Flash Responses by Karen Stokes
Dance in Houston, January 2009
 
INTRODUCTION TO the Flash Response:
This week I saw three different dance events in Houston, by three different artists.  As always, it seems to me that we need more writing on dance. I thought I would introduce a model of “flash responses,” which is a recording of personal observations on events. These are not reviews (as per dance criticism), but rather responses that comment on my own reactions and experiences as much as the work itself. I will apply critical thinking that matches my experience in dance, but my objective will not be one of reviewing dance in the traditional sense, which by nature implies a strong component of “criticism.” I will not try to meet a specific format (as one might for a review), rather write impressions in a way that matches my response.  I will also try to be transparent with my own preferences.
 
Definition of Flash Response:  An immediate written response that describes your experience in viewing a dance event in a flexible format.
 
The Challenge:  We need more people to engage with dance through writing.  Why not you?  I challenge you, the dance viewer, to write your flash responses, and email them for posting here at Dance Source Houston.
 
Here are my first three flash responses: “Deca Dance” performed Batsheva Dance Company (January 28 at Jones Hall), “Tetris” by Toni Valle (January 29 at Barnevelder Movement/Arts Complex), and “House of Mind” by Pat Graney Company (January 31 at Diverse Works).

 Flash Response #1: “Deca Dance” Batsheva Dance Company:

I have wanted to see more of Ohad Naharin’s work ever since I saw Hubbard St. perform his much-lauded “Minus 16” several years back. Last Wednesday, my chance arrived when his company from Israel had its Houston debut. “Deca Dance” is a collection of greatest hits from the last 10 years by Naharin.  And although I did not know that I would see the very same sections of “Minus 16” again, I did.  I suspect “Minus 16” is to Batsheva what “Revelations” is to Alvin Ailey:  a sure fire audience thriller.  I’m fairly certain the there are few Batsheva tours that don’t include sections from “Minus 16”.  Since I’d seen this work before, it didn’t have the surprise factor of my previous experience. That being said, the image of 17 dancers launching into a canon of backbends from their half circle of chairs (with a final dancer collapsing to the floor) remains powerful.  The pounding music is a huge asset and I’m sorry I cannot reference.  I do not re-call it being referenced in the program, which I inconveniently left at the theater. In my defense, the program did not list the dances in the order in which they were performed, which made it difficult to know what went with what in any case. 

Let’s talk movement.  The MOVEment (and oh boy, do they MOVE) throughout “Deca Dance” is vibrant and visceral.  Dancers stand casually like a cats lounging in a garden, only to strike unexpectedly with slithers, snapping gestures, body quivers, hip gyrations, and jutting chins. I am a movement vocabulary junkie, so these movement crazies thrill me. Another thing that struck me was Naharin’s use of choral groups on stage.  His unison sections are compelling in large part because of the simple designs he chooses, contrasting structures to casual but pyro-technical athleticism of unison movement.  Dancers in lines facing the audience, a half circle of dancers on chairs, a circle of dancers around a group of audience members, three line-ups on stage with emerging solos . . . These are not innovative spacing structures. But in Naharin’s hands, the simplicity of the group designs add power and velocity to the movement itself.  It’s as if the snapping slithering polished gestures are magnified and intensified by the straight-forward spatial structures.  I know this might seem like a stretch, but was anyone else reminded of how effective the lines of unison were in Michael Flatley’s “Riverdance” or “Lord of the Dance”? 

Trisha Brown’s famous 1971 solo “Accumulation” came to mind in a quintet with a strict use of the craft tool.  In the tool accumulation, words and movement accumulate gradually with an on-going repetition:  1, 1-2, 1-2-3, 1-2-3-4, etc.  When this piece began, I thought I was going to dislike it because it seemed obvious and tedious.   However, about halfway through I started to thoroughly enjoy the whole dogged determination of the piece, not to mention fierce dancing by the five women.  Naharin was like a dog with the accumulation bone, and this grew on me.  I should mention that the accumulation of the poem/text was effective as well (again, do not recall if listed in the program-sorry).  In the end, perhaps this piece was my favorite.  I’m a sucker for persistence, interesting movement, clarity, and craft; all represented here in spades. 

