Life as a Modern Dancer

Reflections on “Water in the Kettle” by MoTor/dance

 

MoToR/Dance performs "Water in the Kettle." Photo by Dean Bosche.

Reflections on “Water in the Kettle” by MoTor/dance

By Molly Rose-Williams

“Put the water on…Put the water in the kettle…” The performers’ voices swoop around the space, weaving in and out of one another as their bodies rock, walk, slap, and stomp in time to the song. I’m seated on the left side of a large semi-circular audience in a lofty wooden auditorium, immersed in the sounds of this corporeal orchestra. The performers move up and down the aisles, pulsing ever closer to the kettle at the center of the stage like raindrops running along the spokes of a wheel. “Put the water on…Put the water in the kettle…” The words leap from their rhythmic bassline like a request, a demand, a statement of intention, a call to arms. By the time they reach the kettle, my body is electric. 

I’m at Rhythmix Cultural Works watching the world premiere of “Water in the Kettle” by MoTor/dance, directed by dancer, musician, and body percussionist Evie Ladin. This show has been years in the making. (They started the process pre-pandemic.) This extended “simmer-time” is unmistakable in the clarity and intention with which the show has been constructed, and the precision and energy with which the cast performs it.

Structurally, the show feels like an expertly-crafted set list. Each scene weaves from one to the next with the unique magic of non-linear logic. The show doesn’t rely on any specific narrative or “plot,” but instead finds cohesion through the investigation of a central theme—experiences of “womanhood,” particularly for women at or moving towards middle age. There are full ensemble numbers featuring original songs that weave together incisive lyrics with Appalachian and African-diasporic polyrhythmic beats; awe-inducing steel guitar and banjo solos; "trios" between bodies, voices, and instrument; spoken monologues based on performers’ real experiences and reflections on womanhood, motherhood, and female-ness… and the list goes on. 

Throughout, the performers demonstrate a virtuosic command of the interplay between physicality, rhythm, and musicality to poke, prod, interrogate, and propose perspectives on what it means to be a woman—often with a delightful dose of dry humor. One of the most memorable numbers for me comes about a third of the way through the piece, when the performers all come out wearing dresses that seem taken straight from a 50’s housewife’s closet. They form a large clump behind a wooden table, and begin to tumble and pour over one another towards the audience, each vying for a single spot at the front. As they claw and push one another aside, they sing in a sweet-voiced cannon, “Thank you for talking over me.” Their voices drown one another out even as they create the sweetest of harmonies. The perky melody, their too-bright smiles, and their ruthless struggle for attention create a hilarious and biting satire of the struggle so many women face in simply being listened to or taken seriously.

In a more earnest moment, performer Tammy Chang performs a monologue based on real conversation with her mother. “Mom, were you in love with Dad when you married him?” Chang’s first questions come in a casual, conversational tone. “Why didn’t you go to university like you wanted to?” “Why did you leave Taiwan to come to America?” For each of her mother’s responses, Chang follows up: “But why? What did you really want?” The conversation ends with her mother hitting the table with open palms: “Stop asking me if I wanted to do things, we just did them, ok?!” The theater is quiet as Chang leaves the stage—an unexpectedly profound moment amidst a generally more humorous show. I’m touched by the honesty in this moment, and impressed with how seamlessly the performers are able to move between emotional tenors without missing a beat.

As the show goes on, I find myself noticing how much fun the performers seem to be having. More, they seem to truly care about what they’re doing. Their full-hearted commitment especially shines through in the impressive precision of the choreography. In this show, movement is sound and sound is movement, and so every moment of synchronicity or syncopation is not only visible, but also audible. More often than not, the performers smile while they move, and their power and clarity feels contagious. 

Throughout, the performance continues to refer to the kettle, and the motif accumulates meanings. On a basic level, “putting the water in the kettle” feels like a reference to traditional gender roles—a nod to domesticity and the expectation that women play the role of caretaker in the home. But “putting the kettle on” also begins to take on a new meaning: changes are brewing. Things are about to boil over, if they haven’t already. By the end of the show, as they sing the kettle song one last time, Ladin makes her way upstage with the ensemble clustered around her. She holds the kettle high above the table, and then lowers it ever so slowly. All eyes are on the kettle. The kettle hits the table, and then the lights go off. I am left with the sense that not only is the kettle already on—the water is boiling.

Big thank you to Evie Ladin and her collaborators. I’m already eagerly awaiting their next show!

 

Molly Rose-Williams is a Bay Area-based performer, writer, producer, and maker. When she’s not dancing or writing about dance, she works as a creative producer for The Nocturnists podcast, and teaches cooking and science. See more at www.mollyrosewilliams.com.

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Related post:

"Water in the Kettle": Five Questions with Evie Ladin

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"Water in the Kettle": Five Questions with Evie Ladin

Left to right: Valerie Gutwirth, JJ Hansen, and Tammy Chang. Photo by Dean Bosche.

Water in the Kettle: Five Questions with Evie Ladin

By Jill Randall

The other day I got to catch up with Bay Area artist Evie Ladin on Zoom about her upcoming evening length work with her group MoToR/dance, Water in the Kettle. The performances are February 3-4, 2023 at Rhythmix Cultural Works in Alameda. Tickets here.

Five words to describe Water in the Kettle:

Inviting

Lush

Communal

Complex

Emotional

Can you offer the elevator pitch about your show?

It has a few different angles to it. First of all - it is a body music show. We are doing self-scored choreographies. Music and dance and choreography are all coming from our bodies. There is singing in harmony, and percussive movement. 

Thematically, Water in the Kettle explores American foundational ideas of freedom and equality and the disconnect between the country’s claim to these values and its actualization. Also, it is from the perspective of women. With my foundation in Appalachian cultural arts, those arts are a mix of Black, Brown, and White cultures. They are the first syncretic arts in this country. The country is founded on the ideas of freedom and equality but on the backs of genocide and slavery. 

We are using the metaphor of “water in the kettle,” and this phrase comes from a song a friend wrote. Think about all of the times we put water on to boil: the first thing you do when you are greeting somebody, when you need solace, when you sit down to talk, when the activists get to work. There is so much more work to do - so put the kettle on. 

