJ5_pJ50SHMAmeyr4L7ztjQ4oSeWg1tUVUw3dosM0kEE/s6000/23%20july%2022%20new%20york%20chatham%20PS21%20cirk%20la%20putyka%20night%202%20DSC4123DO%20two%20runners%20left%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgco7lezcy4cnDumIEelExWttjff84Gjc00fr54LVL-De3S8KPuvnL42NnW_Z_56a7nb_8wPIz3CHJ4mlBQ3J3QDL05MTwyzq_Z97UPHVlPkHNfBZQXgapdGv0zzlduwzmkzH0pyQxEK71DmlKsJ5_pJ50SHMAmeyr4L7ztjQ4oSeWg1tUVUw3dosM0kEE/w640-h426/23%20july%2022%20new%20york%20chatham%20PS21%20cirk%20la%20putyka%20night%202%20DSC4123DO%20two%20runners%20left%201.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: start;">Dora Sulženko Hoštova and </span>Viktor Černický race to the finale! Photo: Steven Taylor</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />The two musicians, <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Linhartová</span> and Ruschka, provide the atmospheric and varied music and sound, comprising folk tunes, rhythmic interludes, and rock songs. For the final act, the performers pivot the treadmill perpendicular to us; the musicians leave their upstage box and stroll on it facing downstage while playing the violin and guitar and singing. The four dancers, now in running gear (<span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Bočková</span> wore just socks, no running shoes), form a pack and begin to race one another for both speed and duration. They shout out their speeds, reaching a 10 mph sprint, which seems insane, especially with spotlights in their eyes and an audience of hundreds watching. Ultimately, the long-legged <span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Černický</span> is the sole remaining runner; the lights dim but for rays emanating from behind him. I sat in awe of what the human body can do, and what the brain accepts as sane. Clearly, these performers have extreme capability in both arenas.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Runners</i> is directed by <span style="background-color: white;">Rostislav Novák, Vít Neznal; ch</span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">oreography</span> by Dora Sulženko Hoštová; </span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">dramaturgy</span> by Petr Erbes, Viktor Černický; s</span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">et design by</span> Pavla Kamanová; c</span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">ostumes</span> by NoN Grata and Mikuláš Brukne; m</span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">usic by</span> Jan Čtvrtník, Veronika Linhartová; l</span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">ighting design by</span> Jiří (Zewll) Maleňák; s</span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">ound design by</span> Jan Středa.<br /></span></span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-8712174092804717682023-07-22T16:41:00.000-04:002023-07-22T16:41:02.241-04:00A Perfect Midsummer Evening at SPAC<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDFf7aeyH1EXH5gm9px4YUFkLPIao_3j-89LrjZ819J0NS0RpmpzbEr8KuKx4aZq06cu1Gwm7St2GRU5cUzLJSN1VZXjrplDeQNF5rDR_v1rwGIultpxvVXdKpGVp67EMSBJc-3QGqpUJsqNcE1zw0ipCX9mfJ4L6kfJKVCISBwSKKicb8SRbb9El9Bw/s2280/1_Scherzo%20Fantastique_PAUL%20KOLNIK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2280" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDFf7aeyH1EXH5gm9px4YUFkLPIao_3j-89LrjZ819J0NS0RpmpzbEr8KuKx4aZq06cu1Gwm7St2GRU5cUzLJSN1VZXjrplDeQNF5rDR_v1rwGIultpxvVXdKpGVp67EMSBJc-3QGqpUJsqNcE1zw0ipCX9mfJ4L6kfJKVCISBwSKKicb8SRbb9El9Bw/w506-h640/1_Scherzo%20Fantastique_PAUL%20KOLNIK.jpg" width="506" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Anthony Huxley in <i>Scherzo Fantastique</i>. Photo: Paul Kolnik</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>At a perilous geoclimatic moment in the Anthropocene, the weather in Saratoga Springs on the evening of July 19 was positively a gift. Perhaps not an azure sky, but clear enough of the Canadian forest fire smog that’s been plaguing the Northeast. A temperature in the upper 70s, nearly 50 degrees less than the extremes of the southwest, and 20 less than the Florida ocean’s bathtub level heat. No floods like in nearby Vermont. Perfect for New York City Ballet’s program of 21st-century choreography and the enthusiastic house at Saratoga Performing Arts Center (SPAC).<br /><br /><i>Scherzo Fantastique</i> (2016) by Justin Peck, commissioned on occasion of the company’s 50th anniversary at SPAC, bears motifs of his now familiar style—the cast clustering centerstage conspiratorially before bursting apart and expressing individuality, playful duets and solos (notably for the pellucid Anthony Huxley) done with exuberance and camaraderie to the Stravinsky score. The bold designs spell high spirits: a painted backdrop by Jules de Balincourt of a foliage allée in hot saturated hues (evoking some of Munch’s fervid works), and the equally zazzy costumes of horizontal color bands with fringe, or studded with flowers, by Reid + Harriet. Seven years on, and many Peck ballets later, this dance fits in alongside a number of similarly solid ballets distinguished by unique production elements.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJOsP02WRa7xA-ggUqX1aIxk9iksyn1cYV1p-a1tE7d_rVou37h34mRIncRkG30IMICKDHjX1XDkomcFIzOeCt2pccSVwios6XbEc2K7IQZ35Wp0Rf3d9YtFKeLgxnbWK1GwZV8Oeyku1Xt5A8UbcW0hjxx-8RTpRafxOGKDVKSGI53Vb9ocMRMFIwXk/s3600/4_Play%20Time_ERIN%20BAIANO.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJOsP02WRa7xA-ggUqX1aIxk9iksyn1cYV1p-a1tE7d_rVou37h34mRIncRkG30IMICKDHjX1XDkomcFIzOeCt2pccSVwios6XbEc2K7IQZ35Wp0Rf3d9YtFKeLgxnbWK1GwZV8Oeyku1Xt5A8UbcW0hjxx-8RTpRafxOGKDVKSGI53Vb9ocMRMFIwXk/w640-h426/4_Play%20Time_ERIN%20BAIANO.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Chun Wai Chan (front) with cast in <i>Play Time</i>. Photo: Erin Baiano</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Gianna Reisen’s <i>Play Time</i> premiered at 2022’s fashion gala, and aptly, the lavish costumes by Alejandro Gómez Palomo take center stage alongside the music, by Solange. The dancers wore sparkly, tailored pieces of individual styles and hues—boxy suit jackets, form-fitting bodysuits, funky wide-hipped numbers, flouncy skirts. Unfortunately, they outshone the choreography, paced by a stop and start rhythm. New principal Chun Wai Chan stood out with his charisma and bold attack; he was also the only dancer to receive the once-standard applause for principals' entrances.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">It was paired with Christopher Wheeldon’s<i> Liturgy</i> (2003), one of his most memorable duets set originally on Wendy Whelan and Jock Soto, and here danced by Sara Adams and Jovani Furlan. (Whelan seemed to inspire Wheeldon to make his greatest works; his duet <i>After the Rain</i>, amongs his most sublime dances, featured the same pair in its original cast.) <i>Liturgy </i>is packed with sculptural shapes, daring yet elegant experiments between two bodies, and a consistently elegiac atmosphere.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tUrGV07ykTbdvQbNVPH3P6Uqv56VAahDB4DD80xUSfwu4T7EVDdzd4FqGckWCEthL7e8tmlX4B97XtnUW0NR0_nrr1WgUYBl6XSsAwnWA36JLT1XZSxKIqW-egxmheCHUsYmlkcrwyr33XBn_l8AkFtKOE6PENjAEDhBE4g43pe_WajGN8deCcarJio/s3600/6_Love%20Letter__ERIN%20BAIANO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2572" data-original-width="3600" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tUrGV07ykTbdvQbNVPH3P6Uqv56VAahDB4DD80xUSfwu4T7EVDdzd4FqGckWCEthL7e8tmlX4B97XtnUW0NR0_nrr1WgUYBl6XSsAwnWA36JLT1XZSxKIqW-egxmheCHUsYmlkcrwyr33XBn_l8AkFtKOE6PENjAEDhBE4g43pe_WajGN8deCcarJio/w640-h458/6_Love%20Letter__ERIN%20BAIANO.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><text class="_textbox_1titd_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.5072021484375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="94.0939102172852" x="72.5980758666992" y="-529.630004882812">Sebastian Villarini</text><text class="_textbox_1titd_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="3.0911865234375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="2.62751770019531" x="167.795364379883" y="-529.630004882812">-</text><text class="_textbox_1titd_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.6617431640625" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="190.484161376953" x="170.967681884766" y="-529.630004882812">Velez and Quinn Starner in </text><text class="_textbox_1titd_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.65069580078125" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="103.323364257812" x="364.864715576172" y="-529.630004882812"><i>Love Letter (on shuffle). </i></text><text class="_textbox_1titd_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.5072021484375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="57.2534484863281" x="475.267364501953" y="-529.630004882812">Photo: </text><text class="_textbox_1titd_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.1539306640625" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1a1918; font-family: AtlasGrotesk, -apple-system, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 11.04px; text-align: left;" textlength="49.2825622558594" x="72.9513549804688" y="-515.230041503906">Erin Baiano</text></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Kyle Abraham has created some of the most exciting dances lately on NYCB, including <i>Love Letter (on shuffle)</i> (2022), performed at SPAC. While obviously a skilled artist and choreographer, he didn’t emerge from a strict ballet background, as many have. It’s his unexpected mix of styles that create a kind of personal iconography, or kinesiography, that draws you in. The sudden buckle of the knee that flips a walk from formal to louche. A casual fist bump between two men, a reminder of the affection and teamwork involved. An awkward collapse of the spine to humanize and break the sheer beauty of ballet’s vocabulary. Many of the phrases feel like personal stories that Abraham is sharing through his dancers, and we are lucky to receive them.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">He also riffs on ballet’s history, such as in the trio that clearly echoes the famous Pas de Quatre from <i>Swan Lake</i>. The dance, with striking costumes by Giles Deacon set to songs by James Blake, also premiered as part of the 2022 Fall Fashion Gala. These events provide an opportunity to commission less-known, younger choreographers (like Reisen), giving them a boost of exposure. Results are mixed; perhaps it’s natural for the artistry and outlandishness of fashiony costumes to demand all the attention. But with Abraham, the dance, driven by the well-chosen music, comes first and speaks most clearly, particularly on an evening with lovely weather that, sadly, felt nostalgic.</span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-91008299658168275862023-07-13T15:29:00.005-04:002023-07-13T15:29:58.824-04:00Vertiginous Thrills at the Pillow<span style="font-family: arial;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7VCgtNWruPHxgypiYtehsYCwcmmRaCKFDpCeKXg1s7cbvmWZ7oBsK_iD_VxbhLhmw9QesPrHnr5HoWZH8-FB1SxqCIOaudaLa9Ji3JvpN0n7UvzoYIhIfYiBDMIGCl7kaum28-2yxS9zsfuRnhlzM2iT2TN5XR6AmFI3-rxSSapwm061u2eW0CLUuog/s3600/20230705_DutchNationalBallet_pChristopherDuggan_9594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="2400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7VCgtNWruPHxgypiYtehsYCwcmmRaCKFDpCeKXg1s7cbvmWZ7oBsK_iD_VxbhLhmw9QesPrHnr5HoWZH8-FB1SxqCIOaudaLa9Ji3JvpN0n7UvzoYIhIfYiBDMIGCl7kaum28-2yxS9zsfuRnhlzM2iT2TN5XR6AmFI3-rxSSapwm061u2eW0CLUuog/w266-h400/20230705_DutchNationalBallet_pChristopherDuggan_9594.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #ebebeb; color: #1b1b1b; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Young Gyu Choi and Riho Sakomoto<br /> in <i>Variations for Two Couples.</i><br />Photo by Christopher Duggan</span></td></tr></tbody></table>Dutch National Ballet brought a widely varied slate of repertory to Jacob’s Pillow this month, proving that its wonderful dancers can handle the most devilish ballet technique, from classical to modern. Resident choreographer Hans van Manen was represented by <i>Variations for Two Couples</i>, <i>Five Tangos</i>, and the previously unannounced <i>Solo</i>, which turned out to be perhaps the most appealing work on the bill. Additionally, Wubkje Kuindersma’s <i>Two and Only</i>, William Forsythe’s <i>The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude</i>, and Victor Gsovsky’s <i>Grand Pas Classique</i> were performed.<br /><br />Van Manen’s imprint can be found in ballet repertories around the world, and he has spent large blocks of time at Nederlands Dans Theater and DNB. His choreography is notable for its precision, dramatic breadth, playfulness and humor, all of which emerged in his Pillow rep. <i>Solo</i>, actually performed by three men in purple chemises, lets the dancers ham it up, goading the audience with spread arms and ta-das. They leap high, move faster than you might think possible, and take turns vying for best-liked. How to choose?<br /></span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoJNjPTeGl-AwE47ZekSA2q2kcaX_Hs_PTCGstJFgYOc5pN4_ASS6fjsnGks2a4R3QNIkIjvxDGXPzuF6HEOPm2u1SHNoZ1Xa8RPZY6nGjc7Yo8v5TVtq5qcs4jCvaLwZDqe2XxBdcJuaVjkgYmGEiVWilq7xvZbUAy6wdKm-etpYo0bdYsua2_N9QL4/s3600/20230705_DutchNationalBallet_pChristopherDuggan_011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoJNjPTeGl-AwE47ZekSA2q2kcaX_Hs_PTCGstJFgYOc5pN4_ASS6fjsnGks2a4R3QNIkIjvxDGXPzuF6HEOPm2u1SHNoZ1Xa8RPZY6nGjc7Yo8v5TVtq5qcs4jCvaLwZDqe2XxBdcJuaVjkgYmGEiVWilq7xvZbUAy6wdKm-etpYo0bdYsua2_N9QL4/w640-h426/20230705_DutchNationalBallet_pChristopherDuggan_011.