On Stage: Womens’ “Admission”

July 16, 2015

 

FIREWALL SHADOWS

Sometimes big ideas come in small packages.

Such was the case with fireWALL’s latest dance offering, Admission, at the postage stamp-sized off the WALL Theater in Carnegie.

It was the fourth piece choreographed by 23-year old Point Park University graduate Elisa-Marie Alaio and her works have created a steep learning curve over the course of her first season. Admission was the apex of that growth.

Right now, whether by design or necessity, Admission was the second all-female work.

It was driven by a corporate glass ceiling concept — very smart. Instead of glass, though, there was a crosshatch of bungee cords attached at the midpoint of the tiny off the WALL theater and also at the foot of the audience risers.

Eight women started at the back, cast in silhouette behind panels. They were seated on stools, moving from one pose to another. Some were bunheads, but these were no ballerinas.

Hands shook. Anxiety? Maybe, but then there was a “power” fist. Something else was afoot.

When the women finally emerged — the section went on for a while — we got the answer to the cables.

FIREWALL BUNGEES

Made of the thick kind used to jump off bridges, they produced their own soundscape in addition to Ryan McMasters’ equally tensile accompaniment, full of voices whispering, an underlying beat, water and opera.

It was the stress of the workplace. The release. The manipulation. The constraints of society. And it all became faster, more frustrating, even dangerous in this most compelling of the sections.

The dancers began to unhook the cables. Success, perhaps?

They took off their corporate-driven black jackets to reveal loose-fitting white blouses. Then the dance became more prop-driven — I’m not sure why — with the use of six white chairs.

It turned out that the choreography doled out a sense of equal opportunity among the women. But would there be a winner at the end?

There were group-supported lifts. They linked arms. They huddled like a corporate sisterhood. But the finale turned out to be a jazz group number, more entertainment than substance. So there was no apparent winner, except Alaio and her dancers, who could take pride in their growth.


On Stage: “(a) Long Here”

April 29, 2015
Taylor Knight.

Taylor Knight.

More than any of her other Projects for the Pillow, Pearlann Porter convincingly is saying “Welcome to my world” with her latest, now on view at The Space Upstairs.

She has always changed the relationship of The Space, converting it to the subject at hand. But this “Time” you may get a healthier glimpse into the workings of her mind.

I arrived at 8 p.m. on a Wednesday, perfectly midway through the installation’s 16-day run.

Yes, installation. That is what the director, dancer and artist is calling it. I found her hard at work drawing parallel lines on a large piece of paper with a crayon.

The rest of the rectangular papers lined the black chalk wall. Pearlann had calculated how long it would take her to work through a full box of 64 crayons and still finish on April 30. (It looks like she’ll save white for last.)

Most of the installation lay along the fringes of her own great, Great Room atop Construction Junction..

There were some nifty large multiple image photos by Aaron Jackendoff in keeping with the dance concept. Some collectibles were placed in still life arrangements — a couple of dusty manual typewriters, keys askew, a slide projector (one of Pearlann’s favorite anti-technology gadgets.)

A large sign saying “Pittsburg.”

You could see some former productions on old T.V.s (like Beth Ratas strikingly striped in Fripp Out/The Book).

I particularly loved the juxtaposition of Eighty Hours — a large black canvas, partially covered with grains of white rice. It was next to One Second, with one grain of rice.

Aaron Jackendoff with dance portraits.

Aaron Jackendoff with dance portraits.

Pearlann wore down a pencil in One Hour and Forty-four Minutes (the same time Apple earns $14,246,575 and there are 64 gun deaths in the U.S.).

There are more facts, some fun, some not.

By now you get the idea — time in so many configurations. Everyone can add to the mix during some integrated activities.

But take time to peruse the installations of this artistic hoarder (and aren’t we glad?). Yes, she saved the pile of clocks, so artfully arranged among the trunks that they once occupied.

As I see it, Pearlann has also become the latest variation on modern art master master Jackson Pollock (think splatter paintings). Why? Because movement, mostly repetitive, is a major part of her art work, which dominates The Space.

