D.C. DanceWatcher, Lisa Traiger

Midnight Dreams

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”
Synetic Theater
Rosslyn Spectrum
Sept. 17-Oct. 10, 2009
By Lisa Traiger

© copyright 2009 Lisa Traiger

From Balanchine to MacMillan, Lubovitch to Limon, Shakespeare’s plays, the tragedies and comedies, have been translated into grand, full-evening ballets and sharply focused choreographic gems. Lar Lubovitch’s evening-length “Othello” holds out its best hope when its principals are ballet dramatists, who can inject the story of love, infidelity, mistrust and revenge with meaningful body language and facial expression. And Jose Limon’s classic “The Moor’s Pavanne,” using a Henry Purcell score, distills the same Shakespearean tale into a little roundelay about a handkerchief that carries the weight and significance even in its compact structure. Then there’s Balanchine’s gorgeous “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which uses Felix Mendelsohn’s lilting score to telescope the mismatched couples under spell of the forest creatures and their ultimate – fateful -- reconciliation. Ashton’s “The Dream,” a one act reverie with a sweetly characteristic Ashton pas de deux, brings to light the charm and winsome qualities of its dancers.

Synetic Theater, the astonishingly talented Arlington troupe of actors who have inculcated dance and its value as an expressive form into its work, has crafted its own finely rendered version of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” This is its fourth go at a Shakespearean play in what has become a franchise of sorts producing wordless Shakespeare. After debuting with “Hamlet … the rest is silence,” which won the then-fledgling troupe accolades and notoriety, the company tackled two more tragedies -- “King Lear” and “Macbeth” –- with unequaled abandon. Founders Paata Tsikurishvili, an actor, director, filmmaker and now script writer, and his choreographer/dancer wife, Irina, have brought their Russian-style training from Tbilisi, Georgia, to American audiences who have responded enthusiastically to their daring theatrical adaptations of classic plays and contemporary novels. The work draws extensively on old-fashioned theater and movement-based techniques ranging from martial arts to classical ballet, gymnastics to mime, and beyond.

In the Washington, D.C., region, the company has invigorated the local theater community, though it’s still not on the radar of most dance aficionados I’ve encountered. If you like your Shakespeare danced to Mendelssohn or Prokofiev, then these productions may not be for you; but if you’re ready for an exciting, visceral 90 or so minutes in the theater, Synetic is a company to become acquainted with. Choreographer Tsikirushvili, trained at the Tblisi Chabukiana Ballet School, culls from a rich and broad background, incorporating folk and culturally specific dances as readily as ballet, modern, mime and dance-theater forms. She has the dance chops to keep dance watchers interested, intrigued, even, at times, surprised. There’s little Balinchinean neo-classicism, but a great deal of old-style European acting. Culling for traditional folk dances, culturally specific genres, martial arts, and mime, she fully utilizes her cast of adept movers in service to the production’s creative ideals. But, and this is a first with its Shakespearean plays, throughout the cast has not forgotten the playwright’s intent, comedy and love in service of playful couplings. The actor/dancers inculcate the movement with a complete sense of fun. The ease with which they attack the staged dances and choreographed moments is reminiscent of early work of Mark Morris, who famously drew on folk forms, rhythms and funny, even gawky dance non-sequitors. Tsikurishvili, too, finds the fun and the strange, the awkward and the goofy and allows her dancers to go for it with an unfettered sense of playfulness.

Synetic adapter Ben Cunis, along with the Tsikurishvilis, distills Shakespeare’s poetry and five-act structure into a swift-moving 95 minutes. The opening vision features the women in shimmery Duncanesque draped dresses, encircling Puck’s birth scene. While the prologue isn’t a moment included in Shakespeare’s text, choreographer Tsikurishvili sets the evening off auspiciously and mysteriously: waving, quivering arms snake and undulate, elevating candles in a ceremonial moment when this feminine, earthy tribe welcomes a newcomer –Puck, the playful trickster of this sylvan wood designed by Anastasia Ryurikov Simes.

