CityDance Ensemble-Capitol Visitor Center

Choreography is essentially a work-in-progress. It is a living entity, not a static one. In fact, no piece is ever performed the exact same way twice. The constant adjustments to new dancers, new spaces and new ideas require that even finished pieces remain in a continuous state of flux. This is most apparent when there is an opportunity to see the same dance performed by the same company but in different locations. Such was the case with CityDance Ensemble's Wishes of the Sailor, presented last weekend at The Music Center at Strathmore and then on Tuesday at the Capitol Center in D.C. Both locales were small enough to provide a strong personal connection with the work. And, each site necessitated its own adjustments and changes, deletions and additions. The second space brought a different perspective to the project which drew my attention to surprising elements.

The duet between Alice Belle Wylie and William Smith spoke differently at the second performance. They danced the section equally well at both showings, but the Capitol's auditorium added a new dimension. With the stage raised above the audience's eye level and a projected image of a young girl playing the piano (a new component), the portrayal of loss took on added depth. While Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata swept through the room, these two dancers performed a haunting pas de deux where they never touched. They reached and stretched for each other but to no avail. This longing depicted the precarious and fleeting notion of connection, in which bonds exist and endure even in the face of absence.

An interview section occurs mid-way through Wishes of the Sailor where the performers sit at tables and simultaneously describe the experiences of individual refugees. At Strathmore, this took place on the perimeter of the performance space. At the Capitol, the dancers jumped off the stage and sat at tables directly in front of the first audience row. Most likely, this was necessitated by the parameters of the second space. Nonetheless, it was a very powerful statement. The action of the piece really moved into the viewer's consciousness with the dancers coming from the stage to the audience's level. Issues cannot remain at a distance, they are much closer than we imagine or than we care to admit.

The original venue for Wishes of the Sailor (The Music Center at Strathmore) was my preferential setting. But, I am glad that I was able to see the work done in these two divergent spaces. Different contexts provide an imperative newness to this demanding material.

CityDance Ensemble-The Music Center at Strathmore

Intimate performance settings have the power to transform an audience. In a big theater, dance audiences become invisible and anonymous; nothing more than a sea of faces. In a small venue, there is no place to hide. As an audience member, more is expected of you and you can get much more in return. Close proximity alters perception, provides new chances for observation, and magnifies risk within the work. This weekend, CityDance Ensemble presented Crush in the education wing at Strathmore. This mixed-rep program proved that small spaces provide enormous opportunities. Crush was an invitation to engage and converse with the art and the artists. It celebrated a responsibility that is not always possible in large performance venues. Challenging performances deserve an equally challenged audience.

Souvenirs by Meisha Bosma is not a new piece for me, though this time, I found new revelations in it. The nearness of the performers made the off-balance suspensions clearer and more impressive. The five female dancers were constantly pushed to their maximum point of equilibrium, followed by a visible decision: to give in or to maintain. Through their commitment to the movement, these women taught the audience that you have not taken a risk until you allow yourself to let go. Souvenirs was followed by Alex Neoral's Trajectory, performed by the CityDance conservatory students. These kids are promising dancers, who are being given a great technical education. More importantly, they are being taught to follow CityDance's ethos of pushing limits, taking chances and moving beyond the comfort zone. There was one particular moment toward the end of the piece that deserves mention. Neoral had almost two dozen enthusiastic teenagers onstage, at different facings, executing balances and swivel turns. Just the sheer number of bodies moving and turning only a few feet from us was quite something. Christopher K. Morgan's Unusable Signal featured my new favorite trio of dancers: Jason Garcia Ignacio, William Smith and Maleek Mahkail Washington. I thought nothing could top their recent performance in Larry Keigwin's Mattress Suite, but their appearance in Unusable Signal was even better. This is credited to a forward thinking choreographer, who is willing and able to move beyond the traditional interpretation of the pas de trois. Working with odd numbers, especially three, is much tougher than it seems. Morgan made it work. There may be nothing better in DC modern dance than seeing these three men together onstage.

