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Showing posts with label dance review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dance review. Show all posts

Sunday, December 8, 2024

REVIEW: MMC’s Fall Repertoire 2024 features work by Jazelynn Goudy

Dance artist Jazelynn Goudy (photo: Kenzo Matese)
 
This black-and-white photo portrait shows dance artist Jazelynn Goudy, a Black woman wearing a light-colored jacket over a light-colored top. She has a spill of dark locks down the right side of her face. She looks directly into the camera while framing her face with her hands—capping her forehead with her left hand and holding her chin between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.
 

Fall Repertoire 2024
Dance Department
Marymount Manhattan College
Theresa Lang Theater
December 5-7, 2024


This past week, the Dance Department of Marymount Manhattan College (MMC) presented its Fall Repertoire 2024. I caught Program A–choreography by Aaron Loux, Molissa Fenley, Tamisha A. Guy, and Jazelynn Goudy, an MMC assistant professor. Each work deployed large ensembles of student dancers streaming across MMC’s Theresa Lang Theatre, and each found ingenious ways to carve that modest space into complex, shifting layers and levels of abstract activity.

Loux’s San Quentin draws inspiration from the unorthodox work of Henry Cowell, an American composer arrested in 1936 under California’s anti-sodomy laws and incarcerated at one of the nation’s most notorious prisons. For the MMC performance, pianist George Lykogiannis played Set of Two Movements, one of the pieces Cowell created during his years at San Quentin, time during which he continued to compose work, teach music students, and even conduct the prison orchestra. This backstory, though, does not prepare you for Loux’s sunburst of choral movement, a perfect partner to music expressive of audacious tenacity and transcendence. 

For Going to the Sun, set to music by Ryuichi Sakamoto, Fenley has crafted both an exaltation of nature and a lament for the natural treasures we’ve lost and continue to lose. The work was inspired by Montana’s Glacier National Park and the ice and waterways of Greenland, all threatened by climate change. Where Loux’s ensemble visualizes the exuberance of Cowell’s unusual music, Fenley’s orderly precision of placement and movement paints a detailed, awe-inspiring landscape–one of cold, pristine beauty and fragility. In Breaking the Mold, Guy similarly floods the stage with dancers, often bunched and moving in unison abstract patterns. Yet, Guy’s vision requires more fluidity and taffy-stretchiness within and among bodies in various configurations–-a quartet, a quintet, a solo, duet, and so forth.

All three works posed respectable challenges of technique, coordination, and expressivity for their performers. By and large, those tests were met. But then came Goudy’s Divine Flight–or, as she prefers to render the title, D vIne fl~ight. Please imagine what my keyboard can’t recreate: a lowercase d nestled within the lower-left corner of that uppercase initial D.


Scene from Divine Flight (photo: Molly Ouret)

Performers: Foreground: Charlene Longchamp, Alyssa Marten, Ariadne Viloria, Kelly Dresner, hidden: Isabelle Julien, Background: Elias Colado

Charlene Longchamp (darker skin dancer) dressed in white pleated sheer linen pants, and an orange shear top, falling backward with arms in the air into the arms of Isabelle Julien (hidden) Alyssa Marten, wearing an orange sheer top, white athletic pants, a glittering net covers half their head: Ariadne Viloria (upstage) Orange top and White bottoms, Kelly Dresner in a white top with a thin strap and pinkish red button. All are in a deep shallow lunge with arms extended toward Charlene, who is falling. 

Elias Colado, Purple sleeveless top, and white bottoms in mid-spin bent position, arms crossed.  


It immediately became clear that Goudy’s piece had taken pride of place, and rightly so, as the program’s closer.

This ensemble piece is grounded in real-life intimacy, in the love and intense complexities between Goudy and her older sister who, just over a year ago, died of lymphoma. If, unaware of this history, you happened to watch D vIne fl~ight, you might question the sequence in which dancers lift and port a wooden bier over which an immobile body is stretched. Nothing else in the look of the work hints at death or provides death any platform. This work celebrates the rigor and exhilaration of Black dancing, evoking the rhythmic, percussive stylings of West Africa and the Black Midwest. By doing so, Goudy, unexpectedly and magically, unified the intent and spirit of the program’s previous dances, boosting their relevance.

In the world Goudy envisions, the colors of vitality fill the stage, a backdrop projection suggests hazy memories of urban neighborhoods, and the bustling choreography declares ”Life is here. Life is abundant. We are an abundant and generous people.”

Danced with powerful release and rippling joy by the students, D vIne fl~ight is, at once, a tribute to a loved one, a fever dream, and a statement of victory. For us, the living, it is the continued flow of life into a future we make because we can.

Eva Yaa Asantewaa
InfiniteBody, December 8, 2024

Saturday, April 6, 2019

Writer Lea Marshall has some questions for Ohad Naharin

Batsheva Dance Company
(photo: Stephanie Berger)

Batsheva Dance Company
University of Richmond
March 23, 2019

Guest reviewer: Lea Marshall

I have questions for Ohad Naharin that I know he won’t answer, since he’s famously reluctant to comment on his work. But I want to ask them anyway. Batsheva Dance Company recently performed his 2018 work Venezuela in Richmond, Virginia, the week before their performance in New York at BAM. The longer I sit with the work, the more questions I have. 

