Inhale Philly Dance Concert

Last night I went to Philly with Alex to see the second Inhale concert for 2010. This is a performance series by a group of artists supported by the Kun-Yang Lin/Dancers org. The sponsored choreographers receive studio space and three performances with structured feedback from audience members.

Kun-Yang Lin’s Chi Movement Arts Center is a lovely space, decked out with glass shard mosaic on the front. After a spare lobby, the studio opens: white walls with black Marley, a cozy nook in South Philly. Kun-Yang Lin was there. He is warm, welcoming, has the air of contentment—a consummate host.

There were 8 dances on the program, displaying a variety of themes and skills. I enjoyed the mixture: mostly modern/contemporary, but from many viewpoints.

The program opened with a solo display of swordsmanship: Swimming Dragon Sword Dance. Sifu Chik Qadir Mason appeared graceful and serene: each movement measured and clean. Alex, discussing it afterward, noted that the movement was much in his body, as opposed to extending into the surrounding space. I decided that it was a movement meditation, rather than a martial display: there was no invisible partner. The music did not seem to serve the movement here. The music, building and changing, did not match the steady glide of the swordsman. He danced to his form, rather than to the beat.

“How Does an Ape See the World” was a duet choreographed by Marcel Williams Foster. Gabrielle Eggleston and Eleanor Goudie-Averill wore lab coats within the frame of projected images of monkeys in scientific diagrams/situations. Their fingers twitched restlessly on imaginary keyboards. They flopped to the ground with disconnected upper and lower bodies. They appeared anxious creatures, caged, consumed by inner longings. When they discovered one another, they reacted violently at first, tripping and grabbing at one another’s legs. This became a dance of mutual release as each helped the other off with their lab coats and pants: symbols of society. It suggests that apes see the world up close, as hands that either soothe or cuff.

“SONAR,” by Jillian Harris, was a solo study of circulation. Her hands swirled heavy air, coaxing silent pulses with long accelerating, brief decelerating phrases. She swept the ground, rolled, ran, spun, generating vibrations in all directions.

In “Danced All Night,” by Kinetic Architecture, Sara Mulry and Rob Davidson portrayed a world-weary goth couple, complete with lace collars and a feather boa, performing a social ritual with all of the leaden enthusiasm of middle schoolers. It was a study of contradictions: they danced with wonderful control and skill while appearing bored. They partnered intimately, affectionately, but with the formal chastity of a garden party. The irony was delicious!

“Perpetuating Buckled Knees Part II” was a quartet by the BE Dance Collective: Becca Elias, Kaitlin Morse, Katie Vason, and Rebecca Woll. It referenced images of women in popular culture. There was the coquettish wink with one ankle raised behind, arms that rocked an imaginary baby, the glad, glassy Doris Day smile. But the gestures proved hard to support: the black dress became itchy. Two dancers performed a catfight and then made up with exactly the same gestures, but different dynamics. Two dancers expressed love with a singular image: one slowly kissing the belt of the other, suggesting the richness of life, unrepresented by TV.

“Postings,” by InMovement Dance, was my favorite. The opening sequence repeats: a man and a woman, Eiren Shuman and Sarah Gladwin Camp, cling to the upstage wall with various limbs, passing, but not meeting each other. The movement is abrupt: a limb is caught, then yanked away. Shuman spends time in the corner, sticking and unsticking with increasing speed, mechanically, banging his head without frustration, a robot trapped in a loop. Camp sits, staring blankly, moving but her wrist intermittently. They start again. This time, Shuman sits, Camp works her way sideways along the wall, pressing and peeling away. They start again. Now, they find each other, yet there is no hint of rejuvenation: they are not old flames, unable to burn without each other. They are objects. They touch each other like walls: supporting, but not yielding—they do not caress.

In “Pool,” a solo by Bronwen MacArthur, phrases build and diminish like waves. A leg and both arms slowly drop from their trident shape; the head rises up and back and the body twists. Shoulders rotate, legs extend, the torso bends sideways. Limbs undulate with marked precision: she swims underwater.

“Wind of Change” was a duet by Rebecca Gray. She and Chad Walker separated and gathered, dust on a breeze. The couple was pulled vertically, returning to bridge from sky to earth.

“K’mear” was a playful quintet by Shauna Eaton. Alicia Blair, Emma Bernier, Ruth Howard, Kira Petersen, and Matthew Slattery gamboled in summer dresses and shorts. They chased one another from huddle to line, leaping and smiling, long hair splintering in air.

Human Landscape Dance will show our own new work at Philadelphia’s Painted Bride Art Center this Memorial Day weekend with Anne-Marie Mulgrew and Dancers Co. Join us for the The Philadelphia/Washington DC Exchange Saturday May 29 at 7:30pm or Sunday May 30 at 3pm.