What was the seed/inspiration to develop Water in the Kettle, and your first evening length work with MoToR/dance?

I thought this was going to be about 18-20 minutes in total, with 3 sections. In 2020 we were going to debut the first section at an International Body Music MiniFest (which was canceled with the pandemic). We had 3 performances planned in 2020 to premiere the 3 sections.

During the pandemic, we kept practicing and workshopping and developing as an ensemble. Over the course of it, I started realizing that it was becoming its own thing, a much bigger thing thematically. I was scared to develop it - partly because I come from a more traditional perspective where “meaning” is not so much the goal. It’s a different approach to creating art. 

I was inspired by the International Body Music Festival, but I wanted to see more choreography. I started workshopping African diaspora polyrhythms on the body to explore them and learn them more deeply, as foundational in the Appalachian tradition. Layering on Appalachian songs felt very natural and connected. 

With this project, I had an intentional theme and narrative. 

Art as you experience it - does it move you or not? The more the work took shape, the more confident I became. 

Can you share a little window into the dancing and singing? Set material? Improvised?

It is mostly set and scored. I spent a lot of time arranging the music on us, feeling how it moves, and then moving people in space. 

Arranging is a process of back and forth with the music and the dance. The development of choreography from a sonic perspective. When are things being sung, when are they harmonized? Who is singing when? How are they moving? 

Lara Weaver wrote “Water in the Kettle,” but we completely re-wrote the verses. All of the rest of the lyrics and melodies are public domain. 

Who are the performers and collaborators? Talk a bit about the cast. 

I had been developing the work with whoever was interested. Some are more dancers, some are more musicians. A lot of them are mothers. Conversationally there is a lot of shared experience. 

I held auditions in January 2020. Then Covid hit, and I lost a third of the group to moving, career changes, etc.

There is a core group of 7, really seasoned performing artists. I added two people who are more musicians and three as chorus members. The age span is 27-59.

It is a phenomenal cast of 12 women. I have great respect for them.

Lisa Berman, Heather Arnett, Cynthia Mah, Kristen DeAmicis, Evie Ladin, Amber Hines, and Keira Armstrong. Photo by Dean Bosche.

 

Ruminations on "We Are All Friends Here" by Molly Rose-Williams

Molly Rose-Williams. Photo by Molly Rose-Williams. Photo by Chani Bockwinkel.

Ruminations on We Are All Friends Here by Molly Rose-Williams

By Melissa Hudson Bell

 

Delightful. That is the word that continues to come to me as I ruminate on Molly Rose-Williams’ latest show, entitled We Are All Friends Here.

And I mean delightful in a certain sort of way…
Delightful in a substantive, engrossing way, rather than a fleeting or flimsy way. 
Delightful in a transporting, life-affirming sort of way.
Delightful in a lift your spirits, tickle your funny bone, get coerced into giving yourself an impromptu rub down, sort of way.
Delightful in an all-consuming first crush, first romance, first meaningful hand-hold-with-a-sweetheart sort of way.
Delightful in a balloon-dropping, clowning around but only kinda joking sort of way.
Delightful in a still-comforted-month-later-by-the-feelings-the-show-evoked sort of way.
Delightful in a way that reminds me why I first fell in love with live performance.
Delightful in a way that stops time.
Delightful in a way that excites.
Delightful in a way that, well, delights.

As I venture to dissect what exactly delights about the whole experience of attending this performance, I offer up three concrete, delightful examples from the show. I owe much of my understanding of delight to the reading and rereading of Ross Gay’s 2019 Book of Delights (if you haven’t read it, go get a copy). It is clear that what delights varies from person to person, and in this show delights were so plentiful that I imagine that if you asked a different audience member what delighted them, you’d get a slew of other possible answers. Key to delight for me is some element of unexpected pleasure, some pocket of joy in which I can nestle. Delights also seem somehow to linger, sticking around even as they morph with the passing of time.


Example One: Build-a-phrase

This first delight may be especially delightful for folks, like myself, who are well-versed in techniques for crafting contemporary dance phrases. One tried and true choreographic technique is to build a phrase by creating a gradually increasing chain of gestures or movements. The original gesture gets revisited and elaborated, often becoming the audience’s anchor in a sea of sometimes seemingly unrelated movements. When well executed, the watcher gets to see a dancer deepen in their embodiment of the chosen movements, and the movements themselves get richer through repetition rather than expected and dull. 

Molly Rose-Williams, the sole performer in this show, has undoubtedly had countless experiences with this build-a-phrase choreographic technique. She also (lucky us) possesses exceptional prowess as a performer. She is grounded and articulate, and somehow both generous and sly. She is expressive in a way that belies her training in the circus arts, which attends acutely to the experience of the audience. It is clear that she yearns to connect, and the distinct ways in which she holds time and space invite this connection. 

So, when she employs this build-a-phrase choreographic tactic early on in the show, (arcing sideways, turning around herself, reaching downward) it is a pleasure to watch her move through what is an identifiable technique… AND the pleasure is doubled by how she complicates the mechanics of it with a gradually building urgency of purpose, as well as the inclusion of language, namely “I” (hands to her chest) and “you” (pointing to the audience). One of the repeated gestures is a full bodied wrestling with some heavy object, some weighty concern, that it is necessary to lift up, and presumably, to examine more closely. 

The full effect, which I’m finding it hard to capture in words, is that of watching someone struggle to unearth something that resides not just in the mind, but in every cell of her dancing body. She employs the sequencing technique to communicate something that is still somehow forming, somehow just bubbling to the surface. 

What, you may ask, is it that is laboriously being unearthed, worked out through repetition, pulled up from the depths, patched together?? The icing on the cake, and somehow the cake itself. It’s an admission of the heart, followed by a bashful, but not coy, sort of gaze around the space. A whispered “I have a crush on you” (hands on chest, hands pointing at person in the front row). It’s delightful.

Molly Rose-Williams. Photo by Chani Bockwinkel.