Boyish and painted blue, Alex Mills is a rubbery, Gumby of a Puck, a mischievous innocent who means no harm –- well not much -- with all the mismatched couplings he puts together at Oberon’s urging. Mills, remarkably fluid, virtually boneless, flips, climbs, crawls and wraps himself up pretzel like his elasticity –- along with a bright smile -- a feat to behold. Philip Fletcher’s Oberon, adorned in gold shoulder pads, bare midriff and a vaguely oriental though menacing look, is a severe taskmaster to Puck. His consort, Titania, Tsikurishvili channeling a buff, abs-of-steel Hindu goddess with her equally body-baring attire looking more Vegas than Stratford-on-Avon, though it suggests a version of an Indian Shiva-like goddess, in her severity.

Outside the forest, in the court of Duke Theseus, costume designer Simes dresses the duke, Lysander, Hermia, Demetrious and their compatriots in contemporary black tie evening wear. They look ready for a society function – tuxedos for the men and rustling gowns with tight bodices for the women. Gloved, heeled and coiffed, Tsikurishvili has them dance a courtly minuet, a nice touch incorporating ballet’s royal tradition into this modern-dress vision. They waltz and waft, spin and sway. The interchanging of the couples punctuate their steps with awkward bumps, pauses, partner switch ups – and the staid dance begins to unravel as Shakespeare’s tale of who loves whom and who doesn’t and who shouldn’t becomes a dance all its own.

Irina Koval’s Hermia, a vision of virginal purity in white, carries herself with courtly grace, but maintains a stubborn streak, preferring Lysander (Scott Brown) to her intended, Demetrius, played as a high-rolling Wall Street type by Roger Payano. Marissa Molnar’s Helena practically steals scene after scene from Koval’s elegant Hermia. Molnar’s Helena is a bundle of awkward nerves, infatuated with Demetrius, she fumbles and fudges every graceful turn she tries to make to impress her beloved. Her spiky hair, sharp elbows and stop-traffic red and black satin gown belie her high-school geekiness: she might as well be wearing black glasses with a taped up nose piece she’s so embarrassed at each blunder she makes, cringing and slapping her forehead.

Early on Titania and her acolytes channel Ruth St. Denis, drawing inspiration from eastern dance forms, particularly India, with multi-armed poses recalling Goddess Shiva, flat-palmed port de bras, as if the dancers are balancing plates, and, beloved by Miss Ruth, an overall sense of mystery, exoticism and otherworldliness. Later, the woodland nymphs in glittering yards of green and gold silks spin up churning roses and butterflies, a fine remembrance of Loie Fuller at her most ethereal and magical.

In the Shakespearean text, the comic relief comes by way of Peter Quince’s troupe of oddball players. The Tsikurishvilis elevate these commoners to equals, akin to Demetrius, Lysander, Helena and Hermia in importance. Ryan Sellers, a hot-under-the-collar Quince, tries valiantly, often fruitlessly to shape his bumbling actors into an ensemble through fully realized mimetic gestures. Here Tsikurishvili draws from circus and vaudeville traditions and with Konstantine Lortkipanidze accompanying on a stripped-bare piano and Levan Lortkipanidze joining him on flute and guitar, these players relish the brilliant physical comedy they’ve been given. The bright, spritely circus music narrates the antics of Snug (Chris Galindo), Francis Flute (Katie Maguire), Tom Snout (Vato Tsikurishvili) and, of course, the grand star of this little show-within-a-show, Nick Botttom. Irakli Kavsadze as Bottom is a genius of a physical comedian: his face as rubbery as Danny Kaye’s. Better, still, he carries himself with the grace of old-timer Jackie Gleason, that larger-bellied comic who could waltz with uncommon refinement as comic chaos reigned about him. Kavsadze’s clownish antics, hyper-exaggerated gestures and pompous demeanor are thrillingly funny and when an enchantment turns him into a donkey his fearless sense of his own misshapen body is spectacular. Hilarity ensues with his belly bared and distended, his knees bowed and his face melted into a foolish scowl, his chest bare (and hairy). It’s an exquisite solo turn, seriously droll, and, again as human Bottom when he plays a dying Egeus, he’s as lithe as a dying swan fading, melting in an achy death scene that’s sad, sweet and silly in equal parts.

