Dance Review by Sarah Osterman Myers, August 1

Published on Chicago Stage and Screen

The Long And Forgotten Winter— performed by RE|Dance Group

Swirling, white feathers. A towering paper crane. Golden light. Spiritual restlessness. A physical journey.

RE|Dance Group’s fifth annual evening length work is of herculean proportions and transports the audience through time, space and dimension. Divided into three sections titled Devotion, War and Transcendence, Artistic Director Michael Estanich’s 70-minute work uses a dance-theater approach to confront great uncertainties of past, present and future. Often times when such grandiose topics like war are broached in dance, the result is feigned aggression and struggle, but The Long And Forgotten Winter wrestles that expectation into a more spiritual realm and explores the relationship between God and War.

Estanich willingly admits to feeling “fractured” about those two ideas, and maybe that’s why he uses seventeen different songs throughout the piece; to demonstrate through musical fluctuation the ever-changing journey that is spirituality. Yet while musically fragmented, creative movement transitions make The Long And Forgotten Winter feel like an interconnected passage through time, successfully allowing the nine performers clad in Spanish conquistador garb to dance to 15th century Vihuela melodies at one moment and then shift into a casual, stomping phrase suggestive of contemporary times at another.  

Soft curiosity into birdlike gestures into determined stamping into interwoven limbs into spinning and slapping; the movement is as assorted as the music. Yet while choreography changes, the enormous crane structure created by Grant Sabin and subtle lighting designed by Sarah Lackner stay constant, becoming a familiar and comforting backdrop. And it’s that masterful blending of familiarity and the unknown that marque the evening as a memorable voyage.

The Long And Forgotten Winter is supported in part by Audience Architects’ New Stages for Dance Program and appears at 7:30pm on August 2nd and 3pm on August 3rd at The Ruth Page Center for the Performing Arts located at 1016 N Dearborn St, Chicago, IL 60610. For information and tickets visit www.redancegroup.com.

TAGS: RE|Dance Group; Michael Estanich; Lucy Vurusic-Riner; Sarah Lackner: Grant Sabin; Elaine Hlavach; Daiva Bhandari; Stacy DeMorrow; Angela

Luem, José A. Luis; Jonathan Monroe-Cook; Mindy Meyers; Melanie Rockwell; Sarah Osterman Myers

Journey to Crystal Bridges: NWA Mag

By Sarah Osterman Myers

BENTONVILLE, Ark. – If you remember a crumpled map and, consequently, a string of parental profanities, or are familiar with the unyielding voice of Google Maps, you’ve probably traveled by car at some point over the past 50 years. Since World War II, road trips have become an idealistic way to explore the American Frontier, and cars have catapulted travelers, whatever their state, down the open road. To the American explorer, the road is not just a route for transportation; it’s a portal to discovery.

“The Open Road: Photography and the American Road Trip” is Crystal Bridges’ first large-scale photography exhibition and will feature 19 photographers, 100 plus images, and, in total, 8,000 square feet of work. The featured artists and road trips are meant to represent the evolution of American car culture and the road as a source of exploration, inspiration and reflection.

“The point of view and range of work for each photographer in the exhibition illustrates how road trips have different meanings and results based on the individual traveler,” said Curatorial Assistant Alison Demorotski. “‘The Open Road’ challenges that notion of familiarity in a very interesting way.”

While some of the scenery may be recognizable – roadside motels, stops along Route 66, famous theme parks – Crystal Bridges’ Communications Director Diane Carroll says these photographs are far from ordinary snapshots.

“If you’ve ever been on a road trip and taken photos, you should come see how professional photographers approach the same subject and elevate it from a snapshot to a work of art,” she explained.

In addition to getting a deeper look at an art form that feels familiar, visitors will have the opportunity to see photography on a large scale, which is brand new for Crystal Bridges’ audience. Yet, it’s hard to believe this exhibition could be done on any other scale, considering it features photographic titans like Robert Frank, Ed Ruscha, William Eggleston, Lee Friedlander, Joel Sternfeld, Alec Soth and Nico Krebs, just to name a few. While each artist brings a distinctive perspective, Demorotski anticipates there will be some new favorites for museum guests.

“Joel Sternfeld’s series, “American Prospects”, appears as classical landscape compositions, but often there are somewhat comical observations,” said Demorotski. “We found a surprise in one of the images once it arrived in the gallery – guests will have to take a close look to find it!”

“The Open Road: Photography and the American Road Trip” was organized by Aperture Foundation, New York, and curated by David Campany and Denise Wolff. The project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts and will run through May 30, 2016. General Admission is $10. For more information, call (479) 418-5700.

Essay posted on Thought Catalog

“As you can see, I’m a bit proximal. How am I now? Oooh, a little distal now. Okay, back a little. Perfect.”

My doctor is injecting my stage-two hallux rigidus, otherwise known as “Stiff Big Toe.” I have shaved off my stray, black, metatarsal bone hairs and conducted a rather rigorous pedicure, yet I still feel like a variation of Bigfoot, otherwise known as Sasquatch, the cryptic ape who may or may not inhabit our forests.
 
Lucky I groomed because I am suddenly on display; an educational instrument of sorts. Two overly ambitious trainees are hovering over my inflamed joints, excited to see some cortisone action. They never actually look at my face, because clearly my deformed toes hold more medical ambiguities. After the poke, one of them performs the most strategic Band-Aid job I’ve ever seen and the other scribbles vehemently in his notepad. It must be an exceptional injection.

This is probably my fifth time receiving a cortisone injection, and each time it becomes more and more painful. Yet, when compared to fusing all my bones together or getting an artificial joint, a cortisone shot seems as delightful as the movie Chocolat. Every time I see a new doctor, I always hear the same thing: “You’re so young to have arthritis.” And every time I’m like, “Well, it’s happening.” And then we both shrug and someone suggests cortisone.

It’s a minor issue, they say. You have plenty of time to “consider your options.” I mean, maybe they’re right. How bad is it anyway? My joint is only the size of a tennis ball and only the color of Jupiter’s red storm. I only have to modify seventy percent of yoga poses, and when I wear high heels my toe is only frozen in an upward position for 30 minutes until I massage, ice and soak it in Epsom salts. And my co-workers only make fun of my gait sometimes. (Apparently I walk on the outer edges of my feet, and each time I stride forward my Tibia and Fibula — basically everything from the knee down — swing out to the side and around, making me look like a drunken marionette avoiding sidewalk cracks.)

So, definitely minor.

But as minor as it seems on the medical scale, it has proven to be a behemoth of inconvenience on my life’s scale, which for the purpose of this diatribe let’s pretend is more important than the medical scale. As a wide-eyed freshman in college I was suddenly faced with severe pain and an onslaught of wild medical speculations including Plantar fasciitis, Metatarsalgia, Bunions, Degenerative Arthritis and Hammer Toe. After 15 years of training, I had never envisioned anything other than a dance career. But my twinkling tutu dreams came screeching to a halt as I found myself in the offices of wiry-haired doctors who wore wiry-rimmed glasses, all atop Big Stiff Noses as they pontificated about Big Stiff Toe-es. Holy Moses. Everything was NOT turnin’ up roses….

Next thing I knew, I was staring at a jagged, Frankensteinian scar stretched across the length of my metatarsophalangeal joint, crying about the sheer helplessness of my previously strong foot, the one that had spent numerous years crammed into a wooden pointe-shoe box, fighting blisters and coping dutifully as it endured ninety percent of my body’s weight as I spun, leapt, pivoted and relevéd.

One day, I observed a modern class because I was too injured to participate. In fact, I was out for the semester but had been too late to withdraw, so the teachers made one of those diplomatic, yet pretentious decisions of the academia type to let me participate through observations and earn a grade based on the quality of my observations. I sat there watching my fellow classmates roll around on the marley floors, and it smelt of sweaty feet, and my zany teacher introduced the impact a flexed foot can make on choreography, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to unleash my full-fledged despair and misery on a handful of unaware 19-year-olds. It was as though this injury had aged me a decade and catapulted me past adolescence into a transcendent state of acumen. Suddenly they all looked too healthy, too naïve, too unaware. The world had not yet left a mark on them. And watching these perfectly healthy, youthful spirits learn about flexed feet sent waves of jealousy through me, and I didn’t understand why I had been chosen to suffer the plight of Stiff Big Toe.

