Rain, Rain, Everywhere

Agnes Denes, Wheatfield, 1982.

It seems that New York got few showers in April, but Earth is making up for it in May; I'm drying off from a deluge as I write. Ironically, I was en route from the Joyce Theater, where artificial rain fell during Cedar Lake's performance of Andonis Foniadakis' Horizons as storm clouds gathered outside to wait for me to release torrents in a tempestuous thunderstorm. And yesterday I experienced MoMA's Rain Room, by Random International, amid an otherwise lovely day. 

It is part of Expo 1 at PS1, an exhibition organized by Klaus Biesenbach on the theme of "ecological challenges" in today's world. It sprawls throughout MoMA PS1 and takes as its theme "dark optimism," perfectly reflected in Rain Room. There are some smaller exhibitions nested within, including a fairly extensive selection of Ansel Adams photographs curated by Roxana Marcoci, and a smart group show—ProBio—put together by Josh Kline; highlights include Dina Chang's creepy Flesh Diamonds, pink flesh-like faceted things with hair; Ian Cheng's strange, intriguing installation of twitchy "live" machines inhabiting a tide pool ecosystem; and a flexible cloth of LEDs that received imagery of a CGI concert, by Shanzhai Biennial. A group of photographs documents Agnes Denes' Wheatfield, which at the time felt far closer to crunchy environmentalism than a last cry before development and terrorism swallowed up lower Manhattan.

Expo 1 also has the requisite ancillary elements of film, education (organized by Triple Canopy), a daily special dish by restaurateur M. Wells, and a "colony" of trailers in one of the courtyards. Meg Webster has installed Pool in the lobby, which basically just looks like a fancy fountain in a skyscraper lobby, and Adrián Villar Rojas has been given a ginormous amount of room for La inocencia de los animals, with a broad grand staircase where classes will meet, and rooms of ruins—columns and giant amphora—all the hue of dusty grey concrete.

Rain Room is situated in an annex in the parking lot next door to MoMA, complete with its own retro-mod, airport-style lounge in the queue area, which I guess is supposed to make the anticipated long wait entertaining. When I viewed Rain Room, people seemed reluctant to walk into the rain; perhaps to encourage this, several dancers had been deployed to move dramatically under the deluge (although it might not have helped that they were drenched. A word of advice—as you enter the rain, extend a hand forward to keep your head dry.) This project seems to work as well in concept as in practice, and whether you choose to participate or simply watch emerges as a key precept.

Kylian's Indigo Rose. Photo: Paula Lobo

Meanwhile, back at the Joyce, the small rainburst took place over a rectangle of red carpeting that the Cedar Lake dancers dragged onstage in the premiere of Horizons by Andonis Foniadakis. The piece began with rubber-limbed Jon Bond bounding across the stage, each turbocharged move tweaked with a contortion, robotic effect, or caffeinated jolt; many moves elicited gasps of shock. Pairs danced frantically on the rug to driving rhythms; a final twosome writhed frantically, life affirmingly. Joaquim de Santana crashed to the floor on his knees and shins, the violence exaggerated by his large size. The work purports to address the concept of finding inner peace amid urban frenzy; a voiceover intoned calls to action and ponderous observations. While the adrenalized movement becomes a bit numbing after awhile, Foniadakis  has a unique, daredevil means of physical expression.

Jiri Kylian's Indigo Rose (1998) suits Cedar Lake to a tee—articulated lines, hyper-pointed toes, a dramatic flair in every pose. Two pairs danced on the stage bisected by shapes of light, one dim, the other bright. A billowing white wedge of sail cloth framed the dancers; in particular, Matthew Rich, a company veteran, has matured into a riveting, confident performer. Filling out the program was Crystal Pite's Ten Duets on a Theme of Rescue, a well-paced concatenation of duets and solos by just five dancers, but that feels like three times as many. It has become a staple in an ever-growing repertory that showcases mostly European choreographers, and who benefit from the impressive skills of the dancers. 

Cedar Lake's Ever-Growing Repertory

Violet Kid by Hofesh Schechter. Photo: Julieta Cervantes

Quietly, season by season, Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet is building a sizable repertory with a distinct point of view, shaped by artistic director Benoit-Swan Pouffer. There really aren't many other companies of this scale and level of talent commissioning work by a range of choreographers; most contemporary companies are founded and run by one artist. Morphoses was founded as a sort of "solar system" revolving around, but not exclusive to, Chris Wheeldon's choreography, with other dance makers contributing to a lesser extent. (Of course that has changed completely with his departure, moving to focus on one annually revolving choreographer; the exit of executive director Lourdes Lopez for Miami City Ballet yet again tosses it all up in the air.) But CLCB was founded strictly as a rep company, including occasional contributions and "installations" by Pouffer, who in any case is smart enough to defer to coveted choreographers, unlike, say, Peter Martins at NYCB.

