Shawl-Anderson Dance
Center, Berkeley
April 9th,
2017
Contemporary artistic
perspectives, incisive narrative content and innovative choreographic form/structure,
all in an informal, intimate setting – this is Dance Up Close/East Bay. Over
the weekend, Shawl-Anderson Dance Center in Berkeley hosted another edition of
this wonderful series; a shared program by ahdanco, Jamuna Chiarini and ka·nei·see
| collective.
Opening the evening was
ahdanco’s current work-in-progress, Ink
and Feathers, choreographed by Abigail Hosein and danced by Andrew Merrell
and Rebecca Gilbert. A long black curtain hung in the center of the otherwise
bare environment. Merrell entered the room, stopping downstage left. He stood
still, on a diagonal, slowly and methodically pulling a long brown swath of
fabric out of his shirt, right from where his heart beat. Still bound and attached
to the cloth, he morphed into a movement phrase of large dynamic, living poses;
some in deep plié, some on the floor, one standing with his arms outstretched
and one with a huge developpé in parallel second. And then, he journeyed
upstage and was enveloped by Gilbert from behind the curtain. She emerged,
holding a bouquet of balloons. Slinkily, Gilbert cycled through her own solo of
sculptural postures and free, circling limbs, carving out and eating up the
space. In unpacking her choreographic material, she also let go of each
balloon, one by one, allowing them to float to the ceiling. While the two solos
happened one after another in sequence, they were keenly connected, and not
just because they were in the same choreographic container. Together, they
communicated a brilliant duality. Gilbert was releasing her items without
hesitation or fear, contrasting beautifully with how Merrell was attempting a
separation and was unable (or perhaps unwilling) to say farewell to an
essential, inherent connection. In Ink
and Feathers, Hosein has crafted a striking work, which considers the
complex phenomenon of ‘letting go’ - equally full of uncertainty and
constraint, hope and propulsion.
I can see why Jamuna
Chiarini chose to title her work as The
Kitchen Sink. It is such a perfect characterization of the thirty-minute
piece. Numerous physical ideas were in play: contact improvisation, familiar
task-based movement, pedestrianism, and technique-rich modern release
choreography. And there were also common throughlines weaving the dance
together. First, a luscious circuitry, or maybe patterning is more accurate, and
second, choreographic accumulation and progression. The trio (performed by
Chiarini, Megan Dawn and Sara Himmelman) took the space to begin a first circuit.
Each dancer sat in a chair near the front of the stage. In their own time, they
curved the upper body on the sagittal plane, which took them off the chair and
onto the floor. They crawled forward, first on their knees and then with legs
extended, and finally to standing and walking. A pattern, to be sure, as well
as a concurrent statement of articulation and development. Then The Kitchen Sink diverged into a new and
different motif, yet one that still spoke of patterns. Two dancers put on
sneakers and started a mirrored walking course, which again, grew and evolved
all the way to circular running. Body facings varied and shifted as did intensity,
speed and direction. Perspective was center stage in the next circuit. A
movement phrase was introduced composed primarily of floorwork, and then was
taken off the floor to a new plane, to standing. And throughout all of these
unique and mesmerizing choreographic components, the sagittal curve, one of the
work’s first movements, was abundantly present. Aside from examining patterns,
circuits, choreographic accumulation and different movement styles in The Kitchen Sink, I also felt like
Chiarini was posing some profound questions for the viewer to ponder. Where is
the body in space? How is it experiencing the space? When more than one body is
in the space, what are those bodies saying to each other?
Closing this Dance Up
Close/East Bay event was Please Don’t,
the newest creative project by choreographer Tanya Chianese and ka·nei·see |
collective. An ensemble work for five, Mallory Markham, Madeline Matuska, Amy
McMurchie, Rebecca Morris and Emma Salmon, Please
Don’t delves into weighty and vital subject matter - sexual aggression
towards women and imposed, oppressive gender constructs. Lit dimly, the quintet
opened with a slow, protective phrase, in which they seemed to be claiming
their own agency. But quickly, a switch flipped (in the movement and in the
lights) to fully reveal arresting imagery of violating touch. Expressed through
abrupt level changes, staccato isolations, extreme extensions, directional
pivots and challenging gestures, an array of trios, duets, unison and quartets
continued to expose and provoke. While indeed a heavy work, Chianese also
cleverly injected moments of humor, like the Dance Theater-inspired smiling
sequences. And moments of hope. The most significant observation for me in Please Don’t was the eye towards
sisterhood and shared understanding. There were certainly moments when the cast
might have been standing still by themselves, but every time they were moving
or dancing, it was always in a group formation, whether two, three, four or all
five. No one moved alone and that was a potent part of the message. And not to
detract from the serious narrative theme, but the technical acuity of the
company must be mentioned. These talented dancers have not only sought after
their own individual artistic growth but have clearly spent significant energy
and effort into gelling as a team. This isn’t a given, and when it does happen
or is happening, it is so clear and so powerful.
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