Flash forward eight years and it’s still part of my life. But instead of this massive, intrusive, devilish thing that ruined my dance career, I have slowly and begrudgingly come to see the diagnosis as a turning point. I went from being one of those “too healthy, too naïve, too unaware” spirits, to a tainted, but slightly more seasoned student of life. Yes, my trajectory post-injury was quite frightful at first — I went through a phase of buying only black bedding, listening only to Coldplay, eating only tuna from the can and seeing only the grim, desolate, preposterous parts of this big, bad world. But then, as though emerging from the depths of icy water, I found other things. Bright things, fun things, provoking things, stimulating, intriguing, beguiling, mysterious, rewarding, valuable things—and they were all outside of the dance studio, outside of the only world I thought mattered.

As grim as this may sound, injuries are an opportunity for growth. Sitting here hearing about my Stiff Big Toe is forcing me to rethink my abilities and find new routes, both physically and mentally. Through rehabilitation and yoga, I will figure out how to shift weight and maneuver myself so as to stay active in my daily life. Through observation, learning and trying new activities, I will find that dance is NOT my only option in life. It will be a rejiggering of Herculean proportions, but it will build character and force me out of my comfort zone.

So, to those of you who have some pain, get a cortisone shot, watch the movie Chocolat and just know that behemoths of inconvenience can transform you…

…Eventually.

…It might take eight years. And involve lots of canned tuna.

The main thing I realized while waiting in line for my Star Wars, Episode VII audition is that socks are an essential part of life.

Possibly more important than socks is the fact I auditioned for the movie Star Wars, Episode VII. It’s true. They were looking for a female lead, 17 years of age. 28 isn’t that far off. They wanted athletic! Do my intermittent office squats count? And beautiful! I had just sprouted a chin pimple that day.

Disney announced they’d be holding open casting calls in various cities around the world, and my city, Chicago, happened to be on the list. At first, this barely phased me—not just because I’m a Star Wars dilettante but because I hadn’t auditioned for anything since arthritis ended my dance ambitions. But after a mundane day of analyzing the severity of my tennis elbow and answering questions about whether basketball was a possible major at arts college, I decided I had nothing to lose.

Pre-audition, I had some naive, borderline delusional thoughts including:

· “I bet it won’t be too bad.”
· “Maybe I have a chance! It’s a random weekday, in the middle of the day.”
· “Who would actually go to this?”

People like me do. The types who sit in their windowless offices daydreaming about fighting across a fictitious universe of 70s-looking creatures while sporting Princess Leia-style buns. Did I mention I’ve never acted in my life?

No one was more aware of this fact than my husband, who upon learning of my impulsive endeavor asked, “How long can a quarter-life crisis affect you?” I brushed away his comment with a nonchalant flick of my free hand, while the other hand was holding the script I’d printed off the Star Wars website. “Come well prepared,” it said.

So, on a random Wednesday afternoon I found myself in spandex (prepared to show off my high kick, chorus-line style) and wearing an unusual amount of makeup. At 3 p.m. I dismissed myself from the office for a “dentist appointment,” feeling secretly mischievous about my afternoon adventure. Two buses later, I finally arrived at the Park West theatre in Lincoln Park and noticed a short line out front. Not bad, eh? As I turned the corner, however, eight city blocks of hopeful 17-year-olds were revealed. Athletic! Beautiful!

Where are all of the nerds dressed as Ewoks and Gartos and Dashta Eels and Lava fleas?

I glance down at my resume; a long list of dance performances and admissions experience stares back at me. I have a choice: Recognize my sad reality— I’m one of a gazillion hopefuls who itch for stardom— or indulge in my fantasy for a little while longer. Choosing the latter, I make the long walk to the back of the line, my flicker of hope too difficult to extinguish.

An hour into it, I am freezing (it’s October, 30 degrees and I’m wearing ballet flats) and thinking, “This is stupid.” Friendliness is fizzling as the line inches toward the door. One guy embarks on a voyage of intense name-dropping. There is an onslaught of competitive eyeballing. My neighbors are rattling off credentials and noteworthy experience. The look on their faces when I tell them I studied dance, not acting, is similar to the face of a male cashier when you buy over-the-counter UTI medication— equal parts pity, amusement and disgust.

Two hours in, it is dark, colder and the smell of Halloween and disappointment starts wafting over the line. Out of boredom, I point to a hooded man across the street and mutter something about child molestation. Later in the evening, the hooded figure is bringing his daughter a blanket from the car to keep her warm while she waits for her audition. It then occurs to me my lust for stardom is approaching a dangerously inhumane level.

Three hours in, my husband calls: “Where are you? We’re supposed to meet Alex in like twenty minutes for the movie!” I say something miserable about really wanting to get inside and shake hands with the casting directors, even if they say: “These aren’t the droids we’re looking for.”

After I hung up, there was a disturbance in my force. False expectations for the night collided with reality, disintegrating somewhere in a deep, dank chamber of my stomach. My breath became labored and Darth Vader like. I realized I knew no one in this line and was a decade older than most. This realization, combined with my sockless feet, now stiff as chunks of arctic land, and disappointment about not seeing J.J Abrams in the flesh, produced a heavy, circulating cloud of guilt. I didn’t use to feel this guilt as a 21-year-old when I would roll down steep hills in 20-degree weather or drink whisky out of a thermos in broad daylight. I suddenly envisioned the word “SPONTANEITY” receding horizontally into a galaxy far, far away.

An intern appeared on the curb of the sidewalk and shouted— “They cut the line. If you want to hand in your resume, do so here.”

Aging causes disillusionments of sorts. While waiting in line, I began to wonder if my extemporaneous yester-years were starting to flicker like a broken lightsaber. This post quarter-life spontaneity was starting to interfere with the important things in life, including showing my husband and friends I cared enough to make the movie.

I bolted over, cut through the crowd and threw my resume over heads into the arms of the disheveled intern. Sprinting down the middle of the street I tried to Jeti-summon a cab.

Some has-been performers wish for a comeback. Despite my non-dance achievements, I continued to search for a break, a way of escaping adulthood and entertaining my youthful but unfounded reveries. For three hours, I’d been waiting in line for something, maybe for my adolescence to start all over again. Instead, I decided to run from those years and headfirst into a new day, a new beginning.

Mostly, I just wanted to get home to warm socks.

Dance Review by Sarah Osterman Myers

Published on Chicago Stage and Screen

ShoeStrings- performed by Chicago Tap Theatre

It only took eight dancers and five musicians to fill Athenaeum Theatre’s Studio 3 with thousands of vibrations. Using their every last ounce of charisma and showmanship, Chicago Tap Theatre produced a cornucopia of heavy-duty tapping and intricate sounds throughout their debut of ShoeStrings, which proved to be as technically and rhythmically rigorous as it was entertaining.

During an unusually solemn but empowered pause between tap numbers, featured guest Zach Uttich read a poem by Mike Fletcher: “Strong vibrations change us… strings are our humanity.” And throughout the evening, Rich Ashworth’s choreography explored that very notion, using an hour and ten minutes to define and demonstrate the many usages of string. After all, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary says it can be a noun— material such as thread, cord, yarn, even a musical instrument— or a verb— to hang something so it stretches in a long line.

The noun was everywhere— the most obvious representation being the on-stage musicians who accompanied the tapping with various string instruments, including a bass, cello, guitar, violin, ukulele and, most impressive of all, a Brazilian, single-stringed berimbau, which Music Director Kurt Schweitz learned how to play a week before the show after discovering a shortage of Chicago berimbau players. Other times, the dancers used string as an object and played with yo-yos, ate string cheese, squirted silly string and tied shoelaces. At least once, the literal became more abstract, and string became an invisible impetus for marionette movement, allowing the dancers to temporarily let go of their coordination and flop around with loosened limbs.

