Alonzo King LINES Ballet

Alonzo King LINES Ballet
Blue Shield of California Theater at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, San Francisco
April 18th, 2026 (matinee)

It’s been a minute since I last saw LINES Ballet in performance. Schedules just weren’t aligned in the last few years, and so I’ve missed a number of their recent engagements. Luckily, things did line up this year and I was able to take in the company’s 2026 spring home season which paired the world premiere of Legacy with an encore of 2024’s Ode to Alice Coltrane. Even with the passage of some time, the program was everything I remember LINES to be. Collaboration was central with both works celebrating the marriage of music and movement. The company, including some newer faces, is as technically astonishing as ever. And there is an air of exquisite elegance. In Artistic Director Alonzo King’s choreography. In the dancers’ interpretation of that physical syntax. In the artistic dialog that sang from the stage. Such a delightful afternoon at the theater!

 Dancer Maël Amatoul and musician esperanza spalding in King's Legacy
Photo Chris Hardy

The debut of Legacy was the centerpiece of LINES’ 2026 bill, a sixteen-piece suite that brought the company into a living conversation with bassist, singer and composer esperanza spalding. Dancers in sparkling, glittery, sequined costumes entered and exited the space with graceful, expansive, sweeping limbs – arms and legs seemed to extend to infinity and beyond. Wearing a gorgeous flowing gown, spalding and her upright bass took the downstage right corner. A brilliant combination of recording, looping, live strings and vocals imbued the atmosphere as the dancers continued their statements of artistic strength and physical wonder. There were directional shifts. Lightning-fast motion. Undulating torsos and off-center balances. Deep, deep plié and wide standing postures. The aesthetic was undeniably Alonzo King choreography. Undeniably LINES Ballet.

As the thirty-minute work continued, there was a special chapter that stood out from the rest. Costumed (by Robert Rosenwasser) in white, feathery cropped pants, company artist Lorris Eichinger emerged from the wings, and from the start to the end of his variation, was completely locked in with spalding. Theirs was a moment for statements, answers, questions and exclamations and it made at least this viewer, yearn for more such connections. Legacy was clearly a live, performative conversation and for much of it, spalding seemed relatively alone in that endeavor. She certainly made a visible and earnest effort to connect with the dancers onstage and when it did happen (like with Eichinger), it was magical. 

Rounding out LINES Ballet’s 2026 spring season was 2024’s Ode to Alice Coltrane, a second meeting of score and physicality. Set to recordings from jazz musician and composer Alice Coltrane, the multi-episode work featured much of the signature LINES style. Huge leaps met with extended jazz lay-outs, as did fouetté turns with some truly phenomenal demi-pointe balances. 

Tatum Quiñónez and LINES company in King's Ode to Alice Coltrane
Photo Chris Hardy

The beginning and ending of Ode to Alice Coltrane were dramatic and deliciously charged. As the piece opened, dancers slowly crawled like cats in front of a large, transforming black scenery flat. Harp music, atmospheric haze and Rosenwasser’s filmy, gauzy costumes added a decidedly ethereal tone to the space. And the juxtaposition of that lightness with King’s grounded movement provided an interesting textural depth. Ode to Alice Coltrane’s final sections brought an updated interpretation of Dvořák’s New World Symphony to the table. Everything about those final moments was uplifting and otherworldly. Like a sumptuous journey of discovery. 

At nearly fifty minutes, Ode to Alice Coltrane felt on the lengthy side. For me, the middle sections seemed to abide in a fairly similar space – dynamic- and movement-wise. But lengthy or not, the choreography is beautiful, the dancers are stunning and the experience is one to remember.

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater

Cal Performances presents

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater

Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley

April 12th, 2026

The Bay Area spring dance season would not be complete without Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater’s annual residency at Cal Performances. And what a dramatic spring week to backdrop the company’s 2026 engagement! The weather ran the gamut from warm, sunny skies to a weekend of freezing torrential downpours. But regardless of the forecast, AAADT fans turned out in droves abuzz to see what the troupe had in store this year – four unique programs of Bay Area premieres, re-envisioned productions and of course classic masterworks. Program B, AAADT’s closing bill, paired two 2025 pieces (both which were new to local audiences) with Founder Alvin Ailey’s iconic modern composition, 1960’s Revelations.

Opening the afternoon was Maija García’s Jazz Island, a work that felt decidedly Dance Theater-esque. A moon backdrop gave a planetary celestial feel; García’s grounded and supple choreography, a Caribbean/Island quality. An array of characters imbued the space: a goddess, vendors, a mysterious (almost nefarious) man with a top hat and cane, and a community of inhabitants. An intricately crafted set of scenes flowed seamlessly keeping stops and starts at bay. Props. Costumes. Humor. West Side Story style confrontations. A strong and present narrative undertone, though not a linear story. All set to a lovely jazz score by Etienne Charles. 

