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Movement In Space

Jay Reisberg — Sat, 19 Apr 2025 21:03:08 +0000

Movement In Space Jay Reisberg April 19, 2025 - 17:03

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BODYTRAFFIC: This Reminds Me of You

The Joyce Theater, NYC

April 15 -20, 2025

BODYTRAFFIC is a Los Angeles-based dance company, and their current production, This Reminds Me of You, is a spectacular, over-the-top dance experience. Period. By turns exhilarating, poignant, intriguing, surprising, and captivating, it consists of three sequences created by the most innovative choreographers imaginable. Performed by eight dancers, their energy, presence, and finely-honed artistry inspires nothing less than continuous wide-eyed amazement. Each sequence generated the kind of rich wonderment for which audiences yearn.

The initial dance, "Mayday," includes the timeless music of Buddy Holly and explores how life might be cut short at any moment–and how we carry on regardless, as if "tomorrow" is guaranteed (while knowing full well we never possess such certainty). Throughout this dance, a bright red model airplane is prominently carried and handed off from dancer to dancer, always remaining aloft. Each Buddy Holly song has its own "dance," the choreography is decidedly on the athletic side, including marvelous solos and beautifully crafted ensemble work, concluding with a wistful note. "Mayday" was created by multiple award-winning choreographer Trey McIntyre, who founded his dance company, the Trey McIntyre Project, in Boise, Idaho.

next sequence, "I Forgot the Start," is choreographed by Matthew Neenan, whom the New York Times called "one of America's best dance poets." In a video, Mr. Neenan said this work is about our mental acuity, our mental awareness, self-love, self-discovery, and those arduous times in life when we struggle with just how we're going to hang on. "I Forgot the Start" takes place in an otherworldly atmosphere, in which the dancers are attired in loosely fitting diaphanous costumes designed by Márion Tálon de la Rosa. Above the bare stage is a huge rectangular screen with projected greenery, nature, sky, mountains, etc. The movements are slow and meditative and are accompanied by a fittingly dreamy soundtrack, which includes "In this Heart" by Sinéad O'Connor and "Paka Ua" by Ozzie Kotani and Daniel Ho. "I Forgot the Start" concludes as two male dancers remove their shirts and slowly commence an intimate dance, barely touching one another as they move to the sound of "Flint" by Sufjan Stevens. It seemed as though the audience almost stopped breathing at this point, moved to stillness by the penetrating presence exuded by this exquisite pair of dancers.

The concluding dance, "Incense Burning On A Saturday Morning: The Maestro," was created by choreographer Juel D. Lane, who found his inspiration for this sequence in the artwork of former football player Earnie Barnes. [You may recall the television show Good Times, in which the character J.J. Evans was a painter—but his paintings were actually the work of Earnie Barnes.] This sequence transforms the soul of Mr. Barnes' paintings into dance and is the most technically intricate piece in this dance concert. The entire performance is viewed through a scrim, onto which are projected brush strokes, views of Mr. Barnes' paintings, video clips, and still photos. It starts with black/grey brush strokes, with a male dancer in semi-darkness sitting on a stool with his back to the audience, engaged in painting. The wave of his brush strokes, or their erasure, is projected on the scrim as he moves his hand. The scene progresses with the whole dance company joining in, driven by the sound of intense percussion-driven Afro-Cuban music. The images on the scrim create an arch over the dancers, isolating them from the whole stage, and there are moments when the arch gets larger or smaller as the scrim projections evolve.

The costume designer for this sequence is Jarrod Barnes, loosely basing the dancers' attire on the outfits worn by characters in Barnes' paintings.

One of the key characters in the paintings is known as "the woman in the yellow dress." She comes to life on the stage—and I do mean life as she gyrates wildly to the pounding beat and is joined by the ensemble, giving the audience a high-powered, jubilant conclusion to this sequence and the entire evening's performances.

As an audience member, I have reached the point of ceasing to desire to be merely entertained. Instead, I want to be moved by what I witness, to possess a greater sense of our humanity and the possibility of compassion for others, all while seeking other merits that authentic art generates and bestows on an audience. The entirety of This Reminds Me of You is emphatically such an inspirational miracle.

