You would think it’s a duet, choreographed by Atalya Yeshayahu
Saint Mary’s College MFA in Dance Program presents
Fragments
Dance Mission Theater, San Francisco
January 27th, 2019
Review by Heather Desaulniers
A lyrical solo with a visual art collaboration. A genre-defying athletic stream of consciousness. A quartet disrupting assumptions around known musical compositions. An emotionally charged dance drama. A Dance Theater work of weighty expectations. A contemporary trio imbued with timeless themes of journeying and searching.
Six distinct dance works, to be sure. Yet what might they have in common? Actually, a number of things. First, they definitely share an origin story. The six pieces were incubated in the Saint Mary’s College MFA in Dance program, and all were birthed from the heart, soul and minds of candidates in Cohort 5, the program’s fifth class. They also shared a stage, appearing together as part of Fragments, Saint Mary’s recent showing of graduate student choreography. In addition, there was a shared sense of newness. As Concert Director Andrew Merrell relayed in his notes, “…most are presenting work for the first time…”. And each featured stellar dance talent; the level of technique and artistry was really impressive. But most important, all six works shared a deep, exceptional level of clarity. Every dance had clear intention, clear movement, clear concept, clear communication. Choreographic clarity is no easy feat, sometimes elusive to even the most experienced of dancemakers. And so, Sunday evening’s program felt both rare and special. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing more from these choreographers as they continue their creative explorations.
Fragments opened with Juliana Freude’s Alone Together, a solo danced by Rachel Grisi Dugan. A painting of a woman’s back was positioned upstage right while Grisi Dugan sat downstage left in a similar posture, her eyes curiously taking in the visual image before her. She remained in that quiet state for a brief moment before taking the entire stage in diverse lyrical movement, equally inspired by ballet and modern vocabulary. Elongated arcs, soft arms and pillowy landings permeated the space, as did straighter, punctuated, angular lines. Freude’s phrase material seamlessly transitioned between these two qualities, making Alone Together a piece of winning counterpointed motion. And throughout, Grisi Dugan continued to reference the painting with both her gaze and her limbs.
As for the interpretation of the solo, there were layers to what was happening on stage, and for me, that is a mark of good work. On one hand, Alone Together had a non-linear narrative feel to it – not necessarily following a plotline, but certainly evoking the possible moods and tones of the woman in the painting. Honoring her, embodying her spirit and eluding to what might have happened beyond this one captured moment. At the same time, Alone Together also had a very intriguing formal, structural component. The rich phrase material, with its combination of curves and lines, felt like a direct response to the brushwork in the painting. How parts of the artwork were soft and impressionistic, while others were more defined and precise. Whether you were pulled more to the narrative side or the formal, or are like me, and love sitting in both simultaneously, one thing that Freude never compromised was that the entire solo remained in constant conversation with the visual art. Because that dialogue between the disciplines was so key in the work, I did wonder if Alone Together might benefit from a longer period of stillness in the beginning, where the soloist and the painting could just be in the space together, furthering their connection before the unfolding of any set movement.
An arrangement of house music and street sounds scored the next offering on the program, You would think it’s a duet, choreographed by Atalya Yeshayahu. The cast, clad all in black, toted large swaths of black and white geometrics onto the stage. Dance Mission’s back wall of windows was exposed, and piece-by-piece, the cast covered the glass panes with a collage of fabric and paper. They weren’t barricading the windows so much as they were building something new – a new backdrop, a new environment, a new frame. With that frame in place, it was time for the choreography. Yeshayahu and Nina Palada moved forward and took over the space with a highly energized, pulsing duet. Athleticism was definitely the connective tissue, but when it came to the steps, You would think it’s a duet defied categorization. From hip hop isolations to gesture, classical Indian dance influences to modern, embodied practices to pedestrianism, so many different genres had been mined, and mined with both finesse and technical acumen.
Anyone watching the duet had to be struck by its sheer energy and drive, as was I. No question. But as I sat with the work, I realized that it was the connection between the two parts that felt most profound. At the beginning of You would think it’s a duet, something new was being constructed. And that theme ran through the choreography. Yeshayahu was playing and experimenting with genre and seeing what new constructions might emerge. What relationship might there be between ballet and Indian movement forms? What happens when yoga and street dance are placed side by side? You would think it’s a duet posited a open laboratory for these lines of inquiry, and the result was a riveting physical mosaic. I was, though, curious about how the piece ended. The last moments found Yeshayahu and Palada running and rebounding in space, then completely stopping before walking forward for their final bow. The lights stayed up the entire time. Experimentation and investigation feel like continual processes, and so having the blackout occur while they are still moving, still experimenting, still investigating, might be an interesting choice.
Next up Grisi Dugan returned to the stage, this time not as a dancer, but as the choreographer of Life Death Expectant Still Terminate Vacant, a quartet for four women. Again, the movement vocabulary felt strongly lyrical, a style that has been missing from much SF concert dance lately. I was heartened to see it making a comeback on the Fragments program – it’s beautiful, it’s emotive and it is clear. In Life Death Expectant Still Terminate Vacant, each of the four dancers soloed to a known selection of music, songs that may be regarded as somewhat light (children’s tunes, Christmas carols), but as Grisi Dugan stated in her program notes, have a much darker history. Fitting choreography captured this conflict: potent contractions, directional shifts, outward pleas for assistance, hinged phrases that were rarely upright, weighted by circumstance. As the dance reached its last sections, the four came together in unison, their individual journeys converging. These final phrases had enviable spatial awareness, and again featured choreographic syntax that has been sorely missed by this viewer, traditional Graham.
