Note: Artistic Director Bill Evans engaged Donna Davenport, Ed.D., Professor of Dance/Associate Dean of Faculty, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, Geneva, NY, to write an extensive review of the production. She has given her permission to reproduce these following excerpts from her much-longer and more complete description of the concert. This is the second post that continues with Professor Davenport's review.
“Woman: Claiming Courage, Breathing Spirit,” by Darwin Prioleau
[This work] started with a visually provocative set design that provided choreographic cues. Yet the way I imagined the dance to unfold did not happen, and surprises are good. Because the piece had distinct sections with a soloist and an ensemble, I couldn’t help but think after I re-read the title (after the concert) that the first dancer was the woman claiming courage and the ensemble was breathing spirit. ***
*** I appreciated the upstage landscape of colorful androgynous faces painted on large white panels, the two drummers stage left, and the soulful percussion that followed. The mammoth paintings were caricatures of pensive expressions (to my eye). The beautiful soloist in a magenta dress and a patterned shawl moved with fluid poise among these faces after dancing an expressive and sustained introductory solo to drums that told a story (to my ear) about struggle, personal power, and persistence. After she gave up her shawl to arms that drifted into the upstage left wing, and after the drummers left, she danced in a downstage special, only slightly empowering the original thematic movement ideas. ***
*** Suddenly, I was in a land of celebration. The young women moved to the contemporary, groovy African jazz and Soni’s vocals. They danced well in an Ailey-esque style that may have felt foreign to their bodies at first but didn’t look that way on Saturday. They appeared joyful in their presentation of the movement vocabulary, which is a tribute to the teaching and to their personal connection with the themes of the dance. ***
“Hidden Message, by Juanita Suarez
*** On purely visual and aural levels, there were stunning moments in this dance that existed as individual elements in the expansive space … above the floor, into the wings, and out to the orchestra pit. Suarez’s glorious voice in her long black wig, Saleem’s expert drumming, a soulful composition of sound, waves of water moving on the cyclorama, and beautifully harsh green lighting that penetrated the dancing. ***
In Part II, I entered a different mode of watching dance and experiencing choreographed actions on the stage. I normally think of dance as existing for my body and my eyes, essentially from left to right, the way we read in North America, across a horizontal temporal continuum. A dance begins at a certain point on the left of my visual and kinesthetic consciousness and ends on the right; it goes from “here to there.” But not this dance. It did not progress horizontally like a movement narrative with the past, present, and future connected to one another. ***.
*** After the “Water is me…life…memory,” the piano’s sound became furiously disjointed and dramatic, and suddenly the dancers were affected by something tangible. They shook and wiggled and solo’d in the space. The diagonal became important in this final section, at one strong moment with the singer and the dancers at opposite ends. The last lunging ensemble phrase was the dancers’ final gesture, free from the entrapment underneath them? They made a definitive circle with their fingers on the floor downstage, inscribing the message perhaps and ending the journey? ***
“Hidden Message” has stumped me and intrigued me. Maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen. I’d like to see it again.
“Los Gringos,” by Bill Evans and Eddie Murphy
“Los Gringos” was a delightful interlude, a playful conversation with rhythms, dancing characters, pretended competitions, and dance languages. Two mature, professional dancers playfully mocked their own movement styles, expert technique, and maybe even their Whiteness, tried on each other’s arms and legs without doing them real justice, and expertly toyed with musicality. The title reminded me of Bill’s time in Albuquerque; I imagine he felt like a “gringo” there, and of course with this music… songs of Spain, these two White men are like fish out of water in their Flamenco colors. The bull fight allusions through spatial jockeying and hyper-masculine Latino body attitudes were humorous, as were the repeated cross-footed motifs, accentuated by a stop and a look, which made me chuckle each time it happened. This dance made me happy. These were two men, being not terribly precious about choreography or taking themselves too seriously for a few fun moments. The dance had irony, whimsy, and dancer humor—quite a pleasure.
“Discesa in Bianco,” by Anne Burnidge
This title (Italian for “descent in white”?) didn’t lead me anywhere semantically, but the opening action did. Right away, the clear and expressive articulation of gesture caught my attention. The first soloist held something precious, and the others celebrated it above their heads. The urgency of the motion, the clarity and deliberateness of the repetition, and the light, quick jumps were stunning. The beautiful use of quick time and gesture was captivating. These dancers had been coached expertly. They understood the rich Effort Life they were dancing. They knew what each gesture meant to them (which made them seem important to the viewer), and their relational moments among them were equally expressive and meaningful in the instant they occurred.
Many of the partnering phrases appeared to necessitate a slower pace, and thus, the quickness was exciting and unpredictable. For the receptive audience member, this kind of dancing is felt in the body; it’s a visceral experience to follow the action on the stage and to empathize with the motion and its qualitative extremes.***
*** The lusciousness was mesmerizing—in the live strings, the lighting, the silky light costumes, the use of space, and the dancing. It was pleasure for the eye, the ear, and the soul. Yet the choreographic development paused towards the end, and I started to wander as a viewer. The meaning-making lost its momentum, but I’m not sure why. Maybe it was too much of the same good thing, and I needed a contrast to stay with it. Certainly, this did not detract from my overall enjoyment, however. This piece is sheer beauty on many levels. ***
“Craps (1979),” by Bill Evans
*** Right away, I also noticed a different movement aesthetic-Bill Evans in the late 70’s! It was refreshing. The bouncing and sliding, the extensions, and “classical” modern dance movements—spins, drops, back attitude turns, pike jumps, and arm swings—were pleasing to my contemporary eye. ***
*** I couldn’t help but notice the different approach these college dancers had to employ to perform this movement vocabulary. So much of advanced modern dance technique these days involves smooth transitions between contrasting movements, loose and articulate gestures, balletic precision of the feet, and the ability to ooze from one athletic moment to the next. Back in the 70’s and 80’s, we were still standing on one leg quite a bit, extending our limbs to communicate a sense of personal agency, and moving deliberately from one clear moment in the space to another distinct position. ***
*** The fast sliding into a strong second position and the splats on the floor are visually and kinesthetically exciting, and they were performed spectacularly by these dancers and placed within a choreographic context that made them perfect each time. The flung arms into the back space looked quite contemporary, but it could also be a result of the training that SUNY Brockport dancers have: they know how to use their core to stabilize their bodies while they curve forward and fling their arms back behind them with strong weight and indirect space. And speaking of backspace, the falling was beautiful. Again, as a teacher I was thinking about the challenge inherent in reconstructing the falls backwards into another dancer’s arms, the jumps into arms, the accumulation of this motif, and generating the risky feeling of ongoingness. A lovely ending. ***
*** This work was a successful collaboration among top-notch artists—the rehearsal directors, the lighting designer, and the composers/musicians. The educational value of this process is unquestionable. This is the kind of experience that generates student pride, which drives the passion to take the risk of entering dance as a career.
Conclusion
*** I believe that “moving to make things whole” is the process of composing dance. And on more of an Existential level, as dancers and choreographers, we move to make our lives and ourselves whole. ***
*** To put together a full concert of dance is an impressive undertaking, especially when it is generated with live music, performances of both students and faculty, and with standards of excellence that are sought across-the-board.