But when string was embodied as a verb, the show became unstoppable. The performance was stretched into a long line of fourteen segments, each introducing new music, choreography and relationships to the audience. Sometimes breaking up a show into small fragments can result in disorientation, but momentum stayed true throughout ShoeStrings, possibly due to strong choreographic choices and the successful stringing together of technique, personalities, humor, text and thematically constructed moments.

Some highlights included Stay, the funky, lighthearted opener danced to Wasting Time by Dave Matthews Band, which set the mood perfectly and showcased the company’s rapport and group ability. Despite strong group numbers, some of the most resonant moments were the solos and trios, especially Ashworth’s improvisation to Bella Luna by Jason Mraz. He tapped as though in a trance around a single, dangling light bulb as Mraz’s lyrics— “A supernatural nightlight, so full but often right”— backdropped his percussive footwork. An all-male trio to Berimbau Blues by Dinho Nascimento was a true artistic treat and departure from the evening’s general joviality, allowing Ashworth, alongside Artistic Director Mark Yonally and Dancer Matt Pospeshil to free their collective mad genius in t-shirts and jeans under simple blue lighting.

Chicago Tap Theatre’s ShoeStrings is a collision of unparalleled footwork, live music and storytelling that dares the rest of the tap world to elevate its game. Don’t miss the next two performances at the Athenaeum Theatre located at 2936 N. Southport on September 6th at 8pm and September 7th at 3pm. The cost of admission is $35 for adults, $27 for seniors, and $22 for students and dancers. Tickets are available at the Athenaeum box office, by phone at 773-935-6875, or online at http://athenaeumtheatre.org.

Tags: Chicago Tap Theatre, Athenaeum Theatre, Mark Yonally, Rich Ashworth, Jennifer Pfaff Yonally, Kirsten Uttich, Sioned Papparotto, Matt Pospeshil, Jessica Williams, Hannah Wilson, Kurt Schweitz, Tristan Bruns, Anna Gillan, Anna Rhoads, Javier Villamil, Sarah Osterman Myers

Feature posted on Unmapped Magazine

Onstage, their names are Abbot and Viv.

At first, the glass bowl is resting precariously on Viv’s lap. Abbot is sitting next to her, both of them in wooden chairs. They balance the bowl on different body parts; first on her head, then on his back. It wobbles dangerously, but someone is always there to steady it. A long, rectangular table sits in the middle of the stage; its presence is heavy, menacing and eventually lures the movement downstage, toward, around, over, under and atop the table - some times emphasizing their separation, other times allowing for stillness and comfort, yet other times becoming a platform for aggression, arguments and misunderstandings. When their bodies collide, it creates emotion and tension. When apart, the estrangement is tangibly disconcerting.

The glass bowl never shatters.

Offstage, their names are Lucy Riner and Michael Estanich. Lucy is strong in more ways than one and not afraid to be the left-brained spokesperson. Michael is responsive, pensive and full of thoughtful observations. In 2009, after twenty years of navigating the Chicago dance scene, performing in independent works and spending time with Chicago-based Molly Shanahan/Mad Shak, they decided to experiment with a long-distance partnership. With Michael teaching at The University of Wisconsin–Stevens Point and Lucy anchored to Chicago by family, teaching and dance projects, they knew it would be challenging; however, the idea of creating work in a new way—generating movement while together and deepening character development while apart— seemed promising.

While Chicago and its abundance of artists, foundations and presenters offered an attractive setting, not to mention enough Midwestern hospitality to make any emerging artist feel welcome, they’d be walking into a scene of 80-plus dance companies all trying to reinvent the wheel. A distinctive perspective was needed, something re-imagined.

“I love the idea of collage— how seemingly disconnected episodes of physical information can rub up against each other to reveal something very pure about a given idea,” says Michael, who draws inspiration from Merce Cunningham and Pina Bausch, two choreographic giants of twentieth century dance. “I feel my job as an artist is to reveal something about the world in which I live.”

With that, RE| Dance Group was formed and “Abbot and Viv” came into being. Using a dance-theatre approach, they agreed to focus on the human spirit and how relationships unfold in a contemporary and volatile world. Studio sessions allowed for movement play, but it was the between-rehearsal ‘alone time’ that enabled deep idea growth. On January 15-17, 2010, they produced a three-piece concert centred on “Abbot and Viv” at Links Hall. While the venue had all the trappings of a small storefront theatre, Lucy knew it would create a very particular environment: “You really feel like you are inside of a room, and all of our pieces happen within the confines of closed walls, so it was perfect.”

Family, friends, dance peers and hibernating Chicagoans emerged from their wintery holes and local press raved about “the two expatriates of Mad Shak who had come together!” With all the support and interest, they started to wonder: “Are we just going to put on shows as independent artists or are we going to lay the foundations for a company?”

According to Michael, there has been recent debate in the artistic sector about whether non-profit status is more advantageous than operating as an independent artist. Umbrella organizations such as Fractured Atlas provide fiscal sponsorship so artists can solicit tax-deductible donations and apply for grants without going through the laborious process of launching a 501(c)(3). Many artists choose to function independently, but RE| Dance decided to face the paperwork.

“Becoming an Illinois company is seamless, but to become a federally recognized organization involves lots of forms, the biggest one being Form 1023,” says Lucy, whose face darkens as she remembers that behemoth of an application. The IRS suggests the 1023 will take about eight hours, and Lucy’s sigh confirms as much. To top it off, their submission coincided with IRS staff cuts, which meant fewer people filing forms and a prolonged wait time.

It took almost a year and a half to hear back about their company's status, but luckily foundations understood the delay and still considered their grant proposals, allowing RE| Dance to forge ahead and perform in San Francisco, Stevens Point and Minneapolis within its first year. Michael, however, was engrossed with the notion of a group. He was sitting on a bed of resources in Stevens Point, where the university and students were open to participating in “first drafts” of pieces, so he asked Lucy if she’d be interested in taking these drafts, extracting successful components and setting them on RE| Dance, which would ideally become eight people, including themselves. She agreed, and they enlisted a team of dancers they both knew and respected.

“We were not so interested in having an audition,” says Michael, who believes auditions showcase technique but don’t really shed light on a dancer’s creative process. “We’re interested in how they work, not just what kind of moves they can do.”

The distance factor remained, and learning from a video with intermittent Skype instruction from Michael was far from the real thing. So when Michael visited, he would bring a few students who knew the work and could help teach material. Post-graduation, Michael and Lucy offered them positions with the company, which increased their number to ten and produced a mixture of “Chicago dance people” and newcomers. It was a learning experience at first, since the ex-students felt ownership over certain choreography but then had to surrender as it developed and changed. Yet, their understanding of Michael’s movement was vital and, over time, relationships came into balance.

The group rehearses once a week and for almost twelve hours every third weekend of the month when Michael visits. Additionally, they use his school breaks for intensive rehearsals, which involve back-to-back days and long studio hours. Affordable rehearsal space is plentiful if you know where to look, but finding inexpensive venues that suit the choreography and are not totally rogue is another challenge. So far, they’ve performed at small to mid-sized venues, including studios, storefront spaces, indie theatres, black boxes and stages within converted historic buildings. Festivals also provide an encouraging environment, so they participate in local events such as the Chicago Fringe and Harvest Chicago Contemporary Dance Festivals and have appeared in Brooklyn’s Dumbo Dance Festival and Kalamazoo’s RAD Fest.

“Dance is often perceived as this abstract form that people can’t understand, which seems so silly because we all understand motion; it’s how we operate in our lives most of the time,” says Michael, who usually creates a narrative thread for his audience so the work becomes personal and less indulgent. “It’s not about display, it’s about the audience coming inside and existing in the same world as us.”

This transference of meaning between artist and audience is an on-going concern for art-makers, who face a competitive marketplace and pressure to attract and retain patrons. RE| Dance's blending of theatrical elements, visual art, movement and storytelling is only possible if funding, resources and audience remain strong. So Lucy and Michael spend hours applying for grants, tweaking their website, updating social media, designing posters and sending out e-newsletters. They engage in a vicious cycle of planning, marketing, contextualizing and delivering. They question, assess and revise their values and goals. Is it hard, tiring and thankless? Sometimes. But on the brink of their fifth year anniversary, it’s worth it.