But there is more. Can we say obsessive?

Not so much with Accumulation of Nows, performed by mover Taylor Knight and music-maker Anna Thompson. When I saw it, there were 8 Taylors, one live and the rest recorded. They all entered through a door and used a chair and the floor. Fascinating — as he were dancing with shadows of his former self — well-planned and mesmerizing.

Pearlann had one more interation, as performer in Un/Re. A duet where she held a large tree branch and Bekah Kuczma was wrapped in a diaphanous cocoa of tulle, the two performers created a sweet tension as they gradually switched places…in a way.

Although there was no need for it, the evening concluded with improvisation as suggested by the audience. “Half way done.” “Slack.” “Godzilla.”

And, as Pearlann put it, we’re “all out of time.”

 

 


On Stage: The Incomparable Carmen de Lavallade

September 15, 2014

0889_BW_DeLavallade

When Kelly Strayhorn Theater executive director janera solomon stepped out onto the stage, she mentioned that the Pittsburgh landmark was celebrating its 100th anniversary. As a result of that, she talked about the process of finding the perfect opening for such a historic season.

The theater had seen so many changes go on around it in East Liberty. Who could embody the ups and downs of those experiences? The answer, and a perfect one at that, was Carmen de Lavallade, 83 years young, and a legendary dancer, along with respected actor and choreographer.

She actually had performed on that same stage 10 years ago in a duet with Gus Solomons, Jr. at the first National Performing Arts Convention here. The pair electrified a knowledgable audience back then and Ms. de Lavallade enthralled new fans in a master class Wednesday morning, a showing of a documentary with her husband Geoffrey Holder Wednesday night and most telling in a solo performance on Friday. (Bravo to KST!)

Called “As I Remember It,” this was a story that needed to be told. With dance spinning in so many new and exciting directions, it is imperative that today’s performers use the past as a springboard into the future.

But as important as Ms. de Lavallade was to dance history, her inspirational story was one that should be heard by non-dance audience members as well. Peppered with names of which they may have no knowledge, it was apparent that her charismatic presence, not only elegant, but filled with determination, hadn’t diminished.

A young girl who “grew up with earthquakes” in Los Angeles, she talked about the “Balinese top” and “African bottom” that served her so well, even as she was often the only “colored girl” in ballet class — not that many studios would allow her admittance at that time.

But she was able to study with another legend, Lester Horton, who gave rise to Los Angeles choreographer Bella Lewitsky, fashion designer Rudy Gernreich, teacher James Truitte and most famously, Alvin Ailey, and where she swept floors, built costumes and cleaned bathrooms.

It was all told in a beautiful production that literally moved with her. Mimi Lien’s set flared like a trumpet and, at the same time, curved like a new Samsung television. It was draped with fringe-like threads that captured a panorama of archival footage in Maya Ciarrocchi’s video design.

Directed by Joe Grifasi, Ms. de Lavallade told her story with the aid of documenter Talvin Wilkes, both of whom were present for the event. She was able to move fluidly back and forth through the set piece, sometimes seated on a bench or chair, sometimes seen in shadow behind it, sometimes gloriously bursting through the fringe.

All the while she was telling her compelling story.

The audience saw various movie clips — “The Golden Hawk,” “The Egyptian,” “Demetrius and the Gladiators” and “Lydia Bailey,” where she danced with Jack Cole (a taskmaster known as “The Terror”), who had to wear “Negro Number 2” make-up. On television’s Ed Sullivan Show, she was scheduled to perform “Willow Weep For Me” with Glen Tetley, who was white. African-American dancer Claude Thompson had to replace him. They heard how Duke Ellington kissed her after a performance of “Portrait of Billie” at the Newport Jazz Festival.

They heard how, after many performances with Alvin Ailey and as a principal dancer at the Metropolitan Opera, she joined the Yale Repertory Theater and performed in 19 productions while teaching movement to young actors like Meryl Streep. They heard how she pushed through the vagaries of age over six decades.

