Capturing the Moment: A Showcase of New Jersey Choreographer Fellows

A two-part streaming by South Orange Performing Arts Center (SOPAC), New Jersey
April 30 & May 1, 2021

David Mead

One of the plusses that has come out of the pandemic and theatre closures is that dance has migrated online. While that has allowed larger and better-resourced companies in particular to reach a much wider audience, independent artists and smaller ensembles have sometimes found it difficult to find platforms on which to share and publicise their work.

So, all credit to the South Orange Performing Arts Center and Capturing the Moment, a two-evening digital showcase of work by seven choreographers who have received a Choreography Fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts. It proved a wide-ranging mix of film of stage performance, site-specific dance made specially for film, more experimental ‘screendance’, and a demonstration and explanation of elements of kathak. Each presentation was illuminated by conversations between the choreographers and dance critic Robert Johnson.

Best of the films was the hugely appealing Jia-Mei Barber Shop (佳美理髮廳) by Taiwanese choreographer Hung Tsai-hsi (洪綵希), that opened the second show. Beautifully filmed by Jay Cheng (鄭傑中) in black and white in the family barber’s shop Hung’s mother owned and ran in Taiwan, it turns the act of a visit to the barber into a super seven-minute film short.

Much of the movement by Hung (the barber) and street dancer Sam Yang (楊至諴, the customer), is actually quite simple, the scenes in the barber’s chair in particular relying a lot on gesture. But together with its conversational nature, it works a treat, as does the almost unchanging expression on the performers’ faces.

When the action shifts to the wider shop, cleverly worked out sequences and partnering make good use of the confined space and of various props such as the towels and towel stand. A later section with Hung and Yang sat in adjacent chairs has them in perfect unison, all reflected in the long mirror down one wall. A final neat twist at the ends suggests (but no more) that what we observed actually only happened in their minds in those few seconds after Yang walked through the door.

A second short by Hung, Woman, features three women (and a cat) at home during the pandemic. Made during lockdown, as it constantly flips between them, there is a sense of frustration at confinement but also of the momentary freedom that being asked to express themselves for the camera brings. A second section that focuses on close-ups of a painting (Hung also paints) struggles to connect with what went before, however.

Shown the previous evening, another film, Patient, Not Serene, choreographed, filmed and edited by Oluwadamilare (Dare) Ayorinde, is at its most engaging in a section that focuses on hands and arms to the exclusion of the rest of the body. They take on a life of their own as they become reeds and grasses waving in a sea of plant life. The following sections have less pull although, having established the importance of hands, what is fascinating is how much one continues to focuses on them.

That first streaming opened with two all-female works by Erin Carlisle Norton, artistic director of The Moving Architects. Walled makes use of a large piece of stretchy white fabric that the cast of three run in to and find themselves wrapped in. For all the possibilities and physical obstacle that provides, the dance is actually at its most powerful when it’s put to one side and barriers are seen as more psychological, or perhaps societal. There is an underlying tension as the dancers twitch, reach, kick and push as they try to find a way through whatever it is that’s blocking them.

With its deconstructed military-inspired costumes, strong gestures, clenched fists and formation marching-style movement, it’s easy to see Norton’s Coup as a demonstration of the power of women. I rather read it as being about power generally, who wields it and how we react to it. And react they do, each thud on the floor with the staff that’s always carried by one of the dancers not only provoking a response, but one that sometimes feels almost automatic, unthinking. If a dancer breaks out, something always, always brought back. Most powerful though is the massive shadow image of the dancer in control that looms over the work at one point. The original electronic score by Ian Hatcher suits the piece perfectly.

Back to programme two, and Robert Mark Burke’s Passages presented a trio of intimate dance moments beautifully performed by Derek Crescenti, Sarah Housepain and Jared McAboy. Perhaps it’s the result of pandemic experiences but all three exude a sense of looking inwards. Simultaneously, there’s also always a very strong feeling of emotional support between the three. In each, the choreography constantly develops and shifts. The flowing, strong yet soft movement with its seamless lifts and supports is incredibly pleasing on the eye. It’s easy to see how Passages could develop successfully into something longer, with additional moments perhaps providing contrasting moods and dynamics.

While appreciating the complexity of the technique, I am sure I am not the only one who often finds the intricacies of kathak baffling, especially when it comes to storytelling. What I need is someone like Pallavi Degwekar-Shaikh, who on evening one offered some brilliantly clear explanations of the movement and what is being depicted. On top of that was her dancing. In both Shiv Panchakshar, an incantation to Lord Shiva; and in Taal Bandish, a sort of technical repertoire lecture-demonstration of kathak style; it’s a study in control, focus and clarity of movement. Her dextrous hands and huge eyes draw you in.

Kathak with a more contemporary edge came the following day with Barkha Patel’s bound, a work inspired by the poetry of the 14th-century Kashmiri poetess and yogini, Lalleshwari or Lal Ded (‘Grandmother Lalla’), who left her home and marriage after being falsely accused of adultery by her mother-in-law. Patel’s choreography expresses brief moments of spiritual clarity while trapped in a web of her own design, Lal Ded’s poetry becoming a vehicle to seek beyond anchors of attachment, illusion, greed, desire and anger. The use of film as an inner voice is especially effective.

Capturing the Moment rounded out by revisiting two works by Nai-Ni Chen (陳乃霓) seen a few weeks ago and reviewed here. In Luminescence, Rio Kakuchi and Yuka Notsuka are serene as they float, bend and twist like a pair of beautiful jellyfish (or perhaps it’s kelp) lit from above the waves by the sun. The more contemporary Shadow Force expresses a yearning and need to connect, something sought by companies as well as individuals during this past difficult year. In the opening section shown, the dancers swap positions but never physically meet; a situation that, fingers crossed, that we will all soon be in no more.