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Qiam Liu and men in <i>Five Tangos</i>. Photo: Christopher Duggan</span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Variations</i> (2012) presents the more analytic, sculptural side of van Manen. In lustrous, dark-hued unitards, pairs show some of the choreographer’s signature moves—precise partnering, pencil turns, scissoring legs, heads bobbling. One of the four songs is by Astor Piazzolla, whose music provides the foundation for <i>Five Tangos</i>. (This music is catnip for modern/ballet choreographers; see Paul Taylor’s <i>Piazzolla Caldera</i>.) The womens’ costumes provide visual snap, which carries through the dance, which evokes the attitude of tango more than a literal rendition: attack bordering on martial arts, absolute confidence and boldness, and dramatic flair. Qiam Liu and Young Gyu Choi led the cast with terrific expressiveness and athleticism.<br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZfCs1bmPQgaSFDq-joRosB4s46UKg_p02qn5p8klTLyowdqWqR6Yif7izoTwKrvDPV-Uy3Bn6hw3Y2tdg6CslQRWBe9WdQuiJzyOLXDkHePhEOQCfL2XT1WgahpL7J_0NdHkK5Qc9dXqkMtcE9guz8Aehyeek4GsPDx4JsnXM5tL4zkepQmrkIGS8jE/s3600/20230705_DutchNationalBallet_pChristopherDuggan_9606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZfCs1bmPQgaSFDq-joRosB4s46UKg_p02qn5p8klTLyowdqWqR6Yif7izoTwKrvDPV-Uy3Bn6hw3Y2tdg6CslQRWBe9WdQuiJzyOLXDkHePhEOQCfL2XT1WgahpL7J_0NdHkK5Qc9dXqkMtcE9guz8Aehyeek4GsPDx4JsnXM5tL4zkepQmrkIGS8jE/w640-h426/20230705_DutchNationalBallet_pChristopherDuggan_9606.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #ebebeb; color: #1b1b1b; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Davi Ramos, Sho Yamada, and Salome Leverashvli in <i>The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude</i>. <br />Photo by Christopher Duggan.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">Forsythe created <i>Vertiginous</i> (1996) back when he was radicalizing ballet, and largely before focusing on his evening-length conceptual works that are as much art installation/theater as dance. The womens’ chartreuse, Saturn-ring tutus still look futuristic while raising questions about the origin and necessity for the tutu, period. But they tie the dance to the classical tradition, as does Schubert's music, canned and nostalgic feeling. Hewing to the title, the steps are fast, fierce, and dangerous looking, performed with speed and accuracy. Torqued torsos and high jumps into rétiré number among Forsythe’s balletic experiments. <i>Two and Only</i> (2018), a shirtless male duet, felt a bit like an add-on, marked by a pose-and-move rhythm to somewhat sappy folk songs by Michael Benjamin.<br /><br />Sadly, the cast lacked an injured Olga Smirnova, a recent company addition who left the Bolshoi after Russia attacked Ukraine. But the company dancing at the Pillow met the loftiest standards of the art, and their ease and facility in a breadth of styles impressed. Let's hope they return state-side soon.</span><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-58161220608804066242023-07-04T11:44:00.001-04:002023-07-04T11:44:08.500-04:00The Look of Love's Warm Embrace<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5Yl_1SU7T62kfgOB5LA2nBkT2uIOTogzgbcT68jS_Qbw8Qs7OkqVB8mY0E3q7pmZj9MAnliUr-44yPNG9-dm3Yjwkf2HDadUx3Ir4vZELlQYE5gVwbxfHMKW5XNLFJFksZAFJK8lD3xHjypVzyGJLzwBEpDZl0HIuE-AAzpSZ9xeVAosHL6iobfGeio/s2000/20230628_MarkMorrisDress_pChristopherDuggan_5759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5Yl_1SU7T62kfgOB5LA2nBkT2uIOTogzgbcT68jS_Qbw8Qs7OkqVB8mY0E3q7pmZj9MAnliUr-44yPNG9-dm3Yjwkf2HDadUx3Ir4vZELlQYE5gVwbxfHMKW5XNLFJFksZAFJK8lD3xHjypVzyGJLzwBEpDZl0HIuE-AAzpSZ9xeVAosHL6iobfGeio/w640-h426/20230628_MarkMorrisDress_pChristopherDuggan_5759.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br />The Look of Love</i>. Photo: Christopher Duggan</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>There are many reasons to embrace <i>The Look of Love</i> by Mark Morris, a suite to songs by Burt Bacharach with lyrics by Hal David, which I saw at <a href="https://www.jacobspillow.org/" target="_blank">Jacob’s Pillow</a> on June 29. Premiering in the wake of the pandemic in 2022, it’s anchored by human interaction on a mostly generous and affectionate level, in sync with Bacharach’s molten, gauzy harmonics. It employs just 10 of the <a href="https://markmorrisdancegroup.org/" target="_blank">Mark Morris Dance Group</a>; the set is simply five colored chairs with cushions which the dancers move about. Isaac Mizrahi designed the production and the pop-hued tunics and separates. </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Ethan Iverson imaginatively arranged 14 of Bacharach’s songs, nearly all of which were huge hits. (He wrote one song, “The Blob,” to lyrics by Mack David, Hal’s brother; it seemed to be inserted as a kind of hilarious anchor to keep the bubbly work grounded.) The piece begins with a piano rendition of “Alfie,” intimate and searching, in keeping with the existential lyrics. To “What the World Needs Now,” the dancers pair off, a couple to a chair, the set now arrayed like a flower. Morris leans on shapes with right-angle geometry and simple steps like triplets, with arms flung wide. There’s a crispness to the whole work, from the rhythmic clarity underscored by the choreography, to the brilliant hot colors. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfU0uGiVg3Hqkp5yI2vsU4QhBLVUTgok3CqIx8VtuZudZuXNg3SiYfa_eow91W8zvBqP9tyjFEPlJOK5XqlFlvSEER5xRDMyyxkEMhDwfAtWaDb_iHvbr0yCKLOakrmqvCzsJj_KwEItHvrJrQloX-9OibfiZdU4HI-9_hsBOYi6Sg3gRppc2QXXAneJs/s2000/20230628_MarkMorrisDress_pChristopherDuggan_5769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfU0uGiVg3Hqkp5yI2vsU4QhBLVUTgok3CqIx8VtuZudZuXNg3SiYfa_eow91W8zvBqP9tyjFEPlJOK5XqlFlvSEER5xRDMyyxkEMhDwfAtWaDb_iHvbr0yCKLOakrmqvCzsJj_KwEItHvrJrQloX-9OibfiZdU4HI-9_hsBOYi6Sg3gRppc2QXXAneJs/w640-h426/20230628_MarkMorrisDress_pChristopherDuggan_5769.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>The Look of Love</i>. Photo: Christopher Duggan</span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Of course Morris injects humor now and then in nods to the lyrics. In “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again,” the dancers mime catching pneumonia, or shoving their partner. Iverson inserted a musical interlude, which briefly releases the movement from the narrative. In “Raindrops,” the dancers playfully hop, test for, and flick the rain, and in “Don’t Make Me Over,” the performers did a weird version of the Floss. “Do You Know the Way to San Jose” featured some of the most athletic and large-scale movement, with barrel leaps and right-angled arms pointing the way. Dallas McMurray and Billy Smith captured the eye with their clean, unmannered technique that nonetheless felt suffused with meaning. From time to time a dancer lifted another, but a repeating, clever kinetic exclamation took the form of cartwheeling onto another seated dancer’s knees, or the like. Less hoisting of meat and bones is good for all!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">“Walk on By” included quick paces and pivots, and faces dropped into spread palms to convey melancholy and introspection. Grapevines in single and double time done by pairs holding hands, one facing upstage at times, couched “Always Something There to Remind Me,” while slow hand pushes, as if through mud, in lunges marked the drowsy pace of “Look of Love” (while McMurray lip synced upstage) and tiny arm flaps were the recurring motif in “Say a Little Prayer.” Morris often creates oddball moves that become signatures for dances or sections, but here, they’re less affected and are rather simple gestures, and are thus highly relatable. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Singer Marcy Harriel has past singers' (mainly Dionne Warwick) big shoes to fill and handles the task wonderfully, accompanied by a small band led by MMDG Music Director Colin Fowler. The close proximity of the dancers to the audience in the Pillow’s Ted Shawn Theatre provided a greater intimacy and connection than the company often has in opera houses; it will soon perform repertory at the <a href="https://www.joyce.org/" target="_blank">Joyce</a> Theater (impossibly, for the first time) which will be even cozier. The songs’ nostalgia, crackerjack performers, and vivid production made me want to see it again. Here's wishin' and hopin'.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-20543185229044671192023-06-28T11:30:00.000-04:002023-06-28T11:30:48.061-04:00Competing with the Sun in Chatham<span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX27-wyVlXYkgmzPtqk7wfBny0p5upTuwxBLVOI10mOzWMc5dd6xFZJKfFTMLc6pdKqYIfjOtvHULrxCc0bg8CF0yJhWufSoIeM6JStPb8Gpzd8NrEzF2b4ucEp-ltf3H0l5qXh-i5S_RWRYKhA9VSD6HCbo3BY1uJn8PobRw5WOwkXJsm-l6akhQeLr0/s5758/Mercuric%20Tidings%202,%20Steven%20Taylor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3655" data-original-width="5758" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX27-wyVlXYkgmzPtqk7wfBny0p5upTuwxBLVOI10mOzWMc5dd6xFZJKfFTMLc6pdKqYIfjOtvHULrxCc0bg8CF0yJhWufSoIeM6JStPb8Gpzd8NrEzF2b4ucEp-ltf3H0l5qXh-i5S_RWRYKhA9VSD6HCbo3BY1uJn8PobRw5WOwkXJsm-l6akhQeLr0/w640-h406/Mercuric%20Tidings%202,%20Steven%20Taylor.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Mercuric Tidings</i>. Photo: Steven Taylor</span></div></div><br />Being a choreographer is difficult. Carrying a choreographer's legacy is no easy task either, especially given that the company must remain relevant. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">In recent years, Paul Taylor Dance Company had been performing brief spring/summer runs in addition to its usual longer fall seasons at the Koch. The short series, at different outposts, had smartly focused on sub-genres—more experimental early Taylor work at the Joyce, or dances done to early or classical music at the Manhattan School of Music with the Orchestra of St. Luke's. Last year, PTDC was one of several major New York companies comprising a mini-festival at New York City Center. This year, it seems that the company has foregone a short New York run, instead touring. It returned to Chatham’s elegant, plein air amphitheater, <a href="https://ps21chatham.org/" target="_blank">PS 21</a>, in June with a lively, if not particularly challenging program that included </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Mercuric Tidings</i><span style="font-family: arial;">, </span><i style="font-family: arial;">A Field of Grass</i><span style="font-family: arial;">, and </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Piazzolla Caldera</i><span style="font-family: arial;">.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />During Taylor’s lifetime, an evening’s dances often fell into a three course menu-style format of opener with some oomph, a more thoughtful or dark work, and then a closer meant to dazzle audiences. In its weeks-long New York season, 20 or so dances might be featured, with each program usually different. While that is some tough logistical feat to plan, it meant that repertory could be mixed and matched and repeat viewers could see the spectrum of Taylor’s amazing output. <br /><br />In contrast, a three-performance run at smaller venue such as PS 21 features one bill. So it might be even tougher to select which three dances to feature in order to best represent the company. The dances Artistic Director Michael Novak chose for Chatham are easy to digest, albeit each representing a unique Taylor subgenre. <br /><br /><i>Mercuric Tidings</i> (1982) ranks among one of Taylor’s most demanding abstract dances, with lots of rapid-fire stage crossings and patterns, and luminous performances by Madelyn Ho and John Harnage. At the moment, the current company impresses most on a technical level, with formidable athletic prowess. That said, the demands of this dance reveal that it could use more rehearsal, with a few ragged ensemble sections and rough lifts. It opened the program, which means that it coincided—and fought—with a dazzling solstice sunset visible to most of the audience. The cyc lighting begins in a bright pink hue, and the intensity was so high—we’re talking a Robert Wilson level event—that it hurt my eyes. Maybe it was to counter the sun’s effects? Or maybe new technology has vaulted past the comfort level of the human eye.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNX7pdUY-Tk-avZs_O0oSQNb7u6glrqDjvyyeJYlB3ER0NAfP3-21M1oeuRS7GgVO7RK8G55Ux7t8kWsHpZHmH2rrfnT-mJvtNYQN-l4kAWdZ0fHAGkOttL0HuY3KGfMO88S9RkZPnQdfcZ_T_HTmVgZqyVxTGDCihAdmiyxpFD9fXu9yX6ImJLPKG29M/s8675/Field%20of%20Grass%201,%20Steven%20Taylor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5821" data-original-width="8675" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNX7pdUY-Tk-avZs_O0oSQNb7u6glrqDjvyyeJYlB3ER0NAfP3-21M1oeuRS7GgVO7RK8G55Ux7t8kWsHpZHmH2rrfnT-mJvtNYQN-l4kAWdZ0fHAGkOttL0HuY3KGfMO88S9RkZPnQdfcZ_T_HTmVgZqyVxTGDCihAdmiyxpFD9fXu9yX6ImJLPKG29M/w640-h430/Field%20of%20Grass%201,%20Steven%20Taylor.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Eran Bugge and Alex Clayton in <i>A Field of Grass</i>. Photo: Steven Taylor</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><i style="font-family: arial;">A Field of Grass</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> (1993), to a suite of songs by Harry Nilsson, is a humorous romp in which the performers are, in theory, stoned or tripping. Alex Clayton, toking, leads off with a rubbery solo, rolling in a folded leg position, and bursting aloft, at which he is so skilled. Christina Lynch Markham, one of the company’s current standout character dancers, flings her hip-length hair madly as she leaps with abandon. Mirrored sunglasses hide presumably dilated pupils. The style—unfettered and propulsive—is among Taylor’s more pedestrian and casual.