Into the Twittersphere
November 5, 2009
I joined Twitter, much to my own surprise. In addition to loathing the idea of logging into another system everyday (after work email, personal email, work databases, Facebook, and this blog) and learning the Twitter lingo, I simply didn’t want to define myself in 140 characters or less. So, Twitter was not for me.
Some recent events have made me reconsider my position, and after weighing the pros and cons and assessing Twitter’s sociological implications (yes, it went there) with friends and acquaintances, I suddenly found myself immersed in the Twittersphere. So far, I’ve found that Twitter has been most useful not for answering the question “What are you doing?”, but rather for responding to, “What (online content) are you reading?” or “What upcoming event should I be aware of?” I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing links to content that I find interesting, and following other individuals and organizations has kept me informed and entertained.
In addition to retweeting all of my blog posts, I’m sure that my tweets will include links that reflect a plethora of other topics, along with stories or news that I find to be funny, insightful, outrageous, poetic, political, perplexing, touching…the list goes on (Note: I have no plans to tweet about what I ate for breakfast or which celebrity I saw on my way to work). So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow me. My tweets are protected, so just log in and send me a request. See you in the ‘sphere!
Steve Reich Interpreted Through Dance
September 14, 2009
Ryoji Sasamoto and Ashley Browne with Aaron Carr (standing) in Larry Keigwin’s Sidewalk, Works & Process at the Guggenheim, photo © 2009 Richard Termine
When two choreographers create works set to the same music, is it useful to make comparisons? The dance writer Nancy Dalva asked choreographers Peter Quanz and Larry Keigwin this question on Saturday afternoon at the Guggenheim’s Works & Process. The series commissioned Quanz and Keigwin to each create a new work to Steve Reich’s 2009 Pulitzer Prize-winning Double Sextet, and the results were presented over the weekend along with an insightful discussion about the process. Not only did both men find the experience productive and challenging (Keigwin collaborated with dancers from his company while Quanz worked with dancers from the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, where he trained), but their pieces also provided refreshing, unique ways for the audience to visualize Reich’s propulsive, energetic score.
Double Sextet was created for two identical sextets of instruments – flute, clarinet, violin, cello, vibraphone, and piano – that can be played by twelve musicians or by six musicians playing against a recording of themselves. Given the binary quality of the score, it seems fitting for two choreographers to interpret it through movement. Quanz relied on classical ballet vocabulary and closely followed the music for his piece, In Tandem, which featured four women in sleek blue-gray leotards with a grid-like pattern and two men in form-fitting black. To the music’s vibrant, fast-paced opening, carving arm gestures flowed into full-bodied movement and partnering. The Royal Winnipeg dancers beautifully balanced lyrical grace with edgier, angular movements that echoed some of the score’s darker moods.
Vanessa Lawson, Amanda Green, Jo-Ann Sundermeier, and Maureya Lebowitz in Peter Quanz’s In Tandem, Works & Process at the Guggenheim, photo © 2009 Richard Termine
Keigwin’s work, Sidewalk, reflected the urban pace of the city by playing with the score’s driving force. The three men and women, dressed in business attire, illustrated the contrasts between the exterior self – sternly rushing through the city streets – and the calmer, more meditative interior self that is not usually shown on sidewalks. They briskly crossed the stage with uniform pedestrian steps and pumping arms, occasionally breaking out of line with gestures from everyday life. Many of the movements stemmed from improvisations they did upon initially hearing the music and rehearsing in the space. As the music slowed and the light dimmed, suggesting evening or a time outside of working hours, the dancers shed their jackets and ties and sat down at the front of the stage. A few heaved deep sighs and stretched out their arms before repeating the grind the next day, and a push-pull tension throughout the piece illustrated the struggle between public and private selves.
In addition to their distinct interpretations of the music, both choreographers made full use of the architecture of the Guggenheim’s unique performance space, which is not a traditional proscenium stage. The women in Quanz’s work raced to the front of the stage and gracefully fell into the arms of a man standing on the carpeted floor, just inches from the first row of seats. Another man’s hands creepily emerged from behind a wall to the right of the stage, where a duet for him and one of the women made its way down the stairs and toward the stage. In Sidewalk, the dancers ran energetically up and down the aisles and around the back of the space. Three men rested on the stairs during one of the slower sections before leaping back onto the stage for the piece’s thrilling, demanding final section. As Sidewalk closed, each dancer raced up the stairs and through the brightly lit side stage door, into the unknown of the day ahead.