Across town, Margi Cole is in her eighteenth year of running The Dance COLEctive. She meets her dancers at the Drucker Centre, a multi-purpose recreational centre, to rehearse for an upcoming show. Their space is a small gym turned studio with one wall of mirrors and a high ceiling roped with rehearsal lights. The room is abuzz with conversation until Margi instigates her sit-up and push-up regimen: five minutes of muted concentration and flushed faces. Every rehearsal begins with a company class of the Margi variation, which is balletic in sequence but infused with modern ideals, such as curving the spine, dropping weight and voraciously moving through space. A rapport exists, and the dancers react playfully to Margi’s witticisms and choice of music for the dégagé combination: Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines.” “I have to maintain my coolness factor,” says Margi with a twinkle in her eye. Despite occasional quips, the work at hand is deeply human and collaborative, which is probably why the group’s efforts have been widely recognized as authentic and socially relevant.

This convergence happens every Tuesday, Thursday and alternate Sunday, when the all-female cast breaks away from varied lives of waitressing, teaching, advertising, babysitting and legal work to come together and make work. While having multiple jobs and lengthy commutes can breed delirium and exhaustion, the intimate camaraderie and creative processes of The Dance COLEctive provide a second wind.

Margi’s schedule is also unthinkable. She teaches at Columbia College Chicago, dances with various choreographers, serves on grant panels and in public forums and is a member of various consortiums and committees. Occasionally, she travels to guest teach and choreograph for various organizations including the Alabama Ballet, the American College Dance Festival, Ballet Tennessee, and the Joffrey Academy of Dance.

“I started out as a dancer; I owned first and foremost that I was a performer, but that’s changed,” says Margi, who has danced with well-known choreographers and companies such as Ralph Lemon, Joe Goode Performance Group and Mordine & Company Dance Theatre. “I’m still a performer, but now I’m a leader and a mentor too.”

After eighteen years as artistic director of The Dance COLEctive, she has seen dancers come and go. She has watched grants come in, audiences grow and work develop. She has become a teacher, mentor and supporter within the dance community, but it all started as an accident.

“I didn’t set out to start a company,” says Margi, who after graduating with a Masters of Fine Arts in dance from the University of Illinois-Urbana-Champaign in the mid-90s started using personal funds to produce work with friends. “But I thought it would make sense to work like an umbrella with a communal pot of money to make work.”

In 1996, The Dance COLEctive became a non-profit organization and fundraised an initial budget of $10,000. Especially in those early days, the endeavour was centred around altruistic collaboration rather than a single artistic vision: “It was really more about being practical: part of the reason I wanted an umbrella structure was because I didn’t feel ready to be the sole choreographer of a founder-driven company,” says Margi, and then chortles, “I sometimes wonder if I still am…” an unwarranted concern considering she’s earned numerous fellowships, grants and awards since starting the company. Further affirmation is her 2005 Chicago Dancemakers Forum grant, a coveted $15,000 award that focuses on process rather than product and is known to elevate choreographic visibility. Its resources allowed her to travel abroad for the first time and research “Written on the Body,” a piece about the Brontë sisters and their use of pseudonyms. With ample time to research, Margi contemplated gender roles and stereotypes and developed images of strength, vulnerability and intimacy.

“Because I had the resources, I took risks in areas I wouldn’t normally,” says Margi, who commissioned an original score, created a videoscape and had more money for costume collaboration than usual. “So that was a pivotal point— it pushed things for me.”

As a result, Margi ended up getting a National Endowment for the Arts Access to Artistic Excellence grant to tour the Southeast; an eighteen-day tour of four cities with six performances and 25 outreach activities. The touring experience created momentum and excitement, which led to a second version of “Written on the Body” at The Dance Centre of Columbia College Chicago in 2008, followed by another tour. Everything was going well, so The Dance COLEctive made a long-range plan to elevate status and double budget.

Then the economy tanked.

“It made it virtually impossible to grow,” says Margi, sinking into her seat as if to embody the impact of reduced arts funding and curbed grant allotments. Funders want to see quantifiable proof of growth in visibility and budget, but with foundation money shrinking, grant criteria becoming more pointed and certain programmes disappearing completely, it’s a double-edged sword. “I’m good at what I do: I’m resourceful; I’m thoughtful; I’m strategic; I’m a risk taker; I’m an entrepreneur,” says Margi, “Yet, I can only think in survival mode.”

Easing the burden is FlySpace, an agreement between four female-led dance companies to share marketing and audience-building resources. It started two years ago when Marcia Festen, director of funder collaborative Arts Work Fund, called a meeting with eight dance companies to brainstorm non-profit survival ideas. Eventually, four dropped out and The Dance COLEctive, Hedwig Dances, Same Planet/Different World Dance Theatre and Zephyr Dance remained. The goal is to share and improve data management, ticketing, marketing and patron engagement while bringing visibility to contemporary dance and lesser-known venues.

According to Margi, venues attach a level of credibility to one’s work. The further a venue is from downtown’s notable theatre circuit, the more apprehensive viewers become. Margi is interested in turning the spotlight to smaller venues and purposely chooses space that supports her intimate style. “Just because we are performing at a 60-seat venue doesn’t mean we didn’t write our ideas down and take time to investigate and shape them in the space,” says Margi, who believes certain portrayals of dance in pop culture have added to the notion of bigger is better. “It’s kind of like that old adage: sex sells. I’m not willing to go there. I don’t want to compromise my artistic values to have a giant audience.”

From the beginning, Margi has wanted to challenge assumptions about how dance is presented. With her latest Arts Work Fund grant, she plans to stage site-specific work and cross it into the social media stratus; whether that means through live streaming or audience participation, she has yet to decide. If the bombardment of media and sound bites faced daily is in fact shortening attention spans, then site-specific work could be just the ticket, allowing viewers to choose length of engagement - two minutes or ten, drop in or stay, watch online or attend in real time - the options are endless and, most importantly, give the viewer power.

This knack for reinvention and go-getter flair make Margi a sought-after expert in the worlds of communications, business and dance. Her willingness to share ideas, collaborate and mentor others is infectious and has infiltrated the community at large. “I remember very vividly people climbing the ladder and knocking each other down on the way up,” says Margi. “Over the last 25 years, I feel like the community has changed and people recognize that when somebody has success, the water rises for everybody. It’s a romantic idea, but maybe my generation of people has helped change the culture of the dance community.”

At the Harris Theatre, 1,500 seats are filled. The proscenium is about to be consumed by “Fluence,” a Chicago premiere by Robyn Mineko Williams. The initial mood is shrouded in quiet curiosity. Eight of the nine dancers walk upstage in a cluster, while they move slowly and collectively, gestural nuances allow for a touch of individualism. A female remains downstage and starts to introduce wild gesticulations and skewed pedestrian movement. Blackout. Suddenly that world is gone. Red lights and an urgent beat accentuate the shift that follows, as crazed idiosyncrasies transport Fluence into a place of pandemonium. Eccentricities abound, and movement flickers and stutters like a glitchy computer programme. As far out as Williams’ abstractions veer, they remain tethered to some base of reality, thus creating a stylized dystopia that parallels our technologically obsessed world.

In its 36th year, Hubbard Street Dance Chicago is part of a four-pronged organization comprised of two performing companies, the Lou Conte Dance Studio and education and community outreach programmes. The organization reaches more than 80,000 people each year, and Hubbard Street Dance Chicago and its second company, Hubbard Street 2 (HS2), have toured 44 states and over seventeen countries. The company boasts a robust portfolio of repertoire and has performed 53 world premieres by choreographers such as founder Lou Conte, Daniel Ezralow, Jirí Kylián, Twyla Tharp and Jorma Elo.e Bechard in One Thousand Pieces by Resident Choreographer Alejandro Cerrudo. Photo by Todd Rosenberg.