These many theatrical elements worked in concert to capture a day in the life of this place and the people who call it home. Their triumphs and accomplishments. Their challenges and obstacles. Their wants, desires, experiences. I enjoyed Jazz Island, though I think I need to see it again to grasp all the moving parts. There was a lot going on at the same time. Having said that, I think the biggest take away from this first viewing is how the piece speaks to the breadth and range of this company. It felt somewhat of a departure for AAADT, which is a good thing. Keeping a dance group vital requires honoring history while simultaneously pushing forward with newness. Jazz Island was definitely a new force.

Next up was another 2025 work, Embrace by Fredrick Earl Mosley. A series of vignettes set to contemporary music, Embrace is special. Again, there wasn’t a linear narrative at play, but the work was not at all abstract. Embrace was a statement of kinship, love and inclusion. It joined moments of animosity with moments of support. There was yearning, charged romance and even a little desperation. I didn’t want to take my eyes off the stage for a single second, and I bet most of the auditorium shared that sentiment. 

Embrace also utilized a unique theatrical device throughout – a collection of modular tables and benches. In each chapter, the furniture took on a different configuration to support the movement, almost acting like additional cast members. In the first variation, the soloist used a table’s edge like a ballet barre. Then, the tables shifted and became an additional stage surface as “At Last” sang through the air. During Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work,” the tables became seats and backdrops, the dancers squiring them about the space. As Embrace continued, the set pieces provided pathways, level changes and wing space without being distracting. Genius.

Mosley’s choreography was also a stroke of genius – smooth, sumptuous and gooey in the best possible way. A slow promenade in attitude literally left me breathless. Lit from the side by shinbusters, a full throttle unison sequence read like a celebration of youth. Dancers communicated the notion of risk-taking with daring flying leaps. And an amazing late pirouette rotated on and on; I think it was at least five or six consecutive turns. 

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater in Ailey's Revelations
Photo Paul Kolnik

And finally, the consummate finale, Revelations. I sometimes tire of pieces that I’ve seen many, many times, but I never tire of this suite set to African American spirituals. And at this viewing, I found myself, once again, taken by the work’s stunning visual images. The flexed palms, cupped hands and kneeling attitude in “I Been ‘Buked,” followed by “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel’s” deep hinges and goal-posted chaîné turns. The écarté promenade during “Fix Me, Jesus” always elicits gasps (and it did on Sunday). As Revelations reaches its middle, the captivating visuals continue to stun: the boat pose in “I Wanna Be Ready” and the army crawl in “Sinner Man” – leading to Revelations’ extraordinary conclusion. During this final chapter, “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,” I always close my notebook to be completely present with the performances, the choreography and the contagious joy emanating from the stage.

San Francisco Ballet - "La Sylphide"

San Francisco Ballet
La Sylphide
War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco
April 11th, 2026 (matinee)

When La Sylphide is slated for a ballet company’s upcoming season, as it was for San Francisco Ballet in 2026, my excitement is palpable. For a number of reasons. First, La Sylphide is one of those full-length works that isn’t constantly programmed. Now this isn’t a new ballet. Not by a longshot - La Sylphide premiered nearly two hundred years ago. And it has all the signature tried-and-true story ballet themes. There’s jealousy and unrequited love. Dreams, spells, intrigue and otherworldly creatures. Desire, tragedy and solitude. But because La Sylphide isn’t visited and re-visited year after year after year, it has a freshness and novelty to it (incidentally, SFB’s current artistic leadership has been doing a bang-up job bringing different narrative blood to the War Memorial stage in recent seasons). Second, La Sylphide demonstrates that full-length ballets don’t have to be three hours long. Clocking in at ninety minutes, including intermission, the two-act production conveys its story expeditiously, concisely, and shies away from any ‘extra stuff.’ And of course, there are the beautiful Scottish costumes, scenery, Herman Løvenskiold’s evocative score and August Bournonville’s singularly exceptional choreography. There was even a bagpiper greeting patrons on the steps of the Opera House as they arrived.

But for me, La Sylphide holds personal nostalgia. Dancing in my first pair of pointe shoes was a struggle to say the least. Then, during a month-long summer intensive, we learned some of La Sylphide during variations and repertory class. The corps’ Act II phrase material changed my point shoe confidence game. Those series of steps always have the power to bring a smile to my face, as they did this past Saturday afternoon. 