Example Two: Unexpected Paths

“I’ll be right there,” or perhaps “I’ll come to you,” Molly stage whispers to the person seated in the front row. Molly is standing upstage in the corner of the charming black box space of NOHspace. She has just announced that she has a crush on the person seated next to the individual she is now addressing, and she is suggesting she approach the seated pair for intel about her new crush. The obvious thing to do, of course, would be to walk downstage to the front row, a feat Molly could undertake easily, in probably 10 or 12 of her huge, grounded strides. But, who actually ever finds out information about a new crush in a direct manner?? So, in a moment that got me actually laughing out loud, Molly drops to the floor and “climbs” her way horizontally across the base of the scrim that lines the back wall. She then plasters herself to the bricks of the side wall, shimmying along as if precariously balanced on the edge of a building ledge at great height. Then, she somehow melts into a puddle at the corner of the stage and propels herself across the floor on her stomach before casually standing as though it all was the most natural thing in the world. The epitome of cool. It’s clowning, but only sort of kidding. The circuitous path could not be more appropriate, the trajectory was utterly unexpected, and expertly executed. Net effect - delight.


Example Three: The Balloon

I should start by saying that I am not a person who necessarily delights in balloons. They are not eco-friendly and whenever my kids are in possession of them they fight over who gets to play with them and how. (Sidebar: my children thoroughly delight in subjecting me to “balloon squeal day” - thanks, Trolls Holiday Special - wherein they blow up balloons and then pinch the neck of the balloon so that the air passes through slowly, generating an obnoxious squeal. For them, delight. For me, torture. But, I digress…)

In We Are All Friends Here balloons seem to be everywhere, a whimsical symbol of relationships or, rather, our initial feelings about relationships that inevitably don’t last. There is a surprise balloon drop after Rose-Williams professes amorous feelings towards her chosen audience member. They fall from above, floating to the ground only to be kicked and hit and blown around by Rose-Williams’ ebullient dancing. She also hangs some of the balloons on the side of the stage somehow, where they remain throughout the performance, tauntingly magical as the mystery of how they hang there, suspended with no strings attached, lingers at the edges of our view. At the end of the performance Rose-Williams offers a single balloon to her crush in a gesture that ends up being both heartfelt and mischievous. But, the most delightful balloon moment for this audience member was when Rose-Williams herself embodied the character of The Balloon. The Balloon was the last in a line of four characters to whom we are introduced (Hands, Heart, and a teacher or leader of some sort being the other three). The Balloon seems to be the cynic of the bunch, or perhaps she is merely a realist. She has a heavy East Coast accent, and a demeanor that seems both sage and resigned. She quips in with one liners that effectively undercut any potential for sentimentality as the four characters stew over their own experiences of, anxieties about, and hopes for love relationships. She reminds that all balloons, while seemingly glorious in flight, are eventually grounded, losing their luster and creating a problem that we humans have to clean up. The character “The Balloon” cleverly renders what could be a simple metaphor into a multi-dimensional stand-in for the complexities of the show’s subject matter. This is a feat made delightful by Rose-Williams’ attentiveness not just to the idea of The Balloon, but to its embodiment. Complex, clever delight.

Molly Rose-Williams. Photo by Chani Bockwinkel.

This experience of delight is feeding me as I enter what is already feeling like a tumultuous new year. I feel comforted in knowing that works like We Are All Friends Here are being made and supported by entities like Shawl-Anderson Dance Center, FACT/SF, and others. I am attending to the ways that the initial delights of sitting in a room with others at the show still echo in my body. When the world seems to tighten up around me, and when I find myself tightening up to ward off the world, I’m trying to check myself and instead lean into the lingering sensations of delight… and then to dare to risk connection and vulnerability, to show up as the show encouraged.

 

Melissa Hudson Bell is a dancer, choreographer, teacher, researcher and writer who lives and works in Oakland, CA. More info at melissahudsonbell.com

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Related posts:

• Preview: "We Are All Friends" in the Studio
• Modern Dance Fan Club: RAWdance’s CONCEPT series: 28
• Blog Series: "Why improv?" (with Molly Rose-Williams)
• Review/response: We came, We saw, They conquered

 

The 2022 Recap: 10 Posts and Projects on the Blog and Beyond

Jill Randall. Photo by Tony Nguyen Photography.

The 2022 Recap: 10 Posts and Projects on the Blog and Beyond
By Jill Randall

Thank you for another great year on the blog and for your support and engagement. Looking back at the posts from the year, I wanted to recap and highlight some of the projects and key writing.

Contracts and Dancer Care
Emily Hansel is a San Francisco Bay Area artist and also on the leadership committee of DANC. She started the year off with an essay called Empowering Dancers through Contracts and just wrote in December another essay, Contingency plans that support dancers’ mental and physical health.

Improvisational Explorations and Teaching
Writer Bhumi B Patel has contributed numerous pieces over the years, and this year I appreciated her two essays towards our series on improvisational practices and teaching.
finding tiny freedoms
on teaching improvisational practice: dispatch from August 2022

A Graphic: On Teaching
I love reflection questions, and I also love a visual I can keep on the wall in my office. Dancer and designer Claire Calalo Berry helped make this one come together: On teaching dance: What we wish to hear, what we hope you feel as a student

Honoring 15 Years of the CONCEPT series with RAWdance
Back in March, I had the opportunity to have a Zoom dialogue with RAWdance co-directors Katerina Wong, Wendy Rein, and Ryan Smith. You can find the interview here. It is wonderful to honor and celebrate the company's 15 years of running this series. How can we make something last? How can we keep the project relevant?

In the Spotlight: 18 Pieces about Bay Area Dance (Previews, Reviews, One Good Quote)
Thank you to an amazing roster of writers who supported and spotlighted artmaking in the Bay Area this year, including: Melissa Hudson Bell, Sima Belmar, Garth Grimball, Bhumi B Patel, and Molly Rose-Williams. Writing included previews, reviews+reflection, and the One Good Quote project which captures audience responses. Check out all 18 pieces here.

Jennifer Perfilio Movement Works, “Small Dances.” Dancer Samuel Melecio-Zambrano. Photo by Hillary Goidell. Read more about it here.