But she moved — and oh, how she moved. Still in her prime in many ways, Ms. de Lavallade didn’t just convey the art of dance, she got to the heart of dance…and life.


On Stage: A Summery Encounter

July 31, 2013

HEARN:RATAS HANDS

It was a perfect summer evening as I made my way to Enright Park. I had googled the location, but arrived to find it surrounded by a maze of chain link fences. No matter, it was a nice walk along the borders of East Liberty and Friendship, the end result yet another gem of a Pittsburgh green space.

And yet another gem of a young local choreographic talent in Jasmine Hearn.

This was the second installment in her site specific work called that’s what she said. I had missed the first in a Lawrenceville garden. This one was subtitled First Dance, in other words, all the emotions, thoughts and situations surrounding that essential part of growing up.

Jasmine and collaborator Beth Ratas had decorated the outdoor basketball court with blue and white and yellow streamers. Oh, the school dance memories, the kind that can span generations!

They approached from a distance, shy and clingy with anticipation, dressed in short party dresses…and athletic shoes.

But this was not to be a sugary summer lemonade of a dance. Beth began with, “I told him no…” as she started to climb the fence, her face unreadable.

The duo finally entered and traced the lines around the basketball hoops. There was some walking and, of course, some hoop shots to be taken. Oh, and a variation on one of those line dances that we all did.

The piece unfolded in movement as natural as a second skin — skips, turns, hugs. There was a play of sunshine, as expected, across their faces. But it was broken by awkward shadows of confusion and frustration and teenage angst, much like the delicate facial techniques of an updated Indian dance.

The series will continue monthly through October at different locations. Tune in via Facebook, but CrossCurrents will also post upcoming segments.

 


On Stage: The Delectable Mark Morris

May 12, 2013
The Muir

The Muir

If you ever wondered why Mark Morris’ choreography had such breadth and wit and intelligence, you only have to talk with him. I found that over the course of several interviews over the years and the Pittsburgh Dance Council audience saw it for themselves after Mark Morris Dance Group’s performance at the Byham Theater (click on Pittsburgh Post-Gazette for the review).

Dressed super-casually in shorts and shirt, with a graying beard, he attracted quite a crowd and didn’t disappoint, jumping on questions he deemed short on critical thinking, but calling one “the best question ever!!”

He’s so-o-o immediate.

Petrichor

Petrichor

Some Q&A tidbits:

Most of it focused on the music, “not live music, just music.” Mark said there was a huge difference between dancing to taped music and making subtle alterations during a music performance. He then asserted that if more choreographers demanded it, like Paul Taylor and Twyla Tharp (yes, he named names!), audiences would get it.

Mark fully admitted that he was as highly knowledgeable about music as choreography  — “I have the most exquisite taste in music of anyone I know.” His favorite musical centuries are the 18th and 20th. He doesn’t like “heldenleben” (the 19th), probably referring to Richard Strauss, which doesn’t have a discernible, danceable beat. It is music that bleeds and bursts.

For those who think his style of dance looks too easy, he revealed that “you’d be surprised how many people can’t do my work” at auditions were 500 people show up and he only needs “1.5 women.”

Mark doesn’t want to do “suppositories of entertainment.” He creates a show for “adults, not thinking babies.”

Afterwards he went out with Carolyn and William Byham, longtime supporters of Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre, which also happened to present the outspoken choreographer’s “Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes” this season.

More Morris, please.


On Stage: Point Park

March 19, 2013

 

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FACULTY STREAM. While university faculty most often publish written work, dance staff members have a much more attractive option with choreography (although it can be a bit testy to switch from well-structured, but educational movement phrases designed to improve students’ technique, to the true emotional power of extending that to performance choreography.

They called this program Conservatory Dance Company at Point Park University and it featured a list of veteran instructors. Sometimes the quality has varied — after all, these artist/teachers spend a lot of time in the studio. But this was different, one of the best in years.