As the curtain rises on Act I, we encounter La Sylphide’s main characters awaiting the celebration of a wedding in the highlands: James, the groom; Effie, his betrothed; and an alluring, ethereal Sylph, who invades James’ subconscious and conscious states. Also on the scene are his friend Gürn, who appears to harbor feelings for Effie, as well as an elderly, derelict clairvoyant named Madge. The Scottish village, decked in their full tartan regalia and surrounded by stag horns, is ready to mark the festive occasion. But the Sylph commands James’ attention, while the interactions between James and Madge grow increasingly contentious and threatening. 

While no surprise, the star of Act I was the Bournonville recipe of allegro, batterie, delicacy and joyful calm. And that Bournonville style looks great on this entire company - from the soloists to the corps, the character dancers to the children from SFB’s school. As the Sylph, Nikisha Fogo was the epitome of precision, control and lightness. Her opening diagonals dazzled with cabriole, balloné and tons of fluttery boureés. Low arabesque legs reigned supreme, proving once again that impressiveness isn’t always about tricks and being flashy. It’s equally about quiet excellence and quiet elegance. Wei Wang, as James, delivered his many percussive, batterie sequences with exactness and buoyancy. And Bournonville’s use of second position demi-plié as a distinct choreographic element, as opposed to merely a transition, gave the ensemble moments much Celtic flair. 

San Francisco Ballet in Bournonville's La Sylphide
©San Francisco Ballet, Photo Lindsey Rallo

Onto Act II, which begins with a very MacBeth-style scene – Madge and a quartet of witches circling a steaming (and as revealed later, poisonous) cauldron. In this moment, Madge’s plan is hatched to convince James to capture the Sylph, which would inevitably leave him alone and bereft. Before that finality, La Sylphide sojourns to the Scottish woodlands, where an entire group of fairy-like Sylphs continue the Bournonville choreographic tradition. Intricate sissones abound as do unassuming pas de boureé. Cycling through a number of developpé devant, each foot massaged the stage’s surface like a tactile pas de cheval.  

In addition to the movement itself, there was another afternoon star that must be mentioned: Maggie Weirich as Madge. Weirich is a longtime member of SFB’s corps de ballet, but this performance was a window into their prowess as a character dancer. Wow! Their Madge was frightening, calculating and unapologetic when holding a grudge. I’m looking forward to the next time Weirich is cast in such a juicy role!

 

Book Review - "Lucky Girl"

Book Review

Lucky Girl

by Allie Tagle-Dokus

published 2025 by TinHouse

I recently reviewed a novel that employed ballet as a container for its story. Meaning that dance was indeed a narrative throughline, but at its core, the book wasn’t really ‘about’ ballet. Instead, it became the space, backdrop and world in which the tale unfolded. The result: making it a book for a much wider audience, as opposed to only dance enthusiasts. Allie Tagle-Dokus’ Lucky Girl, recently published by TinHouse, takes a similar approach, and does so with skill and aplomb. Dance is certainly an overwhelming presence from Lucky Girl’s opening pages through its final moments. But the story is about much more. It’s about relationships within the familial system as well as outside it. Achievements. Disappointments. It’s about growing up too quickly and trying to survive in bizarre circumstances. Lost connections and lost innocence. Unsafe, even criminal situations. Mistakes and mistaken trust. And guilt. It is no surprise that it has already made an appearance on ‘best of’ lists.

Like a play, movie or narrative ballet, Lucky Girl is portioned into ‘acts,’ and the story really gets going towards the end of Act I. At this point, the protagonist Lucy, gets cast in a dance reality show’s youth version. I’m not a reality show fan but felt that the author did a great job mining that genre’s manipulated drama and tenuous connection to ‘reality.’ Through a creepy and off-putting connection with one of the young adult female judges on the show, Lucy descends into the storied world of a child star. Tagle-Dokus cleverly named that judge character Bruise, foreshadowing to the reader that Lucy would be marked and wounded by this relationship.

As Lucky Girl continues, there are both expected plot points and surprise pivots in Lucy’s personal and professional trajectory. She tours with music stars. Books a series of movies and television shows. She struggles to find ease and talent in other performative art disciplines besides dance. She navigates difficult and spiky personalities. Living far from home, she must contend with a family system jolted by serious diagnoses. And as the reader rounds the mid-point of the book, it’s easy to forget that Lucy is only in her mid-teens. 

Soon thereafter, fame, bad decisions, optics, personal revelations and social media converge in a truly chaotic hailstorm. And then comes the book’s final act – its denouement – where Lucy not only begins charting her own course but also comes to terms with some deep truths from her past. 

Tagle-Dokus employed a number of intriguing structural motifs throughout the novel. First, she provided concurrent perspectives. In many parts of the book, two columns of prose are shown side by side detailing how two characters interpreted the same situation. Not only did that emphasize and highlight how different individuals may perceive the same events, but also gave the reader agency in how they chose to engage with those parts of the story. Second, script sides show up from time to time in the body of the text, mirroring Lucy’s burgeoning performing arts/media career. Last, Tagle-Dokus tells her story in short, digestible chapters, like scenes from a television show or a movie.