What does it mean when an Israeli choreographer creates a dance titled Venezuela that has nothing, apparently, to do with that country? What does it mean that the piece includes two dancers (both appearing to be white) lipsyncing the song “Dead Wrong,” by American rapper Notorious B.I.G.? And that the rest of the sound score ranged from Gregorian chant to Arabic trap to Rage Against the Machine? And finally, what does it mean for Naharin to present 40 minutes of choreography, and then repeat the exact same choreography--with some casting, lighting and music changes--as the second half of the work?

I don’t have answers to these questions, but the way they stack up points to the privilege of an internationally revered male choreographer choosing from a global menu of artistic elements to support his creative vision. But the name of a country, an American rap song--these elements have specific cultural contexts that beg addressing, or at least noticing, when included in an artist’s work. To pluck them from their contexts solely for dramatic effect feels at best whimsical and, at worst, arrogant. Hasn’t contemporary artistic discourse moved beyond the idea that aesthetic choices can be separated from the sociocultural forces shaping them? Because they can’t be. And choosing to dismiss or ignore those forces reduces powerful ideas to a kind of aesthetic servitude.

Although these concerns have lingered in my mind for weeks now, I want to spend time appreciating the undeniable power of the Batsheva performers. In theater, the phrase “fourth wall” refers to the front edge of the stage as a boundary between performers and audience. Watching these dancers, I became conscious of a fifth wall--the sky above. 

Sometimes the choreography spoke directly upward, as when dancers flung white cloths into the air under stark white light. But more compellingly, the dancers themselves absorbed and reflected the space around and above them through muscles, bones, lungs--through the flash of a neck toward the light; the sailing arc of a foot; the rainbow sweep of a forehead from downward-facing, upward, and over into a backbend.

Batsheva dancers train in a technique called Gaga, which was developed by Naharin over years as he choreographed for and served as artistic director of the company (he has handed over the administrative reins to former dancer Gili Navot and now holds the title House Choreographer). Gaga, according to its website, is “predicated on a deep listening to the body and to physical sensations.” Dancers practice this technique without mirrors to encourage focus on sensation rather than shape or line.

Gaga technique yields performers suffused with a sensual awareness of their own power, who move with luscious, elastic fullness, devouring space at full throttle or shifting with a delicate gesture into complete stillness. Much of the pleasure I found in watching this work derived from the absorbing dynamism of the dancers’ performances.

I did not get to know these dancers as people, or characters. In Venezuela, performers appear to function as ciphers or symbols, their humanity foremost but their individual personhood veiled. I should say gendered humanity, since the costumes of black dresses and shirts/pants implied a cast of men and women who often split off into pairs, almost always of opposite genders. Power dynamics in these couples--often dancing what, though I am not versed in Latin dance forms, appeared to be salsa-inflected steps--and seemed to shift continuously as it did among the entire group. I frequently felt aware, however, of the choreographer’s power over his dancers--sometimes in the extremes of speed or flexion or torque the movement required, and sometimes in the imagery deployed, such as when five women rode men as on horseback, letting their legs drag the floor in a way that made it clear all their weight rested in their crotch as the men crawled slowly downstage and then up again. 

I had leisure to contemplate this section more fully--as with every other section--during the dance’s second half. A primary motif of Venezuela appeared to be repetition. As the same choreography unfolded again in the second half, I grew puzzled, and then, truthfully, annoyed even as I remained engaged. The chance to relish all that movement again--with different inflections of new music, lighting and performers--felt luxurious. It also felt like a bold choice, almost a slap in the face--a feeling amplified by the frontal choreography, the dancers’ direct gazes toward the audience and their interaction with the provocative music choices. And now I’m back where I started, with the same questions, and perhaps that’s just where Naharin wants me to be.


Lea Marshall
(photo courtesy of Lea Marshall)

Guest reviewer Lea Marshall’s writing on dance has appeared in Dance Magazine, Dance Teacher, The Atlantic, and elsewhere. She lives in Richmond, Virginia, where she is Associate Chair of the Virginia Commonwealth University Department of Dance + Choreography.

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DISCLAIMER: In addition to my work on InfiniteBody, I serve as Senior Curatorial Director of Gibney. The postings on this site are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views, strategies or opinions of Gibney.

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Monday, June 24, 2013

Makeda Thomas celebrates her 10th anniversary season

You'll find my review of dance artist Makeda Thomas's recent 10th Anniversary season at New York Live Arts here on DanceMagazine.com.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Monday, April 29, 2013

Alone and not so: Hilary Clark, Caroline Gravel, Taisha Paggett

Dance Magazine has just posted my review of Solos & Solitudes: Hilary Clark, Caroline Gravel, Taisha Paggett at Danspace Project--although, they've misspelled Taisha's last name. Perhaps that will be fixed by the time you see it. Click here to have a look!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Jason Samuels Smith's tip of the taps to Charlie Parker

Read my Dance Magazine review of Jason Samuels Smith's tap show at The Joyce Theater. Click here.

And ignore that photo. All that hair is gone now. New summer look, I guess!

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Taking the measure of "Parallels"

Parallels—a two-month series commissioned by Danspace and curated by Ishmael Houston-Jones—is arguably the most significant event of the current dance season.
To read more of my Dance Magazine review of Danspace Project's PLATFORM 2012: Parallels, click here.

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