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Taylor pushed his range choreographically with <i>Piazzolla Caldera</i> (1997), plucking tango quotes and mixing them in with social dancing. While this dance has always benefited from a crisp approach, especially by the men in the first movement, the current cast seems extra martial, with Lee Duveneck snapping his legs like whips. Jessica Ferretti puts her long limbs to use in the lonely woman solo, less angry than sad about being shunned than past interpreters. An inventive and acrobatic duet exemplifies a subset by Taylor in which the men seem to alternately tussle and caress one another. The lighting in <i>Piazzolla</i>, no longer battling the now set sun, felt murky rather than chiaroscuro.<br /><br />The current company, relatively young on the whole, comprises skilled technicians who can handle the trickiest steps and the breadth of styles by Taylor. But at moments, it feels as if the dancers are executing steps harshly, with the main goal of hitting marks and keeping on top of things. I imagine that in time, personalities will emerge through the many character roles Taylor crafted emphasizing humor and wit, transcending the not inconsiderable technical demands. <br /><br />I miss the darker theatrical repertory that balances out the lively, more athletic work which seems to prevail these days—<i>Big Bertha</i>, <i>Speaking in Tongues</i>, and <i>The Word</i> come to mind. Perhaps these will be rotated in soon, giving audiences a fuller picture of the choreographer’s creative imagination. And will the American Modern Dance project (commissioning outside American choreographers) continue now that Lauren Lovette is resident choreographer, or has the company pivoted away from that? Of course the pandemic and its insidious effect on the economy, and particularly the cultural sector, are weighty factors. The coming years will test even the oldest establishments. </span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-2193926516930821032023-06-13T10:27:00.000-04:002023-06-13T10:27:27.907-04:00New York Notebook, June 2023<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjN92mM6ebofVxwnwijBqZPnhclb90HKLNp-_rhoS6hiZjeXxYPMQlG7Zu8zQGWUvq8REeziHDWxBIuAKNtFHUsMuIM3jAoDiqdRflDM0tsr7cvUh20l7GH03fjixAhatvtS6mgp5ilizzA98rpbpxc6HngoFjO_VThAUUlfZJQ9Vxib-qCBJjubk4R" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjN92mM6ebofVxwnwijBqZPnhclb90HKLNp-_rhoS6hiZjeXxYPMQlG7Zu8zQGWUvq8REeziHDWxBIuAKNtFHUsMuIM3jAoDiqdRflDM0tsr7cvUh20l7GH03fjixAhatvtS6mgp5ilizzA98rpbpxc6HngoFjO_VThAUUlfZJQ9Vxib-qCBJjubk4R=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Gallim in <i>state</i>, presaging the Martianscape of June 7. Photo: Steven Pisano</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I took in some shows just before the atmospheric invasion from the Canadian wildfires that transformed the city into a Martian hellscape, if briefly. While it was pretty terrible feeling, it wasn't yet nuclear winter nor a permanent situation. But it did garner attention from all the media outlets based in the city, who amplified future warnings about climate change... perhaps the one upside.</span><div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Ballet Hispánico and Gallim are staples of the New York dance scene, and both showed how they have carved out strong reputations in the most densely populated dance hub in the world. <br /><br /><b>Ballet Hispánico</b> June 3, 2023 City Center<br /><br />The program exemplified the company’s core values: telling the stories of varied Hispanic cultures, and displaying their skilled technique. <br /><br /><i>New Sleep Duet</i> by William Forsythe tilted toward abstract and cool. Fatima Andere, paired with Antonio Cangiano, allowed a smile in contrast to the sangfroid usually assumed in Forsythe’s ballet works. They performed the angular style with a lush plasticity.<br /><br /><i>Papagayos</i> by Omar Román de Jesus is a surreal parable on power and its privileges and abuses. Amanda Del Valle conveyed a manic energy as a parrot in a shiny fringed jumpsuit who sought her hat—the token of power in a deadly game of musical chairs. Despite her show biz disposition, it carried shades of a nihilistic Ionesco story.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnsHg2MhMw7ot-oGIuc5xJzJixvVdxurVHfjGDqfgezPmfXPZqBDcM9O-t18lUr6qNaRT2h136Ye54jPOA7bxVDkJ_BhQNN8fb2-bPB0kkSU3ahzY5y4dvgX5bSvIqU_fa_cuwYRnVNdc3GBKMvAzrw_Ue8p2v601Yvl2rI4bgUOmpNVOZqwYYERfd" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2571" data-original-width="3600" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnsHg2MhMw7ot-oGIuc5xJzJixvVdxurVHfjGDqfgezPmfXPZqBDcM9O-t18lUr6qNaRT2h136Ye54jPOA7bxVDkJ_BhQNN8fb2-bPB0kkSU3ahzY5y4dvgX5bSvIqU_fa_cuwYRnVNdc3GBKMvAzrw_Ue8p2v601Yvl2rI4bgUOmpNVOZqwYYERfd=w640-h458" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Ballet Hispánico in <i>Sor Juana</i>. Photo: Erin Baiano</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">In <i>Sor Juana</i>, Michelle Manzanales pays tribute to a complex historical figure—poet, feminist, nun, scholar, with the lithe, elegant Gabrielle Sprauve in the lead. Moving solos and duets are sandwiched between sections of movement for the ensemble, who stay in the same formation for too long. The striking costumes (by Sam Ratelle) change from formal colonial dresses to a nun’s habit to minimal bodysuits and trunks.<br /><br />Pedro Ruiz celebrates Cuban music, social dance, and cigars in <i>Club Havana</i>. There’s plenty of partnering with lifts of all kinds, and somewhat forced, dated air of jollity and machismo/coyness, but it’s a solid, audience-pleasing closer.<br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgErfkHaPHJhRBe1ZYdcJvX4WQdhZsX_zBJaz_g-wcuOXinT5wlpNeGkgTPjK9tgTn_usw7vUI4nuLMQKvGB_StPTTITN8dQOFoV_znnql8a_cV_fti2dcHPY75H0kBfxIrF__QeXQjHKOdj4dpekZsk05QZiucTnRjMkdQ-oC6Sqt6I0qChins05Id" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="2400" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgErfkHaPHJhRBe1ZYdcJvX4WQdhZsX_zBJaz_g-wcuOXinT5wlpNeGkgTPjK9tgTn_usw7vUI4nuLMQKvGB_StPTTITN8dQOFoV_znnql8a_cV_fti2dcHPY75H0kBfxIrF__QeXQjHKOdj4dpekZsk05QZiucTnRjMkdQ-oC6Sqt6I0qChins05Id=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Gallim in <i>SAMA</i>. Photo: Steven Pisano</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Gallim</b>, Joyce, June 4, 2023<br /><br />This packed program encompassed Gallim’s talent and range, led by choreographer Andrea Miller.<br /><br />The trio <i>state</i> begins with the smallest movements, mesmerizing tiny steps and direction shifts, danced by Emma Thesing, Vivian Pakkanen, and India Hobbs. These train your focus and show that even the most minute, highly controlled movement can be expressive. Middle sections allow for big, traveling steps and leaps. Jose Solís designed the smart costumes: slate tunics, blousy on top with fitted briefs and iridescent knee patches.<br /><br />Sydney Chow and Gary Reagan performed a slapstick tour de force and affably wrassle like kids for dominance of a sofa in <i>Castles</i>, an excerpt of a full-length work, <i>Fold Here</i>.<br /><br /><i>No Ordinary Love</i>, another remarkable chamber piece, was danced by Chalvar Monteiro and Issa Perez. They delivered the fluid, powerful, and impassioned choreography with great skill, making me wonder how humans could possibly be so beautiful and poetic.<br /><br /><i>SAMA</i>—by Miller in collaboration with Rambert II and Gallim—is an explosive closer that builds to a fever pitch. It includes acrobatic dancers on stilts doing kicks, plus a cavalcade of unfettered leaps and twists, and dynamite ensemble sections in formations, plus smaller pullouts. A crowd-rousing finish to a dense program.</span><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-1952031023234458492023-02-07T16:48:00.004-05:002023-02-12T16:34:12.444-05:00Reading Fiction while Being Asian<span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrPTUJ8UmXNARe2NOTdYwIIw0l6zWYgUDdwgFGRsptzKCUyAOvVMR7GoBGbJxbgqkXkXDq_dArCWITSoXhK6ZpOIHz935-eEtM3RqfekrRg4LR8YE0akXRGs6QQXyF5urP31dALNPWnmiZ-jEHQAmkcgWlVu3AR-RWudRtDoW4217gLZgsdxI84gV1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrPTUJ8UmXNARe2NOTdYwIIw0l6zWYgUDdwgFGRsptzKCUyAOvVMR7GoBGbJxbgqkXkXDq_dArCWITSoXhK6ZpOIHz935-eEtM3RqfekrRg4LR8YE0akXRGs6QQXyF5urP31dALNPWnmiZ-jEHQAmkcgWlVu3AR-RWudRtDoW4217gLZgsdxI84gV1" width="240" /></a></div>In the entertaining novel <i>The Chinese Groove</i>, Kathryn Ma glides between memories of the main character Shelley’s childhood in Gejiu, China, and his new, hard-won life as a college student in San Francisco. The titular groove is the invisible stuff binding his native country’s people, a kind of glue of guilt, culture, respect, and debt. <br /><br />Shelley narrates with the loose, contemporary jargon of a quick learn, a hustler, and a survivor. And Ma puts in writing something that has gnawed at me for years while reading fiction:<br /></span><br /><span> </span><span> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Ted handed a menu to Kate. “You choose for us.”</span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Kate protested, they should choose together, but the others insisted that Kate take charge. She spoke to the waiter, and I was impressed because her Cantonese wasn’t half bad. She told me that she’d learned to speak it from her grandparents who’d emigrated from Toisan. For me, it was a side dish language—nice to sample but not the main meat. Kate was Chinese. I forgot to earlier mention. She was ABC, born in Los Angeles to second-generation Chinese American parents who’d grown up in Chinatown. I’m sorry if I confused you. Take all the time you need to make the necessary adjustment. Believe me when I say that I didn’t neglect to tell you out of teasing or spite. When someone is telling me a story, I naturally assume that the people in it are the same race as I am, for isn’t it human nature to imagine the story and picture like kind? Please forgive my clumsiness, also my starting and stopping. I’m not like Father, who used to tell his stories as smoothly as oil spreads in a pan, though Father wasn’t burdened with making these fine distinctions because everyone he described was a countryman start to finish. It’s awkward to have to stop and pinpoint: this person is such-and-such, that person is fill-in-the-blank, but that’s the world we live in. You can’t avoid labels. By the way, Orit was white and, like Aviva, Jewish. You might’ve guessed from her name. Orit Hazan, Kate Choy, Leo Choy Hazan. Jews, I noted, sometimes held themselves apart. They knew what it was like to be treated as different. Orit grew up in Israel, which was another thing altogether. Have I left anyone out? Ted was Christian, I think. He didn’t go to church, but his mother had. Leo was mixed-race; Orit was his mother and younger than Kate. His father was Chinese—an unknown Chinese stranger. Imagine the auntie discussion that fact would’ve provoked! In Orit’s work, Talmudic.</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span> </span><span> —</span><i>The Chinese Groove</i>, by Kathryn Ma, Counterpoint Press<br /><br />This idea has come to mind repeatedly over time, in various mentions of a minor character’s Asianness, for no obvious reason than to “flavor” a scene with a note of the exotic, or foreign, or hip/bohemian, or impenetrability. This, while few other (except Black) characters’ ethnicity are mentioned, presuming whiteness on the part of the reader.<br /><br />And I get it. Asians make up only a small percentage of Americans, and we’re not long past a time when there were laws against Asians entering the country. So I realize it’s not overt racism, but a kind of structural racism that still casts Asians as Others, even if we were born and raised in the US. If you have grown up Asian in a white majority community, you are no doubt familiar with the question, “But where are you really from?,” many times over—which got a British royal into muy hot water recently, eliciting her resignation from official duties. I thought, really? I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been asked that in my life after at first answering Connecticut. You learn to roll with it after being embarassed for both yourself and the asker. But it’s not meant to be racist, it's just curiosity and ignorance.<br /><br />With so much awareness now on identity and DEI, I think it’s getting better. Just that Ma included this passage means a ton, particularly in the meandering way she takes a beat, breaks the fourth wall, so to speak, and muses aloud what she and many Asians have thought while reading fiction. She also takes it to a hilariously thorough level, underscoring how ludicrous a conceit it is. </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">A big round of applause for Ma, and also for <i>The Chinese Groove</i> on the whole. It muses on how divergent cultures and antagonistic family members can find common ground in this zany country.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-90092615713003687622022-12-31T11:42:00.004-05:002022-12-31T13:33:50.228-05:00Best Books of 2022Exceptional books from 2022<div><br /></div><div>FICTION<br /><br /><i>Trust</i>, Hernán Díaz<br />Dimensional takes on one tale. The book’s first part feels slightly lackluster, but Díaz’s structural pivot halfway through dazzled. The different points of view remind us that there is no wrong interpretation.