At just 350 pages, Lucky Girl is on the lengthier side, though at the same time, an easy read. I think it feels lengthy to me because the meat of the story gets going around seventy pages in (a tad late in the game for my taste). Having said that, Lucky Girl is both engaging and thoughtful. With summer not too far away, I bet it will become a frequent beach day companion.

San Francisco Ballet - "The Blake Works"

San Francisco Ballet
The Blake Works
February 28th, 2026 (matinee)
War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco

It is hard to believe that this week we usher in the month of March, and that San Francisco Ballet is already mid-way through their 2026 season. I wasn’t able to catch the company’s first two bills but was back at the War Memorial Opera House this past weekend for Program 3 – The Blake Works. And what a program it was! Perhaps my favorite SFB event in recent memory. Choreographed by the iconic William Forsythe to a riveting score by British musician James Blake, The Blake Works enjoyed its complete SFB premiere on Friday night (the company had previously danced one of the sections a few years back). There are simply not enough superlatives to describe this piece. The entire experience was a transport to a dazzling realm. The Blake Works is pure joy of movement, marrying technical ballet vocabulary with a contemporary modality that only Forsythe could envision. I don’t often feel this way after a ballet performance; it reminded me of how I felt the first time I saw Joffrey’s incomparable Billboards.

Joseph Walsh in Forsythe's Prologue
Photo © Chris Hardy

A multi-chapter composition, comprised of a Prologue, a short film, The Barre Project and Blake Works I, the program captivated from first steps to final curtain. In simple, short black unitards, Luca Ferrò and Dylan Pierzina took the stage for Prologue’s opening postures. Quickly this first duet grew into a pas de cinq for Katherine Barkman and four men and later, a duet by Madeline Woo and Fernando Carratalá Coloma. A number of influences were present, including Balanchine. While I wouldn’t categorize Forysthe’s composition as neo-classical, many of its physical shapes brought this genre to mind. Deep lunges; pressed, flexed hands; parallel passé. There was also the use of the demi-pointe space alongside clean, strong, unfussy positions. And of course, that special connective punctuation between the choreography and score - Blake’s ambient, tonally complex music that for me, had a brilliant hint of 80s Brit Pop. In addition, the stage’s atmosphere was neo-classically deconstructed, allowing the movement and music to shine unencumbered. Simple lighting. No backdrop. Practice-like attire. For those SFB patrons who’ve been feeling (and frankly, complaining a bit) about being under-Balanchined over the past few years, go and see The Blake Works. It’s not Balanchine, nor is it trying to be, but I think you’ll be impressed! 

An interlude of sorts, the brief film that followed showed dancers placing their hands on the barre. Over and over again, they elegantly and purposely made contact with that sacred dance entity. A place of comfort. Of stability. Of remembrances. But also, of egalitarianism. Every ballet dancer of every age, every ability, every level of talent has participated in this ritual and understands its significance.  

The lights rose on The Blake Works’ next chapter, the center curtain drawn to reveal a ballet barre. Over the next twenty minutes, The Barre Project paired grounded technique with Forsythe’s unique flair. And it worked beautifully – a tethered foundation brimming with possibility. Framed by Blake’s pulsing EDM, precision reigned supreme. Simultaneously, the body inhabited so different angles and there was such freedom in the spine, hips and shoulders. Nothing was rushed or flashy. Instead, the tone abided in a deliciously unassuming place. Sasha De Sola’s textbook passé. Joshua Jack Price’s slow attitude turn, melting into a stunning arabesque. 

San Francisco Ballet in Forsythe's Blake Works I
Photo © Chris Hardy

And finally, Blake Works I. The space was bare; the huge ensemble cast clad in dreamy balayage blue. Over seven episodes, strong shapes once again imbued the unison and cannoned movement phrases. Off-centered-ness was juxtaposed against an erect spine. Elizabeth Powell, Victor Prigent and Simone Pompignoli began their variation with a picture perfect effacé. Brisés and soubresauts glided across the stage. It was sweeping, athletic, physical and so much fun. Near the end of Blake Works I, the cast broke into a dance party upstage while different soloists took turns in the center. Returning to the idea of influences, that moment felt straight out of a Jerome Robbins’ ballet. An abundance of youthful energy and a palpable sense of community kinship.  

