HQ Review: SIUE presents Timeless Reflections Fall Dance Concert
A whimsical bunch, a mélange of bright colors, ruffled skirts, and monochromatic striped clothing. Bubbles float over this bunch of 13 dancers as they peer towards the audience in reticent curiosity. Opening SIUE’s concert “Timeless Reflections,” Carly Vanderheyden’s work “Distorted Glimmers,” brought this quirky crew of individuals into a world of imagination. With a program note from Lewis Carroll, the dreamlike euphoria of her novel “Through the Looking Glass” was of obvious inspiration to this dance. “Well, now that we have seen each other, if you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you,” goes the program note. And so, the dancers see each other with intrigue as they discover this playful world that Vanderheyden has crafted. They clamor across the stage as sounds of plunky pianos and jubilant accordions further their vaudevillian antics. Hints of plot bubble to the surface, but quickly dissipate and wash away into dynamic phrases of movement that envelop the space. While there is not a clear direction to this cohort’s shenanigans, the world they inhabit creates a lovely sense of wild play between the dancers and the audience.
Next up was “Swing Time,” by Maria Majors, featuring five dancers handsomely dressed in black pants, white shirts, and red bow ties and suspenders. They tromp out into the space in tap shoes from stage left under soft overhead lighting. The punctuation of their tap shoes quickly creates the essence of the work as they devolve into a long series of presentational rhythmic musings. The mood is lighthearted as giddy jazz music by Lawrence Welk accelerates the rhythmic patterns of their feet. While the majority of steps are done in unison, there is a sense of individuality with how each dancer carries themselves through the movement. Some have a coy playfulness while others feel a bit more stark in their execution. Nevertheless, the collective rhythms that their feet create exuberate an attitude of joy.
In contrast to the uppity attitude of “Swing Time,” a sense of idyllic communion is captured in the opening of Kristin Best Kinscherff’s work “Tomorrow’s Conversation Will Have to Wait.” Dancers adorned in variations of white fill the stage as displays of flowers pop out of the floor evoking the serenity of a naturalistic environment. The dancers pass flowers to each other as they flow through graceful turns and leg extensions. Though the tone is peaceful at first, the ambiance gradually shifts to melodrama. In the work’s final moment, a single dancer dramatically moves through full bodied movements as the other nine dancers ambivalently observe her. The group slowly leaves the stage one by one. The last member of the group hesitates to look back at the soloist dancer, but then moves on as well. Whatever conversation this group would like to have with her will indeed have to wait.
The mood of melodrama continues in “River Rose” by Geoff Alexander, but instead of white naturism, the stage is consumed in red and gold. A river of red petals streams down the center of the stage as two dancers, dressed in gold, observe each other from opposite sides of it. The river is a barrier to their connection as they mirror each other’s movements with wonder and enticement. But this river of petals quickly disintegrates as four more dancers enter the stage, grab armfuls of the petals, and contemplatively meander across the stage. As they do so, the petals flutter and consume the entire stage as the river becomes a sea. The tone of “River Rose” begins as a wilting explication of sorrow, but rather suddenly, spurned by the music, transforms into a cinematically triumphant atmosphere. The work oscillates multiple times between these two tonalities, making the mood of this dance feel slightly sporadic alongside moments of rather gripping imagery.
“When did legality become morality?” This question rings out in the final section of Omar Olivas’ timely work, “The Distance Between Us.” In the program, Olivas notes that “This piece is inspired by my father’s journey…for crossing borders so that I could build a life on the foundation of your dreams.” And so, the work begins with a single dancer traversing the stage. A mob of 11 dancers build a tunnel with their bodies that the soloist crawls through. Then the group surrounds the soloist in a fence of human bodies. This dancer’s trepidatious journey is reflected in the audio track that recounts in Spanish the journey and process of immigrating. Though this opening is weighted, it eventually gives way for a more lighthearted moment as a chorus of women spiral through the space to the Ranchera tunes of Pedro Infante. As they dance, the women maintain a serene composure as Infante’s lyrics sing of the risk and challenges of immigrating: “Yo no tenía cartilla ni pasaporte…Lejos de nuestros padres…Dan ganas de llorar.” Even in the midst of these serious undertones, this scene celebrates the communion of dancing bodies, even as they risk security to do so. However, this untroubled attitude soon devolves into chaos as dancers dart across the stage, grab at individuals, and aggressively drag them across the ground. This sudden intensity is furthered by a projection on the back wall of the stage that captures in real time what is occurring on stage. Though projections can often detract from a dance itself, Olivas’ use of projection enhances the impact of this work. By layering a grainy black and white filter on top of the video, the projection mimics footage from a security camera. While not only making this moment more tumultuous, the projection evokes the reality of heightened state surveillance upon immigrant bodies. Meanwhile, the haunting voice of Juan Pablo Villa echoes through the theatre, “Me dan ganas de llorar.” “Me dan ganas de llorar” feels like the ultimate cry of this work. In its final scene, an emphatic piece of spoken word directly addresses the polemic topic of immigration. As this question comes full circle: “When did legality become morality?”, the speech admonishes those who have conflated their morality and politics into one. Though a work addressing such a topical subject matter could quickly become preachy, Olivas enters into it through his own personal lens, allowing it to resonate with ethos, rather than dogmatism. And as the dance concludes, the dancers look out towards the audience, and we are implicated in the discourse of this work.
“Pulse of the Reckoning” catapults itself into intensity as three dancers on the floor twist their torsos and slingshot their limbs through their surrounding kinesphere. An offbeat formalism is conveyed in the costuming of these dancers in black pants, white shirts and stripes of green tape scattered across their clothing. This work, created by Snack Break Movement Arts, is a performance duo that specializes in “interdisciplinary performance works inspired by street dance and Hip Hop culture.” The combination of these different dance styles is clearly evident, as a repeated motif in the choreography resembles toprock footwork in breaking. The music that accompanies the dancers is joyfully chaotic as drums pulse with driving syncopation. While these dancers move in conjunction with the music, they also carry their own internal pulse that initiates the tempo of their bodies. And through the conversation of these various elements, electricity is generated that courses through this collective of dancers.
The theme of motherhood can be a grandiose topic to address, yet Lindsay Hawkins work “Matriarchy” addresses this topic with a wonderful simplicity. Pre-recorded voices of the dancers emanate from the speakers as they recount memories they have of their mothers. Mothers who helped them get ready for a dance recital, or were always being there to support them. These stories are matched with a gentle energy from the dancers’ bodies as they calmly sway and travel through space. In doing so, the choreography does not overdramatize the spoken word or mimic it word for word. Instead, it takes the essence of what is being said and transforms it into a harmonious translation of movement. This allows the complex theme of motherhood to rest itself gently as an offering to the viewer, rather than a conjuring of weighted dramatics.
The title of the final work “Corporate Clutch” feels like a callout of its own condition. Filled with vividly colored skirts, floppy wrists and swishing hips, something like a cheeky Katy Perry song emanates out of the core of this piece. Choreographed by Brenda Serrata Tally, this work was invigorating in the way that the top charting song is invigorating. Even though you’ve heard it 1000 times, you can’t help grooving along to the churn of its own repetition. And despite its slightly monotonous structure, the dancers execute the movement in quite an exacting manner, unleashing unison phrases that carry just the right amount of spunk to make them effective. And the uppity spirit of this work functions as a generous finale for the audience. Though many different worlds have been entered and explicated in this concert, this final work’s swishy, feel-good attitude ends the concert on a conclusively positive note.
Photos by Carly Vanderheyden