<br /><br /><i>Search</i>, Michelle Huneven<br />The subject sounds dry as dust: the search for a new pastor. But Huneven’s delectation in the nitty gritty details of the search offer an optimistic way to savor the quotidian. She adds another layer with recipes.<br /><br /><i>The Lincoln Highway</i>, Amor Towles (published 2021)<br />The title misleads; it isn’t a boring historical tract, but an engrossing caper with Huck Finn heroics and a satisfying plot twist to provide a sense of justice.<br /><br /><i>Vigil Harbor</i>, Julia Glass<br />Bobbing between straight-up fiction and sci fi, a densely plotted novel that takes place in pandemic era Massachusetts examines a community through multiple characters and a dash of the supernatural.<br /><br /><i>Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow</i>, Gabrielle Zevin<br />I’m not a video gamer, but that discipline is the spine of this novel that follows a brilliant game designer through her personal life, which is far less clear than her coding. A modern version of an artist’s struggle and achievement.<br /><br /><i>Mecca</i>, Susan Straight<br />A glimpse of So Cal people on the fringe of citizenship doing the work that keeps the dream alive, and the sacrifices and indignities suffered in daily life. A refreshing, less explored viewpoint.<br /><br /><i>Olga Dies Dreaming</i>, Xóchitl González<br />Contemporary, successful Brooklynite siblings of Puerto Rican heritage confront varied scenarios, including a rebel absentee mother, a devastating hurricane, and the vicissitudes of political quid pro quos. <br /><br /><i>Still Life</i>, Sarah Winman<br />Found families can sometimes be closer than blood relatives. <i>Still Life</i> stitches relationships between unlikely friends, across boundaries, during war time. Art transcends time and actual borders, and kind gestures merit astounding rewards.<br /><br /><i>Fellowship Point</i>, Alice Elliott Dark<br />The main character is a strong-minded elderly woman writer, in itself a rarity, and her more traditional best friend. Questions the proprietorship of land, works of art, and one's self.<br /><br /><i>The Latecomer</i>, Jean Hanff Korelitz<br />A bevy of unlikeable characters is partly redeemed by the titular character. Korelitz, who wrote <i>The Plot</i>, is highly skilled with storyline.<br /><br /><i>Sea of Tranquility</i>, Emily St. John Mandel<br />St. John Mandel navigates the fine line between sci-fi and fiction, outlining a future of interplanetary commutes, where sounds can resonate between generations. She manages this with economy—no small feat.<br /><br />NON-FICTION<br /><br /><span style="color: black;"><i>Visual Thinking</i>, Temple Grandin</span><br />The premise is scary—our country can’t make things anymore, in part because our education system has discouraged visual thinkers by setting Algebra 2 as a roadblock. Fascinating and kind of depressing, but Grandin puts forth ways to move forward.<br /><br /><i>Serenade</i>, Toni Bentley<br />Bentley explicates this essential ballet by Balanchine to Tchaikovsky’s score, while reminiscing on her own life at New York City Ballet. Every phrase of the dance is rich with meaning, made real through the artist/dancer.<br /><br /><i>The Impossible Art</i>, Matthew Aucoin<br />This director/author elucidates the art of opera, a form I’ve found difficult to fully embrace. He also examines some of his own work and finds it wanting, which feels noble in this time of self-importance.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-44887950768407591102022-12-20T17:27:00.001-05:002022-12-20T17:27:19.743-05:00Dance, Macro to Micro<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW14EdRM_qN-TMrS5_V1MSR5OIBXA4YYXaBm1w7rxo8f1y2IZfJZ2l4KkmciI6HTWfZrSmHwPq4V0IevIwjtNczv293BEEfylMjMRH5G7NvmONFp3SDq3niD4jmFzdUrwZFnkV_I_8GFg8fHvMQ9Qy9iuisTCGldFSDLSY_Nqw7JjpRKOHcGP0AnKz/s1748/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-20%20at%2012.06.52%20PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1162" data-original-width="1748" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW14EdRM_qN-TMrS5_V1MSR5OIBXA4YYXaBm1w7rxo8f1y2IZfJZ2l4KkmciI6HTWfZrSmHwPq4V0IevIwjtNczv293BEEfylMjMRH5G7NvmONFp3SDq3niD4jmFzdUrwZFnkV_I_8GFg8fHvMQ9Qy9iuisTCGldFSDLSY_Nqw7JjpRKOHcGP0AnKz/w640-h426/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-20%20at%2012.06.52%20PM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Are You in Your Feelings?</i>, photo by Paul Kolnik</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><a href="https://www.alvinailey.org/" target="_blank">Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater</a> at <a href="https://www.nycitycenter.org/" target="_blank">New York City Center</a></b></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Choreographer Kyle Abraham is completely relaxed in his working process, picking and choosing small gestures that ground his dances. One of the most memorable moves in Kyle Abraham’s new dance, <i>Are You in Your Feelings?</i>, is a rhythmic paddling of arms, a kind of relaxed speed walking thing, repeated for a spell by a group of women. It’s so relatable that I found myself rocking my arms while walking recently, smiling at the thought. While this penchant for quoting everyday intriguingly relates him to the Judson movement, he braids in bravura passages to create a unique, completely contemporary language.<br /><br />This premiere for the Ailey company during its month-long City Center run uses soul, R&B, and hip-hop music. The sections of dance, to 11 songs, are connected by casual banter and flirtatious interactions among the dancers. Abraham’s style flows like silk, enhanced by the performers’ gossamer bomber jackets and loose pants by Karen Young. Certain steps evoked classic Ailey, such as a woman standing on a man’s knee, as in <i>Revelations</i>. Humor threads throughout—knees knocking, duck walks, remarks like “she pulled a me on me!” The recurring theme of courtship and its pitfalls set the tone, with sidebars including two men finding affection but hiding it due to societal pressure, and gender bonding.<br /><br />A women’s section to “I’ll Call You Back” contained the infectious arm paddling, plus lots of hypnotic subtle upper body work. Other songs included a remix of “I Only Have Eyes for You” and Lauryn Hill’s “Forgive Them Father.” The set, uncredited, is a simple but striking arc of neon, with lighting by Dan Scully. <i>Are You in Your Feelings?</i> feels like a coda to <i>An Untitled Love</i> at BAM last February—both pop culture slices of daily life. The Ailey dancers look fantastic and at home in Abraham’s choreography, which is growing into an admirable body of work danced by his own group and major companies.<br /><br />On a program of “new” work, Ailey also performed <i>Duet</i>, by Paul Taylor (from 1964)—a brief, gem-like kinetic puzzle in which no movement is wasted. In the opening pose, the pair resembles a perfect modern sculpture, Renaldo Maurice hovering over a seated Jacquelin Harris, their arms forming an oval. Courtly, with clockwork precision, every pose is picture perfect. (The choice of repertory is also a reminder of Artistic Director Robert Battle’s choreographic lineage; he danced and choreographed with David Parsons’ company for many year, and Parsons was once a Taylor dancer.) Another old new work, <i>Survivors</i>, depicted Nelson Mandela's jailing and his wife Winnie's taking the mantle. To an intense drum track and score by Max Roach and Peter Phillips, this work—originally from 1986, created by Ailey and Mary Barnett—showed how Ailey's style was classical jazz, with its four compass points and boxy arms.<br /><br />Jamar Roberts’ premiere, <i>In a Sentimental Mood</i>, showcased Courtney Celeste Spears and Christopher R. Wilson as a couple in a fraying relationship, reliving romantic memories. The two dancers wrung fervent emotion from the expressionistic, albeit mostly upright, movement, set to Duke Ellington and Rafiq Bhatia. The design, also by Roberts—a sparsely furnished, traditional living room and street clothes—veered to the literal in this bittersweet work.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMffT7GWnegqsXXCW9Q1O0osf-Dk1ALX9C0eOTftHZV_RpExxzEh-YaCO-e7AjyKhqGFlofbwc9muCfvp82mzEV3RbSweaN5uq_nUr7JSfEyrRiLMQx4OuxtWN8udLHT0lPvPwEjEImYHkWoHlcoHDmr63JTF9sXd0vC57e0t-Y2_eQ05O6txOyfJ/s1400/Rivulets.-Photo-by-Maria-Baranova.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="934" data-original-width="1400" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMffT7GWnegqsXXCW9Q1O0osf-Dk1ALX9C0eOTftHZV_RpExxzEh-YaCO-e7AjyKhqGFlofbwc9muCfvp82mzEV3RbSweaN5uq_nUr7JSfEyrRiLMQx4OuxtWN8udLHT0lPvPwEjEImYHkWoHlcoHDmr63JTF9sXd0vC57e0t-Y2_eQ05O6txOyfJ/w640-h426/Rivulets.-Photo-by-Maria-Baranova.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Rivulets</i>. Photo: Maria Baranova</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Tere O'Connor at <a href="https://bacnyc.org/" target="_blank">Baryshnikov Arts Center</a></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">On a completely different scale, the Baryshnikov Arts Center presented the premiere of <i>Rivulets</i> by Tere O’Connor, a comprehensively conceived work of art bursting with his vision. Audience members sit on two sides of the stage close enough to touch the eight dancers; benches line the other two sides where non-active dancers wait to re-enter. The opening tableau is a bit of an anomaly within the piece; from two seated dancers trail chains of others, descending to the floor. Over a densely packed hour, the performers coalesce at the center, expanding outward, or pair off for unique duets. There are quirky bits, like monster hands and low-angled arms, that intersperse with more lyrical, space-eating steps. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I was close enough to count stitches on their terrific, primarily green and blue-hued costumes by Reid Bartelme, which included first layers of one-piece tights and trunks that appeared to be knitted as a single piece, swingy outer garments, and square silver hardware that added some jewelry-like flair</span><span style="font-family: arial;">. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">O'Connor's score for the piece—a melange of piano, synth, and ambient—fulfilled its presumable mission to provide background sound and texture. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />With its theatricality, extensive production elements, and superhero dancers, Ailey represents the maximal possibilities of dance. Viewers whoop, clap, and scream at the top of their lungs in curtain calls (and sometimes during dances). By contrast, BAC’s presentation of <i>Rivulets</i> is the polar opposite—serene, at moments, intimate, literally within reach, and well-crafted, technically challenging, and incredibly rich, choreographically. In a given week in the city, what fortune to see such range.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-73878149278574625462022-11-19T16:51:00.002-05:002022-11-19T16:51:42.930-05:00Lovette Delivers at Taylor; Alex Katz at Guggenheim; Transverse Orientation at BAM<div class="separator"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMls7FkEdBY41wlO4KRJGH5xa1V35Hyl12if9N_gpQZ7hvtrn8OXBEe3aZFRRlpBlOS-X55Vr0uQVPPLjX2LrYJTYxl6nXPTyOZV73cxSrRsy1gUV_6t5_CNhzhyfCitB6aAHez--4b4XCTEcWDRkXKJLBZ6WcnLdQoPcBo43QOgQ_B5dG341vH7xQ" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1400" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMls7FkEdBY41wlO4KRJGH5xa1V35Hyl12if9N_gpQZ7hvtrn8OXBEe3aZFRRlpBlOS-X55Vr0uQVPPLjX2LrYJTYxl6nXPTyOZV73cxSrRsy1gUV_6t5_CNhzhyfCitB6aAHez--4b4XCTEcWDRkXKJLBZ6WcnLdQoPcBo43QOgQ_B5dG341vH7xQ=w640-h458" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">John Harnage in <i>Solitaire</i>. Photo: Whitney Browne</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">"Taylor—A New Era" </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">These simple, clear words headlined the cover of Paul Taylor Dance Company’s Playbill for its 2022 fall run at the Koch Theater. Since the later years of the founding choreographer’s life (he died in 2018), under the leadership of Artistic Director Michael Novak, the organization has been trying out different strategies for moving forward without new work by Taylor. After a confusing tango with the Paul Taylor American Modern Dance umbrella (begun by Taylor himself) under which a varied slate of American choreographers were commissioned to create new works on the Taylor dancers, things seem to have reverted back to the old PTDC moniker, or simply Taylor.<br /><br />Branding aside, the programming concept has certainly evolved. The Orchestra of St. Luke’s continues to be the house band, but this time, it performed musical selections with no dance on a handful of programs. While I enjoyed hearing excerpts of Philip Glass’ <i>The Hours</i> by the orchestra, I couldn’t help feeling that it was a bit of a wasted opportunity to showcase the talented dancers who were backstage. Nonetheless, it highlighted the importance of live music to the company.<br /><br />On a bright note, Lauren Lovette’s premiere of <i>Solitaire</i> is further proof of her creative talent, and that naming her resident choreographer for five years was a wise choice by Novak, if somewhat of a gamble. Substantial on many levels, <i>Solitaire</i> featured the crisp, elegant John Harnage in the sort of poet-on-a-journey role not unfamiliar to fans of Taylor’s oeuvre. It is set to music by Swiss composer Ernest Bloch, with dramatic string sections and a sense of gravitas and impetus. Santo Loquasto designed costumes and the set, which included an ominous diamond-shaped element that loomed like a guillotine over a serene mountainscape, descending and rising.