The forest antics play out wildly, with chase scenes, bumbles, mishaps, like lost skirts and mistaken identity gaffs that mine the Shakespearean wit without a sound. Fully choreographed and lovingly performed on Simes’ moonlight set of thickly hanging ropes cum trees and some fairy-like oversized filigreed leaves and a gorgeous low-hanging crescent moon, from which Puck plays his human chess game.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, “Midsummer” is beloved for the mix-and-match pairs, shuffling and reshuffling its primary couples, who ultimately find their intended and all is made right in love. I can’t think of a version of “Midsummer” that hasn’t left me sweetly charmed, even a bit teary eyed in Hallmark card fashion. But the Tsikurishvilis allow the curtain to fall by only squaring off their courtly couples. Just as they added a prologue birth scene, they’ve given us a final, fully satisfying twist: Bottom, too, finds his mate and, truly, “all’s well that ends well.”

That this plays out so effortlessly on the less-than-ideal auditorium-like stage at the Rosslyn Spectrum is of little consequence, for Synetic has revived old-fashioned stage magic, eschewing technical gadgetry to build props and sets of the simplest materials – ladders, cloth, ropes, makeup, lighting (Andrew Griffin’s glowing moonlight and dawn). Supported by an expert cast of movers who commit to fully making Shakespeare live, Synetic has become a jewel of the Washington, D.C., area theater community, but many of the region’s dance lovers have yet to notice. If you haven’t yet seen a Synetic production, now is the time to become acquainted with this fine troupe of actor/dancers.

Photos: Raymond Gniewek, courtesy Synetic Theater

Top: Alex Mills as Puck; middle: Vato Tsikurishvili, Natalie Berk and Irina Kavsadze; bottom: Philip Fletcher, Irina Tsikurishvili, Mary Werntz

Published September 22, 2009

© 2009 by Lisa Traiger

Houston Moves

"The Power of Movement"
with Dance of Asian America, Hope Stone Dance, Revolve Dance Company, Houston Ballet, Suchu Dance, Travesty Dance Group, Dominic Walsh Dance Theater, Urban Souls Dance Company, Psophonia Dance Company, Sandra Organ Dance Company, Houston Metropolitan Dance Company
Wortham Center
Houston, Texas
June 5, 2009

By Lisa Traiger
© 2009 Lisa Traiger

 I Napoletani, Dominic Walsh Dance Theater

Dance luminaries were sprinkled throughout the Wortham Center’s sold-out Cullen Theater Friday, June 5. In the house: artistic directors from Washington, D.C. to Seattle, New York to San Francisco, and rumor has it that even illustrious, recently minted Houstonite Stanton Welch stayed through 11 pieces on an intermissionless program called, fittingly enough, “The Power of Movement.” The rangy dance sampler program in conjunction with the Dance/USA conference didn’t necessarily offer something for everyone –- it was heavy on modern dance of a certain late-20th-century ilk -– but it showcased enough to provide a taste of what the Houston dance community favors.