Glenn Edgerton remembers his interview for the artistic director position when he was asked: “Who are your favourite choreographers?” His answer came without hesitation: “William Forsythe, Jirí Kylián, Mats Ek, Ohad Naharin and Nacho Duato.” To him, these choreographic geniuses represent the best of contemporary movement, and so Hubbard Street’s 2013-2014 season will feature work from all five. “There are not many choreographers who are raising the bar of dance,” says Glenn, who has been leading the company since 2009. “If choreographers are pressured into making the next great masterpiece or commercial hit, they never will. They need freedom to try and explore.”

Finding what’s next in dance is tricky business. Art should resonate and seep deep into the psyche, but Glenn believes fear of failure often prevents work from reaching greatness. Hubbard Street wants to create a safe space for experimentation where time, resources, input and mentorship flow freely. With choreographic efforts in mind, the company has in recent years started National Choreographic Competition, Inside/Out Choreographic Workshop and danc(e)volve: New Works Festival, all of which highlight Hubbard Street’s spirit of exploration through cultivation of new choreography. The annual National Choreographic Competition takes submissions from around the world and awards two to three winners with artistic residencies and a chance to collaborate with Hubbard Street 2. Meanwhile, the Inside/Out Choreographic Workshop, which allows company members to choreograph one another, has resulted in success stories like Robyn, who spent the majority of her twelve seasons participating in Inside/Out and was eventually chosen to co-choreograph a full-length work for HS2. Now with several pieces for the main company and a 2013 Princess Grace Choreographic Fellowship under her belt, she’s moved from choreographic protégée to full-blown emerging artist.

This idea of exploration has been around since the company’s inception. In 1977, three years after opening a studio at 125 West Hubbard Street, Lou Conte started rehearsing four female dancers. He’d already choreographed several shows in Chicago, so the public was familiar with his balletic yet theatrical style. Their first gig came through Urban Gateways, who wanted the company to perform at senior citizen centres for $100 per performance. Claire Bataille, one of the founding dancers and now director of the Lou Conte Dance Studio, recalls Lou not taking salary for years but insisting the dancers take home $20 per performance. “Lou was a firm believer that no matter what you do, you should get paid something; that artists should not work for free,” says Claire. To this day, Hubbard Street is one of the few dance companies to offer a full-time, 52-week performance contract.

In the summer of 1978, the company performed at the Chicago Cultural Centre. By that time, the studio had a large population and built-in audience. Despite the noontime slot, the theatre was standing room only. “We were finally on an actual stage with curtains and lights,” says Claire. “It was one of the best days of my life!” In that single performance, Lou established an audience and showcased his ability to shape a well-rounded programme.

The eclecticism of Lou’s choreography caught on and led to publicity. The company made its television debut in a one-hour special for WTTW Channel 11 in 1981 and was performing in Paris by 1982. The 1980s continued to introduce opportunity, as the company produced a variety of repertoire, started to tour domestically and internationally and launched its first major fundraising campaign for new works and initiatives. “Timing was a great force for the company, and we established a national reputation very early on,” says Claire.

While the Chicago Theatre District was willing to house performances, the company found itself touring extensively. By 1995, they’d performed throughout the United States, South America, Europe and parts of Asia. “For most of the company’s history, the focus was on the company’s life as a touring organization,” says executive director Jason D. Palmquist. “In fact, so many things that make Hubbard Street wonderful and unique are driven by that fact.” Touring led to choreographic connections, which resulted in The Tharp Project, a ten-year acquisition of seven Twyla Tharp pieces, and work by international sensations Nacho Duato and Jirí Kylián, both of whom became long-standing collaborators even after Lou’s retirement in 2000.

In 2004, under the new artistic leadership of Jim Vincent, a partnership with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (CSO) was formed and led to performances at the newly constructed Harris Theatre for Music and Dance at Millennium Park. Finally having a permanent home for the company exposed the skeletal nature of their Chicago programming. Jason remembers their old way of advertising the blitzkrieg of home performances: “THREE WEEKS ONLY… you’ll need the other 49 weeks to catch your breath,” says Jason. “Or you could also say: You’ll have the other 49 weeks to forget about us.”

Pushed to innovate after the economic breakdown, the company expanded its home performances to four times per year in addition to increasing side engagements with the CSO and The Art Institute of Chicago. The company continues to travel and has performed at many noteworthy venues and events including The Joyce Theatre in New York City, the Kennedy Centre in Washington, DC, and Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival in Becket, Massachusetts; however, its relationship with Chicago is paramount. Now, whether it’s a mélange of symphony and dance or performance backdropped by a Jackson Pollock painting, Chicagoans can see multiple shows a month. As a result, their audience has increased by 50 percent in the past five years.

Meanwhile, the dancers continue to be the company’s foremost distinguishing asset. They hail from all over the world, bringing fierce technical ability and unparalleled ingenuity. With Hubbard Street copycats emerging left and right, Glenn knows the dancers will preserve Hubbard Street’s individuality. To keep them engaged, he continually brings in work to push their capabilities. “When you challenge the dancers, they become invested and will project a certain aura of commitment and investment,” says Glenn. This was especially evident in 2011, when Twyla returned to set Scarlatti on the company. “You could see they are capable of doing so many different things—very versatile, classically and technically sound but can do just about anything,” says Claire.

In the early days, Lou struggled to name his company. People suggested Chicago Dance Theatre, but he said: “That’s too big. Let’s just represent our street.” Humbly, he chose Hubbard Street Dance Company never predicting that in 1992 they’d change “Company” to “Chicago” and forever become a city treasure and leader of dance.

Sarah Osterman Myers is a writer, dancer, and arts administrator in the Chicagoland area, where she initially moved to pursue Dance and Journalism at Columbia College Chicago. Originally from Lincoln, NE, Sarah has spent time living in some of the most arbitrary nooks and crannies of the country, including Sandpoint, ID, Laramie, WY and Erie, PA.

As a writer, Sarah is interested in the arts/culture world and has published work in ECHO Magazine and Today’s Chicago Woman Magazine. As a dancer, Sarah is open to all types of movement experiences and has performed with Laboratory Dancers and Mucca Pazza.

Cover image: Hubbard Street Dancers Jesse Bechard and Jessica Tong in Petite Mort by Jiří Kylián. Photo by Todd Rosenberg.

Dance Review by Sarah Osterman Myers

Published on Chicago Stage and Screen

Rosas danst Rosas— Rosas @ the MCA

As the lights dim, four women dressed in baggy shades of grey enter one by one and stand in a line facing the back; a backdrop of shimmery black folds. A bellicose beat starts to build, echoing throughout the dark theater. It clangs off the concrete steps in the audience, intensifying in volume and texture until it becomes a deafening medley of riotous percussion. And then it stops.

Silence has never felt so disorienting.

Rosas danst Rosas is 31 years old yet feels more relevant than most work being created today, which is why Belgian choreographer Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s signature pairing of minimalist principles and feminine flair drew a large audience to the Museum of Contemporary Art Thursday night to witness her first return in 15 years.

When Rosas danst Rosas debuted in 1983, it was an anomaly because it scored music and dance together, a departure from European standards of the time. But the synthesis of Thierry De Mey’s percussive, machine-like sounds and De Keersmaeker’s irrefutable femininity quickly caught on and transfixed the international dance scene with its timeless veracity.

In the case of Rosas danst Rosas, repetition makes the heart grow fonder. The 100 minutes are broken into five segments, each containing relentless sound, calculated pathways and recurring movement. While De Keersmaeker’s patterns are orderly and predictable— almost parallel to the tedium of daily life— the movement itself is far from robotic. If anything, the fist clenching, hair tossing, angular thrashes and heavy breathing create a sense of vulnerability and sensuality, which only builds over time and with the regularity of reiteration.

After a prolonged period of stillness and anticipation, segment one feels like an awakening from deep stagnation. The dancers roll from side to side, breathe deeply and run fingers through their hair. They show angst and physical indecision, as though rolling around in bed, deciding whether or not they have strength to face the day.