Towards Reflection+Writing: A New Journal for Teens
After publishing 4 journals for use in undergraduate and graduate classes, I was excited to make a teen version this summer as well. The journal is free to download; there is also a PDF version in which you can type. "Dance/Reflect:" A New Journal to Use with High School Students

August Celebrations: 10 Years of Life as a Modern Dancer
In late summer, I celebrated 10 years of the website and 1381 posts! I am thrilled to reflect on the journey of Life as a Modern Dancer and what the platform does and can continue to do in the coming years. I just keep following interests, curiosities, questions, and offerings.

Another Graphic: Life as an Arts Administrator
I was excited to share a second graphic/visual offering this year about life as an arts administrator. Thank you to graphic designer Jenny Lederer for helping me put it on paper: Life+Work as an Arts Administrator Graphic

On Medium.com: An Interview with Molly Heller
Salt Lake City-based artist Molly Heller is a wonderful colleague and someone I have interviewed and worked with on many writing projects over the years. This fall I published on medium.com another dialogue,  Imaginative Teaching, Humility, and the Longview: A Conversation with Dance Professor Molly Heller.

New Books in 2022
Last, in late December, I enjoyed creating a list/compilation of 18 new books from the year. Check out the array of new offerings here.

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In 2022 every writer was paid, and I aim to offer a 5% increase for the roster of writers in 2023. If you would like to contribute towards the project, every donated dollar goes directly towards paying these incredibly dedicated writers. Thank you for donating via Venmo to Life as a Modern Dancer (@Jill-Randall-6).

 

Looking Back and Celebrating: Dance Performances in the San Francisco Bay Area in 2022

Rogelio Lopez in "Entre Despierto y Dormido." Photo by Ryan Kwok.

Looking Back and Celebrating: Dance Performances in the San Francisco Bay Area in 2022

By Jill Randall

I always love looking back at the posts from the past year. While this is only one snapshot of dance in the San Francisco Bay Area, it still is a pretty robust picture of artmaking and vibrancy in 2022. We were happy to cover 18 different performances. Thank you to the amazing roster of writers in 2022, including: Melissa Hudson Bell, Sima Belmar, Garth Grimball, Bhumi B Patel, and Molly Rose-Williams.

You will find here reviews+reflections, previews, and One Good Quote audience responses. All forms of writing about performance and process offer meaning, inspiration, and connection. I have pulled one or two paragraphs from each post to share with you today.

I also encourage you to check out this Dance Cast podcast, which is an amazing conversation with Sima Belmar and Bhumi B Patel. The podcast title is: To Review or Not to Review?.

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Zaccho Dance Theatre’s "Love, a state of grace": aerial, ethereal, magical

Zaccho’s artistic director Joanna Haigood chose to work with the affordances of the space, physical and spiritual. Gallo, seated on the swing, rises 70 feet at the speed of a death march before the rigging lets go, catapulting her toward the altar. I knew this would happen (what else can a pendulum do but swing?) but, still, my breath caught in my throat. What I didn’t expect, because I was still marveling at the speed and height of Gallo’s soaring, was the moment when she released herself from the swing and flew-floated alone. And this is just what I needed: a sense of soaring, of quietude, of holy ecstasy. - Sima Belmar

David Herrera Performance Company Ignites Language in “The Tip of My Tongue”

The Tip of My Tongue, premiering this weekend at Z Space, opens with Herrera sharing a story of his past. He and his sister would “argue and fight. Who would translate for my parents? I was an adult as the same time I was a child.” This anecdote foretells the movement language and structure of the dance. Choreographed in collaboration with Antoine Hunter (Director of Urban Jazz Dance Company) and the six dancers, Herrera wants the work to render the non-linear bilingual experience of immigrants. “Everything is chopped up. You get pieces of things,” said Herrera. - Garth Grimball

Modern Dance Fan Club: RAWdance’s CONCEPT series: 28

I had the opportunity to interview RAWdance co-directors Katerina Wong, Wendy Rein, and Ryan T. Smith a few weeks ago, so I was primed, prepped, and excited to see the CONCEPT series in person on Saturday, March 26th. I am highly impressed and appreciative of RAWdance’s longevity with the series - 15 years strong - and the key idea behind it all - a regular platform for works in progress. Fun, playful, unapologetic sharing of new ideas and first sketches. The CONCEPT series brings “the dream of the audience” into the artmaking process and has organized nearly 30 iterations bringing together dancemakers and dance enthusiasts alike. - Jill Randall

“Frolic”: Reflections on the 3rd Annual Queering Dance Festival

What does it mean to queer dance? Is it an action? An attitude, or way of making or witnessing dance that intentionally visibilizes alternate perspectives and experiences from those traditionally privileged in the field and society at large? An acknowledgment of something that’s already happening when a program is comprised entirely of queer-identifying artists? Something constructed—a product of discourse and group agreement? Something unavoidable—a product of the innate immeasurability of bodies?

Probably all of the above and much more, changing and shifting depending on the context and circumstances. One of the ways I started thinking about the idea of queering dance while writing this reflection was through the lens of acknowledgment and citation. I think Aiano Nakagawa’s land acknowledgment planted the seed for this branch of thought, and then my memory of a few definitions of how sound waves travel layered on top. In short, one aspect of queering dance that came alive for me through seeing this show was the idea that everything in these works was a reflection or “refraction” of an infinite well of source material. In watching each piece, I was witnessing a many-layered process of sources of inspiration and information being filtered through the artistic choices and in-the-moment embodiments of each performer. - Molly Rose-Williams

"Are You There God? It's Me, Jules" with Julie Crothers

This is the magic and mastery of Crothers’ performance, a layering of memory and imagination, of remembered and imagined embodiments, practiced and finely choreographed—even the improvised dance sections have a clear score and purpose: to embody character and affect, and to entertain. I believed every posture, gesture, vocal tone, and dance move. This would have been enough. But Crothers goes further by shaping a performance that also embodies the way Christian spirituality navigates, constructs, and claims transubstantiation. Crothers turns the teachings of her Christian upbringing into flesh. - Sima Belmar

Julie Crothers. Photo by Hans Holtan.