In a sampler program that toggled between culturally specific work, contemporary ballet and assorted styles of modern and post-modern dance, the awkwardly yet aptly named “Thousand Hands Goddess” was among the standouts for this newcomer. Part Chinese opera, part MGM musical with unintentional references to old-time Ziegfeld Follies numbers and Esther Williams movie extravaganzas, the 15 beautiful women of Dance of Asian America proved irresistible in this program opener. In their shimmery gold, midriff-baring costumes, their light-catching half-a-foot-long gold fingernails and filigree-like headdresses emphasized the intricate group interplay by choreographer Zhang Ji Gang who wove these women into intricate tapestries. Waves of silken movement threaded into cascades of canons and unified choruses proved mesmerizing. Interesting, too, these fine cultural dancers innocently, maybe unknowingly, traversed the narrow divide between high art and high kitsch, which proved once more that audiences can’t get enough of popular culture presented as high art -– so you think you can dance, anyone.

Another interesting standout, an excerpt from “I Napoletani,” by Dominic Walsh, formerly of the Houston Ballet, featured a tableaux vivant of sorts, the dancers -– male and female alike -- swathed in Travis Halsey’s and Walsh’s rustle of romantic tutu tulle, just this side of “Giselle.” Performed behind the haze of a scrim that surrounded the six dancers with a richly painted, gilded proscenium arch, the nugget allowed for a glimpse back to ballet’s beginnings heralded by its air of mystery, unrequited love, and unrepentant beauty. Yet intriguingly, Walsh referenced in his telescoping look back, a very contemporary –- really post-modern, in fact -– take on bridging past and present, borrowing from all eras and forms to push the art forward. Suggestions, even in this brief excerpt danced to a selection from Pergolesi’s “Stabat Mater,” of ballet’s legacy can be read in the lean yet powerful dancers’ bodies. The awkward gawkiness of tutu’d dancers with turned-in bare toes, their backs hyper-extended, recalls the painting and sculpture of Degas, especially his beloved “Little Dancer, Fourteen Years Old.” Ballet references abound: a subtle sampling of Petipa’s “Swan Lake,” a dash of Balanchine’s “Serenade,” and whiff of Bourne’s all-male swans from his “Swan Lake”? Indeed. Walsh has crafted a choreographic mash-up that pleases both balletomanes and attention-deprived newcomers. The fine dancing, the women able to melt easily into the floor, and the gorgeous and expressive back of Domenico Luciano, made “I Napoletani” a dreamy keeper on this smorgasbord program.

As Odette’s whiteness of swans collected themselves upstairs, Houston’s powerhouse ballet company contributed something completely different downstairs: Dutch choreographer Hans van Manen’s 1997 “Solo,” a playful riff on virtuosity and personality that pitted curly haired Oliver Halkowich, puckish corps member Jim Nowakowski and handsome principal Connor Walsh against one another in a playful scamp to the arpeggios of a Bach violin suite. Somewhat of a piece d’occasion, “Solo” plays fast and loose with the Bach suite and with the nature of the male solo in ballet by underhandedly subverting the go-to tricks and leaps choreographers so favor. Van Manen allows the three dancers to emit more than their share of personality with huge grins, good-humored shrugs, a wink here, and a nod there. Amid the expansive ease of their technically precise phrasing they showed off pinpoint accurate pirouettes, turbo charged air turns, and other assorted virtuosic play to the complex Bach suite. Fortunately, no one reverted to outright mugging, allowing the piece with its mundane gestures to become an inside joke for anyone within shouting distance.

“Traffic,” presented by Travesty Dance Group, took advantage of Houston’s fabled bad traffic. An excerpt from choreographer Karen Stokes's “Hometown,” it navigated the rules of the road using sing-song chants and game-like structures accompanied by lines and circles of dancers cruising and scurrying in the space in congested clumps. A recorded drummed and chanted score accompanied the nine dancers in a peg-legged bobbling walk, rhythmic clapping, fists clenched in frustration. The fun came with the simple recognition that traffic is unavoidable, so it might as well be parodied.

Jane Weiner offered a glimpse of her work-in-progress “Village of Waltz,” featuring accompaniment by Peter Jones and Chris Howard. Weiner created a world wedding vernacular movement with a bit of contemporary release technique for her 11 dancers. Interchangeable pairs and groups rushed on and across the space caught up in the shifting community. There was a sense of continuity and a suggestion of meshing individuals and groups, but the piece hadn’t yet arrived at a satisfying endpoint.
 