The second half of the evening brought Wishes of the Sailor, a new work ushering the plight of Iraqi refugees into our consciousness. By participating with Intersections International's Iraqi Voices Amplification Project, choreographers Paul Gordon Emerson and Kathryn Pilkington were able to interact with Iraqi refugees in three different countries. They were charged with creating a responsive work reflecting what they had learned from these dire and largely, undiscussed circumstances. Wishes of the Sailor is the powerful result of their journey. There is much in the piece that requires comment but what I found particularly moving was the narrative honesty. Too often, when faced with social or political subject matter, choreographers feel the need to transplant the topic and essentially, turn the audience into the characters. While I understand that this is an earnest attempt to help people relate to the work, it actually creates more distance from the issue. Artistic endeavors can still be personal, and deeply affecting without having to revolve around us. In fact, true empathy comes from moving outward, not inward. Emerson, Pilkington and the entire CityDance family have managed to successfully reveal genuine experiences without losing authenticity. This is because they had the integrity, respect and courage to leave the story with those who had experienced it. Wishes of the Sailor provided an accurate, informational account while retaining the level of artistic depth that CityDance Ensemble possesses.

Today, the pairing of social issues and art is desperately needed. Art has the unique ability, unlike anything else, to show social issues as human issues. This distinction is important and often overlooked. A social issue is our theoretical understanding of a need, problem or inequality. These do not become human issues until we somehow connect with them. Not in a selfish or self-interested way, but through a heightened awareness and deeper comprehension of the particular injustice. An uncensored portrayal of real events and personal stories is what can transform the social into the human.

Margaret Jenkins Dance Company/Guangdong Modern Dance Company-Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center

Dance is visual. However, when you write about dance, the performance experience is very different. It becomes more about copious note-taking and less about real observation. Usually, I start writing as soon as a piece begins and immediately try to formulate an opinion as to what is or is not happening onstage. But this weekend at the University of Maryland's Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center, I did more watching and less writing. As a result, I gained a much stronger connection with the work. If dance writers put down their pens and engage in the simple act of observation, I think the results may shock them.

Other Suns (A Trilogy), the new collaboration between the Margaret Jenkins Dance Company and the Guangdong Modern Dance Company, was an extraordinary examination of duality. It started with the presence of two very different companies from two very different places (the U.S. and China) coming together to craft something unique and special. The particular artists involved and where they were from was obviously a huge component of the project. But, if that was the only instance of duality that you noticed, you missed something. The larger theme was an impartial exploration of the individual and the collective. Often with opposites, one is portrayed as optimal and other as sub-par. Not here. Margaret Jenkins and Liu Qi choreographed these dual perspectives in a neutral and balanced way, revealing a comfort and strength in both states of being.

The first segment, Other Suns I, had a constant urgency and passion, present when only one person was moving or when all the dancers were included. Power was in every grouping. Mid-way through this section, there was a solo for a single female dancer while all the other performers sat downstage left, watching her. Such intimacy and joy was present in her personal discovery of movement and space. No one else had to be involved; she was secluded, yet dynamic. Contrarily, there were several instances where the entire group danced together in a pack, downstage center. In these moments, there was also an infectious living and organic energy. Here, the audience could see the vigor of solidarity and camaraderie.

Other Suns II (Voice After) began with a set of meditative, yoga-like floor exercises. This opening was very ritualistic, almost like daily exercises that every member of a particular group would intuitively know. The structure of the choreography was such that at many times, the six dancers were unable to see each other. Yet still, they were impeccably in sync, each individual working in their own space, but together forming a unison movement image. The coming together of these two companies was a major accomplishment and achievement of this work. Yet, the celebration of duality was the real triumph.

I wouldn't call Other Suns (A Trilogy) a narrative work, but I also wouldn't say it was abstract. It fits more into a middle ground of deconstructed narrative or conceptual imagery, where there was a clear focus, but not a linear story. It demonstrated the strength that exists in the collective and the power that one can gain in solitude. Human existence is simply different in these two circumstances. This piece speaks to the value that is in both.