"Talking Circle" with Risa Jaroslow & Dancers

The dance begins with these gestures, dancers in duets and trios, sometimes seated, in conversation with each other, performing a sort of call and response. That specificity extends to the lower body, moving out of the typical communicative gesture space, giving pelvises, knees, ankles, and, above all, feet the power of speech. And, for me, whether or not I understand what is being said through the body, I can feel, I can be moved, and I was. - Sima Belmar

“Four by Four” by Emily Hansel: Reflections on Product as Process

Overall, the effect of placing three similar pieces next to each other evoked a similar fascination to what I felt at Olivia’s art opening. It made me want to look, and then look again. Each moment unfolded like that little paper box—one time this, the next time that. The same movements became something new each time I saw them, like the layers of a many-faced kaleidoscope, slowly revealed, face by face. The most conclusive “take away” I can share, is that by the end of the show I felt relaxed and at ease. I look forward to more from Emily Hansel and her collaborators. - Molly Rose-Williams

"Four by Four" by Emily Hansel. Photo by Steve Disenhof Photography.

One Good Quote: "Go Big or Go Home" with Aiano Nakagawa and Heth Stockton

This was such a moving film that so beautifully captured and carved space out for fat, queer femme dancer friendship. It was gorgeous, funny, cohesive, entertaining, and plucked all my heart strings. Like a captivating dance performance, this film explored so many levels and textures of feeling--it was nostalgic, relatable, poignant, deeply vulnerable, and so touching. Thank you for bringing this into the world and sharing it with us! - Alex M

Aiano Nakagawa and Heth Stockton.

In “FRAMEWORK,” Kristin Damrow & Co Explore The Body Inside And Out

Damrow invited the audience to move through the space letting yourself miss some things and discover others. Throughout the show she led by example and the audience followed suit, creating our own swirling biomass. I walked, sat, squatted, leaned, stood still. I was more aware of my skeleton by moving through the space than if the show were a seated event. The audience accepted Damrow’s invitation to immerse. - Garth Grimball

FACT/SF’s Summer Dance Festival Dances Through Genre

Attending a dance festival can encourage one to proclaim trends or locate a throughline that may be non-existent. What does seeing these six works tell me about dance, about dance makers? Nothing, writ large. But in these six dances I see a grappling with the question of, How to be? What are the connections a body can make in this time and place? Good questions to ask and keep asking. - Garth Grimball

FACT/SF & DISCO RIOT Dance On Making

“For a” has one of the best openings I’ve seen in recent memory. The theater’s entire lighting grid was lowered to just above the floor. The beams, the hardware, the wires, all visible. Slender-White, Neumann, and Roman enter gliding beneath it all belly down on creeper seats. It was silly and joyful and the audience laughed.
- Garth Grimball

LizAnne Roman of FACT/SF. Photo by Robbie Sweeny.

In Full Sunlight: Jennifer Perfilio Movement Works in “Small Dances”

Samuel comes closer to the audience on my side of the meadow and takes off their shoes. Another incredible solo moment is explored with spiraling, lunging, expansive and expanding movement.

I am back to the idea of delight. I am thinking about the planned and unplanned audience. Watching/absorbing/questioning/connecting. Making personal connections.

As Samuel completes their solo and runs off stage left, they break into a smile. Does exertion and endurance take us to a place of ease, joy, presence? - Jill Randall

"Lasos" with Reyes Dance

I will say that "Lasos," the Spanish word for “ties,” is a performance piece that, as the press materials suggest, concretely explores “the links between childhood trauma and chronic pain in the context of Latin American culture and traditions.” The four dancers - Brooke Terry, Caitlin Hicks, Maya Mohsin, and Jess Bozzo - play various characters in several short films created by Reyes, and then cleverly transition from film to stage as the final film ends with the four dancers cavorting into the Joe Goode Annex moments before they actually appear in front of the audience. In defiance of the gravity of the chosen subject matter, the mood of “Lasos” is not somber. Instead, the piece creates a carnivalesque world where pedestrian-style gestures are writ large with a puppet show sort of quality to them. The gestures are combined with presentational feats of highly structured and organized movement that draws from ballet (someone actually turns fouettes), old school hip-hop, salsa and cumbia, and more. The overall effect is a frenetic kind of story ballet that transports viewers into a world down-the-rabbit-hole (for lack of a better metaphor) in search of not home, but relief. Or understanding. Or connection. Or all of the above. - Melissa Hudson Bell

somewhere in between ("Entre Despierto y Dormido" with Rogelio Lopez & Dancers)

What I know is that when I go to see Rogelio Lopez’s work, I’m in for a wonderful kaleidoscope of moments of joy, multi-dimensional interrogation, and gorgeous movement. What I didn’t expect was that this piece would take me through time and space on a journey of nostalgia, humor, and dreamed futures while keeping me firmly rooted in the realities of living in a queer, body of color in the here and now. - Bhumi B Patel

Dimensions Dance Theater: Celebrating 50 Years

Oakland-based Dimensions Dance Theater is celebrating its golden anniversary this year, fifty years of making, performing, and teaching dances of the African Diaspora under the artistic direction of co-founder Deborah Vaughan. Naming and blurring  the line between the traditional and the contemporary, historical experience and the lived realities of the present moment, the company’s 50th anniversary performance at Mills College did not merely present the audience with finely crafted, beautifully danced choreographies but also wrapped us in a community embrace.

Dimensions dancers demonstrate the ways bodies are inhabited by lineages. The evening invited the audience to recognize and revel in the complex root system that constitutes African diasporic dance. Equal parts technique and heart--especially those kids in white, smiling broadly while losing their hats and leg bands without missing a beat—Dai Zoe Bush was the perfect way to celebrate 50 years of art, community, and love. - Sima Belmar

Rosanna Tavarez & Bianca Cabrera Travel in Multiple Dimensions

“Piece X Piece” ends in a frenzy. The duo subvert the WPA images of “noble work” done in civic pride. The sound of a sewing machine surging amplifies as they move through repetitive actions exhausting their bodies. Tavarez honors the reality of work done by immigrants, women, mothers.

