Human Landscape Dance
Deborah Riley Dance Projects
Dance Place
Washington, D.C.
April 18-19, 2009
By Lisa Traiger
© 2009 by Lisa Traiger
Malcolm Shute likes to make rules for himself when he choreographs. The Maryland-based choreographer and teacher has set works against a brick wall, in the vast grassy expanse of the National Mall where he used a circle of rope to define the space his dancers could move in, and in a stairwell. At Dance Place, Shute used the black-box theater’s stage, but still whittled down the space to suit his “Closet Dances” by demarcating a rectangle of light shot through a two-by-four constructed doorway. Shute’s three dancers in this suite followed the “preposition rule” of choreography: in pairs and a final trio the dancers moved around, over, under, through, across, in and out of contact with one another accompanied by a series of sound scores, also by Shute. “Keeping Secrets” features April Betty and Alexander Short rising from fetal positions as plinking percussion melds into innocuous motorized sounds and muffled baby-like cries. Betty dives for and clings to Short who remains stolid and unmoved. She attempts to leave but he pulls her back. In “Hooked,” Betty hangs from Short’s shoulder grasped by her ankle, like a worn sweater her legs over stretch into a split. In “Shadowing,” the two women clad in white, Betty and Amanda Abrams, seem trapped in darkness, their flat palms reaching out to touch the unknown. The three maneuver, push, tug and spar in “Security Chain,” which revs up with accelerating percussion and more motorized and traffic sounds. One of the women finally breaks away and plows through the door. Is it victory or escape?
Shute’s “Closet Dances” has a Sartrean feel – three people trapped in a room. In Sartre’s universe, at least in “No Exit,” Hell is other people. Shute’s performers, though, lack a sense of open expression – their eyes glazed, their faces are masks hiding, perhaps, unknown personal hells, or maybe nothing at all. Trapped, they seem resigned to the mechanics of maneuvering through the physical challenge, the gamesmanship or craft of Shute’s movement puzzles and permutations. That Shute calls his 2006 company Human Landscape Dance raises the relationship issue even before these dancers make their first move. So how is it that this suite of “Closet Dances” feels so empty?
Deborah Riley’s dances, particularly her more recent, emit both heart and soul in contrast to Shute’s. “Things Apart/Things Together,” a women’s quintet, contains moments of quiet reflection and a studied sense of proportion. Riley, who founded Deborah Riley Dance Projects in 1988 and co-directs Dance Place, has mellowed as a choreographer in her two decades in Washington. She embraced new modes of moving and a soft lushness characterizes much of her current work. I recall her earliest work in DC, “Steel Angel,” which was all angles, sharpness, attitude and tensile strength. For Riley’s newest piece, she uses a rangy collage of music including Ellen Fullman’s “Body Music,” Shostakovich and Ravel, a Finnish folk song and an Argentinean singer/songwriter. The work reflects in solemn and understated ways on connecting and building community with and among her five women performers – Elizabeth Abt, Stacey Claytor, Paulina Guerrero, Takako Hattaway and Nicole McClam. Their unassuming body language in the work’s early moments meditates on the state of feeling lost, at sea, reaching for something that slips through open hands. Each dancer gazes upward and into the distance, light casting a soft glow on their upturned cheeks. As they shape their arms into a cradle ready to catch something, the choreography builds evenly into pairings, trios and a uniform group ensemble. In one interlude, dancers bring out a low table, glasses of water and a pitcher then enact a silent, solemn game of musical chairs, progressing from drinking to serving the water with complete mindfulness. The work, according to Riley’s program note, is meant to reflect on the “tense and disconcerting financial crisis we are experiencing and the ways in which we cope in relationships.” A premiere, “Things Apart/Things Together” hints at building community and quenching thirsts, but in its current state, the work feels unfinished. Published April 21, 2009 © 2009 Lisa Traiger
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