I did have some questions about the show as well. Being an avid choreography watcher, I would have liked to seen an entire piece. How does Naharin deveIop these ideas over the course of a longer stretch?  I also did not care for the “B/olero” duet (most recent work). Perhaps the primary reason was the choice and rendition of the music.  Ravel’s Bolero is sooooooo overdone in musical terms and soooo overused in dance (ever since the Maurice Bejart version).  This doctor’s office rendition had the potential for comedy, but Naharin did not seem to hear humor and it was not reflected in the choreography.  The dancers, in crystal clarity repetitions of movement, were a saving grace.  In general, the choreography here appeared ordinary but was made somewhat compelling by the precision of the dancers.  Being primarily a choreography watcher at this point in my life, dancer skill alone rarely excites me any more.  The exception might have been the crazy improvisational pre-curtain solo . . . does this guy have any physical limits at ALL?!!!

In spite of the slight variation of body sizes, the 17-member Batsheva company had a monochromatic quality of a corps de ballet. As a person interested in the richness of human differences, it was a relief when the dancers brought audience members on stage. Now I had a view of a world with wonderful diversity of size, shape, and color. One question for the Society for Performing Arts:  Why did the PR postcard have a photo of a striking woman on stilts with feathers emerging from her back, a la “Cirque du Soleil”? There were no such pieces on this program.  All the costumes were simple and pedestrian. I found the theatricality suggested by the postcard to be a confusing choice of PR for this show. 

All questions aside, this was a hugely entertaining evening of dance.  I walked away thinking, “Heck yeah, I’ll see y’all again.”  Always a pleasant reaction to have. ã Karen Stokes 2009

 Flash Reponse #2:  “Tetris” by Toni Valle:

If putting the pieces of a psychological profile together intrigues you, you should go see “Tetris” by Toni Valle this week at Barnevelder.  If large-scale theatrical dance is your thing, see “Tetris” this week.   If you are a follower of the considerable talents of our modern dance community, buy a ticket to “Tetris”.  If you like story telling combined with dance – “Tetris” might be of interest.  If you have a thing for symbolism, “Tetris” gives you plenty of that. If you like the pop culture of the 80’s, I really think you might want to “pop” over to see “Tetris”.
 
Toni Valle is not scared of combining huge concepts, big sets, a sizeable cast, and one small child on stage.  She likes to think epic, putting to use her own personal experiences to expound upon her view of life. Toni has created three evening lengths in her relatively young career as a choreographer.  The first “It’s All Relative” reflected on experiences with family.  The second, “Cracked” reflected on experiences as a young woman. I suspect “Tetris” is a continuation of the autobiographical themes, as Toni investigates psychological pieces that make up the whole of a woman.
 
On the visual side, large pieces of a 3-D block-puzzle painted with pale squiggles (designed by Tom Boyd of the Houston Ballet) dominate the stage, seemingly symbolizing the parts of the woman (one suspects the autobiographical material here) soon to be danced by a cast of Houston favorites, including long-time Houston dancer and choreographer Priscilla Nathan-Murphy.  (I’ll say no more about Houston favorites, as several dancers come from my own company or I have worked with or I have trained at U of H  . . . I admit prejudices here . . . did I mention Toni was my student at one time?)
 
Led by Mechelle Flemming as “The Operating Ego,” the cast dances with strength and vigor. The movement is big and peppered with repeating motifs. Swooping “back attitude” turns and slicing leg flings appear throughout the evening, with only passing attention to smaller detailed movement possibilities. These broad-brush strokes serve to stir up the stage, and help the evening to flow at an enjoyable pace, especially in Act I.  A surprise is revealed at the end of Act I when the face of Flemming magically appears on the puzzle pieces, now re-arranged by the dancers in the shape of a box. The symbolism is clear: these pieces represent aspects of the woman; these pieces are parts of self. 
 