After what feels like an eternity of pensive floor work and silence, they shift into a starkly different realm for segment two. Between each section, De Keersmaeker allows her dancers to transition slowly; a choreographic choice to show the effort and fatigue she calls the physical “reverse side” of dancing. After chairs are set on a diagonal and shoes lace up, steely beats sync up with hair whipping and fast-paced, assertive gestures, turning the stage into a platform for unabashed femininity.  

Segment three is subtler than two but maintains a feminine energy. A trio of repetition provides consistency as one dancer at a time walks downstage to expose her shoulder, recover it, and gaze expectantly into the audience.

Segment four feels like the true ending, even though a short coda follows, because it is a cathartic combination of powerful movement and canonized pathways. The rigor of repetition starts to wear on the dancers as they approach a point of physical exhaustion, yet they keep going. And through that continuation it becomes abundantly clear that self discovery can happen even in the confines of structure and that perfect unison is an illusion because, in moments of pure exhaustion, idiosyncrasies will always prevail.

In an interview for Oh Comely magazine blog in 2012, De Keersmaeker said: “I’m obsessed by structures. But the most beautiful experience is to see such a construction generating something intangible, elusive— an emotion.”

To see emotions come to life, don’t miss the next three scheduled shows— October 10th and 11th at 7:30pm and 12th at 3pm at the Museum of Contemporary Art. MCA members are $22, nonmembers $28 and students $10. For more information, call the MCA Box Office at 312-397-4010.

Tags: Rosas, Teresa De Keersmaeker, Peter Vermeersch, Thierry De Mey, Fumiyo Ikeda, Tale Dolven, Cynthia Loemij, Sandra Ortega Bejarano, Sue-Yeon Youn, MCA, Sarah Osterman Myers

Dance Review by Sarah Osterman Myers

Posted on Chicago Stage and Screen

Wild Grass—Beijing Dance Theater

“A wisp of black smoke issues from me, rising and twirling like a snake. The ice valley is suddenly surrounded by flowing flames, me in the middle. I look down and see Dead Fire burning, consuming my clothes. I melt and drip onto the icy ground.”-- Lu Xun

Beijing Dance Theater gusted into the Harris Theater for Music and Dance on Tuesday night with their masterfully fluid movement and vivid interpretation of Chinese poet and literary figure Lu Xun’s writing. Separated into three short pieces, Wild Grass’s Chicago debut conjured an ether of ghostly disquiet eerily in line with Xun’s world of “deadened fire and icy ground.”  

Founder and artistic director Wang Yuanyuan is best known for her work during the opening ceremony of the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games but has also become recognizable within modern dance for her ability to push Chinese tradition into innovative territory.

In Wild Grass, her unique approach to contemporary ballet is evident, but the evening itself felt a bit sleepy, especially sections one and three during which the pace is slow and dancers maintain an unexcitable energy. At first it seemed their U.S. tour had taken a toll, but after reading excerpts of Xun’s symbolic prose poems, which are darkly imagined and exploratory of decay, it became clear the “sleepiness” was really Yuanyuan’s take on life’s deterioration.

That lingering sound when a piano key is released and its string continues to vibrate— that sound combined with smoke, feathers and tenuous movement is exactly why section one, or Dead Fire, feels so unsettling. The ensemble drifts, sprinkling white feathers on the stage, as He Peixun’s piano solo, composed by Su Cong, fills the space. While rooted in ballet, the movement veers toward the abstract, allowing for both beautiful extensions but also the withering of strong shapes. Overall, moments of deeply-felt unison, tranquility and stillness make it the perfect opener for the show. 

Farewell, Shadows travels out of that earthy ambience into a more stylized realm of upper-body isolations and confident struts. The stage is stripped bare— the sole feature an overhead lighting grid lowered halfway— and the female dancers change from flowing garments into black, body-clinging bra tops and shorts. Electronica from the Norwegian group Biosphere and noise-rock from French musician Kangding Ray swallow up any residual softness from section one, transforming the stage into a pulsating extravaganza of thrashing limbs.

Dance of Extremity feels like a continuation of section one. An elaborate carpet piece spans the entirety of the stage, covering the floor in what looks like a field of “wild grass.” In the upstage, left corner, a singular rope dangles from ceiling to floor where the grass forms a small mound. There is always someone atop the mound, watching from above. The dancers are continually drawn into the ground, falling with a type of post-war devastation to the yearning sounds of violin and cello.

While somewhat anticlimactic, the show’s examination of growth decay is something to respect and consider, and the collaboration of music, lights and set design is most certainly a work of art. Don’t miss Beijing Dance Theater’s final performance on Wednesday, October 29th at 7:30pm at the Harris Theater for Music and Dance, 205 East Randolph Drive. Tickets start at $10. For more information, visit harristheaterchicago.org.

Tags: Beijing Dance Theater, Harris Theater for Music and Dance, Wang Yuanyuan, Han Jiang, Gao Jing, Wu Yan, Song Di, Liu Hengzhi, Zhong Jiani, The Dance Center, Sarah Osterman Myers

The Next Generation of Opera: NWA Mag

By Sarah Osterman Myers

EUREKA SPRINGS, Ark. – “There we'll take each other's hands, and then you’ll tell me ‘yes.’ See; it isn't far; let's go there together, my darling!”

Don Giovanni may as well be luring Northwest Arkansas to the 66thSeason of Opera in the Ozarks at Inspiration Point. 

It started simply in the 1950s, but now Opera in the Ozarks is a full-fledged, month-long extravaganza boasting fresh talent and a newly air-conditioned, outdoor venue. With three fully staged operas between June 17 and July 15, performed at both Inspiration Point in Eureka Springs and Arend Arts Center in Bentonville, this year’s lineup plans to hit the audience with high intensity and drama.

“Opera, as an art form, is a uniquely immersive experience that is set apart from film, straight theatre and even musical theater,” said Opera in the Ozarks Alumnus Joel Burcham in a video feature about their annual summer opera festival and opera training program. “It offers you a rich, intense, virtuosic musical experience, with high drama, high costume, lighting and production value, all in one art form, in one evening.”

Three rehearsals, three hours each, for five straight weeks – Ozark’s 47 young professionals have trained rigorously for this year’s acclaimed productions. In Mozart’s “Don Giovanni”, opera lovers get an intimate look at the legend of fictional philanderer Don Juan as he voyages through romanticism and enlightenment. Switching gears, Britten’s “Albert Herring” presents a much more mirthful experience but also offers up an incisive critique of Victorian England. Lastly, the double bill of Puccini’s “Il Tabarro” – a tense melodrama set in working-class Paris – and Leoncavallo’s “Pagliacci” – a dramatic tale of love and betrayal – intends you leave all hope at the door and surrender to a tempest of Italian libretto.

“We select works that will please and attract the public,” said Artistic Director Tom Cockrell. “But as a training program for the next generation of professional opera singers, I select repertoire that leads to their growth as young artists.”

Indeed, this year’s repertoire requires a certain caliber of operatic maturity. Maybe that’s why, behind the scenes, Opera in the Ozarks is known for its unique brand of training, conducting, coaching and encouragement. With performing arts at an all-time competitive high, this particular training program offers a safe place to explore and grow while challenging emerging performers to work at an industry-level pace.

“Our audience is very enthusiastic and passionate about supporting young people in their musical and artistic pursuits,” said Cockrell, who thinks it’s important to share the work of young artists honing their craft. “The energy coming off the stage is second to nothing the audience will see and hear in the professional world.”

For information on Opera in the Ozarks’ 66th Season or to view the full schedule and buy tickets, visit www.opera.org or call (479) 253-8595.

Article published in Today's Chicago Woman Magazine

Dance Review by Sarah Osterman Myers

Posted on Chicago Stage and Screen

One Hour: Two Works- performed by Heidi Latsky Dance

While dance can be about many things—movement, stillness, technique, athleticism— it is often about abilities: How long is the leg; how pointed is the toe; how flexible is the back; how high is the jump? How far can the body be pushed— physically and emotionally—while simultaneously telling a story, relaying an idea or evoking a feeling?