Martha Graham Dance Company

Cal Performances presents
Martha Graham Dance Company
Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley
February 14th, 2026

Cupped hands. Airplane spins. Spirals. Contractions. What do all these movements have in common? All are tenets of Graham technique, the dance language pioneered by modern dance master Martha Graham (1894-1991). The entire Graham physical library was on full display this past weekend as her titular company returned to Cal Performances as part of their 100th anniversary celebration tour. Two different bills unfolded. There were Graham classics. And newer works from fresh choreographic voices. If you were at Zellerbach Hall on Saturday night, it was the combo of 1947’s Night Journey, 2023’s Cortege and 1936’s Chronicle that sparked awe and buzz. As Artistic Director Janet Eilber alluded, the Valentine’s Day program wasn’t going to be hearts, flowers and chocolates. Eilber was indeed correct, it wasn’t a particularly romantic two hours, but it was so powerful. An evening where shocking mythology was unraveled and the ravages of war were mined.

Blakeley White-McGuire in Night Journey
Photo Brigid Pierce

The mythological Oedipus narrative is about as tough as it gets. So rather than relaying the gory details, let’s just say there’s a horrific prophecy and an attempt to escape it, which is ultimately unsuccessful. And in Night Journey, Graham seeks to relay that tale through the lens of the Queen, Jocasta. Anne Souder as Jocasta and Lloyd Knight as Oedipus were potent and tortured as the doomed pair ensnared in a terrible prediction. Cupped hands were everywhere, which my Graham teachers explained like this. Cupped hands expose the veins of the wrist, directly connecting to one’s heart and soul, laying bare truth or evil. A description that I can still recall from decades past. 

Though the principals were phenomenal, for me, the triumph of Night Journey has always resided in the corps, the Daughters of the Night, led at this performance by Marzia Memoli. They appear and disappear throughout the ballet, cycling through untamed, severe movement sequences. But at the same time, the group displays a curiously stern regality. Do they serve as Jocasta’s memories? Do they enter the space to stop and interrupt the course of events? Are they present to judge and condemn? Or are they simply witnesses? Maybe all four.

It was terrific to see newer works planned for both Cal Performances programs, crafted by contemporary choreographers over the past few years. It is no surprise that much of the company’s performance repertory is pure Graham. But a simultaneous commitment to new commissions, new dances and new choreography is what will propel any troupe forward into their next chapter. Saturday night brought Baye & Asa’s 2023 Cortege, which was noted to be inspired by Graham’s 1967 Cortege of Eagles and “to consider groups under attack in our time.” I can’t say that I really saw the latter. Rather, the dance felt to be abiding in that same world of mythology, abstractly investigating the underworld and the voyage to it. 

A tunnel of black material unveils each of the eight performers, almost like they were traveling to Hades via ominous waterslide. Marching rhythms (score by Jack Grabow) rang through the air. And the intensely physical vocabulary, which looked great on this company, gave snapshots of the unknown, with all its trepidation, fear and aggression. But there were also moments when the cast cradled each other, tenderly providing care and comfort. As Cortege concluded, the black shroud was back covering the cast as they continued their journey. I get where things were going with the lighting design (by Yi-Chung Chen). The stage was dim and shadowy, just as one might imagine that particular sojourn to be. But at the same time, there were whole segments of the piece that were lit very lowly and a bit hard to see. It was a tad distracting. 

Leslie Andrea Williams in Chronicle
Photo Melissa Sherwood

The oldest work of the night closed the program, Graham’s Chronicle (1936), which as the notes shared, “was a response to the menace of fascism in Europe.” Broken into three chapters and danced by an all-female cast, Chronicle was weighty, compelling and (at least for this viewer) hopeful, full of all-encompassing emotion and full body physicality. Part I, titled ‘Spectre-1914,’ blends deep despair and lament in one dramatic statement. Leslie Andrea Williams embodied the solo with such raw ferocity. Her hands oscillated from splayed palms to clenched fists. Her solar plexus prayed heavenward. She crumbled to the floor. And her leg moved in slow motion, circling from second position to attitude derrière- a desperate attempt to turn to new page or open a new door. 

Chronicle’s second movement, ‘Steps in the Street,’ saw ten women entering the space, walking backwards. As their hands transitioned from shoulders and hips to flexed palms to strong fists, they bravely navigated the space behind them; a path that they couldn’t quite see but were willing to traverse together. Each woman walked with strength, purpose and resolve - a community of power and resistance. This reverse traveling recurred in Part III’s ‘Prelude to Action,’ though the tone of this final section felt different. Still incredibly strong, but also with a sense of grace. Perhaps a message that resistance needs so many different things: power, determination, courage, and also love and advocacy. And Chronicle’s finale brought yet another note to the table. As the ensemble erupted in turning attitude jetés, there was an added buoyancy, energy and forward propulsion.  

