Snow on the mesa. Martha Graham Dance Company

24 March 2011. The Rose Theatre, New York

The 2011 New York revival of Snow on the mesa, subtitled Portrait of Martha, began in a highly theatrical manner. Three stuffed wolf heads lay on the stage floor. Three women clad in black hooded cloaks appeared at various intervals. Dramatic colours, often a brilliant blue, washed the backcloth. A single hand belonging to one of the mysterious figures was lit briefly to glow starkly in the darkness. A soundscape of rain, wolves howling, thunder and lightning broke the silence. Towards the end of this section, the first of twelve that made up the total piece, the women each picked up a stuffed head and wore it as a glove. They exited as mysteriously as they had appeared.

This opening had all the hallmarks of the best of Robert Wilson, who choreographed and designed the work for the Martha Graham Dance Company in 1995. We saw in particular his dramatic use of space in the strategic placement of the wolf heads on the floor and the mysterious arrival of the women at separate moments; we saw and heard how brilliantly he can juxtapose elements of sound and light against objects and people to set up an atmosphere; and we saw his capacity to create allusions and resonances, all surreally personal to the audience. The opening made me think of Cathy and Heathcliff on the Yorkshire moors in Wuthering Heights. Perhaps, however, those more familiar with the work of Martha Graham could see allusions to Graham or her work since this portrait of Martha was meant to evoke Graham’s creative journey.

But after this first scene, ‘The wolf wife’, the work fell apart somewhat. Can Robert Wilson seriously be considered a choreographer? I suspect not. The third section entitled ‘Navaho Rug’ was a case in point. The sole dancer looked to me a little like a golliwog or one of those Christmas Nutcracker dolls with a string that when pulled makes the dolls’ arms and legs move in a jerky fashion. It also went on for an inordinate length of time and as a result could not escape from being unnecessarily repetitious.

Another section, which I only realised after looking back at the program must have been the section entitled ‘Very young Kachina clowns’, was a reference to a character within the Hopi tradition who engages in exaggerated behaviour. And exaggerated is the word to describe the choreography of this section. All that face-pulling simply made good dancers look silly. Similarly when the company appeared onstage all wearing long Methuselah beards (and I mean seriously long—they almost swept the floor) in the section entitled ‘Very old: ghost walkers’, I had to wonder why any choreographer would want to dress such beautiful dancers as the very elegant Katherine Crockett in such a get-up.

Apart from Crockett, the other dancer who stood out was the Chinese-born Xiaochuan Xie whose dancing in ‘Shaker interior’ with Tadej Brdnik was as minimally beautiful as the white bench that was the only item of decoration in this section. It was a travesty to have this dancer wearing one of those hideous Methuselah beards later in the piece.

We knew the work had reached its conclusion when the snow began to fall from the flies, although there were sections before this scene that seemed (wishful thinking?) like a finale. People had left before the snow of course. But then it wouldn’t be a Robert Wilson piece without a restless audience.

Michelle Potter, 24 March 2011

For images that underscore the dramatic visual look of Snow on the mesa open this link. It also gives another account and a link to yet another.

Not entirely herself. Vicky Shick

20 March 2011, The Kitchen, New York

Vicky Shick’s newest work, Not entirely herself, is a beautifully lyrical and sensuous dance piece for a trio of young women, Shick herself, and another veteran performer, Neil Greenberg.

Performed in the black box space of the Kitchen in downtown Manhattan, Not entirely herself began with three dancers, Marilyn Maywald, Jimena Paz and Maggie Thom, working on a small, square platform raised slightly off the floor. As they posed alone and together on this platform, linking and separating their bodies in a variety of ways, they set the scene for what might be considered the theme of Shick’s work: how we connect (or don’t connect) with each other. These groupings continued throughout the piece, sometimes on the platform, sometimes elsewhere in the performing space, and became a little like a photograph album with the changing nature of the groupings reflecting the changing pattern of friendships over time.

In between, passages of dancing showed Shick’s choreographic interest in small, detailed movement set alongside flowing sections of luxuriant dancing. I especially admired Marilyn Maywald who was able to imbue the simplest of movements, such as the twist of a wrist or the placement of a foot on the ground, with dancerly sensibility, and whose body sang with a feeling of abandonment as she moved through the free-flowing sections.

This trio section, the longer of the two that made up the hour-long work, was followed by a duet for Shick and Greenberg. It seemed like a statement of closure on what had gone before. Here was a couple familiar with each other’s character, able to move together, joke together, be together without concern that the relationship might founder. And what a star performer Neil Greenberg is. His Cunningham-esque ability to isolate movement in specific parts of the body, whether hips, hands, head or any other part of his anatomy, is formidable. He must be one of the most articulate and kinetically intelligent dancers to grace the contemporary dance scene. Not only that he has charisma in bucket loads.

The work was designed by Shick’s long-term collaborator Barbara Kilpatrick. I particularly enjoyed the contrast Kilpatrick set up between the three young women in their rather trendy outfits, which included a Sergeant Pepper style jacket, various see-through items and a kind of island sarong, and the more functionally useful outfits worn by Shick and Greenberg. Costuming highlighted beautifully the differences of personal relationships suggested in each section. Lighting was by Chloe Brown and the work was performed to an original score and sound design by Elise Kermani.

Arriving from the far-flung Antipodes without a ticket to this sold-out show I decided to take my chances with that peculiarly New York custom—the wait list. I was in luck and am grateful to whomever decided not to pick up their reserved tickets!