The quartet [in "Fever Dreams"] ooze across the stage. Colors and bodies melt and set. A tree of limbs becomes a deep embrace becomes a Hydra. I doubt there is a centimeter of body that didn’t connect with another body. The dancers perform yogic maneuvers with runway confidence. The energy is carnal not sexy. - Garth Grimball

"Fever Dreams" by Blind Tiger Society. Photo by Greg Meyers.

"We Are All Friends" in the Studio (Molly Rose-Williams)

Overall though, I think it’s starting to work. The show opens in 2.5 weeks, and little by little, it’s starting to feel real. Every time I run it, I learn something new. For example, just yesterday I discovered that if I slow down the approach to the “Slippery Hands” section, then a part I previously thought of as a transition suddenly blooms into an entire section of its own—it turns out the Self Help Guru has a story or two of her own to tell! With each run, my British accent drifts less and less Australian, and my invisible lover stays more and more solid while I water the dying grass. Mostly, I’m learning how to try, and try again, and then ask for help and try some more. - Molly Rose-Williams

Tender Is the Day in “slow dark dances” (Maurya Kerr)

At noon on opening day eight dancers entered from behind the museum’s forum. Each one dressed in an ombre combination of ivory, sand, bronze and chocolate. They paired off and stopped in different galleries. They faced each other and embraced. From there the choreography was as simple as swaying. From there the choreography was as mutable as a butterfly’s flight pattern. - Garth Grimball

Maurya Kerr and Alexander Diaz. Photo: Robbie Sweeny.

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If you would like your 2023 performance to be considered for a preview, review, or One Good Quote, please write to Blog Director Jill Randall at randalldanceprojects@gmail.com. The site covers 1-2 performances a month. Thank you!

 

Julie Crothers. Photo by Hans Holtan.

Bodies, Communication, and Somatic Awareness

Bodies, Communication, and Somatic Awareness

By Jill Randall

I have been a huge fan of Andrea Olsen for years. Reading her 2014 book The Place of Dance: A Somatic Guide to Dancing and Dance Making was a pivotal experience for me - really the first time I felt that a dancer wrote a book that was a work of art itself - more than just the words and exercises on the page. There was artistry, composing of each page/section, and craft in the making of that book. I love that book. 

I have had the honor of Andrea writing for Life as a Modern Dancer over the years. Check out this essay here about her process writing The Place of Dance; and muse here with her piece in the Somatic Writing Series, "Activate."

 

This year, I eagerly awaited Andrea’s latest book, Moving Between Worlds: A Guide to Embodied Living and Communicating. Thick and big like The Place of Dance, I dove into the pages. 

 

This is a book about “communication” - to invite a wider circle to engage with the book beyond just us modern dancers. Will Communication professors or Business professors join in? I hope so. Will Dance professors and Somatics professors? Yes please. 

 

The broad themes include: attitudes, perception, arriving and orientation, authenticity, and interconnectivity. As Olsen shares early on in the book on page 5,“…the body is our primary means for communication and connection.”

 

With Moving Between Worlds Andrea Olsen offers a sophisticated, layered book with poetic language, personal anecdotes, photos, plentiful references to other artists, thought leaders, and books, and of course 31 days of movement and writing activities to try on. As Chris Aiken writes in the Foreword, “Olsen has been a leader in advocating for meaning and knowledge-building through the development of embodied intelligence.” And most importantly, Olsen writes in her Introduction, “Every word is filtered through the body, my body."

 

In particular, as an arts administrator myself, I want to spotlight this book for dancers who are arts administrators. Holding these multiple roles can feel incongruous at times, but this book in particular can help build these connections between body and community, between feeling and expressing. I think it is the perfect offering for arts administrators as we turn the calendar to 2023 and seek new ideas, inspiration, and deepening in our work and within our organizations. Give it a try. Pull out a salient quote or offer an exercise as an opening activity in a staff meeting. Read a section per week for 31 weeks and riff off of the themes in your work life and personal life. (That's my personal plan for the coming months.)

 

So who is this book for? The list is long, including

Dancers

Dance teachers

Somatic practitioners

Arts administrators

Communications professors

Doctors

Therapists
Prek-12 teachers
Speech pathologists

 

Let’s be curious. Let’s be in our bodies. Let’s feel + see + perceive + respond. Let’s soften and lengthen and breathe and smile. Curiosity, care, and communication can heal ourselves and our world. 

 

Moving Between Worlds: A Guide to Embodied Living and Communicating

By Andrea Olsen

Wesleyan University Press

2022; 272 pages

Available in paperback and e-book

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New Dance Books in 2022

New Dance Books in 2022
By Jill Randall

I always love compiling a book list! Please find below the wonderful and exciting titles of the year - great for your own reading or for adding into a college/graduate course. If I have missed a title, please add a comment below, thank you.

The list focuses primarily on modern dance and somatics related books, sprinkled in with a few other forms. In particular, I want to spotlight Misty Copeland's latest book about her mentor, Raven Wilkinson (The Wind at My Back: Resilience, Grace, and Other Gifts from My Mentor Raven Wilkinson) and also an incredible series of essays about jazz dance, Rooted Jazz Dance: Africanist Aesthetics and Equity in the Twenty-First Century.

In alphabetical order:

Breadth of Bodies: Discussing Disability in Dance - by Emmaly Wiederholt and Silva Laukkanen

The Choreography of Everyday Life - by Annie-B Parson

Critique Is Creative: The Critical Response Process® in Theory and Action - by Liz Lerman and John Borstel

Dance and Belonging: Implicit Bias and Inclusion in Dance Education - by Crystal U. Davis

Dance Vision: Dance Through the Eyes of Today’s Artists - by Joshua Teal

Democracy Moving: Bill T. Jones, Contemporary American Performance, and the Racial Past - by Ariel Nereson

Eco Soma: Pain and Joy in Speculative Performance Encounters - by Petra Kuppers

Faux Queen: A Life in Drag - by Monique Jenkinson

A Guide to a Somatic Movement Practice: The Anatomy of Center - by Nancy Topf, with Hetty King

Handle the Horrible: Change. Triage. Joy - by Chasta Hamilton

Martha Graham: When Dance Became Modern - by Neil Baldwin

Moving Between Worlds: A Guide to Embodied Living and Communicating - by Andrea Olsen