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - "Spring Point"

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Spring Point
ODC Theater, San Francisco
February 13th, 2026

Friday evening at ODC Theater was all about newness. Four world premiere dances. An event that actually started on time! Curtains around the city are consistently being held for close to fifteen minutes in anticipation of latecomers. It’s getting tiresome, so a show that begins when it says it will feels like a new experience. And, of course, the launch of Spring Point, the newest choreographic platform at Smuin Ballet. As Artistic Director Amy Seiwert explained to the packed house, Spring Point is designed to foster emerging choreographic voices as they navigate the complex journey from early studio performance towards (hopefully!) a main stage. It was a lovely night showcasing a collage of divergent work, danced impeccably by Smuin’s company artists.

Costumed in matching white and taupe, eight dancers took seats around the perimeter of the stage to kick off Julia Feldman’s Wallflower. Alone, in pairs or in groups, they would take turns inhabiting the open middle space. The cast cycled through a unique physical vocabulary, marrying classical ballet technique, contemporary twists and present-day style. Gestural sequences abounded, as did port de bras from ballet’s positions of the body (croisé, efface, écarté). Straight flying arms matched with the bird sounds in Wallflower’s score. And Tessa Barbour’s developpé in 2nd was a thing of beauty. Feldman’s phrase material had such a circular, breathy feel – expanding in space with every inhalation and cascading with the exhale. Though where I think Wallflower particularly excelled was how it showed support, camaraderie and celebration of a community. Each dancer was afforded time and opportunity to share their individuality while also harnessing a collective energy when the full ensemble danced together. And with the presence of the chairs, it was poignant how Feldman explored that each cast member was simultaneously a performer and a witness. 

Charmaine Butcher in Babatunji's Society
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

The sextet for Babatunji’s Society entered the stage, dressed identically. Slowly trudging across the space in long black trench coats with stiff high collars (costumes by Erin Yarbrough Powell), the mood was heavy, angsty and foreboding. Over Society’s six chapters, dancers would shed this ominous outerwear in an attempt to break free from the mold of the group. And they did so in a very Dance Theater container, where numerous theatrical devices were employed. Lighting, music, scenework, characters and text conversed with Babatunji’s highly physical movement. Movement that was full throttle and high-octane, full of acrobatic flips and rolls, as well as martial arts, breaking and percussive dance influences. Desperation was palpable, but so was persistence and success.

Another multi-episode contemporary ensemble work, Cassidy Isaacson’s Chapter 3 is inspired by “a moment of personal change and deepened awareness,” as shared in the program notes. With equal parts groundedness and soaring, Chapter 3 was full of highly kinetic and athletic syntax, harkening to various movement traditions. Pilates was present, as was yoga. A Horton tilted side turn. Ample partnering. In fact, Isaacson’s partnering passes had the most interesting points of contact and support, almost like the material that might have arisen out of Grand Union’s contact improv practice. And with the recurring notion of spinning and rotation, each turn transported every performer somewhere new.

Tess Lane and Maggie Carey in
Carey's In the Blue Hours of Morning
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

Closing the inaugural Spring Point program was Maggie Carey’s In the Blue Hours of Morning, danced by a cast of eight. While I enjoyed every world premiere on the bill, this was my favorite of the night. Everything was so joyful - the banjo-filled Oh Hellos score, Carey’s sweeping choreography, Tess Lane and Yarbrough Powell’s flowing costumes, the demeanor of each dancer. So bright, so dazzling, so much happiness. Waves were a conceptual throughline. Canoned phrases rippled across ODC Theater’s stage. Bodies swayed from one side to the other. Arms undulated and cartwheeled, suspension and release informing step after step. And in Morning, many of the quick, complex phrases, particularly with the arms, directly punctuated the score, suggesting a foray into neo-classical ballet. 

RAWdance - "There and Back"

Kelly Del Rosario and Madison Lindgren in
Art is a Guarantee of Sanity
Photo Chani Bockwinkel

RAWdance
There and Back
ODC Theater, San Francisco
February 6th, 2026

A swinging beam of light. The hum of fluorescence. Two dancers in flowing white cycling through a physically complex duet that simultaneously broadcasted quiet restraint and total control. With every movement, small or large, they floated in space. 

So began Art is a Guarantee of Sanity, a Bay Area premiere and the opening dance on RAWdance’s latest ODC Theater bill, There and Back. A collection of three works choreographed by RAWdance’s Artistic Directors Wendy Rein and Ryan T. Smith, the evening was an utter delight. The pieces were strong, the performances, resplendent. And the program reminded Bay Area audiences why this company is a cut above, why it is so exceptional. They are committed to risk-taking, creative growth and experimenting beyond boundaries. These values have always been part of the RAWdance story. But for this viewer, what makes the company so special is that their work is deeply grounded in modern dance technique. That may seem like an obvious pre-requisite for any contemporary dance company, but it’s actually a lot rarer than you might think. 