Ryoji Sasamoto, Ashley Browne, Aaron Carr, Kristina Hanna, Matthew Baker, and Liz Riga in Larry Keigwin’s Sidewalk, Works & Process at the Guggenheim, photo © 2009 Richard Termine
Yosuke Mino and Jo-Ann Sundermeier in Peter Quanz’s In Tandem, Works & Process at the Guggenheim, photo © 2009 Richard Termine
Emanuel Gat and Roy Assaf in "Winter Variations", photo by Justin Maxon
This past week, Emanuel Gat Dance performed a New York premiere and a North American premiere at the Rose Theater as part of the Lincoln Center Festival. Gat, the forty-year-old Israeli whose company is based in the south of France, uses striking lighting, pauses, and intelligent spatial awareness to convey meaning in two distinct works.
Winter Variations is an extension of the 2004 work Winter Voyage, both of which feature an ongoing artistic collaboration between Gat and Roy Assaf. To the opening sounds of an urban grind, the two stoic men take up the right side of a shadowy stage as their torsos undulate and limbs encircle their bodies. Although they occasionally perform the same movements and are clearly aware of each other’s presence, they hardly ever move in the same way at the same time, creating an intriguing doppelganger effect. As long pauses are interspersed with fluid motion, Gat and Assaf tangle and untangle their bodies while moving from right to left under a vertical strip of darkness. They play with rhythm and momentum to The Beatles’ “Day in the Life” before walking across the floor on their knees, separating and eventually coming together as the music shifts to an Egyptian song by Riad al Sunbati. The fifty-minute piece closes to a majestic score by Strauss as the dancers’ movement becomes more closely aligned and movement phrases from earlier in the piece reappear. Gat and Assaf move and look increasingly, remarkably alike.
Although there is an underlying sense of loneliness and tension between the men, Gat transcends gender politics and avoids relying on gestures or theatrics to convey emotion. Rather, Winter Variations suggests a duality most clearly through Gat’s lighting choices and use of space. Lighting, in fact, takes on a role of its own. The divide between light and dark – whether horizontal or vertical – creates personal and emotional boundaries. Additionally, partially obscured movement sparks curiosity, such as when the dancers take turns moving in the darkened upper half of the stage while the other is visible downstage. They shift back and forth, allowing the audience to watch the dancer in light while pondering what is being missed in the darkened part of the stage.
In its North American premiere, Silent Ballet featured eight dancers instead of the planned nine. Adjustments were so seamless that it was impossible to determine where the ninth dancer would have fit in. True to its title, the piece does not have a score, but the dancers’ heavy breathing and bodies slamming into the floor are clearly audible. The opening rapid chaos slowly morphs into an ordered ensemble. Clustered near the center of the stage, the dancers create poses like sculptures under shifting lighting, often pausing for long stretches of time until a dancer breaks away from the group. With no music or internal sense of rhythm among the dancers, the driving force for Silent Ballet is unclear. It looks like a movement study, and although it might be interesting to view from beginning to end as a rehearsal-to-stage process, the final product itself feels exclusive and uninspiring.
With its varied score, meaningful lighting, spatial sensitivity, and the gorgeous movement of Gat and Assaf, Winter Variations was the finer and more memorable work on the program.
Queer Tango in Buenos Aires
March 27, 2009
photo by Emily Anne Epstein
A visit to Buenos Aires is incomplete without experiencing tango. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my trip was filled with visits to museums, gardens, performances, and informal concerts. There are plenty of tanguerías – flashy tango performances that are pricey and geared toward tourists – but I was hoping for something more authentic. With some advice from Emily, we decided to head to one of the milongas, the informal social gatherings that porteños – the locals – attend to get their tango fix. And we didn’t go to just any milonga. Club Buenos Aires, located in the colonial barrio of San Telmo, is home to a weekly queer-friendly milonga hosted by Tango Queer. It was conveniently located and offered a class (I’m an absolute beginner) before the real milonga, which usually begins around 10 PM and continues into the wee hours of the morning.