Sandra Organ Solis’s “To the Thawing Wind,” a gentle, contemplative quintet, used Mark O’Connor and Edward Meyer’s rangy, twangy “Appalachia Waltz.” Seemingly an ode to the wide open, awe-inspiring spaces of the west, and borrowing its title from a Robert Frost poem, the work contained a sweet lyricism and tenderness but was no Graham/Copland “Appalachian Spring.”

Other works on the program included Urban Souls Dance Company in Harrison Guy and Walter Hull’s dramatic “Across the Waters,” a seering evocation of genocide using music and thematic material from the 2004 movie “Hotel Rwanda”; Psophonia Dance Company’s Pilobolus-inspired excerpt from “Virus,” featured four dancers costumed in phosphorescent painted unitards who evolved into moving microbes of lines and squiggles; the minimalist-inspired and arcanely named “How to Absorb the Colorama Format,” with Jennifer Wood’s Laura Dean-like incessant turns for Suchu Dance; Revolve Dance Company’s “Philosophy,” an uneventful work for ten to an Ani DiFranco song; and, closing the evening, Houston Metropolitan Dance Company’s “Tidal Intersections,” a landscape study in shifting waves and eddies for ten dancers and a Philip Glass score.

The surprises for me as a first timer in Houston included the number of larger group works with eight or more dancers and the lack of companies performing culturally specific works that would better represent the diverse Houston region. Where were, for example, the Hispanic or flamenco companies, or African or South American troupes, hip hop or tap? “The Power of Movement” did demonstrate a dance community on the rise with a cohort of technically proficient dancers and a group of choreographers –- some more adept than others -– willing to put forth work that reaches a wide range of audiences and tastes.

Photo: Amitava Sarkar

 

© 2009 by Lisa Traiger
Published June 12, 2009

 

'And Isadora and Nijinsky danced together ...'

Today is Isadora Duncan's birthday. This remembrance came to me via D.C.-based choreographer Vladimir Angelov and I thought it was too beautiful to keep to myself. Thanks to Vlad and George Jackson for passing this on.

 

Writer, art aficionado and friend of Isadora, Mary Fanton Roberts wrote:
 
"I recall one memorable time when a little party of us were together 
at a studio luncheon in New York, and both Isadora and Nijinsky were 
there. After the table had been cleared away, some one played the 
piano. I cannot recall who it was, but it was one of the great men 
playing divinely. And Isadora and Nijinsky danced together -- Isadora 
creating the dance as the music flowed from the piano, and Nijinksy 
dancing with her as though he had rehearsed each entirely new measure 
for weeks. It was an amazing performance -- Isadora's extraordinary 
power of instantaneous creation and Nijinksy's sensitive response to 
her mood and to the music." 

And here is the only extant film of Duncan dancing.

Photo from: http://www.danceoremusdanse.org/isadoraGallery.html 
 

In Sokolow's 'Dreams' Dancers Evoke Horrors of Holocaust

From the Washington Jewish Week:

"There's a moment in 'Dreams,' the 1961 dance piece by second-generation modern dance pioneer Anna Sokolow, that sears. Dancers stand, vibrating in stillness, each with a fist rigidly balled up, clasped in their other hand, tensely pulling away, but caught, unable to escape.

This emblematic gesture in 'Dreams' grew from Sokolow's own subconscious memories, her night terrors. Ultimately, the piece became her evocation of the horrors of the Holocaust with dancers trapped, conjuring hollowed-eyed concentration camp victims, their opened mouths at one point soundless, like an Edvard Munch scream.

'Dreams' returns to Washington Saturday and Sunday when the Dakshina/Daniel Phoenix Singh Dance Company brings a revival to Dance Place. Dakshina, a District-based company founded in 2004, lives in two worlds: modern dance and the South Indian classical temple dance form called bharata natyam."