Michelle Potter, 21 March 2011

Kathryn Bennetts and the Royal Ballet of Flanders

The New York Times published an article this morning by Roslyn Sulcas, whose critical writing from New York and Europe, is always thought-provoking and intellectually probing. The article summarises recent events relating to the future of the Royal Ballet of Flanders, the company led by Australian Kathy Bennetts. The ongoing saga of the company is worth following. Here is a link to the Sulcas article.

Bennetts was an unsuccessful candidate for the current directorship of the Australian Ballet. Speculation on what might have been is tempting, but it is probably more productive to hope that Bennetts’ passion continues unabated in the present situation, and that the Royal Ballet of Flanders continues to flourish under her uncompromising approach.

Michelle Potter, 19 March 2011

Darcey and Rafael in conversation

The ticket said ‘Darcey and Rafael in conversation’. The menu cover said ‘Dance—collaboration, creativity and choreography’. A tall order? This luncheon event associated with the National Gallery of Australia’s current exhibition Ballets Russes: the art of costume featured former Royal Ballet star Darcey Bussell, now living with her family in Sydney, and Rafael Bonachela, artistic director of the revamped Sydney Dance Company. So what happened?

Well, about 200 people gathered in Gandel Hall, the Gallery’s new-ish public event space. Seated at round tables accommodating nine or ten people per table, we started with a main course, a most acceptable meal given that it clearly needed to be prepared in advance. Then, as dessert was brought in, Darcey and Rafael, made their way to the stage and, seated in armchairs, began to talk about dance. So far fairly predictable. Things began to get interesting as dance became the focus.

Some footage was shown. We saw the amazing Ms Bussell, with those incredibly articulate arms and legs not to mention face and entire body, in excerpts from Christopher Wheeldon’s Tryst, which Australian audiences were lucky enough to see when Ross Stretton brought the Royal Ballet to Australia in 2001, then in parts of the Black Swan pas de deux from Swan Lake Act III, and finally in the last pas de deux from Manon. Footage of Bonachela’s recent works followed, including segments from We Unfold and 6 Breaths.

The conversation centred for a while on the similarities between classical and contemporary dance in terms of the athleticism required by dancers whatever style they are performing, and on the nature of collaboration. Bonachela stressed his aesthetic of commissioning artistic collaborators to produce new work and outlined the importance of moving the art form forward through the creation of new work. Bussell introduced a certain degree of humour as she recounted the trials of rehearsal and the pitfalls (and pleasures) of performance. They both showed a beautifully human side of themselves.

But perhaps the most interesting moments came when the floor was opened up to questions. For me there were three particularly provocative questions. The first concerned narrative in contemporary dance. Did it exist? And was its lack (or apparent lack outside of ballet) what differentiated contemporary dance from ballet? Bonachela’s answer was beautifully phrased. ‘I believe’, he said ‘that the body has a narrative and I am interested in finding it through my choreography. I want to engage with the audience in an emotional way. I am interested in ideas and think the body is a strong communicative tool.’ He did add however, tongue in cheek, that perhaps he would wake up tomorrow and want to make a narrative work!

The second question of particular interest to me concerned the Australian Ballet and its now apparently entrenched decision not to perform in Canberra. How, asked the audience member posing the question, do we continue to engage with ballet when the flagship company denies Canberra audiences the opportunity to see Australian Ballet performances other than by spending large amounts of money to travel out of Canberra? Bussell rightly outlined the various problems associated with touring especially by major companies. But because she may not be aware of the situation, she didn’t mention the Australian Ballet’s apparent problems with the size and nature of the Canberra Theatre’s stage, nor its perceived issues with the Canberra Symphony Orchestra. But she did say that in the end it is up to us, the people of Canberra, to make it known that we do constitute an audience for ballet and that we want to see performances by the main company, not only those of the Dancers Company or specially contrived one-off events. Well, I’m not sure that any movement from the people would have the slightest effect.

And the third question of particular interest to me concerned the difference in physicality between the dancers of the Ballets Russes era and those of today. It is clear from watching old footage from the 1930s that the dancers who came to Australia between 1936 and 1940 were different in musculature, in technique and in the performance values they brought to the stage. But probably the luncheon conversation was not the forum in which to elaborate on the various changes we see in the way dancers look and perform today. The responses petered out a little. Another occasion perhaps?

The National Gallery of Australia has provided some inspiring events associated with its Ballet Russes exhibition. This was one of them. May there be more events where an audience feels free to ask and comment in the way it did at this event.

Michelle Potter, 10 March 2011

On the trail of Ruth St Denis. Liz Lea

The British-Australian choreographer and dancer Liz Lea recently presented a show at the National Gallery of Australia in which she managed, with singular success, to rework her popular piece 120 Birds, staged at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2010, from a work for a small company into a one-woman show.

But the irrepressible Lea has another project in the pipeline—a documentary made with Kuwaiti director, Talal Al-Muhanna, and Indian cinematographer, Lakshya Katari. Lea has had an ongoing fascination with dance makers who toured to far flung destinations in the early part of the twentieth century, including Ruth St Denis and Anna Pavlova, and the documentary, entitled On the trail of Ruth St Denis, follows the journey of St Denis across India. The crew visited the locations in which St Denis performed including the cities of Amritsar, Agra, Kanpur, Lucknow, Varanasi, Kolkuta and Mumbai.

Lea acts as the on-screen presenter for the documentary and also performs some of the ‘Oriental’ dances that made St Denis famous in her day.

The film is currently being cut in the United Kingdom by editor Krishna Francis and has music by Nick Parkin. Further information (published earlier) is available. See e-press from India.

Michelle Potter, 6 March 2011

Featured image: Liz Lea in front of the Taj Mahal. Photographer not idfentified.