At the end of the day, dance is about the body, and New York-based Heidi Latsky Dance reminds dancegoers that bodies come in all shapes, sizes and with varied abilities. Some dance companies have fixed expectations or look for dancers with similar levels of technique and bodily makeup, but Latsky explores, accentuates and celebrates physical differences, allowing her ensemble of mixed-ability dancers to fill the stage with spirited individualism. 

One Hour: Two Works at The Dance Center of Columbia College Chicago features nine vibrant performers who come from a variety of technical backgrounds but work harmoniously as a group. Latsky, a former Bill T. Jones dancer, has an explosive style— she plunges with bladed hands through the air, cartwheels her arms, and draws from a skewed ballet vocabulary that includes fifth positions, deep plies and petite allegro throughout.

The first piece, Solo Countersolo, is a riot of lively swimming, slicing, jumping, and prancing to a classical-sounding score by British composer Chris Brierley. The piece starts with one light streaming horizontally across the stage. As the dancers move from one standing formation to the next, their bodies eclipse the light, sometimes creating shadows or complete darkness. Latsky is quickly established as the featured mover, rolling her hips and shoulders and flinging hyperextended arms in juxtaposition to the slow-moving ensemble. Eventually, the group’s momentum builds as the music crescendos, and bodies start to fly across the stage. While Latsky’s style is very jumpy and vertical, she employs a relentless series of chaînés, tour en l'airs, and lunging forth positions to travel through space. The end result is a dynamic and hyperactive mass vs. Latsky, a mature soloist making sense of the commotion.

Somewhere starts with breathy bursts of strong and warrior-esque movement from the group. Then, stillness overcomes the stage as Rob Simpson, who has Parkinson’s disease, walks from one end of the stage and back. The first of many “Over the Rainbow” variations starts to play as he sits down in a chair, back toward audience, and performs a slow and meticulous port de bra—simple movement with a big impact. Throughout the piece, each dancer gets a chance, whether through solo or duet, to showcase his or her abilities. Most memorable is Alexander Whailes, a deaf actress/dancer, who grounds herself center stage and breaks into rhythmic gesticulations that seem fast and aggressive at first but soften into a beautiful sign language phrase at the end.

In an interview with The Dance Center, Latsky said: “I am fascinated by technical virtuosity, but I am just as compelled by someone taking a risk, showing his or her vulnerability, being in a raw state.” Each of her dancers experiences technique, risk, vulnerability and rawness during One Hour: Two Works, which makes for a memorable and inspiring show that transforms limitations into abilities.

Heidi Latsky Dance’s residency coincides with the American Dance Therapy Association (ADTA) and National Dance Education Organization (NDEO) joint conference November 5-9th in Chicago. The next two shows are November 7th and 8th at 8pm at The Dance Center of Columbia College Chicago, 1306 South Michigan Avenue. Single tickets are $30. For information, call 312-369-8330 or visit colum.edu/dancecenterpresents.

Tags: Heidi Latsky Dance, Chris Brierley, Carlos Arias, Christopher Ash, Lindsay Jones, Stewart Schulman, Leslie Smith, Brynt Beitman, Meredith Fages, Jerron Herman, Jillian Hollis, Saki Masuda, Robert Simpson, Alexandria Wailes, Gregory Youdan, The Dance Center of Columbia College Chicago, Sarah Osterman Myers

Essay posted on Thought Catalog

About two years ago, I decided to make a long day less monotonous by walking the five city blocks to Trader Joe’s over my lunch. I planned on finding some sort of uplifting snack. While some may say the chocolate-covered potato chips are “uplifting,” I needed something that wouldn’t send me directly into a food coma, and later in life, heart surgery. So, I was exploring the healthy snackables when BOOM. There they were. In all of their glory. Zesty Nacho Kale Chips. The healthy parts of my soul perked up, and I marched determinedly to check out.

Back at work, I sat down to enjoy my package of delicious, good-for-you, baked leaves. Just then, my co-worker Marie came sauntering into my office. Marie is what you’d call an OH (original hipster), and for those of you who need further explanation, Huffington Post says: “The OH stance connotes intellect, sexuality, and street smarts.” And because Marie has demonstrated a high aptitude in the aforementioned three categories, I basically trust her with my life.

“What are you eating?” she asked, looking bored and unimpressed. Mainly because eating is a weakness.

“Kale Chips!” I said, so excited I could barely contain the kale chip in my mouth.

“Let me see those.” Marie grabbed them, looking perturbed. As I dove in to grab a chip before Marie deemed them “uneatable” and threw them out, I noticed a little white bag, sticking out amongst the kale chips in the same outsider fashion as that white scum spotted on Ted Cruz’s lip. Having been a frequent victim of tampered-with food, and consequently, weird food viruses, I was not encouraged by this sighting.

“Marie!” I exclaimed, passing her the bag. “What is THAT?”

Marie looked into the bag, pulled out the white bag, and said, “This shouldn’t be in there. This is bad, girl. This is something they put in purses and bags… but not food!”

In retrospect, it seems strange that neither one of us (both in late twenties, college educated, urban armored) had seen this before. It just goes to show, no matter how much you think you’ve seen or know, you still haven’t seen or known nothin’.

“Oh my gosh. Am I going to die? Is that like poison… or something?” I asked, starting to panic.

“I mean – it definitely shouldn’t be in there. If I were you, I’d go purge that shit NOW.” Marie was starting to look borderline concerned.

“Oh my gosh. Okay. Oh no.” I said as I was leaving my office. I literally sprinted to the bathroom on the second floor, burst open a stall, and started to barf myself. I realize this might seem like an alarming choice to some, but I literally thought I had swallowed a foreign substance. Plus, an anxious brain is able to go from zero to sixty at a remarkable speed. As a former dancer, you’d think my spine would be supple enough to handle sudden contractions. But no. As I went in to get more out, my whole back seized up. My spine retracted like a slinky, and my curved, hovering-over-toilet body jerked backward into an arched position as I exclaimed in pain.

Someone in a nearby stall was like, “Ummm. Are you okay?” But considering this was usually the bathroom where people knit on the toilet, pluck their eye brows, and leave poo in the loo, I knew this person wasn’t legitimately concerned. But I was. Now I had unknown material in my body and my back was thrown out. There is no dramatic conclusion to this story, other than the fact I learned the mysterious white bag was just a silica gel packet meant to keep the kale chips FRESH! Not poison me. Not kill me. Keep me ALIVE and HEALTHY! It took several days for my back to return to normal status, and needless to say, I’ve never eaten kale chips again.

Art up your Life: NWA Mag

By Sarah Osterman Myers

FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. – Northwest Arkansas is such a splendidly unique region – an amalgamation of several cities all boasting vibrant customs, artistic styles, recreation and cuisines. Artosphere: Arkansas' Arts and Nature Festival is an extension of that very splendor. For its seventh annual celebration, the festival plans to showcase the community’s many distinctive characteristics while also exposing locals to incredible national work.

The lineup of programming, which runs May 10-27, is quite impressive. Every nook and cranny, from Fayetteville to Bentonville, will be utilized for both free and ticketed performances, events and activities. From guided architectural bike tours, to circus escapades to physical theatre, there will be no shortage of innovative offerings.

“Patrons tell us all the time that this is one of the most exciting and innovative festivals they have ever attended,” said Erin Rogers, public relations director at Walton Arts Center and Walmart AMP. “To have orchestra music, folk music and family entertainment all in a low-cost setting is unheard of.”

On top of being budget-friendly, Artosphere takes away that “one night only” mentality by extending its programming over 18 days, so if a challenging schedule or weather disappoints, there’s always another chance. This also allows festival lovers the time and space to see, hear, feel and interact without feeling pressured or rushed. Maybe that’s why over 37,000 tourists, artists, beer drinkers, nature lovers and exhausted fathers attended last year – it’s a way to pause, enjoy, interact and learn.

One of the headlining events this year is Trail Mix, which includes two full days of free music, art, hiking, and biking along local trails and the Razorback Regional Greenway. This extravaganza is perfectly planted in the middle of National Bike Month and illustrates Northwest Arkansas’ commitment to bike infrastructure.

“This year, with ‘the bicycle’ being a popular theme, we are emphasizing sustainable modes of transportation and the bicycle’s connection to nature and social change,” said Rogers.