Traditional tango is steeped in machismo culture. It is a reflection of Argentine societal views on sexuality and gender relations: the man leads and the woman follows; that is, the man is the active participant while the woman is passive. She must wait for the man to guide the movement (and with a bad leader, she’s unfortunately trapped). According to Mariana Falcón, who established Buenos Aires’ first Queer Tango Festival in 2007 and led the pre-milonga class, traditional tango excludes diversity from the structure of the dance itself and promotes power relationships among genders. The queer tango movement grew out of the need to create a liberated tango environment where rules and codes of traditional tango are not taken into account, and therefore do not limit who dances with whom. By eliminating the link between gender and roles that exist in the traditional tango, queer tango allows participants to choose any partner and any role with which they feel comfortable.
Structurally, the class was nothing like the ballet and modern classes I’m used to in New York. While a ballet class has a clear progression from beginning to end, tango classes and milongas don’t follow a particular formula. They are social gatherings that are more improvisational than anything else. The setting felt unfamiliar, as well. The dimly lit club had a few tables and chairs on the side along with a full bar, but no ballet barres and no mirrors. And of course, most people were dressed in casual street clothes and sandals, as opposed to leotards and the traditional high-heel tango shoes for women.
In typical Argentine fashion, the class started about twenty minutes late and people continued to wander in at their leisure until there were about fifty participants – mostly women, but approximately fifteen men. After a quick introduction to the proper way to walk, which involved lots of bumping into one another as we paced forward and backward in a large but crowded circle, we were split into two groups – beginners and non-beginners. Speaking in rapid Spanish, the instructor’s assistant briefly explained correct posture and the importance of waiting for the leader – the person in the traditional man’s role – to guide the movement. Then she told us to pair up and just see what happened.
With the language barrier and very little instruction regarding what exactly we were supposed to be doing, I was feeling a bit confused. And I was even more overwhelmed when a young Argentine woman, who was also a beginner, approached me and requested that I lead. After a few minutes of trying to figure out “right” from “wrong” while bumping into other couples, the instructor came to our rescue and gave us each a personal lesson. She pressed her hand against my chest and told me to walk backward, reminding me not to move until she pushed me, but also to never slouch or fully give in to her weight. This, she explained, was the follower’s role. Then I practiced the leader’s role by pressing my hand to her chest, and quickly realized that unless I used some force, she wasn’t going anywhere. Feeling more confident, my partner and I continued dancing together, occasionally alternating roles so that she could experience what it was like to lead, until we switched partners and worked on some steps.
I spent the last few minutes of the class marveling at the more advanced dancers’ ability to seamlessly move in a variety of patterns around the floor. Clearly some participants were “regulars”, attending this milonga and possibly others on an ongoing basis. Fortunately, Emily brought along her camera and captured some beautiful moments on the dance floor.
I only got a brief taste of tango, but I was grateful to learn in such a welcoming, friendly environment. Although at first intimidating to lead, it was actually quite beneficial to learn and experience both roles. I realized that in the traditional tango a woman-woman couple would be impossible, or rather, it would never occur because there would be no leader. Taking the leading role – typically the man’s role – I sensed that I was challenging the structural sexism in traditional tango while exploring a new approach to a gender and role-specific dance. An “active” woman may be frowned upon in a traditional setting, but at a queer-friendly milonga, it is not only allowed, but also encouraged.
After a little research, I learned that there is a weekly queer-friendly milonga and class here in NYC. And this summer, San Francisco will host the first International Queer Tango Festival located in the US.
All photos © Emily Anne Epstein 2009
Club Midnight: Flesh into Light
January 28, 2009
Tasha Taylor in Amy Greenfield's "Spirit in the Flesh"
This weekend, Symphony Space will present award-winning director and producer Amy Greenfield’s three-part multimedia event “Club Midnight: Flesh into Light“. The evening will begin with the expanded version of Greenfield’s award-winning film “Club Midnight”, which transforms the erotic dancer’s art into lyrically inspired films. The premieres of “Live Tides” and “Spirit in the Flesh” will follow. “Spirit in the Flesh” unites Leonard Nimoy’s photography book, Shekhina (which, in Kaballah, is an all-encompassing female power of creativity and healing) with film, dance, music, and spoken word. The piece has been designed specifically for the Thalia Theater, and features music by Philip Glass, Einsturzende Neubauten, Lee Hazlewood, and Dennis Hopper.
You can learn more about this event at the Club Midnight website or at Amy Greenfield’s blog, Cinema Body.
January 30th and 31st, 7:30 and 9:30 PM each night
Leonard Nimoy Thalia Theater
Symphony Space
Broadway at 95th Street
Order tickets online or call 212.864.5400