On Site: Methods for Site-Specific Performance Creation - by Stephan Koplowitz

Rooted Jazz Dance: Africanist Aesthetics and Equity in the Twenty-First Century - edited by Lindsay Guarino, Carols R.A. Jones, and Wendy Oliver

The Wind at My Back: Resilience, Grace, and Other Gifts from My Mentor Raven Wilkinson - by Misty Copeland with Susan Fales-Hill

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Plus, a few other related books of note about rest, imagination, and creativity:

Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto - by Tricia Hersey

Imagine If...Creating a Future for Us All - by Sir Ken Robinson and Kate Robinson

Inspired: Understanding Creativity: A Journey Through Art, Science, and the Soul - by Matt Richtel

 

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Related articles:
New Dance Books in 2021
New Dance Books in 2020
New Dance Books in 2019

 

Contingency plans that support dancers’ mental and physical health

Photo by Steve Disenhof

 

Contingency plans that support dancers’ mental and physical health

By Emily Hansel

 

While dancing in a recent performance, I experienced a somewhat minor, recurring injury mid-show. I was in minor discomfort for the rest of the show. I finished the performance without much modification of the choreography and returned for a full day of performances the following day. I am fairly used to this particular injury occurring and then healing within a matter of days. But this time it did not heal so quickly. In retrospect, I’m wondering if I should’ve taken a day off to rest. Instead, I danced on the injury, making it worse and extending the amount of recovery time.

The production closed eight days after my onstage injury, and it was after the run concluded that I began to wonder if my injury was a more serious matter than I’d previously considered. What if every time my little injury happens it’s actually causing damage that will one day accumulate into something serious that I could’ve prevented? It strikes me as odd that I didn’t even let myself ponder this issue during the run of the performance. I held an important role in the show and because I wasn’t feeling intense pain, I felt it was my responsibility to continue performing. I enjoyed doing the show and didn’t want to miss out on dancing for a live audience. I didn’t have an understudy and didn’t want to leave the company in a lurch. Not to mention, my contract stated that I would not be paid for shows I did not complete, and I wanted to receive my full fee for the gig. It was a no-brainer and wasn’t even a conscious decision to continue performing for another week.

As I write this all out, I’m thinking my experience might be coming across as more dramatic than it felt. Realistically, this type of dancing with a minor injury is a commonplace, borderline mundane occurrence that many dancers experience on the reg. (I’m speaking specifically to my expertise as a dancer and choreographer in the realm of ballet and contemporary concert dance.) Whether it’s attending rehearsal while ill or performing on a sprained ankle, whether it’s a sense of obligation to one’s self, one’s castmates, company leadership, or an audience, the pressure to dance while sick or injured can be strong. 

Choreographers, directors, and other leaders can help mitigate this pressure by embracing adaptability and making contingency plans from the outset of a process or project.

In the situation I detailed above, I would’ve felt supported by having an understudy or second cast. This would’ve allowed me to take one day off to heal and prevent my injury from growing worse without feeling guilty about making company leadership scramble to find a new dancer to fill in—or guilty about leaving my fellow castmates in the virtually impossible situation of integrating a brand new dancer into the show with no rehearsal time. Of course, hiring understudies or double casting a show requires forward thinking and budgeting from the start of the project.

Alternatively, as a choreographer, I tend to make abstract work for which an understudy contingency plan would not be a logical solution. If I were preparing for a performance and any dancers left the process, I’d readily proceed with fewer dancers, rather than insert a new person and teach them the steps that someone else was doing. My choreography is not so much about the steps or the number of people onstage as it is about the process and the individuals in it. 

Before choreographing or directing a new project, decide whether or not it’s the kind of piece where you might benefit from hiring one or more understudies. If the dance steps themselves and the number of people doing them are important to you, you run the risk of being devastated if a dancer drops out. It’s likely the dancers will be fully aware of this fact and will face avoidable pressure to dance through mental or physical illness or injury.

When crafting a budget for a new project, include a line for dancer sick pay. Offering sick pay can help relieve dancers from feeling obligated to attend rehearsal when they are sick or injured but feel they could power through if needed. Beyond simply offering sick pay, inform dancers how to exercise it and encourage them to use it. Celebrate—rather than penalize—dancers for using their sick pay to attend to their mental or physical health.

Offer flexible means and modes of participation and engagement in the rehearsal process. This could include participation via video call, participation via independent remote work, or participation from a chair or stationary position. If a dancer is injured and/or their abilities shift for a long period of time, offer to work out modifications to the movement or create new choreography to accommodate their new access needs. Try to approach changes like this as creative constraints to guide the choreographic process forward, rather than hindrances that slow it down. I understand this approach can be difficult, given that sometimes dancer injury can initially feel more like a devastating blow rather than an exciting opportunity. I suggest faking it till you believe it and using language around your dancers and collaborators to portray a positive spin rather than a negative one.

Ultimately, respect a dancer’s decision to drop out of a project if they decide it’s the best way to support their health and happiness. Applaud dancers for being forthcoming about their health, injuries, and other access needs. Prioritize adaptability throughout the entire length of a creative process. Let’s think about our “back-up plans” as “equally valuable and totally plausible possibilities.”

Thanks to Theresa Knudson, Jetta Martin, Samuel Melecio-Zambrano, and LizAnne Roman Roberts for dreaming in the dressing room with me.

 

Emily Hansel is a San Francisco-based dancer, choreographer, dance teacher, arts administrator, and dancer advocate.

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Related articles by Emily Hansel:

Relearning Agency: A Dancer’s Call for Collective Action

Cultivating Healthy, Equitable Workplaces for Dancers

Empowering Dancers through Contracts

 

Tender Is the Day in “slow dark dances”

Maurya Kerr and Alexander Diaz. Photo: Robbie Sweeny.

Tender Is the Day in “slow dark dances”

By Garth Grimball

“Anyone could do that.”