Life Death Expectant Still Terminate Vacant really upended my perceptions of certain scores; I had no idea of their history. Grisi Dugan’s charged choreography and program notes had revealed that there was much more to their story. I’m actually not a huge fan of program notes, in fact, sometimes I opt not to read them at all. Though here, I think they were important and perhaps even further context could be added. Two of the many musical selections were referenced, leaving me eager to know about the others that Grisi Dugan used. Did they also have a storied past? But even as I write the question, I wonder if that curiosity might be one of the dance’s significant accomplishments. That it made this viewer want to know more, to dig deeper, to challenge the accepted.
Fragments may have me reconsidering my stance on program notes because again, for Bela Watson’s …All Ways There…, the brief program description was an important frame. In it, Watson explained that her duet partner, Thien Heaven Storm Vu, had lost his sight from retinitis pigmentosa, and that creating this work had been, “a process of sensing and feeling.” …All Ways There… was indeed a place were sense and emotion intersected, and in fact, read like a two-part piece. Both sense and emotion were present in each segment, but emotion took the wheel in the opening chapter, and sense rose to the foreground in part two.
First came the dramatic emotional arc. With Vu blindfolded upstage of her, Watson began a tortured, pained floorwork phrase. As her sinuous movements eventually brought her to standing, she struggled to adjust to a new reality, spinning off-balance. Hands dropped in frustration; the body pulsed in disbelief; she reached upward in the hopes of some answer, some explanation. Suffering, drive, anger, doubt, desperation – maybe Watson was telling Vu’s story, maybe her own, maybe a little bit of both. Whatever the case, the choreography and (stunning) dancing took a deep dive into this particular array of emotions and tones. Then, …All Ways There… transitioned to its sensing portion. Vu and Watson united in a pas de deux, where they embraced sound and touch as connective cues. Vocalization and breathing, varied points of contact and weight sharing guided them through their intense choreographic expedition, which was peppered with contact-improv inspired vocabulary. …All Ways There… was strong and potent, with extreme potential. Like this iteration might have only been the start. I could see it as a longer, evening-length work with both halves being expanded in length.
Next up was Parya Saberi’s Garden of Mirrors, a work that had the largest ensemble onstage, yet was still primarily a solo performed by Saberi. As the cast sat in a semi-circle around her, Saberi flowed through serpentine phrases that reflected a number of Persian movement traditions. Grounded to the floor by the knees and lower legs, her upper body and torso swirled in luxurious abandon, while her finger cymbals provided steady and intricate rhythmical percussion. Sliding and spinning, she approached each individual, who added something to the scene. They applied make-up to Saberi’s face and placed a wig on her head. The tempo of these exchanges increased as did the sheer volume of additives to include kitchen utensils, pots, pans, brooms, a lamp shade. As Garden of Mirrors ended, Saberi had been completed buried by household materials, which felt like a metaphor for the expectations of others.
While Garden of Mirrors did conclude with this weightier tone, hopefulness and tenacity were also abundantly present. Throughout the accumulation process, Saberi kept both her dancing and percussion going strong. She was committed to continuing her journey in spite of what was happening; persisting through the literal and figurative obstacles. In the last moment, Saberi did collapse under the heap of "stuff," but that didn’t take away from the feeling of determination that the work had evoked. Garden of Mirrors did get me thinking about speed and impact. Saberi had crafted a swift accelerando through the piece – things started off slow, and then gave way quite quickly to a more frenetic energy. And it worked very well. Absolutely. But what would Garden of Mirrors be like if the tempo change was more gradual? Or, if the tempo went to the other extreme, and sped up even faster? It could be an interesting exercise to see how different paces might impact the arc of the piece.
As the Fragments evening came to a close, Emily Mootz, Freude and Grisi Dugan took the Dance Mission stage in Elizabeth Cozad’s Quest. As suggested by its apt title, Quest was all about searching for answers and seeking out something, or perhaps someone. Rather then relaying a particular story, Cozad crafted a work that centered on these larger themes of searching and seeking. And to that end, developed many striking physical motifs. Strong diagonal lines of the legs and arms reached out and pierced the space, while running and traveling footwork signaled a mission ripe for discovery. And occasionally, the dynamics and intent of the movements suggested a somewhat militaristic quality and edge.
Quest clearly communicated its narrative. But what I found even more compelling about the work was the ways in which it referenced the mid-century modern masters. Traditional modern vocabulary was unearthed with aplomb and skill. Graham tilts in second abounded, as did Limón curves and triplet footwork. As previously mentioned, not only do I love these styles, but I have been missing them dearly. So any chance to revisit them is a real treat. I also couldn’t shake the feeling that Quest was referencing time past, maybe ancient Greece. I sensed it in the flowy grey and white pantsuits (costumes also designed by Cozad), in the chosen score and in much of the choreography. Every so often, the trio would strike a statuesque pose, replete with arched arms and strong profiles. They promenaded grandly around each other, connecting their bodies with the palms of their hands. This is another tie-in to the work of the modern icons, many of whom oft turned to ancient Greece and Greek mythology for source material. I can’t be sure if my connection between ancient Greece and Quest is accurate, but if it is, I wonder what it would look like as a larger ensemble piece; a formidable Greek chorus embarking on an epic quest.
Heather Desaulniers is a freelance dance writer based in Oakland. She is the Editorial Associate and SF/Bay Area columnist for CriticalDance, the dance curator for SF Arts Monthly, and a contributor to DanceTabs as well as several other dance-focused publications.
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