It seems that each of the dancers, including an enchanting performance in Act 2 by budding child dancer Bianca Torres-Aponte, tell the story of a single person of many selves. It is not “Sybil” like, there are no truly psychotic aspects to this person, but it does seem to delve into the concept that a single human houses many selves.  While the psychological trajectory was at times (like the psyche itself) difficult to follow, Valle made the journey easy with entertaining snippets of video footage from old 80’s favorites such as “Pretty in Pink” and “Ghostbusters,” recorded historical narratives of the same time period, a range of pop music, and the constantly changing stage space.  Valle didn’t hesitate to “go there” in the first Act by including a tongue-in-cheek 80’s dance competition couple (Jenny Magill and Joe Modlin), giving the audience a full-on satire of ballroom from said period. As always, Jeremy Choate gives plenty of bangs for your buck with his lighting design, complete with his favored “hazer” look – a diffused mist that softly filters light.  If you haven’t gone yet, you should head on over to Barnevelder to check it out.  “Tetris” is a chance to see one of our best up and coming Houston choreographers developing her vision of dance-theater. And oh, by the way, the upgrades continue at Barnevelder Movement/Arts Complex.  The latest terrific improvement is a new seating system, with comfortable chairs and great sight lines. ã Karen Stokes 2009
 
 Flash Response #3:  “House of Mind” by Pat Graney Dance Company

Walking into the installation of “House of Mind” at Diverse Works, you come into the first of several rooms.  There is sand on the floor, with old-fashioned wall paper appearance of sketched flowers, perhaps roses, a bed with a projected sleepless child rolling around on top, with a giant monster’s tale emerging beneath (no wonder she can’t sleep), some small windows of projections on a shelf.  Entering next into a hallway, I am swallowed by a corridor of giant grey-blue chiffon doll dresses hanging on either side of my head. Which led me to a room with a pile of gold shoes in the center of the beach sand floor, and small display of little drawer boxes on on one wall, with partially opened drawers that reveal buttons, tiny tea sets, keys, a miniature ballet slipper.  Next a grey office through a dirtied window – it looks like a war room a bunker, and on the wall are frames with no pictures – everything washed by grey paint.  Following this, another corridor of multiple letters thumb tacked on the walls, this corridor dead ends into a typewriter complete with looped recorded typewriter sounds.  Moving round the corner, I see two separate walls of keys, hundreds neatly hung in precise rows.  The space opens into a wider open performance area, with bleacher chairs on one side and a fragmented house interior on the other.  The house includes a kitchen, a stairway to nowhere, a door to a lit room, a couch, a dining table, an entry into a bathing area.  The entry into the bathing area is covered with more tiny wood display boxes, each filled with literally hundreds of miniature things:  a Wheaties box with Mary Lou Retton on the cover, a little horse, tiny doll furniture & china, and plenty of miniscule high heeled shoes.  I think that Ms. Graney would have a grand time touring 19th St. in the Heights.  Her installation has lots of little interesting things that I might find at one of the Antique stores there or even at Alabama Furniture store around the corner on Yale.  Oh – and I should mention – there is a naked live lady in the bathtub just beyond this wall, through a doorway.  She is friendly, perhaps not shivering in the water, but admitting to us viewers that “it was not that warm.” 
 
My favorite wall was in the final room, behind the open space of the performing area, which can be viewed from the bleachers through a doorway.  Here is a wall of mostly pearly toned buttons awash with water falling down them into a trough.  “Oooooh pretty!” I thought like a child who has discovered a secret garden.  The few scattered colored buttons on the wall fascinated me.  Why were they there with all the white buttons?  I don’t know – but I liked the bit of unexpected color they add, and it feels very precise to me.  Oh wait, what are these walls behind me?  Books and more books, 10,000 books Sixto Wagon later informs us in his introductory speech.  And here is another video projection (sorry forgot to mention the ones in the big room); this time of an elderly lady sitting on the edge of . . . was it a bed with a red cushion behind?  Well, an elderly lady anyways. She appears to be speaking, and I hear a muddled sound track, but I can’t hear specific words. 
 