<br /><br />But what pops is Lovette’s facility with making modern phrases that flow organically, but which challenge the skilled company’s technical chops seemingly beyond what most of the repertory has until now. That’s not to say that Taylor’s vocabulary is not challenging, but Lovette’s accomplished ballet career heretofore has likely seeped into her movement—in the best way. It’s not ballet, but there’s an integrity and underlying structure that comes across. She has also found a way to convey an unspecific narrative that feels like a rich story waiting to be written. <i>Solitaire</i> was sandwiched between Taylor’s joyful, bittersweet <i>Company B</i> and <i>Syzygy</i>, a study in freneticism done in a completely different vocabulary, forming a satisfying slate with breadth.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxVeraKkYba4XtMQGuj5Nxpn7575dPUypeKx8ty0aKyzr4giGE2QGy3-pmjChVBmYk9WAbtuJ2sLQrjG8by4he3T46RHrlxjh0FDRM8qTANA3f67KI5A7FMVtBQP7ppgFOZ029pt3mHmOjzz5-u3CRJUS5Ra8w88yJWLGzOOe9dbTn9fm0SnWyCv7V" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1667" data-original-width="2500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxVeraKkYba4XtMQGuj5Nxpn7575dPUypeKx8ty0aKyzr4giGE2QGy3-pmjChVBmYk9WAbtuJ2sLQrjG8by4he3T46RHrlxjh0FDRM8qTANA3f67KI5A7FMVtBQP7ppgFOZ029pt3mHmOjzz5-u3CRJUS5Ra8w88yJWLGzOOe9dbTn9fm0SnWyCv7V=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Shawn Lesniak and Jada Pearman in <i>The Green Table</i>. Photo: Ron Thiele</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Speaking of which, the season included Kurt Jooss’ <i>The Green Table</i>, another example of the expansion of the troupe’s artistic horizons. (It had been remounting classics of American modern dance in pre-Covid seasons, but not by international artists.) This classic 1932 work about the senselessness of war, and how it is wrought by those far from the battleground, remains timeless and gut-wrenching. It makes sense for Taylor to take on this legendary dance, with its muscular phrasing and trenchant messaging. A bonus was seeing Shawn Lesniak in the role of Death (once danced by Jooss himself), carving sharp swaths, and forming perfect, machined angles with his long limbs. In other dances, without the lavish mask, makeup and headdress, I could see Lesniak’s gifts anew, and look forward to seeing him in more and more big roles.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMkHe70anPG0W4PiZURiMnDTGvwua_rj7l3Xdto1EM6irjY6q3SRW18nqHqKYQqZdrrPgHsW0XKCSOSOhiQFFxQ9IHvwvjt2epmSku-4FwZ7i0IPuP8sLgZlS8LX7oh9tov4GWgIeKyNDazopFEfHKoqlNoiRcGKSt3Or-_JkDj1u_QdC6x0lgWVX/s3600/Syzygy-Madelyn%20Ho,%20Alex%20Clayton_Photo%20by%20Whitney%20Browne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMkHe70anPG0W4PiZURiMnDTGvwua_rj7l3Xdto1EM6irjY6q3SRW18nqHqKYQqZdrrPgHsW0XKCSOSOhiQFFxQ9IHvwvjt2epmSku-4FwZ7i0IPuP8sLgZlS8LX7oh9tov4GWgIeKyNDazopFEfHKoqlNoiRcGKSt3Or-_JkDj1u_QdC6x0lgWVX/w640-h426/Syzygy-Madelyn%20Ho,%20Alex%20Clayton_Photo%20by%20Whitney%20Browne.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Madelyn Ho and Alex Clayton in <i>Syzygy</i>. Photo: Whitney Browne</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">As much as (most of) the previous generation of dancers is missed, it is a pleasure to become acquainted with the new one. The dancer who seems to now be the most cast, at least in prominent roles, is Madelyn Ho, who was in everything I saw over three programs. She counters her small size, which might be less visible to the uppermost seats, with an extra dash of verve and joy. She dances with delicacy and articulation, plus ferocity and athleticism. </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Arden Court</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> showed off many of the newer men—the explosive Alex Clayton, a soaring Devon Louis, and the sheer joy of Austin Kelly.</span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRaiDPm0eR2W9Yc0mdewnP011wzCEAZGYFW83Nn0FOAe-FcB6qLXuytUQGI5TJviq_tFqdnM7eKXaTpx8GOWGErLY98DNMpAgXdj4LGB4BEpG2jWqzevR7OhV3X_jU1jj6Q1Coufz-7rcMyI31pwSzEpMlFZO77QvlYxXiBDzPmzxs1J6Y-k3RB4A-" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1848" data-original-width="2768" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRaiDPm0eR2W9Yc0mdewnP011wzCEAZGYFW83Nn0FOAe-FcB6qLXuytUQGI5TJviq_tFqdnM7eKXaTpx8GOWGErLY98DNMpAgXdj4LGB4BEpG2jWqzevR7OhV3X_jU1jj6Q1Coufz-7rcMyI31pwSzEpMlFZO77QvlYxXiBDzPmzxs1J6Y-k3RB4A-=w640-h428" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Maria Ambrose, John Harnage, Shawn Lesniak, Jada Pearman, <br />Kristin Draucker in <i>Polaris</i>. Photo by Ani Collier<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Alex Katz—<i>Gathering</i>, Guggenheim Museum</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The season coincided with <i>Gathering</i>, a Guggenheim retrospective of Alex Katz’s work, who designed many works for Taylor. Two outstanding Taylor/Katz collabs from the 1970s—<i>Polaris</i> and <i>Sunset</i>—were performed on the season finale program. Both display Taylor’s varied genius. <i>Polaris</i>, in which the same movement is performed by two different casts, with varied music, lighting and mood, rendering two completely unique dances; and <i>Sunset</i>, with its lush, romantic score by Elgar (plus loons), its old world approach to flirting and courting, and the contrasting depiction of an unrequited bond between two soldiers.<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy9tX6PmU7CeHAQSidoEZ0Ax9Ex6jvzTY-c5MfGKFqiFzLahnvd3XoJCBtFlaOkosvvjn11D2sP_I3qsy49GVB3AnQ3cWDfirMWAFIajQKFx9Cigmn8pq6MCrl8KexXKbthVPKxr6sHuG-WfvvuUGEP9mOBg4cYOR8wQ7jO0OlDoQexHGvVX7eGUYA" style="clear: left; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy9tX6PmU7CeHAQSidoEZ0Ax9Ex6jvzTY-c5MfGKFqiFzLahnvd3XoJCBtFlaOkosvvjn11D2sP_I3qsy49GVB3AnQ3cWDfirMWAFIajQKFx9Cigmn8pq6MCrl8KexXKbthVPKxr6sHuG-WfvvuUGEP9mOBg4cYOR8wQ7jO0OlDoQexHGvVX7eGUYA=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Paul Taylor</i>, by Alex Katz</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Katz’s show at the Guggenheim includes a portrait of Taylor, as well as a painting of the company performing. It’s hard to say what makes Katz’s work feel so quintessentially American—the distinct light, the flat expanses, the reductive line and composition, or all of the above? The exhibition includes some of his more intrepid experiments, such as painted aluminum cutouts (he created a bunch of dogs like this for Taylor’s <i>Diggity</i>) and repeated images of his wife Ada within one picture. The coincidence of his retrospective with a featured spot in the Taylor season underscored the artist’s continual output in the last half century.<br /><br /><b><i>Transverse Orientation</i>, BAM</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">BAM presented <i>Transverse Orientation</i> by Dmitris Pappaionnou, whose <i>Great Tamer</i> had been shown a few years ago. The big imprimatur for Pappaionnou was that he was the first choreographer to be commissioned by Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch after her sudden death, as well as creating the opening ceremony for the 2004 Athens Olympics. So many artists have been influenced by Bausch, but most have been careful to avoid direct quotes. But Pappaionnou took the plunge with <i>Transverse</i>, inserting vignettes evocative of Bausch—a woman transformed into a fountain, and a giant wall built of foam blocks which toppled forward. Somehow it felt okay, as if enough time has passed, and because he has collaborated with TWPB. Tanztheater lives, and this iteration felt like a proper homage to Bausch and another phase in the form's continuum.<br /><br />I can’t say enough about the main protagonist in <i>Transverse</i>, a life-sized bull puppet designed by Nectarios Dionysatos. The dancers skillfully manipulated the bull’s head so as to act as how I imagine a bull would, although it was more Ferdinand than raging. Others moved his hooves and tail, also amazingly expressive. The bull served as a sort of id to man’s ego, represented in oft-naked performers. </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The piece is constructed of many scenes, most short and some quite long, that evoke a range of sensations—humor, awe, absurdity, pathos, and so on. Magically, images crystallize from thin air, as a madonna-like woman cradled in a sheaf, bearing a dripping object that turns out to be a baby. She is subsumed into the stage floor, which is torn up to reveal a lagoon. A man swabs at the pool futilely with an old mop. I thought of melting permafrost and our inability to take action in the face of an existential crisis. And then walking to the subway past the Opera House's load-in doors, where the lagoon was draining onto Ashland Place, of the magic of theater to deliver such messages.</span><br /></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-37431319308901170522022-10-29T16:38:00.003-04:002022-10-31T10:16:46.040-04:00New York Notebook, October 2022<div><span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_4UyKtBPBriYJDFgTz5jFd6c2tuvuw-Y13jyE0kUN_-lqoq0ZJvhaNS5dwojEmeJfTcl3wCjaO7N62tv7cxPe6ZKIt6VtTT231wBJ2a3X4w0q4Bn9IyWaHGJz9vtKMQAxSiMUklffD0Y2_Ty5WAN04OyvviYQZ9Gp6qfASYDTZwggfUzyzu1Zr7v/s3000/20221019_NYCC-TwylaTharp-InTheUpperRoom_ChristopherDuggan_050.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_4UyKtBPBriYJDFgTz5jFd6c2tuvuw-Y13jyE0kUN_-lqoq0ZJvhaNS5dwojEmeJfTcl3wCjaO7N62tv7cxPe6ZKIt6VtTT231wBJ2a3X4w0q4Bn9IyWaHGJz9vtKMQAxSiMUklffD0Y2_Ty5WAN04OyvviYQZ9Gp6qfASYDTZwggfUzyzu1Zr7v/w640-h426/20221019_NYCC-TwylaTharp-InTheUpperRoom_ChristopherDuggan_050.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>In the Upper Room</i>. Photo: Christopher Duggan</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Twyla Tharp, the pioneering sui generis choreographer now in her 80s, continues to make new work, but when you've created such beloved icons as <i>In the Upper Room</i> and <i>Nine Sinatra Songs</i>, why not show them to audiences both old and appreciative and young and curious? </span><span style="font-family: arial;">New York City Center</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> reprised these two</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> hits, for which a crackerjack cast was assembled—no small feat given the gordian knot of scheduling, plus the technical and mental demands. Even the finest ballet companies with peak gifts (locally, ABT in recent decades) can find the tempo, endurance, and difficulty of <i>Upper Room</i> demanding. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">At the outset, a sense of heightened drama unfolds given the combination of elements. From the otherworldly fog lit by Jennifer Tipton, ceaseless waves of dancers emerge in Norma Kamali's signature black, white, and red costumes, propelled by Philip Glass' thrilling score. The two teams of dancers comprise "stompers" (modern/jazz) and "bombers," (ballet), and parry with extremely physical phrases and moves. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVj4mOe-1uQw3SPAJ13_cjnMRmqv2ti7Og_5yCp_bPza7T2BycDrn4XmR-piKBhCZiTj-YVl0MpAIwkpLwoMF-ZlC2WcDEUPySD-GTmPcZMIIC7NPq8lya09BnBQmSn3dwNqTtKTQKH3z2moKeGv7981fuoZwGG6tBAAHVKmFr4zKls3Q4gA-agUG/s5401/twyla-tharp-itur-dress_BENJAMIN%20MILLER-18.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3601" data-original-width="5401" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVj4mOe-1uQw3SPAJ13_cjnMRmqv2ti7Og_5yCp_bPza7T2BycDrn4XmR-piKBhCZiTj-YVl0MpAIwkpLwoMF-ZlC2WcDEUPySD-GTmPcZMIIC7NPq8lya09BnBQmSn3dwNqTtKTQKH3z2moKeGv7981fuoZwGG6tBAAHVKmFr4zKls3Q4gA-agUG/w640-h426/twyla-tharp-itur-dress_BENJAMIN%20MILLER-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>In the Upper Room</i>. Photo: Benjamin Miller</span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The City Center cast included dancers and alumni from New York City Ballet, Martha Graham, Miami City, and ABT's Cassandra Trenary, temporarily released from obligations with her regular company's coincidental run of <i>Whipped Cream</i> at the Koch. Amidst a group of stellar performers, Trenary shone with her ability to imbue even fleeting, abstract interactions with layers of humanity. Not only can she draw on her dramatic repertoire of ABT's story ballets, her independent projects have lent texture and nuance to her art. It doesn't hurt that her technique is solid and effortlessly pure.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Other talented dancers gave sparkling performances. Reed Tankersley kicked it into high gear halfway through <i>Upper Room</i>. Jeanette Delgado radiated charisma, and Lloyd Knight and Richard Villaverde loosened their Martha Graham formality to savor the exuberant physicality.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">After the intensity and crescendo of <i>Upper Room</i>, the dancers could relax a bit into <i>Nine Sinatra Songs</i>. Some of the women wore short wigs, transforming their ballerina-ness into something looser and more plebeian, in a good way. I find the partnering and twosomes a bit repetitive and similar in dynamic, but Tharp maximizes the potential of the ballroom dance spiced up with balletic lifts.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpE7BKteraVInUrnsTQV_D_ot71tODiB6lXVJEDQRC7hf3lGWdORS9nm9Mz6LHk_QPR9kNJncRPyshSns8VfGNVhHziAEWjIuYCzZHTRXOgG3hL_6MDlquyuBPm4Sa2PsInmUB42O4lj3sN3XyXqF8pZY-ERmU3E7_4n8uOEZzUQDplWaFQVY4sj4/s3000/wcsimkin2gs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="3000" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpE7BKteraVInUrnsTQV_D_ot71tODiB6lXVJEDQRC7hf3lGWdORS9nm9Mz6LHk_QPR9kNJncRPyshSns8VfGNVhHziAEWjIuYCzZHTRXOgG3hL_6MDlquyuBPm4Sa2PsInmUB42O4lj3sN3XyXqF8pZY-ERmU3E7_4n8uOEZzUQDplWaFQVY4sj4/w640-h384/wcsimkin2gs.