How many times has this dictum filtered into the air from an unimpressed observer to a piece of modern art chilling the room’s temperature like air conditioning out of a vent? I’ve heard it many times. My father said it about Cy Twombly. A college acquaintance said it about Mark Rothko. I don’t get annoyed. It can open up stimulating conversations if the unimpressed are open to it. Also, the observation isn’t wrong en toto. Kasper Bosmans’ “George IV Kilt Hose” (2017) is basically two socks laid on a gallery floor that can take up to a day to “install.” Sometimes an artist’s concept can be so large it swallows the form.

This isn’t the case with “slow dark dances” at the UC Berkeley Art Museum. Choreographed by Maurya Kerr, “slow dark dances” is a durational dance and film installation that “seeks to uncolonize the ‘invisible’ whiteness of museum spaces.” Seventeen dancers join Kerr in this 6 hours per day installation over the course of two weekends. I experienced it for 75 minutes.

In 1976, Brian O’Doherty interrogated the modern art white cube space in The Ideology of the Gallery Space. The white cube is not an impartial space, he argues. Its aesthetic is limiting. The reproduction of this aesthetic limits the experience of art around the world. Kerr and collaborators build “on legacies of Black joy as a form of resistance.” In “slow dark dances” the gallery space is not a series of white walls meant to serve as an invisible backdrop to art; the surfaces are included in an agitation of tenderness.

At noon on opening day eight dancers entered from behind the museum’s forum. Each one dressed in an ombre combination of ivory, sand, bronze and chocolate. They paired off and stopped in different galleries. They faced each other and embraced. From there the choreography was as simple as swaying. From there the choreography was as mutable as a butterfly’s flight pattern.

The four duets embraced in silence for an hour before being replaced by other pairs. The durational enfolding provokes the eye to zoom in on the multeity of touch. A caress of the spine. A thumb circling. Chin on shoulder. Lips to a collarbone. At one point a couple split open to switch from cheek to cheek and it felt seismic. The slow of “slow dark dances” slows the gaze to see more.

Alexa Burrell’s film screens in two galleries in the museum, accompanied by a duet in each location. The film is textural and sculptural. The dancers sway in and out of the frame. Skin, hair, the fabric of costumes, the density of the floor slowly collide and separate. Burrell steadies the view when the dancers inhabit embraces evocative of a pieta or a baptism.

The “simplicity” of “slow dark dances” belies its impact. The choreography interrogates and invites. Part of the choreography is seeing how museum-goers interact with the performance: look away only to sneak a glance; sit and stare; pass the duets on the way to the exhibit you're searching for. Each dancer’s commitment to sustained intimacy creates a vulnerability that feels biased to witness. Kerr pacifies this bias by inviting everyone to join in a group slow dance the final hour of each performance.

That’s the thing about dancing—anyone can do it.

 

Check out "slow dark dances" on December 10 and 11, 2022. Find out more details here on the BAM PFA website.

Garth Grimball is a dance writer and artist based in Oakland, CA. He is a contributor to the SF Examiner and Dance Media. He is the editor of ODC’s Dance Stories.

 

 

Rosanna Tavarez & Bianca Cabrera Travel in Multiple Dimensions

"Piece X Piece" by LA DANSA DANSA. Photo by Greg Meyers.

 

Rosanna Tavarez & Bianca Cabrera Travel in Multiple Dimensions

By Garth Grimball

The weekend of November 11 - 13, ODC Theater ended its 2022 Fall Season with a split bill: Rosanna Tavarez/LA DANSA DANSA and Bianca Cabrera/Blind Tiger Society. Tavarez’s “Piece X Piece” is an exploration of time, lineage and migration. Cabrera’s “Fever Dreams” births a fantasia of limbs from the coupling of bodies.

“Piece X Piece” has a clarity of style. The stage has a rack of pale clothes and a sewing table and chair. Tavarez and Hyosun Choi are dressed in white. Choi lies in a fetal position on the grand train of Tavarez’s ensemble, pulled through the space umbilically. 

The voices of Tavarez and her mother, Lelia Tavarez, come through the speakers. Lelia tells of her migration from the Dominican Republic to the United States. Tavarez and Choi dance in transparent dresses with lines of vertical white piping. The lines on their bodies are like longitudes on a map. They wear their geographies.

Lelia’s voice returns with a reverie of youth and disco. Tavarez dons a white jumpsuit and I see her dancing; I see her being inside her mother’s story; I see a moment when we realize our parents are people too. 

Tavarez and Choi dance like they are moving through questions and reaching for answers. Heads circle, arms throw, weight drops. Only once do they dance together, in unison, faces visible and calm.

“Piece X Piece” ends in a frenzy. The duo subvert the WPA images of “noble work” done in civic pride. The sound of a sewing machine surging amplifies as they move through repetitive actions exhausting their bodies. Tavarez honors the reality of work done by immigrants, women, mothers.

"Fever Dreams" by Blind Tiger Society. Photo by Greg Meyers.

“Fever Dreams” is an orgy of color. Neon. Day-Glo. Saturated Colors. Cabrera, Nico Maimon, Chelsea Mulholland and Nina Wu are covered in multicolored unitards, layers of color, face paint and nail polish, as if alebrijes were painted in radioactive pigments.

The quartet ooze across the stage. Colors and bodies melt and set. A tree of limbs becomes a deep embrace becomes a Hydra. I doubt there is a centimeter of body that didn’t connect with another body. The dancers perform yogic maneuvers with runway confidence. The energy is carnal not sexy.

Like a dream “Fever Dreams” coheres around aesthetics more than any central idea. The dancers make shapes not crafted to miraculously appear a la Pilobolus to evoke the familiar. Transformation takes effort. The audience sees how the shapes are made. At one point Cabrera pulls her body along the floor with her feet. She leaves a trail of sweat, of residue, of effort in her wake.

Like waking up from a dream, the end of “Fever Dreams” bemuses. Animal abstraction gives way to contact improvisation lifts soundtracked by an original song from Cabrera and Ben Juodvalkis. Lyrics of longing are sung with emo yearning. The dancers slough out of their trance to look at you human to human.

 

Garth Grimball is a dance writer and artist based in Oakland, CA. He is a contributor to SF Examiner and Dance Media. He is the editor of ODC’s Dance Stories.

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Related links:

Rosanna Taverez/ LA DANSA DANSA

Bianca Cabrera/Blind Tiger Society

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