This is the second time in five months I’ve been invited to write a response for the ODC Pilot Program. Pilot 71 – Six Second Rule featured 5 dances by ayanadancearts, HB//Collabs, Kickbal, Alyssa Mitchel, and PULP. I’m not sure how these dances were connected under the production’s title, but I did notice that each paid particular attention to rhythm and used that rhythm to amply a range of themes, questions, and moods.
The first piece, Tane choreographed by Ayana Yonesaka (in collaboration with the dancers), was danced by four adults and an 8-year old. The piece had a playful, thoughtful quality to it. The choreography didn’t move too fast, which suggested a kind of taking care, especially between the dancers and their representative generations. This mood was interrupted by one dancer expressing a moment of frustration – voice whining, body tensing. This moment stood out and surprised me as if I had encountered this scene at a playground, on a sidewalk, or in a store. Why this moment was necessary? I wasn’t quite sure. Tane ended after the 8-year old went to each adult dancer and gestured as if placing an object into each of their outstretched hands, which underscored the notion of care. Overall, the dance reminded me that we can (and perhaps should) learn from the perspectives of children.
Wonderment “focuses on the emotion and experiences of joy” and incorporated recordings from 7 interviews. Choreographed by Hayley Bowman (in collaboration with the dancers), the movement and gestures exemplified togetherness, including the clapping and holding of hands. The recorded interviews and music created a disjointed sound experience that seemed at times unnecessary to the concepts at work in the piece. Why not let the movement speak more? What did the words add? The dance ended with all the dancers in a clump, one on top of the other and then one dancer stood on top before jumping off as the lights darkened. The concept of joy as articulated in Wonderment suggests that the experience of it can be intimate, scant, small, and even difficult at times. The dance’s message seemed clear (to me): Joy should not be taken for granted.
Relic, the third piece on the program, was playful and introspective. It started with a dancer taping down a large piece of white butcher paper on the floor stage left; once in place, the dancers walked around it counting out their steps as if measuring distance. Later, another dancer rolled out butcher paper across the back of the stage, tapping it down. Then she rolled across it while at the same time outlining parts of her body on the paper with a sharpie. These tactile moments and earthy hue of the costumes gave the dance an archeological feel – were they making relics? Discovering them? The dancers also played with the audience by smiling and winking; It was hard not to smile back. While I wasn’t sure what choreographers Emma Lanier and Ky Frances wanted me to take away from Relic I did enjoy the whimsy articulated by the dance and dancers.
Frustration is part of a larger work by Alyssa Mitchel titled The Classroom based on Mitchell’s experiences as a math and organizational skills tutor and, like Wonderment, includes audio from interviews. This is the second time I’ve seen Mitchel’s work, which was also part of The Classroom. The dancing in Frustration clearly embodied and expressed the myriad ways frustration manifests – as small fits, exhaustion, isolation. The dance also served as a reminder that we are not alone, especially when it comes to learning and the structures that constrain that process. The research behind Frustration is compelling yet the inclusion of the interviews at times seemed intrusive to the choreography and my experience of the dance. My 7-year old daughter wrote in her notes that this (i.e. frustration) “happens a lot of times to me.” The message in Frustration clearly speaks across ages, which doesn’t happen very often in dance but maybe it should more.
The last piece on the program, Foot Fault, choreographed by Jenna Valez (in collaboration with the dancers), was infused with rhythm of five dancers that never seemed to stop dancing. Before the dance started, the curtains were pulled back to reveal the windows, providing a backdrop of the street and amplifying the communal feel of the dance; we were not in a theater anymore. The choreography – with fast gestures, movement cannons, and a delightful head-bobbing moment on the floor – was consistent and playful. The dancers kept moving. The music choices suited the movement quality of the dance as a felt experience of shared energy. Foot Fault didn’t dive too deep and seemed a fitting way to end the evening of dance.
I’ve been attending the ODC Pilot performances on and off for years and am always pleasantly surprised by what I see. The dancing across all 5 pieces was committed and thoughtful, suggesting that dance can include 8-year olds, field research, interviews, outlining, and more. Reflecting on this evening of dance I wonder how often people take the time to try out a new choreographer, dance venue, or art form. I’m thankful for the opportunity to keep trying new things and hope the ODC Pilot program continues to thrive in a city that seems sometimes at odds with its artistic sense of self.