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Whipped Cream</i>. Photo: Gene Schiavone</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">At the Koch, ABT performed Alexei Ratmansky's <i>Whipped Cream</i> before a run of repertory. The fanciful story ballet is packed with psychedelic imagery by Mark Ryden, which veers from enchanting (animal parade) to flat-out creepy (doctor, priest, chef). Ryden also created the ingenious costumes, themselves works of art—imaginative iterations of sweets, and the elegant nurses' dresses, like Juliet's gown gone institutional. <br /><br />Daniil Simkin, a former principal, returned to reprise the role of the Boy (which he originated in 2017) who eats too many confections and winds up in the hospital, where he hallucinates the drama that we see. Simkin's remarkable ballon and bravura, plus his affable boyishness, elevate the entire ballet. The central characters of Princess Tea Flower (Devon Teuscher) and Prince Coffee (Cory Stearns) have an extended duet, in which she is charmingly langorous. A</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> trio performs as slapstick liquors (Zhong-Jing Fang, Blaine Hoven, Roman Zhurbin), a section which feels imbued with forced hilarity, but shows Ratmansky's relatable humor.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The ensemble scenes toward the finale are undeniably enchanting. A cavalcade of fabulous critters and bouncing petit fours children populate the stage. The Boy recovers, sheds his hospital gown to reveal a gold shorts outfit, pairs up with Princess Praline </span><span style="font-family: arial;">(newly promoted soloist Breanne Granlund)</span><span style="font-family: arial;">, and is fêted by the crowd, which tosses him in the air. It's a confection for sure, if at times purposely nightmarish, but a good reason to see a talented company dance in an elaborate production.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipI2MWIT46xFijq2YsAhgs4zi8s0O3zBbpK-v7NLFVrTemqGxZ1704B4My6SeE_9tEXs3LgaP2Oz230w_MMIh3yta_oaqf9_z7gN2vsgXDLYh4-r2FaYo7PC5JokktlNbxW2a1b_kXYNzIyrs60--Yrn0IedOFqYd8IYKHV3nwh6D-gLwkSjsfsgb1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1849" data-original-width="2400" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipI2MWIT46xFijq2YsAhgs4zi8s0O3zBbpK-v7NLFVrTemqGxZ1704B4My6SeE_9tEXs3LgaP2Oz230w_MMIh3yta_oaqf9_z7gN2vsgXDLYh4-r2FaYo7PC5JokktlNbxW2a1b_kXYNzIyrs60--Yrn0IedOFqYd8IYKHV3nwh6D-gLwkSjsfsgb1=w640-h492" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Edward Hopper, <i>Study for Approaching a City</i>, 1946. Fabricated chalk on paper, 8.5 x 11”. Whitney Museum, Josephine N. Hopper Bequest 70.184. <span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;">©</span> 2022 Heirs of Josephine N. Hopper/Licensed by Artists Rights Society, NY</p></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhl7xMOMvXHGsLcPfUpfY0HKuhjxVzyBGoVM4-Zkh-xpVQtLPFrpxJ1Tyc-5Qg_h-sRvTvFwymyE7mjV0HgkF2CO26Bct8AxU6KukOXy1Xhxlai6fXr7nlToAp5e5svxuAQ7Ck57xgHd1OmpS_atk0F4YGNy1BJwAte7b9F79MhWilVuGGQjwk7kz5e" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="2400" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhl7xMOMvXHGsLcPfUpfY0HKuhjxVzyBGoVM4-Zkh-xpVQtLPFrpxJ1Tyc-5Qg_h-sRvTvFwymyE7mjV0HgkF2CO26Bct8AxU6KukOXy1Xhxlai6fXr7nlToAp5e5svxuAQ7Ck57xgHd1OmpS_atk0F4YGNy1BJwAte7b9F79MhWilVuGGQjwk7kz5e=w640-h370" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Edward Hopper, <i>Blackwell’s Island</i>, 1928. Oil on canvas, 34.5 x 59.5”. Crystal Bridges Museum of Art. <span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic; text-align: center;">©</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>2022 Heirs of Josephine N. Hopper/Licensed by Artists Rights Society, NY. Image courtesy Art Resource, NY. Photo: Edward C. Robison III</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><a href="https://whitney.org/exhibitions/edward-hopper-new-york" target="_blank">Edward Hopper's New York</a></i>, at the Whitney, contains some classics, such as <i>Automat</i> and <i>New York Movie</i>. I confess to taking his work for granted as it feels so familiar, but it was a revelation to walk through the show and take in many paintings and other pieces that were fresh to me. Certain quotidian things—rooftops, landmark bridges, the light, even train tunnels and the strange islands that dot the rivers—were </span><span style="font-family: arial;">instantly relatable</span><span style="font-family: arial;">. As much as the city has changed at a breakneck pace, Hopper reminds us that a good deal has endured. Through March 5, 2023.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-36895400784138727482022-09-21T14:04:00.002-04:002022-09-22T11:24:38.111-04:00Happy 85th to Philip Glass<span style="font-family: arial;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintCWCpXk5ajO1SShQ63AAbALsX4zCtEh615P_fzgEa-RDj5DhraXDUqIyQ2h2owA4VKBGQ7PV_UUZgvJNb_yokrGZrYCb9MtN-VOcwGiaPrwEy7PoFn-x9FXPH5RSlQFXz67byY1_CIxs_GJAlyVrKorrX3eDdakIw-7MHd-cUUdCfN4aeF1gTFR2/s4032/9E3B324E-CA94-49BF-9BA1-45B28F0C9F18.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintCWCpXk5ajO1SShQ63AAbALsX4zCtEh615P_fzgEa-RDj5DhraXDUqIyQ2h2owA4VKBGQ7PV_UUZgvJNb_yokrGZrYCb9MtN-VOcwGiaPrwEy7PoFn-x9FXPH5RSlQFXz67byY1_CIxs_GJAlyVrKorrX3eDdakIw-7MHd-cUUdCfN4aeF1gTFR2/w640-h480/9E3B324E-CA94-49BF-9BA1-45B28F0C9F18.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Maki Namekawa on piano. Photo: Susan Yung</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Glass Etudes at Kaatsbaan Celebrating Philip Glass’s 85th Birthday</i> offered two ways to experience the composer’s music—played live by a solo pianist, and accompanied by commissioned dances by five choreographers. The Kaatsbaan event, co-presented by Pomegranate Arts and performed on the outdoor stage, smartly programmed five sections with all different artists. Each featured three etudes; two for solo piano (the bread), and one with dance (the meat). It made for a fast-moving two hours, with the sun a natural clock, dropping dramatically behind the cloud-enshrouded Catskills.<br /><br />The program also showed that Glass’s work is amenable to tap dance, a pairing I’ve never seen before. Leonardo Sandoval choreographed a dance for himself and three tappers to Etude #13, toying with syncopation, counterpoint, and marking time. The four assumed geometric formations, moving in a roundabout or spinning on their own axes, and elicited the rushing feel of Glass’s music. Pianist Noé Kains played as bookends Etudes #1 and #2, drawing out emotional arcs by varying volume and dynamic.</span><div><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_kbbqATUIDbw7TF1aSl_CT5cSaegrgzkUOGxViMtoctCk5bM-HErpE_igM-f9XCzwZZj43BC_ohJhHTEibpHa0eXPb7O6hYsfxlcdBWPvlH-RBNMdkwBOmPwdVwXDbdRF5oSFEaKDZJHih0XNRazV5m-nIPgxw6V2qhU6CmS09myX3xOEYQC9NsJ/s7008/Kaatsbaan%20Fall%20Festival%20Dance%202_x.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_kbbqATUIDbw7TF1aSl_CT5cSaegrgzkUOGxViMtoctCk5bM-HErpE_igM-f9XCzwZZj43BC_ohJhHTEibpHa0eXPb7O6hYsfxlcdBWPvlH-RBNMdkwBOmPwdVwXDbdRF5oSFEaKDZJHih0XNRazV5m-nIPgxw6V2qhU6CmS09myX3xOEYQC9NsJ/s7008/Kaatsbaan%20Fall%20Festival%20Dance%202_x.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4672" data-original-width="7008" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_kbbqATUIDbw7TF1aSl_CT5cSaegrgzkUOGxViMtoctCk5bM-HErpE_igM-f9XCzwZZj43BC_ohJhHTEibpHa0eXPb7O6hYsfxlcdBWPvlH-RBNMdkwBOmPwdVwXDbdRF5oSFEaKDZJHih0XNRazV5m-nIPgxw6V2qhU6CmS09myX3xOEYQC9NsJ/w640-h426/Kaatsbaan%20Fall%20Festival%20Dance%202_x.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Caitlin Scranton and Kyle Gerry. Photo: Bess Greenberg</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Conor Hanick was the pianist for the second set, playing Etudes #3 (jazzy, dark, quick), #8, and #19 (dissonant, accelerating, crazily disparate parts for each hand). Bobbi Jene Smith and Or Schraiber danced, establishing a diagonal psychological rope by staring intently at one another. Their dramatic moves and gestures—concave torsos, deep lunges, yearning arms—evoked the feel of a tango in process, with all its push and pull. This was underscored by their garb: she in a dark slip dress and loose long hair, he in dark shirt and pants.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Patricia Delgado danced Justin Peck’s choreography solo to pianist Timo Andres’s rendition of the propulsive Etude #6, one of the more familiar etudes to me. In a black jumpsuit and sneakers, Delgado began seated on a chair, pulling away reluctantly from this base to roll on the floor, ultimately drawn to move more expansively by the powerful music. There was something feral about the movement—her arms and hands like claws, clutching about her torso with angst. At the end, she lay down and pulled the chair over her body. Andres played Etude #5 to begin the set, a slow, majestically sad piece with a murmuring left hand part, and a flighty upper line. He ended with Etude #10, with a springy rhythm, speeding tempo, hammering lower part, and twinkling upper notes.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhK9vXkgh0ze8C_n6zz9q1FpTXfIGHZYv7sYJrnuccKSsA05fJG9IutPSvtUEoHJk2kr2QDBXuLHrg1sQPRZs8UuIZy-mUFF2iaGaMYesQE3t5f2h2b_kpmWA60fEz4hRTlooYpm5LdEK2vIvJr6we_m4WmVsUgXpBqzqPyebRNvMVkkupjM4llKbp/s6519/Kaatsbaan%20Fall%20Festival%20Dance%207_x.jpg" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4250" data-original-width="6519" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhK9vXkgh0ze8C_n6zz9q1FpTXfIGHZYv7sYJrnuccKSsA05fJG9IutPSvtUEoHJk2kr2QDBXuLHrg1sQPRZs8UuIZy-mUFF2iaGaMYesQE3t5f2h2b_kpmWA60fEz4hRTlooYpm5LdEK2vIvJr6we_m4WmVsUgXpBqzqPyebRNvMVkkupjM4llKbp/w640-h418/Kaatsbaan%20Fall%20Festival%20Dance%207_x.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Chanon Judson. Photo: Bess Greenberg</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Lucinda Childs choreographed a duet for Caitlin Scranton and Kyle Gerry, with pianist Anton Batagov. What a treat to see a new dance by this renowned, and yet still underrated icon of modernism. Childs has frequently collaborated with Glass over the decades, perhaps most famously on the opera <i>Einstein on the Beach</i> (with Robert Wilson), but also on concert dance programs. Often, her phrasing loops and repeats, as does Glass’s music, with subtle variations evolving in live performances. The dances are tightly crafted, with nary a filler phrase or lapse. Dancing to Etude #18, the pair works together much of the time, grasping one another; whirling, Scranton aloft with her bent legs encircling Gerry, or in separate orbits; in courtly, ballroom-like phrases; pulling apart, but always re-meshing like gears. To begin, Batagov played Etude #15, darkly bombastic, with ebullient descending arpeggios; to end, #12, pensive, key shifting to major.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Maki Namekawa played Etudes #7, #11, and #20, with choreographer/performer Chanon Judson (of Urban Bush Women) dancing the middle piece. In a vibrant aqua dress (notably, all costumes are by Josie Natori), Judson pulsed, arching her back, moving in flowing, organic shapes. She rolled on the floor, leaning on one hip and pedaling her legs quickly, then more softly; rising, with fast skipping feet, punching the air and slicing it with fan kicks. Namekawa began with #7, sensitively rendering its many duples and shimmering chords, and ended with the contemplative Etude #20 and its falling notes dotting a solemn, expansive aural tapestry.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77PXTlhplvCS97SQmW1Klm4FQh0V9oXhtJN0bpdQqhj2I6A1BFlDYgBcl-n3kji8YKkoSfCX-CtTU1t294Xscehyo7CYqOcdysD7mojadDH73Sw4DEgDoJn3iKs_ZsBdW8KjnyPwHx4JApqO_PZSzF6Sp7yjGSsgaze36Aw9tFGoTygQDdjMj93SR/s4032/149C7499-6793-4FAA-A082-71A968744311.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77PXTlhplvCS97SQmW1Klm4FQh0V9oXhtJN0bpdQqhj2I6A1BFlDYgBcl-n3kji8YKkoSfCX-CtTU1t294Xscehyo7CYqOcdysD7mojadDH73Sw4DEgDoJn3iKs_ZsBdW8KjnyPwHx4JApqO_PZSzF6Sp7yjGSsgaze36Aw9tFGoTygQDdjMj93SR/w640-h480/149C7499-6793-4FAA-A082-71A968744311.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Barns at Kaatsbaan designed by Stanford White. Photo: Susan Yung</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Kaatsbaan’s Chief Executive & Artistic Officer Sonja Kostich is departing for the Baryshnikov Arts Center, in the wake of Stella Abrera (artistic director) leaving to take over ABT’s Onassis School. Let’s hope that the venue’s artistic direction continues along the strong vision of the Glass Celebration, in which Pomegranate commissioned the work, which was developed at Kaatsbaan. It's rare to see such a beautiful setting paired with an equally sublime program.</span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-88953402434188120842022-08-31T11:13:00.001-04:002022-08-31T11:13:33.709-04:00Miami City Ballet Flourishes<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm2Fhko9sEBtX5vtAMytvzmYk-_N2JV95vB4aXfr_3pcofnmxBst4EyFR_qHJBnYCNoAToz7lxnV95wH6pbvdTIaTk5IA3JKfcxnP6MeNzFhC4myqrpZwa95qHR9ZHMeOotPAlLpUku_QG3TYHvvtgw5_hGosK3Z3cj75IB-yx_c2nmlDpq9wi5sj/s3600/20220824_MiamiCityBallet_pChristopherDuggan_006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm2Fhko9sEBtX5vtAMytvzmYk-_N2JV95vB4aXfr_3pcofnmxBst4EyFR_qHJBnYCNoAToz7lxnV95wH6pbvdTIaTk5IA3JKfcxnP6MeNzFhC4myqrpZwa95qHR9ZHMeOotPAlLpUku_QG3TYHvvtgw5_hGosK3Z3cj75IB-yx_c2nmlDpq9wi5sj/w640-h426/20220824_MiamiCityBallet_pChristopherDuggan_006.