...continue here.

Dance Is the Answer

At the start of Dance/MetroDC's third annual regional celebration of all things dance, a brief preview of some events appears in today's Weekend section of The Washington Post.

"Washington and its suburbs are ready to rock -- and tango, plie, shuffle, lunge, jump and skip.

It's all part of Dance Is the Answer, the region's contribution to National Dance Week. Over the next 10 days, nearly 80 companies, studios and individuals across the area will offer dance-related activities, such as free hip-hop classes, choreographer meet-and-greets, lectures, workshops and performances in genres spanning the globe and the centuries.

'This year we're showing our local community as an international world of dance,' says Peter DiMuro, director of Dance/MetroDC, the festival's sponsor. 'We're really trying to give an international flavor using all locally based artists: You'll see Indian dance next to hip-hop next to aerial dance next to fusion next to modern. It feels like a trip around the world.'"

Quick Take: Of Closets and Communities

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

How Deep Is the Ocean?

For choreographer/improviser Daniel Burkholder, very. He's spent more than two years examining aspects of water, its usage, conservation, cultural and religious connections and more, enabling him to craft with his dancers the ever-evolving "My ocean is never blue." I spoke with Daniel earlier this month for a brief piece that appears in today's Weekend section. His company, the PlayGround, shares the stage at Dance Place this weekend with performance artist Jane Jerardi (whose paragraph in the article was cut due to space.)

An Ocean, But Not One of Despair

"For nearly three years, Hyattsville-based choreographer Daniel Burkholder has immersed himself in water. Not literally, but academically, spiritually, politically and practically. He has kept track of how much water his household uses, looked into the origins of the Japanese tea ceremony and boned up on the politics of water rights. The result is 'My Ocean Is Never Blue,' an ever-evolving multimedia movement piece using film, spoken word and an original score."  

Stomp the Stage

Step Afrika! is one of the few locally based dance companies that always makes me feel happy and invigorated.

"Part body percussion and part poetry slam, step dancing has been popular for decades on the African American fraternity and sorority circuit. Today stepping has marched off the college yard and into middle schools, high schools, churches, and community centers. Think Spike Lee's School Daze or Sylvain White's Stomp the Yard, two Hollywood takes on college kids who break it down, dance it out, rhyme, and play the dozens to win credibility (and, because it's a movie, get the girl).

Step Afrika!, the 15-year-old troupe that led stepping from the campus to the concert hall, was founded by a young college grad who had hardly seen a dance concert."

I spent a few days with the company this past summer for an article in the February 2009 issue of Dance Magazine. What? You don't subscribe? Well, then sign up here.

Two Troupes Study Contrast

From The Washington Post Weekend section:

"This week at Strathmore, body and soul, earth and spirit, art and politics intertwine when two distinctive companies -- one contemporary, one traditional -- present new choreography that melds these yin-and-yang natures. The acclaimed Washington-based CityDance Ensemble takes on environmental issues in a program titled 'Carbon,' while India's Nrityagram Dance Ensemble mines spiritual paths in its own evening called 'Pratima: Reflection.'"

...continue here.

Dancing to Her Own Beat

Lucy Bowen McCauley lives an interesting musical life, spanning Baroque, classical, contemporary art song, Broadway standards and rock and roll. In advance of her weekend programming at the Harman Center for the Arts, I spoke with Lucy about her musical tastes that motivate her choreography for Weekend.

"When Lucy Bowen McCauley isn't in a ballet studio -- which is most of the time -- you can find her on the elliptical trainer, iPod blasting. Most recently she has been listening to Texas grunge rockers the Toadies, whose slightly twisted lyrics and pounding vibe have captured the dancemaker's imagination."

Bowen McCauley, 49, doesn't look like a headbanging rock-and-roller. And ...