I have entered a world.  This is a world of extreme detail and order and control.  Nothing is placed without due cause, and all things have a past.  Most things are repeated, as if transcend their own ordinariness by sheer multiplication. In the performance area, five worn king-like chairs with wood frames are carefully placed in a diagonal line under five bare light bulbs hung from above.  Should I sit in one of these chairs, I wonder?  No, no, don’t be silly.  They are not for you.  Go to the bleachers.  I find a spot.
 
The performance begins.  It seems best to describe this work in the way I felt it, like a stream of conscious, like this:  Clouds float on wall to left, big wind tossing tree on right in Ike-like wind, naked lady gets towel and coffee and departs, girls in tight slit office skirts and pale vintage shirts with high heels clicking precisely, walking a grid again and again in high heels again and again walking, random music, Crimson and Roses and sounds, is that a “Star Wars” song imbedded? women in vintage dresses heels still in place, more walking in grids, monotony, this is monotony, what is that person saying? fragments of daily life, a fast typewriting walking lady oooh -  look how her hands fly right exactly in time with the typewriter sounds, a giant bumble bee projection, a horror film, unison chair movement with five girls, shoes clicking sliding pausing, girl gets book present from under chair oh look there’s a bag with a goldfish inside the book, why is she scared of the other girls? words of memories of being lost of the fear of being lost, I feel lost, and perhaps a bit bored, girl dances in kitchen drawer box, oh how nice a projection of a tiny bed on the drawer, more girls put themselves in kitchen box drawers on floor, drawer tasks commence, tick tock clock sounds over and over again, let’s see what shall I look at, I wish they would bust out and dance, no not going to happen, this is a world under tight control, okay I’ll look at the pretty legs walking on top of high heels on five fair skinned girls with varying hairstyles, legs like the Weave girl company of yesteryear, is this going to be over soon? goldfish film projected on wall, I request more movement please, who is that giant statue projection of Zeus like figure? and the tiny people swarming at his feet?  oh too bad he’s cracking up & falling down, girl comes down stairs starts to sing a strange montage of “Grease” musical, now she into chair, oh hear the Casablanca recording A Kiss Is Not a Kiss played on a toy music box, look at girl in pretty Asian outfit with sparkly sparkly buttons, now she is rolling up and over the back of the couch to the floor more rolling, why is she in that pink outfit? look at naked lady rolling on video at same time, is it the same dancer? yes I think so, faces peering over stairs into light, black cocktail dresses, Pina Bausch comes to mind except there is an overly precise mind for order here, and Bausch expounds more often on disorder and chaos and with more movement, more and more unison and non-unison chair dancing, seems monotonous, collage upon collage, I wonder when this will finish up, let’s see what’s in fridge, okay she’ll eat it, now its time for all five of the girls to eat chocolate cake at the table with redi-whip, thanks for preparing, let audience hear silverware clicking and soft inaudible conversation, we aren’t in the party, it’s happening without us in the other space with those tidy girl walkers, that’s okay it doesn’t seem like a fun party anyways,  too contained too proper too polite, video of family sweet little girl faces, voice talks about a love for making maps and dreaming of maps, more grid walks by girls tracing map routes on floor, again click-clock heels over and over again and again, walking always walking in a precise direction with sharp turns, please stop, it’s too much sameness, same tempo, same dynamics, is life really this way? girl turns on mirror light takes her hair down, did I mention girls in slips? another girl lies on the now table bed, recorded voice talks about time, and time briefly disappearing, and waiting for the next moment, what was that? what was that?  that may have been profound but I missed it, I may be disappearing myself, too much fragmentation and sameness, fatigue, here is the tree blowing again now on the back wall, is it in blue tones? this must be the end, is it the end? the other pauses makes us wonder, will it start up again, silence and stillness, no I think not it must be the end, an audience member shifts in seat and starts to clap. We all clap.
 
If this intrigues you, go see “House of Mind” performances this week February 5-7 at Diverse Works.  The installation component continues at Diverse Works until February 21st. ã Karen Stokes 2009
 
Karen Stokes is an Associate Professor of Dance and Head of the Dance Division in the School of Theatre & Dance at the University of Houston. Stokes is also Artistic Director/Choreographer for Travesty Dance Group/Houston, a non-profit dance company (www.travestydancegroup.org).
 
 

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