It is appropriate to name and honor by name each of the dedicated, dynamic dancers who appear in This Reminds Me of You: Chandler Davidson, Donnie Duncan, Jr., Katie Garcia, Pedro Garcia, Anaya Gonzalez, Alana Jones, Joan Rodriguez, and Jordyn Santiago.

I further acknowledge and thank all the lighting designers, the costume constructionist, musicians, singers, videographers, those up in the "the booth," and of course, Tina Finkelman Berkett, co-founder of BODYTRAFFIC.

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Dance Until You Drop: High-Kicking On Celluloid

Brandon Judell — Fri, 20 Jul 2018 14:00:00 +0000

Dance Until You Drop: High-Kicking On Celluloid Brandon Judell July 20, 2018 - 10:00

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As Nietzsche noted, "We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once." The man who buried God would no doubt add, if still around, that watching a film or two on this most active of the arts a fine substitute.

And to make it easier for those of us who wish to honor Terpsichore by perching instead of pirouetting, The Film Society of Lincoln Center and Dance Films Association will for the 46^th straight year screen full-length documentaries and shorts from 17 countries within 16 joyously distinct programs.

From American tap to Mexican acrobatics, from Marcel Marceau to Spike Jonze, and from Japan to Finland, visual treasures will be unearthed that will make you rethink every aspect of dance that you were once so sure about.

For example, "Bleeding and Burning," a two-minute Canadian short directed by Guillaume Marin, in addition to causing you to ponder, supplies a pulsating finale that just might trigger a few seizures. Featuring the dancers Anabel Gagnon and Victoria Mackenzie -- one fully garbed in red fabric from head to toe, the other in black -- the duo sometimes encase each other, when not bombarding their other half. Heavily edited with a pounding accompaniment, the film, the press notes claim, is "an eerie encounter between a malleable human form and a galaxy unknown." I saw a Middle-Eastern woman fighting for survival against a specter of death. Possibly the same conclusion.

Stephen Featherstone's short, "Stopgap in Stop Motion," highlights how a company that "employs both disabled and non-disabled artists [can] find innovative ways to collaborate." Not unlike what The Apothetae brilliantly demonstrates with the current production of Teenage Dick at the Public Theater, the British Stopgap Dance Company accomplishes on both film and no doubt live.

Cleverly choreographed by Lucy Bennett, the film showcases black-and-white photographs of the troupe situated on a colorful office desk with its pens, pencil sharpener, and eraser. Suddenly the dancers come alive and let loose, eventually breaking out of the boundaries of the snapshots, an appropriate metaphor if there ever was one. Clearly, this work provides evidence that great art thrives on limitations, assumed or otherwise.

Marie Brodeur's A Man of Dance (Un homme de danse) begins with Vincent Warren noting, "I love what Agnes de Mille used to say, 'Dance is written on air.'" He might have added, noting his own career, "It's also written with blood, sweat, and tears."

Mr. Warren was born in Florida in 1938, the youngest of 14 children. At age 10, he saw The Red Shoes, and instantly became infatuated with ballet. He started a scrapbook on dance and began paying for his own lessons with an after-school job. He not unexpectedly wasthe only boy in the class. Then, in his teens, he eventually realized he did not fit into the macho culture he was born into so it was off to New York City to develop his talent and to be gay.

Warren soon became the poet Frank O'Hara’s lover, and remained so until O'Hara’s tragic death on Fire Island. With his world turned topsy-turvy, he eventually wound up with Les Grands Ballets Canadiens, retired at age 40, became a renowned dance teacher, and later a highly recognized dance historian.

"Sometimes I meet people who remember me as a dancer. Maybe some old ladies It's something you have to accept." Vincent Warren

A Man of Dance, which begins with Warren packing up his home in box after box, ends with him in his new, smaller abode with the physical remnants of his life more squeezed together.

Clearly articulating the joys and frustrations that accompany one's career in dance, this biography spotlights the early aching of the joints, the lack of decent salaries, and the strains placed upon romance. It also asks why choreographers do not create pieces for older dancers.

Summing it all up, the grey-haired former star states, "We weren’t rich, but we were happy." Sadly, Mr. Warren won't be at Lincoln Center for the New York premiere of the documentary. He died in 2017, one year after the film was completed.