This season, the company returns to the Joyce with two programs. The first featured new dances by Hofesh Schechter and Crystal Pite, two hot, internationally-respected names, and Annonciation (1995) by Angelin Preljocaj. As it happens with commissions, it's difficult to know what you're getting until it's done. And by coincidence, Schechter and Pite's works have enough in common that they would've been better served being on different programs. (The second features premieres by Regina van Berkel, Alexander Ekman, and Jo Stromgren.) 

In fact, their juxtaposition makes it nearly impossible to discuss either on its own. Both tap a mood of post-industrial desperation; dramatic, dark lighting; muscular, grounded movement that punches and bullies its way across the stage, primarily in groups. In Violet Kid, Schechter's appealing vocabulary roils around the torso (his Gaga roots tangible), the dancers pugilists, scooting, bobbing, hunched over like gorillas, moving in makeshift tribes. The dancers wear everyday clothes (by Schechter and Junghyun Georgia Lee), making them relatable. Polymath Schechter also created the music which featured a string trio floating upstage, with recorded sections—at times anarchic, ominous, with a steady throbbing percussion line evocative of a heartbeat.

Grace Engine by Crystal Pite. Photo: Julieta Cervantes

Both he and Pite line the dancers along the stage's edge. In Pite's Grace Engine, to a score by Owen Belton, Nancy Haeyung Bae clothes the dancers in gunmetal suits and white shirts, reminiscent of assassins or CIA agents. The dancers coil and lash out their legs, martial arts-style, whirling and drawing back, awkwardly hopping on a fist and a knee, hunching over. Mime screaming and ripple effect actions with linked arms skewed toward the cliche, but if I hadn't seen Violet Kid first, it might've felt completely fresh. Jon Bond stood out for his snaky fluidity among a company of gorgeous dancers.

Annonciation featured Harumi Terayama and Acacia Schachte. Preljocaj also designed the L-shaped bench where Schachte cradled Terayama, coaxing her to her feet, where they moved in tandem through elegant, sculpted shapes. This tender duet, set to music by Stephane Roy and Antonio Vivaldi, with important lighting by Jacques Chatelet, served as a needed buffer on the program. Despite the aesthetic coincidences, kudos to Cedar Lake for consistently delivering new work.

Cedar Lake: Mainstream to Edgy, 8/4/11

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Cedar Lake: on screen (The Adjustment Bureau), TV (So You Think You Can Dance), and in studio with 360.

http://www.thirteen.org/sundayarts/blog/ballet/cedar-lake-mainstream-to-edgy/1537/

Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet is having a bit of a moment these days, coming off of some big mainstream appearances. They were featured in the film The Adjustment Bureau, in which Emily Blunt played a dancer and company member of Cedar Lake. In the brief minutes in which she danced, partnered by Jason Kittelberger, she acquitted herself well. Truth be told, this was more believable than Matt Damon’s character taking the bus all the time, even if he was hunting her down.

The company also recently guested on “So You Think You Can Dance,” which draws about 6 million viewers—that’s approximately 12 million eyeballs. The appearance was a PR bonanza, but it drew a possibly uncomfortable parallel to the reigning style of dance on that show. Hard to define, but pick and choose from these words: contemporary, earnestly expressionistic, modern ballet, technically rigorous. The thwacked extensions, constantly writhing movement, and athletic bent suited the show’s tone perfectly. Artistic Director Benoit Swan Pouffer choreographed both of these appearances.

Cedar Lake: The Copier, 8/21/08

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Cedar Lake Contemporary Dance's Installation, The Copier

http://www.thirteen.org/sundayarts/blog/performance/cedar-lake-the-copier/609/

Most of us don’t have the opportunity to be in Beijing for the Olympics, but Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet’s new work – The Copier, by Jill Johnson – might satisfy the interests of at least a few fans. The company’s dancers are essentially world-class athletes, capable of doing things most of us can’t even dream of. Like Olympians, they train and perform at an unbelievable level, their technique and musculature superb. These are easily observed as you can sit or stand very close as they hurtle at you or lock a pose mere inches away.

The Copier is part of Cedar Lake’s Installation Series, an innovative (for New York), less formal type of performance where the audience members are not seated in fixed positions, but may roam around the T-shaped platform stage, or sit on the floor or small risers. We became a permeable curtain through which the dancers moved. (New Yorkers seem to have problems that stem from tight real estate – some obstinate standers refused to yield their excellent positions to the poor dancers, who practically had to push them out of the way. But I guess that’s part of the intrigue.)