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Hannah Fischer, Cameron Catazaro, and Adrienne Carter in <br /><i>Diversion of Angels</i>. Photo: Christopher Duggan</div></span><br />Miami City Ballet closed out Jacob’s Pillow’s 2022 summer festival with a flourish. The selection of repertory performed—by Martha Graham, Margarita Armas, Jerome Robbins, and George Balanchine—showed artistic and technical versatility under the direction of Lourdes Lopez, an alum of New York City Ballet. It was also proof that MCB has established itself as one of the most accomplished ballet companies now working.<br /><br />The company danced Graham’s vivacious <i>Diversion of Angels</i>, with its trio of couples in white, red, and yellow, plus a chorus of five. The style demands some solid technique shared by ballet, most notably the ability to balance at length, canted on one leg with the other extended high to the side, and explosive leaps and jumps that expand in the air as if turbo-boosted. MCB handled these feats with ease, raising their legs ever higher, and leaping ferociously high. The Graham company’s bodies are drilled in her vocabulary continuously, sometimes to the point of exaggeration—contractions can read as gut punches, and breaths visibly chuff in and out. MCB’s rendition is softer and more fluid, befitting a more lyrical work like Diversion. <br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Tj1JlzHPgXe7ESzGH9xQ1gvt9wjKHyG37_aORiSfss6HffrDj_IjNmcagucYx337gPZbSIucNd_blFgEATftkMZ6X885D2mvou5hsQOc8GtXfKoeE3QdFLc5t0lukXBKWlePPzz9hrVIzS7IpdNlVb6Ya5uLbBtH393nPr7scfNp1pGcRkuFyatF/s3600/20220824_MiamiCityBallet_pDanicaPaulos_450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Tj1JlzHPgXe7ESzGH9xQ1gvt9wjKHyG37_aORiSfss6HffrDj_IjNmcagucYx337gPZbSIucNd_blFgEATftkMZ6X885D2mvou5hsQOc8GtXfKoeE3QdFLc5t0lukXBKWlePPzz9hrVIzS7IpdNlVb6Ya5uLbBtH393nPr7scfNp1pGcRkuFyatF/s320/20220824_MiamiCityBallet_pDanicaPaulos_450.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Renan Cerdeiro in <i>Geta</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos</span></td></tr></tbody></table>Renan Cerdeiro danced <i>Geta</i>, a world premiere by Armas and an ode to the late Geta Constaninescu, a teacher at the MCB School. Dressed in a long white tunic, and set to “Ne Me Quitte Pas” sung by Nina Simone, the solo clicked through dramatic poses, bursts of energy, diagonal oppositions of the limbs, heart clasps, and ended with an arm sweeping to the side, a staple of end-of-class “reverences,” often a thank-you to the teacher and pianist. The devotion and passion elicited by Geta were palpable.<br /><br />Interestingly, whether by chance or purpose, a similar sweeping arm move opened Robbins’ <i>Antique Epigraphs</i> (1984), a dance for eight toe-shoe clad women to Debussy. Each wore a different pale-hued chiffon sheath, lending a columnar, caryatid feel to dance at moments. Formal experiments, canons, and the occasional stasis dotted this work, on the more classical and lyrical side of the Robbins spectrum, even if it lacked his essential wit and snazz.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruE56G0ftyXHH865vP2e3DqxoDBNcstXuq5dPsemisb-_RglaO06fqRXNsJXpttfYSyhMuyRlSWioeZXelnLu-EFDnbgIdWqxN71jDODPZFEU-QRmhtRyxaRy_hOzoVnWviSuL1TPJQFo-q5cj0wQKdXDEPHMLGkkYeTxY7U86G1OzAGteV29JkHN/s3600/20220824_MiamiCityBallet_pDanicaPaulos_719-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruE56G0ftyXHH865vP2e3DqxoDBNcstXuq5dPsemisb-_RglaO06fqRXNsJXpttfYSyhMuyRlSWioeZXelnLu-EFDnbgIdWqxN71jDODPZFEU-QRmhtRyxaRy_hOzoVnWviSuL1TPJQFo-q5cj0wQKdXDEPHMLGkkYeTxY7U86G1OzAGteV29JkHN/w640-h426/20220824_MiamiCityBallet_pDanicaPaulos_719-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Miami City Ballet in <i>Serenade</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">Seeing it just before the milestone of Balanchine’s <i>Serenade</i>, to Tchaikovsky, raised some questions about the programming. There are similarities, even if Mr. B’s icon of ballet was created a half-century earlier. The ankle-grazing chiffon skirts, the formations of (mostly female) bodies shifting through geometries, and pleasing, gentle scores that accompany both, underscored the shared DNA. And of course, it’s tough for a dance to lead in to Serenade, one of the most beloved and seminal plotless classical ballets, a rich enough source to spawn a recently published fascinating book, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58844855-serenade?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=WsvYkNyqx4&rank=1">Serenade: A Balanchine Story</a>, by Toni Bentley. It’s part memoir, part analysis of the ballet, which remains among the most influential in modern ballet. And no doubt it must have influenced Robbins, whether overtly or subconsciously, when he created<i> Antique Epigraphs</i>, as it has countless other dances. It need not have preceded <i>Serenade</i> directly on the bill, unless the intention was to underscore the similarities.<br /><br />One other nit to pick—the Ted Shawn Theater stage at the Pillow is slightly too small to accommodate the atmosphere and space required by <i>Serenade</i>. I usually see it performed by New York City Ballet at NYC’S Koch Theater, where it appears as if immersed in water, or in the clouds—just far enough away to remain dreamlike. At the Pillow, the dancers are much closer, so they read as human, rather than ethereal or archetypal. In the iconic opening scene, when the corps stands evenly spaced across the stage, there is not enough space between them and the proscenium, making it feel cramped. </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">But who could argue with seeing a world-class company perform one of modern ballet’s greatest works, to close out a robust summer festival at the Pillow? A late summer treat, indeed.</span><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-17562395454759477812022-08-11T15:31:00.003-04:002022-08-11T15:31:32.891-04:00A Few Reasons to Love Alonzo King Lines Ballet<span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30___v9qN1i063Hyf-caWaKA77BRmZOgqagEXwnSwkcuvRzVQBjQlKezLH-27y1v4zhkDPqF_97BsEHV2j1IHZ1CSNqep-ufIw280T5WaVNIM75r54ojhOzQR7D0-ZMoShKzhW2SGkxaSL42Mslh4-s3f7lLoaaFZAIqp3bx5UCGa_3Aug7HmXrGC/s3600/20220803_LINESBallet_pDanicaPaulos_043.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30___v9qN1i063Hyf-caWaKA77BRmZOgqagEXwnSwkcuvRzVQBjQlKezLH-27y1v4zhkDPqF_97BsEHV2j1IHZ1CSNqep-ufIw280T5WaVNIM75r54ojhOzQR7D0-ZMoShKzhW2SGkxaSL42Mslh4-s3f7lLoaaFZAIqp3bx5UCGa_3Aug7HmXrGC/w640-h426/20220803_LINESBallet_pDanicaPaulos_043.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Adji Cissoko in <i>Four Heart Testaments</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><i>Random notes from the Alonzo King Lines Ballet's August 7, 2022 Jacob's Pillow performance of </i>Four Heart Testaments<i> and </i>Azoth<i>.</i></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><b>No traditional pirouette preparations<br /></b><br />Alonzo King offers the kinetic thrill of turns and spins without the formal preparation stances of traditional ballet—typically, you'd stop, assume a fourth position, wind up your torso and arms, and push off while rotating. King’s dancers walk or slide and simply step or chassée into a turn using the energy already in motion, almost like in ice skating. (Some of the dancers are so skilled at this, they do multiple spins with little effort, as if on ice!) The flow is maintained and the turn becomes an embellishment of movement, whereas in classical ballet, the prep/turn break fluency and become a separate event, often to display technical prowess.<br /><br /><b>Soft slippers for all<br /></b><br />For the Pillow program, the women wore soft slippers, not pointe shoes. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The contact patch of a woman’s foot in a toe shoe is miniscule and very hard, thus slippery, even with rosin.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The degree of difficulty while doing the simplest moves—walking, running, shifting direction—in pointe shoes is vastly overlooked. In soft shoes, a dancer is much more stable.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIzBSSgfPxTD0mcc6CJ_p855pWB3v0b49faDnxVLEEnmaMegEwWrRPBooHkJK8mva52gXdYRW-gGMc_4HXphyySz1UbqZDHHvjJJG85kcDnl8pXwzkNJBoDvccu7YH50UjzvkDo36QMQbFHz16dtvIyETpRarGFEpjCmk2SMgVhMmgDQBqH4aDsmj/s3600/20220803_LINESBallet_pJamieKraus_0388.jpg" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIzBSSgfPxTD0mcc6CJ_p855pWB3v0b49faDnxVLEEnmaMegEwWrRPBooHkJK8mva52gXdYRW-gGMc_4HXphyySz1UbqZDHHvjJJG85kcDnl8pXwzkNJBoDvccu7YH50UjzvkDo36QMQbFHz16dtvIyETpRarGFEpjCmk2SMgVhMmgDQBqH4aDsmj/w640-h426/20220803_LINESBallet_pJamieKraus_0388.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">James Gowan in <i>Four Heart Testaments</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />The lines (no pun intended) achieved in pointe shoes are the main desired effect, besides literally </span><span style="font-family: arial;">spinning</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> like a top in pirouettes. But Lines dancers are so elongated by selection and training that when they relevé and “pull up” with their core muscles, they nearly appear to be on point. Add to that their extreme flexibility, such as split arabesques, and highly-arched feet, and you have a viable alternative to the whole pointe shoe trap. It’s also much more gender balanced, negating much of the need (or tendency) for male/female partnering </span><span style="font-family: arial;">(and vice versa)</span><span style="font-family: arial;">, even if it's still an option.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><b>Embrace artful technology, but with simplicity</b><br /><br />Jim Campbell’s lighting/set pieces in <i>Azoth</i> were stunning, if simple—three square matrices of light bulbs that ranged from various colors to rippling imagery, augmented by Jim French’s lighting that often immersed the dancers to the point where their shadows were nearly invisible. Campbell’s pieces not only lit, they sculpted space by tilting, raising, and lowering. Later on, small, handheld paddle versions bearing light and animation became the sole illumination for one section. </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">***</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">While these are just a few notes on Lines, they point to moving ballet into the future with a more egalitarian, modern model, while retaining much of what people love. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-76983327801435178752022-08-03T16:14:00.003-04:002022-08-03T16:14:49.551-04:00Jacob's Pillow—The Immersive Dance Experience<p><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglEPwlLpBWg7p_PwTcbYrwYOkJgpl4Hr8ZEDXhG4OOf8vQebm-UZ21wV_kElVGDeA8MXpY7KOt3-Q5mrmMGkAokl2TUlnUMaPJek6CZGtfgEckthIu0Yl8vld_OrA-xpdIsxfheSmsW2BjWEjxXsw1SzyOnvwc-SvMz1T0g2MSxLcSU0Hl35R5Ybh/s3600/20220727_DichotomousBeing_pJamieKraus_192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglEPwlLpBWg7p_PwTcbYrwYOkJgpl4Hr8ZEDXhG4OOf8vQebm-UZ21wV_kElVGDeA8MXpY7KOt3-Q5mrmMGkAokl2TUlnUMaPJek6CZGtfgEckthIu0Yl8vld_OrA-xpdIsxfheSmsW2BjWEjxXsw1SzyOnvwc-SvMz1T0g2MSxLcSU0Hl35R5Ybh/w640-h426/20220727_DichotomousBeing_pJamieKraus_192.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Taylor Stanley and Ashton Edwards in <i>Mango</i>. Photo: Jamie Kraus</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Jacob’s Pillow. Is there a better place in the summer to experience all that dance has to offer?</span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-5e4392c3-7fff-6c32-3a8b-060cbfa7ac87"><span style="font-family: arial;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A recent Sunday spent there says no!, at least when the weather cooperates, which it did, splendidly. Show times were staggered so that it was possible to take in <i>Dichotomous Being: An Evening of Taylor Stanley</i> at noon, and Black Grace at 2pm. Stanley and company occupied the outdoor Leir Stage, while the New Zealand troupe performed in the Ted Shawn Theatre. Each show was preceded by a short talk given by a scholar, and there was just enough time between shows to see the exhibition in Blake’s Barn (historic photos juxtaposed with new versions by photographer Christopher Duggan) or visit the amazing archive, wander, chat, partake of a snack or beverage, and stretch the old legs. Literally every moment can be infused with some kind of dance experience.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The two performances featured vastly different artists. Stanley is a pre-eminent principal with New York City Ballet, accomplished on every level in ballet, but also a revelation in contemporary choreography. Dance makers such as Kyle Abraham (an artistic advisor on this Pillow run) and Andrea Miller (who contributed <i>Mango</i>) have both created roles on Stanley for NYCB which utilize his boundless expressive gifts to the extent where I can’t imagine them danced by others. (They will eventually, of course, but for now, he reprises at least his iconic solo in Abraham’s<i> The Runaway</i>.)</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The repertory Stanley (who goes by they/them) chose reflects the artist’s breadth. Classical ballet led off the program—an excerpt from Balanchine’s <i>Square Dance </i>(1957), which they performed with ease but tremendous focus, evident even while they ascended the side stair leading to the stage. Miller’s <i>Mango</i> (2021) was next, quite different when pulled out of the longer work, <i>Sky to Hold</i>—and easier to see the dance and dancers without the elaborate sets and costumes of the Koch Theater production. Ashton Edwards, who wore pointe shoes while the other three had on soft slippers, was lifted and partnered more than the others, but there was a lack of traditional gender dynamics that ballet so stubbornly perpetuates. Stanley performed Talley Beatty’s <i>Mourner’s Bench</i> (1947), an austere work in which the bench becomes not just a place to sit, but to revel, pray, and suspend from as one might from a ship’s prow. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jodi Melnick's world premiere of <i>These Five </i>(2022), is set to sonic experiments </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">by James Lo</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> including, confusingly, birdsong; I thought the nearby birds were just really loud. The performers placed tree branches center stage (which were quickly moved upstage), augmenting the theme of nature. Melnick’s post-modern style is essentially drained of emotion and interaction, but is full of unpredictable invention. The finale and another world premiere, <i>Redness</i> (2022) by Shamel Pitts, featured Stanley solo once more, moving with animalistic stealth, skipping, gesturing in catharsis, before ending in a catwalk strut for curtain calls. Stanley finally broke their transcendent stage demeanor to stretch high to the sun before collapsing in an expression of relief and gratitude after the run’s last performance. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijul9XVholO34R3O2jrCWXlmHcHrM62nInPF0-c6dlnUta9miYPg95wopSOXi9r3OGs6VKtBDkm-1sw4DVGF2KSjT1MkdRA8eG4qjuilHQGosNrP-BqwJac35zpg72P7lC_UDKZLkXyg0iubFZFBekU9hWkokdAFbxEmgHehW46CGTJvRf9DVqwUqM/s3600/20220727_BlackGrace_pDanicaPaulos_1475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 14.6667px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijul9XVholO34R3O2jrCWXlmHcHrM62nInPF0-c6dlnUta9miYPg95wopSOXi9r3OGs6VKtBDkm-1sw4DVGF2KSjT1MkdRA8eG4qjuilHQGosNrP-BqwJac35zpg72P7lC_UDKZLkXyg0iubFZFBekU9hWkokdAFbxEmgHehW46CGTJvRf9DVqwUqM/w640-h426/20220727_BlackGrace_pDanicaPaulos_1475.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Black Grace in <i>O Le Olaga</i>. Photo: Danica Paulos.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Black Grace, founded by Neil Ieremia who is of Maori and New Zealand descent, combines the dance and storytelling traditions of the South Pacific with contemporary elements. Perhaps one of the most recognizable sub-styles included is the “haka,” the ceremonial Samoan dance featuring stamping, chanting, and hand and facial gestures, made popular by New Zealand’s rugby team in its pre-scrum ritual. The troupe’s 14 members include not only dancers, but traditional artists and musicians. <i>Minoi</i> (1999), based on the haka, is a brief work for six men, full of chanting, super-quick arm moves, body slapping, stamping, done in a tightly packed formation. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Fatu</i> (2022) showed how Ieremia has combined contemporary movement with traditional. Demi-Jo Manalo, a compact, powerful woman, danced to live percussion with James Wasmer and Rodney Tyrell, each wearing a different colored sash. The energetic choreography was full of floor work, flying leaps, sometimes into another dancer’s arms, and precise poses. The final work, <i>O Le Olaga</i> (2022) featured Aisea Latu as a kind of host, preceding many company members who enter a few at a time, establishing their own phrases. They eventually split into the traditionalists and the modernists. The presence of Western garb perhaps represented the dilution of indigenous culture, but it was countered by traditional rituals, movements, and vocalizations. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The main accompaniment was Vivaldi’s Gloria—a juxtaposition of Western classical with Pacific classical. Some of the space-eating modern dance passages done to Vivaldi brought to mind modern icons such as Mark Morris and Paul Taylor. Is it because, to my mind, they have used early and classical western music repeatedly, with joyful and explosive leaping and spinning? </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s not to cast shade on Ieremia’s creative output, which is unique and avoids a travelogue approach. He has managed to retain authentic Maori traditions while forging a name in contemporary concert dance. It’s a credit to his ability to find performers who can admirably straddle trad and mod.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">To top off the whole Pillow experience, just after each show ended, I received an email from the Pillow which included a link to the artist's talks done earlier in the run. Kudos to the Pillow for providing a comprehensive, contextualized dance experience like no other.</span></p></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5857285822144518966.post-75046143937847954402022-07-28T14:34:00.003-04:002022-07-29T14:11:55.152-04:00Great Dance, al Fresco<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtrjcNDuKVLamAX2lC88uKwnLqTcH-Vu6WWbyK2avv_ahQEIcDx2VlDNOX8AvqhSdZ1FqDuodi77RPw5YqDWNjtp7SvkAGhIJw914j14SWY7IJSSkY3wLvUkqWpevXe4j26sT0pTJt_2mnhQozImGxsNTe2C21YbxGJHlJ4ecyNA3Jdp1w2z7l1mE/s1500/IMG_0463.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtrjcNDuKVLamAX2lC88uKwnLqTcH-Vu6WWbyK2avv_ahQEIcDx2VlDNOX8AvqhSdZ1FqDuodi77RPw5YqDWNjtp7SvkAGhIJw914j14SWY7IJSSkY3wLvUkqWpevXe4j26sT0pTJt_2mnhQozImGxsNTe2C21YbxGJHlJ4ecyNA3Jdp1w2z7l1mE/w640-h426/IMG_0463.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><br />Paul Taylor Dance Company in <i>Syzygy</i>. Photo: Ron Thiele</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Summers upstate offer many pleasures—ambient temps, foliage, farm markets, and culture. I took in two dance performances done in open-air, covered amphitheaters: <a href="https://paultaylordance.org/" target="_blank">Paul Taylor Dance Company</a> at <a href="https://ps21chatham.org/" target="_blank">PS21</a> in Chatham, NY, and <a href="https://www.nycballet.com/" target="_blank">New York City Ballet</a> at Saratoga Performing Arts Center in Saratoga Springs, NY. As with any outdoor venues, weather can be a gamble, but for both events it cooperated. </span><p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbjsdsYz0A-CE_yReIasBKlWLqmcasmo3Z6vxevzjdqZnR3LPYzmcmywtOfcWUq-9MmGNjNEuqvwl0kAFZZ1Qx2j6QAOerUekyx2kyM92yTH5-xZjL4taNxySQVliX0v7cyIfRcv3_c47zlfYwA5JlhwQnsU0huLEi0nO2U1JuiCq1TnWIn9svfF-/s938/AAE1E006-E0D9-4738-9DAF-D8FA53E6E1A9_1_201_a.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="893" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbjsdsYz0A-CE_yReIasBKlWLqmcasmo3Z6vxevzjdqZnR3LPYzmcmywtOfcWUq-9MmGNjNEuqvwl0kAFZZ1Qx2j6QAOerUekyx2kyM92yTH5-xZjL4taNxySQVliX0v7cyIfRcv3_c47zlfYwA5JlhwQnsU0huLEi0nO2U1JuiCq1TnWIn9svfF-/s320/AAE1E006-E0D9-4738-9DAF-D8FA53E6E1A9_1_201_a.jpeg" width="305" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Madelyn Ho & Alex Clayton in <i>Airs</i>.<br />Photo: Ron Thiele</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">PTDC performed three classic Taylor dances: the uplifting, classical-feeling <i>Airs</i>, the brilliant feat of social commentary, <i>Cloven Kingdom</i>, and the kinetic lab of <i>Syzygy</i>. Often, a familiar slate like this is a chance to observe new dancers in old roles, and this held true in Chatham. Nearly the entire company has changed since pre-pandemic times, so seeing these works with new interpreters was like seeing them anew. This company, as established by Taylor, has always forefronted seniority—the dancers are still listed as such—and turnover was glacially slow for many years. Taylor's passing in 2018 combined with Covid seem to have conspired to catalyze many mid-career dancers' departures. It seemed a bit tragic while it was happening, but the company in its new guise looks strong and far more eclectic. PS21's stage is big enough to accommodate this repertory, and will host Vertigo (of Israel) in a fascinating work called <i><a href="https://ps21chatham.org/event/one-one-one-by-vertigo-dance-company-israel/" target="_blank">One. One & One</a></i>, as well as Mark Morris Dance Group in August, plus numerous performances of other genres.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Among the Taylor dancers, Madelyn Ho has emerged as a busy star, featuring prominently in all three dances. Also a doctor, Ho moves crisply and brightly, radiating far beyond her small frame. Devon Louis is also ubiquitous, with a strong bearing and lofty jump. Alex Clayton, also with impressive ballon, seems indispensable. And John Harnage has assumed a gravity to go along with his precision. Some newer faces include the lush Jada Pearman, energetic and ebullient Austin Kelly, and the newest dancer, Kenny Corrigan, a large, swift man, is a welcome bright presence.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigU6mmHMScqBFXKHCmegilFM367iZMmRMKAcMM8Tr1LTif85gIgGkm8OC3gXnw0YcQ56d1lZLSlNeJdGCiIygMwYEd6-o8Dj62aAMr45Josyk76ZXYTzCbDvJC-IuxnXgOm6_lUUWXMKZ27Wi2uqssDR3X0QIJhwvSUwi9iw2o2rgwvF6Qsbtg5Bmk/s3600/6_P9A9819Summerspace.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2475" data-original-width="3600" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigU6mmHMScqBFXKHCmegilFM367iZMmRMKAcMM8Tr1LTif85gIgGkm8OC3gXnw0YcQ56d1lZLSlNeJdGCiIygMwYEd6-o8Dj62aAMr45Josyk76ZXYTzCbDvJC-IuxnXgOm6_lUUWXMKZ27Wi2uqssDR3X0QIJhwvSUwi9iw2o2rgwvF6Qsbtg5Bmk/w640-h440/6_P9A9819Summerspace.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.5072021484375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="80.7134475708008" x="72.5980758666992" y="-523.149963378906"><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">Adrian Danchig</span></text><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="3.0911865234375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="2.62751770019531" x="153.995376586914" y="-523.149963378906">-</text><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.1539306640625" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="34.6987152099609" x="157.31120300293" y="-523.149963378906">Waring, </text><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.5072021484375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="87.9777679443359" x="194.637680053711" y="-523.149963378906">Ashley Laracey, and </text><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.5072021484375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="59.9140625" x="285.977355957031" y="-523.149963378906">Emilie Gerrity </text><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.6617431640625" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="107.485473632812" x="349.267578125" y="-523.149963378906">in Merce Cunningham’s <br /></text><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.07666015625" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="65.2463989257812" x="456.722106933594" y="-523.149963378906"><i>Summerspace</i>.</text><text class="_textbox_ysiwt_17" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="7.5072021484375" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: #f7f5f2; color: #1e1919; text-align: left;" textlength="109.836959838867" x="72.9513549804688" y="-508.75">Photo credit: Erin Baiano</text></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>SPAC sits a bit north and west. Its stage and vast house were built to Balanchine's specifications as a summer home for NYCB. The campus is vast, with several collonaded or wooden structures housing food vendors, exhibition spaces, etc. You can buy a less expensive lawn ticket and sit and try to watch from afar, although ballet is not exactly a symphony orchestra, requiring far more visual contact. The whole enterprise recalls a prosperous time when many resources were devoted to leisure and elite forms of culture. </span><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2XGSMSSNn3PwilB0NvTNpa1BOFqhC5F3QWIjFQWeOfMN15snNqOL4q5saiLp2dQWlPIpOrh0VJyQLCSnfISeo12Jsxs7_tJW6RAH7ntV9wBgN9gjpCCoQUv9Ijzzxr-SBhlHU8ifhbNZsqabhl8mJzdk3pX0F66MbXUTjUvOymayxGd1pBsz6gLIM/s2850/12_c45391-61_Glass_SPAC.jpg" style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="2850" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2XGSMSSNn3PwilB0NvTNpa1BOFqhC5F3QWIjFQWeOfMN15snNqOL4q5saiLp2dQWlPIpOrh0VJyQLCSnfISeo12Jsxs7_tJW6RAH7ntV9wBgN9gjpCCoQUv9Ijzzxr-SBhlHU8ifhbNZsqabhl8mJzdk3pX0F66MbXUTjUvOymayxGd1pBsz6gLIM/w640-h472/12_c45391-61_Glass_SPAC.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><br />NYCB in <i>Glass Pieces</i>. Photo: Paul Kolnik</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The company's run has shrunk to a short week, down from many weeks years ago. I saw a program with Balanchine's <i>Chaconne</i>, <i>Summerspace</i> by Merce Cunningham, and <i>Glass Pieces</i> by Jerome Robbins; another program featured <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i>. Not surprisingly, it's a completely different experience than watching in the climate-controlled Koch Theater. As the evening progresses, temperatures sink and breezes kick up. The open side walls permit views of the darkening sky, or impending rain, and you gain an awareness of the totality of the environment and the world beyond the theater. Still, the dance is the focus, and the company showed its stylistic flexibility in this mixed program, ranging from <i>Chaconne</i>'s classical ballet with a jazzy flair, the austere modernism of Cunningham softened by Rauschenberg's stippled cyc and unitards, and the urban restlessness of Robbins' stage crossings inspired by Philip Glass' restlessly motivic composition.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Even though I've seen both companies in NYC many, many times over the years, seeing them in plein air settings, surrounded by different, appreciative audiences, energizes my perspective on them and makes me realize how lucky I've been to track their evolution. </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0