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Video of the Week: M3LL155X

Dusty Wright — Fri, 21 Aug 2015 02:54:42 +0000

Video of the Week: M3LL155X Dusty Wright August 20, 2015 - 22:54

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British singer, songwriter, producer and dancer FKA twigs has released a brand new EP entitled M3LL155X (Young Turks), that features five songs, four of which -- "Figure 8," "I'm Your Doll," "In Time," "Glass & Patron" -- are accompanied by a video directed by FKA twigs herself. The four film pieces form one continuous FKA twigs-directed work, cementing who she is as an artist with an aggressive statement conceptualizing the process of feeling pregnant with pain, birthing creativity and liberation. She breathes a quiet but potent energy into every frame. One of the freshest musicians on the scene today.

Album of the Week: Awakening

Dusty Wright — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 22:47:57 +0000

Album of the Week: Awakening Dusty Wright June 13, 2014 - 18:47

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David Starfire - Awakening (Amrita Recordings)

I'm not much of a DJ music freak, but when I do feel the urge I turn to my friend David Starfire. One of the smartest cats I've ever heard, his collisions of hypnotic worldbeat soundtracks and clever samples are second to none. (You Burners know what I'm talking about!) For a limited time he's offering his latest Psydub album -- Awakening -- for free. and it features collaborators Ganga Giri, Jamie Janover, Rik Shiva, Casey Forest Riley, and a remix by Kaya Project. Just put 0 when prompted on the download instructions. That's insane, but I know he'll make it back tenfold on his next live DJing gig. 'Til then, let this kick off your Saturday night party. Boo ya!

SEVEN is and 7 are...

Robert Cochrane — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 15:21:45 +0000

SEVEN is and 7 are... Robert Cochrane March 14, 2009 - 11:21

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Designer Body BALLETlorent

The Lowry Theatre, Manchester, UK

March 13, 2009

The Lowry stage resembles a gaudy swamp. Dimly lit, and soundtracked by an insistent electronic hum, seven circular plinths turn slowly. A suggestion of dry ice rises around this haunting installation, each platform draped in rich fabric, as though seven haughty models have flounced off, leaving in their wake opulent drapes in artistic heaps. As the lights change and the music rises, there are shifts amongst the discarded cloth. Gradually, from a cocoon of fabric, figures emerge to stand elegant and poised. They resemble Victorian Bohemians. The men are in foppish top hats, the women in elegant dresses. Velvets, brocades, and silks combine in a cavalcade of finery.

A surrealistic dream made flesh. They move in synchronized perfection. The plinths constantly revolve, sometimes in the opposite direction to their tenants. It is a tribute to the dancers that they maintain their difficult positions without a hint of unease. In this battalion of grace, each employs skirts or frock coats to extend the magnitude of their gestures. The effect is haunting and refined, a treat to the eye. Like escaped music box dancers they twirl and shift shape, whilst remaining marooned on their ever-turning platforms, simultaneously unified and isolated. When all collapse on the edges of their small revolving worlds to prostrate themselves like wounded birds, or freshly pinned butterflies, trapped but alive, this cavalcade of movement, color, and form continues to draw the audience along. Occasionally one dancer breaks free from the actions of the rest, a visual insubordination that is all too fleeting, and a subtle surprise to the uniformity of the proceedings.

The stage resembles a dressmaker's floor at the end of the day, for as the piece unfolds, the dancers shed their clothes with invisible discretion. The organic piles that grew into the expensively attired figures now resemble seven flailing and exaggerated life-class models. We have passed through a landscape by Dali into the scene from old tin lids of Quality Street and are now witnessing a cross between an art class and the dissection room. As they writhe naked on their plinths like victims of Pompeii, or outstretch their arms like wingless angels, their previously robed and refined exertions are exposed and bare. Simplicity lies at the heart of such an uncluttered ensemble.

The final moments of this magical piece are both uplifting and melancholy as darkness slowly claims the proceedings and the soundtrack rumbles into silence. The problem with much work of this kind lies in a failure to connect. Such an issue does not arise here, a fact betrayed by the prolonged applause the audience provides.

Designer Body retains a serene power derived from Liv Lorent's restrained choreography, the cohesive strength of the visual narrative ably supported by the isolated sense of gravitas each performer exudes.

A lingering reward, a visual treat, and an hour from which each viewer can individually savor and interpret at their own leisure. They are left to recognize aspects of themselves, invisible partners in an exquisite burlesque.