As Art is a Guarantee of Sanity continued, it grew into a deliciously (and purposefully) precarious quintet. There was a constant search for balance. Dancers shuddered, their eyes darting around like something or someone ominous was following their every move. With a suspicious and creepy tone, they frenetically scooted across the floor. They pulsed, breathing erratically, and teetered on tiptoe. Yet, like the opening sequence, there was an equal sense of groundedness and calm. A side-plank series. A splayed palm reaching slowly heavenward. These opposing modalities gave that sense of the in between space. A moment where extremes could co-exist without erasing each other. And with the swaying overhead light, the billowy filmy costuming and the word sanity in the title, one couldn’t help but see some kind of hospital ward.

Coincidentally, Friday evening was also the opening ceremonies of the winter Olympic games in Milan, and one of my favorite disciplines to watch is figure skating. When the pairs events come around, announcers will often comment on how long a particular couple have trained and competed together. And with the lengthier partnerships, the viewer can really see and feel the shared journey. The trust, the confidence, the understanding that comes with and over time. The world premiere of Time Passed, a duet made and danced by Rein and Smith, definitely had that sense of deep embodied history; two performers who are truly known by each other (they danced together in college, going on to found RAWdance in 2004). The opening lifted spin turned gracefully like a clock, each shape elegantly and seamlessly transforming into the next. Remembrance, recollection and fondness imbued every moment of sculptural partnering; care, ease and effortlessness emanating from the stage. And the spinning phrase material that recurred throughout really had a pairs skating essence, a great prep for the next two weeks of Olympic coverage!

Onto the closing dance, the Bay Area premiere of Veneer, an ensemble work for eight. Veneers appeared everywhere on the ODC Theater stage over the next thirty minutes. A covering of an existing structure. A restoration of something chipped or decayed. A new surface. A veil to hide. There were literal veneers: three individual, modular tables that were sometimes pushed together, sometimes separated, sometimes stacked. The cast posed beneath these tables and walked across them. At one point, they became a backdrop for a solo, like a scenery flat. Costumes of polka dots, houndstooth, checkerboard, zebra print and stripes in a palate of black, white and scarlet conjured Alice in Wonderland, a story that is certainly steeped in veneer. A rowdy, somewhat angry shouting match broke the façade of silence. At the same time, there were instances where veneers were removed - an unmasking, a rediscovering of what lies beneath. Hands gently plucked imaginary layers from the head and the shoulders. A number of choreographic sequences repeated: a series of parallel and turned out sissonnes, a gestural passage where the chin was traced by the back of the hand. Dancers would engage with this phrase material only to break out of the mold and explore their own individual physicality. 

 

Mark Morris Dance Group - "MOON"

Cal Performances presents
Mark Morris Dance Group
MOON
Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley

January 25th, 2026

Outside Zellerbach Hall on Sunday afternoon the atmosphere was bright and clear, if not a little chilly. Inside the auditorium, however, the quality was much darker. Not ominous nor foreboding, but with a lens cast skyward - towards space, towards the moon. Mark Morris Dance Group had landed in Berkeley for their annual Cal Performances engagement, this time bringing the West Coast premiere of Mark Morris’ MOON. 

An ensemble work for nine performers, MOON was divided into short chapters or vignettes, each exploring aspects of the celestial, with many theatrical devices employed throughout. Choreography certainly, but also live and recorded music, props, moving projections, set pieces and text in an array of languages. Minus the genre’s typical angsty narrative, MOON seemed a work of Dance Theater, and kind of a departure for MMDG. A captivating one that mined the enormity of space. 

The opening piano tremolo (performed by music director Colin Fowler) bellowed from the pit, like a vessel being launched into the stratosphere. Stars arced along the cyclorama and the stage was marked with small astronaut figurines. The company joined the scene with stylistic marching, playing imaginary trombones and flutes. We were off to a destination far, far away from earth. 

Costumed in dual-sided jumpsuits (by Isaac Mizrahi), MOON’s choreography featured a fair amount of spinning and circles, just like an orbit. Chaîné turns with bent knees and hands on hips. Bodies twirled like figure skaters atop gliding stools. An energetic, community-filled square dance moment featured circular dance architecture. And a late chapter saw each individual cast member rolling on the ground while together crafting a round circuit.

Lilty low arabesques were also part of the physical picture, as were delicate weight shifts from side to side. Second position plié grew into a signature Morris side-tilt. One group sequence found the dancers scurrying through the space with stick straight postures and lightning fast parallel boureés. They looked just like space creatures from another galaxy. Wistful faces explored the stage’s surface. And several quiet, yet powerful, gestures appeared to be saying, “look what we have found.”