Indeed, most of the outdoor events use “the bicycle” for inspiration and hope to spark meaningful dialogue about nature.

Another huge component of Artosphere is the music. Jason Howell Smith, executive assistant to the president/CEO at WAC, manages theArtosphere Festival Orchestra and is excited about the sheer variety and breathtaking talent on this year’s roster.  

“I love that I get to work with some of the nicest, most talented musicians from around the world who love coming to Northwest Arkansas each year to make beautiful performances together,” said Smith.

The range of work includes Russian Masterworks by Rachmaninoff and Mussorgsky, Hawaiian ukulele by Paula Fuga, String Quartet performances by Dover Quartet and Aizuri Quartet, and Americana folk by The Okee Dokee Brothers. While none will dissatisfy, Smith is most enthusiastic about the first concert.

“Each year, the first concert is magical,” said Smith. “This season it will be spectacular – with the orchestra performing two of Russia’s greatest masterworks. Maestro Rovaris will conduct and the performance will blow your mind.”

Smith is personally a lover of classical music because he feels it speaks directly to the soul of the listener. During last year’s Artosphere, he witnessed a young woman smiling and crying simultaneously while listening to Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2. Later he learned she was an exchange student from Japan who had never before attended a live orchestra concert.

“She said it was the most beautiful experience and she would carry the memory of it for the rest of her life,” said Smith. “Those are the moments we at Artosphere work for – to catch lightning in a bottle year after year.”

Take some time to celebrate and interact with art and nature this May. For more information about the Artosphere Festival, a complete event lineup and to purchase tickets, visit www.artospherefestival.org or call WAC’s Box Office at (479) 443-5600.

Article published in Today's Chicago Woman Magazine

Dance Review by Sarah Osterman Myers

Posted on Chicago Stage and Screen

BalletX

Uncertainty rocked the dance nation after Jennifer Homans questioned ballet’s mortality in her 2010 historical epic, Apollo’s Angels: “Today we no longer believe in ballet’s ideals. We are skeptical of elitism and skill, which seem to us exclusionary and divisive.” Yet, belief was definitely alive and palpable in The Dance Center on Thursday evening as BalletX intermingled hip rolls, upside-down waltzing, moonwalking and indie rock music with arduous ballet technique, stimulating the audience with an infectious performance and earning a standing ovation.

Hailing from Philadelphia and led by founders Christine Cox and Matthew Neenan, BalletX aims to experiment, explore and bring innovative work to the stage while conserving technical rigor. Though the show’s four pieces by three different choreographers were diverse in theme and pace, the overall impact was one of stylized ambition. Eclectic movement vocabulary involving ballroom, Gaga technique and intense partnering demanded versatility from the company’s ten dancers, who exuded the unmistakable prowess of hardcore ballerinas but also knew how to break down, ground into the floor and draw from a variety of elements with ease and contemporary panache.

The show opened with Joshua L. Peugh’s Slump, a lively demonstration of swirling madness, musicality and humor danced to Klezmer, jazz and mambo music. The dancers personified the “slump” motif with slouching upper bodies, floppy limbs and vacant looks, contrasting the fast-paced, Yiddish folk sounds of Freylach No. 15 by Klezmer Juice and making the whole endeavor feel frenzied but hilarious. Having technically-trained bodies maintain the kind of lackluster, unmotivated energy associated with “slumping” whilst performing festively upbeat, polka-driven movement was not only choreographically genius— it was wildly amusing.  

Valentine’s Day, Peugh’s other choreographic work, transported the audience from Slump’s whimsical world into a more intimate setting. The duet performed by Zachary Kapeluck and Andrea Yorita was subtle and soft but felt less romantic and more true to the dazed confusion that love can evoke. Performed under a single overhead light, Yorita wore a simple nightshirt, exposing the true feature of the piece: Her arches. She continuously rolled through her pointe shoes— rising slowly and then lowering, stopping on pointe in second position grand plié to pour her arches over the shoes— all in an effort to transfix Kapeluck, who wound up fluttering in circles around her.

Delicate Balance, choreographed by Jodie Gates, was a smoky and elusive jungle of flicks, arabesques and promenades. Athleticism and endurance were on display as the dancers attacked a series of unforgiving, William Forsythe -esque movement phrases, reminding the audience of why “ballet” is part of the company’s title.

In The Last Glass, choreographer Matthew Neenan found ways to combat Homans’ doubt in ballet’s longevity by synthesizing trendy street movement with the delicacy of classical ballet and earthy physics of modern; a blend that felt strangely identifiable and in sync with contemporary times. His circuslike world allowed individualism, relationships and celebratory realizations to fluctuate and waver to the folk wave sounds of Beirut, which not only gave the piece some indie spirit but also furthered its accessibility to modern generations.

Throughout the evening, dancer Chloe Felesina captivated the audience with her full-bodied and fearless abilities as well as her expansive range of emotions. But in The Last Glass, she embodied Neenan’s choreography with such authenticity that her performance may have single-handedly verified the revolutionary capacity of ballet.

The next two performances are scheduled for Friday, September 19 and Saturday, September 20 at 8pm at The Dance Center, 1306 South Michigan Avenue. Single tickets are $30. For information, call 312-369-8330 or visit colum.edu/dancecenterpresents.

Tags: BalletX, Christine Cox, Matthew Neenan, Joshua L. Peugh, Jodie Gates, Chloe Felesina, The Dance Center, Sarah Osterman Myers

Dance Review by Sarah Osterman Myers

Posted on Chicago Stage and Screen

Le Ça (The Id)—Sònia Sánchez at the MCA Stage

The MCA Stage was void of “Flame-colored” costumes and “hell-raising” clapping on Friday night. The voracious Sònia Sánchez had swallowed, tamed and reduced them to fit her minimalist needs. The result? A stripped-down, almost melancholic approach to flamenco called “Le Ça” that wrestled tradition until it recoiled into a vulnerable heap on the ground.

 Perhaps the melancholy comes from the solitary time Sánchez spent in Spain’s Catalunyan region, where she tried to discard everything but the sounds of her own feet. Having been trained in Madrid and Barcelona, Sánchez is a solid technician and knows flamenco inside and out. Yet, that she would rid herself of years of conventional training to rediscover flamenco in her own way shows great artistic curiosity, which is why Friday’s performance was something to be revered. 

After time alone in the forest, she returned to work with musicians and dancers of flamenco, jazz and contemporary forms. David Soler, composer and guitarist, joined her, as well as Miguel Angel, a powerful vocalist of the flamenco variety. Fortunately, their joint force made Le Ça into more of a collaborative effort than just a showcase of Sánchez’s individual findings. Yet, while the dance made music/voice worthwhile and vice versa, there were times during Le Ça when each part felt indulgent. Soler would get carried away with his dissonant guitar sounds and go off on tangents. Angel, while vocally robust and mighty, never quite showed his range and was stuck in a wailing loop. Sánchez displayed the most range out of the three, but still felt somewhat detached from her accompaniment. She more so played in tandem with the floor microphones that were planted to accentuate and repeat her footwork.

I sometimes wondered if the lack of cohesion was meant to be. If they were challenging the audience in the same way they were confronting tradition. At times, it was difficult to hear the guitar drone on with no melodic cause, and listen to the initially beautiful vocals get distorted by technology, and watch footwork flare up and down without a traceable trend or purpose. Yet, each artist performed with such conviction that I knew I was witnessing something special despite my visceral discomfort.

Even if I was unsure, the performers were not. They performed with such conviction and flair that each move, sound and vocal felt more important than the last. And for that, I am grateful to have been witness to their discoveries.

Le Ça is 60 minutes long and takes place February 13 and 14 at 7:30 pm and February 15 at 3 pm in the Edlis Neeson Theater, 220 East Chicago Avenue. Tickets are $28. The MCA Box Office is at 312.397.4010 or www.mcachicago.org

Tags: Sònia Sánchez, David Soler, Miguel Angel, Edlis Neeson Theater

at MCA Stage, Chicago Flamenco Festival, Sarah Osterman Myers

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