Brooklyn Rail Dance Reviews
March 7, 2011
I reviewed Susan Stroman’s newest work for New York City Ballet in this month’s issue of The Brooklyn Rail. Here’s an excerpt:
“For the Love of Duke was presented on a triple bill of contemporary works (No Balanchine in the lineup! A rare event). Christopher Wheeldon’s arresting Polyphonia is now a decade old, but still looks strikingly fresh. And Alexei Ratmansky’s Concerto DSCH (2008) mixes wit and lyricism, punctuated with meditative moments. Seen alongside these layered, complex gems, Stroman’s premiere felt dreadfully old, and out of its depth.
…Artists have the freedom to edit and re-visit their work over time, and Stroman’s approach of mixing and matching sections of ballets is intriguing. But the results are dull. Each piece has a jazzy 1930s feel to it, and both suggest (irritatingly) that women’s lives are unfulfilled without men—though the smarter gals realize that they’re not always worth the effort.”
Read the whole review here. Also, I encourage you to check out some of the other dance reviews in the Rail, including Siobhan Burke’s excellent piece on the challenges of remaining objective when you know the dancers in the performance; Roslyn Sulcas’ busy “dance feed” (I envy how much dance she sees!); and Michelle Vellucci’s review of Heartbreak and Homies at Joe’s Pub. Lots of good stuff.
Trisha Brown Dance Company at the Dia: Beacon
February 18, 2010
Tamara Riewe in Trisha Brown's "Spiral" at the Dia: Beacon, photo by Tony Cenicola
The Dia: Beacon, a massive, naturally-lit contemporary art museum housed in an old Nabisco box-printing factory, is an ideal setting for dance performances – especially when the performances require high ceilings and pillars from which the dancers can gracefully fall. Trisha Brown Dance Company, currently celebrating its 40th anniversary, performed at the Dia: Beacon over the weekend in several of its large galleries.
Spiral (1974) was the shortest yet most complex piece, requiring ten pillars, ten harnesses, and ten ladders – one per dancer. The performers simultaneously climbed to the top of the columns in the museum’s lower level gallery, and then walked perpendicular to the column until they reached the floor. They seemed to defy gravity as they hung sideways with their feet on the column and gracefully spiraled to the ground. The second round of spiraling was done in a wave, with two dancers at a time starting their descent. The lower gallery is a monstrous and spookily empty space, but it felt amazingly airy and enchanted throughout Brown’s piece.
The other piece on the program requiring a set was Floor of the Forest (1970). Two men, Todd Stone and Samuel von Wentz, navigated across a large web made of thick rope and colorful clothing. They climbed over the rope, slipped horizontally in and out of shorts and shirts, and dangled for lengthy amounts of time below the grid. There was a satisfying rhythm to the piece as the dancers intently maneuvered across the rope-clothing forest and then settled comfortably into their chosen attire. The only sound was the occasional ripping of seams that couldn’t support the suspended men.
An excerpt from Foray Forêt (1990) positioned four dancers evenly in front of an exhibit of large, wooden boxes. Their fluid weight shifts and repetitive gestures contrasted with the stiff, cold feeling from the exhibit. In the Knoebel gallery, Dai Jian and Leah Morrison performed You can see us (1995/1996) to a score by Robert Rauschenberg. Morrison had her back to the audience for the duration of the work, and as she and Jian swung their limbs and created multi-dimensional shapes with their torsos, the audience begged to see not only her movement, but also her expression. Jian, whose face was visible the whole time, was fully present, while Morrison remained a mystery.
There is nothing quite like lying on the floor of the Dia and listening to the recording of Brown’s meditative and occasionally quirky voice guide you through Skymap (1969), the only non-dance work on the program. It was a journey across cities and an opportunity to envision one’s own mental map of letters, places, words, and dreams. The museum’s high ceilings and skylights lent themselves well to the creativity required of the work. Brown recorded Skymap forty-one years ago, but an exercise in imagination never grows old.
The Rail is Here! For Real.
February 4, 2010
The February issue of The Brooklyn Rail is now online and in print. The dance section is packed with good stuff this month: Thom Donovan’s review of choreographer Miguel Gutierrez’s performance texts, Mary Love Hodges’ spotlight on The Tank, and Joey Lico’s review of Dancers Responding to AIDS’ Dance from the Heart: Men, among several others. I reviewed a performance from last month’s AMERICAN REALNESS festival, which included a showering of plastic bags, references to Lady Gaga, and the most elaborate dress made out of disposable coffee cups that I have ever seen. Enjoy!
For the Love of Feet
December 15, 2009
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about feet. A few weeks ago I officially started training for the NYC Half Marathon, and whether I’m pounding the pavement, warming up, or stretching, I am continually grateful for my feet’s ability to meet the demands of my training schedule. The only other time when I think about my feet this obsessively is in a dance class, regardless of the footwear or genre. Running and dancing might seem entirely different, but the training has been more similar than I had anticipated. I’m learning about which parts of the foot strike the floor, the tilt in my body depending on the terrain, breathing techniques, and how my arm swings determine what my legs are doing. Shifting from dancing to running – and trading point shoes for sneakers – has made me aware not only of the distinct technique and rigors that athletes of every type endure, but also of the body’s versatility, and especially the adaptability of the feet.
Much to my delight, Alastair Macaulay has been thinking about feet, too. He recently wrote about the beauty of feet and the importance of footwork in dance. He even singled out certain dancers and choreographers who have excelled at highlighting footwork. I was particularly interested in his thoughts on performing artists who incorporate natural footwork – walking, running, skipping, and hopping – into their movement. There is little choreography in running and not nearly as much variety in the foot’s movement as there is in dance, but I definitely enjoy the rhythmic qualities of running (and the cathartic high I get from both running and dancing). The strike of my feet on the pavement combined with the pace of my breathing creates a soundtrack that changes throughout the course of my run, reminding me of the rhythmic qualities of dancing – either to music or to an internal rhythm. So, after years of dancing, it turns out that running doesn’t feel so foreign to my body. The technique and training are different from what I experience in dance, but it’s still the same feet. Whether I’m dancing or running, I’ll keep in mind what Isadora Duncan said: “I believe in the religion of the beauty of the human foot.”