Mark Morris Dance Group in MOON
Photo Xmbphotography

An entire team (Wendall K. Harrington, Paul Vershbow and Kristen Ferguson) worked together to make MOON’s projections quite dazzling. There were starry scrims along with planets and orbits invading the backdrop. Living, moving images of the surface of the moon. A spinning record. An escalator to the heavens. A rising full moon. Rocket ships lined up, preparing for ascent. Every projection felt integral to the work. The imagery was not just there to frame the action; it was an active participant.

MOON’s score frequently abided in a delicious in-between state, oscillating between minor and major modes. Popular during the impressionistic era of the late 1890s early 1990s, this changeable tonality leads to a plethora of emotion. Uncertainty. Fascination. Depth. Surprise. And as MOON continued, one of the most famous impressionistic compositions sang through the air: Debussy’s Clair de lune, composed in 1905. The accompanying group dance scene was floaty, ethereal and unexpected, speaking to the qualities in both the music and to MOON’s concept. At this chapter’s conclusion, one dancer was left on stage, staring intently at a setting projection image. It was so beautiful and seemed a clear and fitting end to the piece. There was more to come, which felt a little odd after that perfect cadential moment.

 

Liss Fain Dance - "End Point | Open Time"

Livanna Maislen in End Point | Open Time
Photo RJ Muna

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts presents
Liss Fain Dance
End Point | Open Time
The Forum at YBCA, San Francisco

January 23rd, 2026

The Forum at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts is one of my favorite spaces in the city to check out contemporary dance. It’s vast and airy; inviting and cavernous – a blank canvas, an empty container filled with possibility and promise. Sometimes a production set in this special place has a more conventional format with the audience facing a stage or designated performance zone. Sometimes viewers are seated in a square perimeter or in the round. One deeply special performance found each audience member with their own personal headset, controlling how the score interacted with the movement. Then there are the mobile, immersive dances where the audience is encouraged to traverse the room and choose their own adventure, engaging with the work in front of them at their own pace and in their own time. Liss Fain and her company of collaborators have long presented work of this last type, and on Friday evening brought their newest must-see world premiere, End Point | Open Time, to the Forum space. 

A two-part quartet unfolding over fifty-five minutes, Liss Fain Dance’s 2026 debut began with an introduction/prelude of sorts, End Point. Around the edge of a stunning installation by Matthew Antaky, each dancer appeared in one corner. Like a living board game, they explored the outside square. Slow, controlled, meditative motions gave way to stylized running and wing-like arms. They surveyed the horizon, while step ball changes revealed shifts in weight and intention. It was a strong opening sequence, providing a perfect opportunity for everyone to settle into the space and take in what was yet to come. 

Over the next forty-five minutes, a simultaneous collection of duets, solos, (occasionally trios and quartets) unfolded within the central installation structure. As noted in the program, Open Time harkens to an excursion Fain made to the Arctic, and Antaky and costume designer Mary Domenico certainly captured that essence. Four open rooms were separated by doorways and paths. Fabric slats, studded with wave-like designs in light grey, hung from ceiling to floor. The costumes flowed with dripping silver. It felt like a house made of snow and ice.

Because we were encouraged to move through the space, every member in the crowd had a unique and personal experience with the piece. You may have seen some sections fully, some partly and others, you may have been missed entirely. Sometimes you found yourself in front of an empty room, not knowing if and when a dancer may arrive. Fain created such beauty in this dualism – intense agency coupled with acceptance of emptiness and void. Over the course of Open Time, I opted to cycle through four different external vantage points. The audience was also invited to watch from inside the structure, but to be honest, at this particular performance, there were too many people present to make that a successful option. 

Like the evening’s overture, Open Time paired moments of quiet with high-octane movement phrases. There was stillness, repose and reflection: heads cradled gently, bow and arrow arms moving slowly as if through molasses, deep static side lunges. In contrast, we saw giant rond versés, where the leg circles to the back against a snaking spine. There were delicate, yet powerful jumps. Limbs cartwheeled through the space. Bent-kneed chaîné turns whirled like a centrifuge. It was equal parts containment and freedom. Whether staccato and angular or smooth and controlled, an undeniable sense of vastness and expanse was present in all of Fain’s choreography. 

Livanna Maislen, Elena Martins, Katherine Neumann and Isabel Rosenstock were onstage for almost an entire hour without a break and delivered the most captivating performances with such impeccable technique. Bravo to the cast!

The one disconnect for me was mood and vibe. End Point | Open Time’s physicality was deliciously varied. Similarly, Louise Glück’s framing text oscillated from desperation to happiness, fear to contentment. Such breadth of material. But the dancers’ demeanor stayed in one dynamic; never budging from an overwhelming held angst (at least not in the sections that I saw). A little joy or lightness would have been a welcome addition.