That was mainly due to senior staffers Nicolas Petrov, former artistic director of the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre, and Ron Tassone, noted jazz instructor with a photographic memory.

They both contributed their best efforts in years, Mr. Petrov with selections from his heavily Bolshoi-inspired Prince of the Pagodas, and Mr. Tassone’s Swing It, a primer of Broadway jazz, laden with tricks and treats, all the while letting the students show off their best angles with a generous dose of light-hearted spirit.

Kiesha Lalama and Garfield Lemonius elicited a real commitment from their young artists. Ms. Lalama brought Sneak Peek, a clean cut piece of jazz choreography in the traditional style, while Garfield Lemonius had a real unisex solidarity in the contemporary energy of Memoirs. Peter Merz pulled The Togethercoloured Instant, inspired by poet e.e. cummings. While the choreography was interesting in its own way, Mr. cummings’ words, projected on screens, detracted from the movement.


On Stage: Ailey On Tour in Naples

March 19, 2013

AAADT-in-Alvin-Ailey's-Revelations.--Photo-by-Nan-Melville__

Probably the most popular company in the world, the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater has periodically visited Pittsburgh since 1969, always to great audience and critical acclaim. So I guess I can claim to be an Ailey-an.

Recently I was down in Naples, Florida for an all-too-brief winter respite. The Ailey company was appearing at the Philharmonic Center for the Arts and I decided to pay a visit. It had been all too long since I had last seen Revelations.

Kidding.

I was most interested in the changeover from artistic director Judith Jamison, a direct link to Ailey, to Robert Battle, who was brought on for his choreographic verve and strong work ethic, two assets of which I am well aware, but only the start, I’m sure, to what got him this job.

There had been another changeover since we last met. Renee Robinson, the last dancer to have worked with Ailey, retired last November and names like Dudley Williams (yes, it’s been that long!) and Clifton Brown were gone from the company list. And a trio of stars — Alicia Graf Mack, Glen Allen Sims and Linda Celeste Sims — did not make the trip.

Mr. Battle took the helm about a year and a half ago with an interesting agenda, designed to bring in master choreographers to stretch the artistic capabilities of the vaunted Ailey dancers.

The first piece was a case in point — Paul Taylor’s Arden Court, a pastoral-flavored work for six men and three women and one of his best.  It was easy to see why Mr. Battle chose it — Mr. Taylor is known as well for his strong, muscular men.

Arden Court showed the six males off to great advantage in several sections. Although the Ailey company is known for its audience communication skills, its bold physicality was showcased in a casual sense (swinging runs) and a sense of whimsy (a line of men with one upside down).

Was it a good fit? Not yet. The men seemed unstable, with a rare control problems — some wobbles here and there — and a lack of flow. But the airy and ultimately delightful choreographic sense still engaged the audience.

Battles’ own solo, Takademe, followed. Based on the rhythmic maze found in Indian music, the solo was almost always a literal translation of the oral rhythms, which, in some ways resembled a frenetic type of rap. It appeared that Takademe would always be a great showcase for the performer, and Michael Francis McBride suitably hit all of his marks.

The Ailey company next embraced Rennie Harris’ Home, a loose-knit, gaggle of a number where dancers came and went, yes, just like family and friends. It was obvious that Harris has evolved as a choreographer.

While he used, as usual, thick slabs of unison movement, there was more complexity to this crowd of participants. Eventually though, it didn’t develop the mesmerizing quality that it needed.

Which brings us to Revelations. Having seen some of the early performers (the first Pittsburgh performance had the audience dancing in the aisles), there is a certain standard of spirit that they set that remains ingrained in the memory.

http://www.youtube.com/user/AileyOrganization

Let’s just say that the extra effort, so much a part and parcel of the Ailey company, wasn’t there, although the discipline remained. So it was up to the choreography to hold firm. The opening segments from Pilgrim of Sorrow, beginning with that iconic wedge in I Been ‘Buked, did that with a simplicity of form, execution and innate spirit.


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