When I read Wendy Oliver’s “Dance Critique”, I started realizing there is in fact a method to approach an apparently “too interpretable” subject (dance) in an objective way. Oliver suggests that critiquing dance is pretty much like writing about art, since the same principles apply. Just like before approaching a painting one studies the painter, one should research and read about a choreographer before attending a performance. Knowing the choreographer’s style and techniques, or even simply philosophy, could help see and interpret recurrent symbolism and mood in a performance. Oliver also suggests that one should try to just be in the moment when attending a performance: just take everything in without having a polluting filter of interpretation; most of the dance’s significance resides in the energy of the “live” element. It’s also important, however, to take a few notes and remember key characteristics of the performance for later reference. I believe reading Oliver before the seeing a dance gave me the confidence that it is ok to just try to sit back and absorb the momentousness of the performance without interpreting too much.

I did not have any realistic expectation about RoseAnne Spradlin’s show before I entered the theater. I just thought it was going to be a boring hour of meaningless, weird, and awkward movement of bodies which I would have gotten nothing out of. On the contrary, Spradlin’s show resonated with me so much that I found myself in tears half-way through it. The space of the performance was a stage just a little higher than the ground, mirrors all around, a mini-orchestra on one side, and a waterfall-like set of lights behind us. The dancers were all naked, if not at the beginning, later in the piece. The few clothes that were put on and off were at first just skirts, tape, and flanels, and then in the second half fancier night dresses, as if to symbolize a change in mood. The music was extremely contrasting: at the very beginning and end of the first part of the dance, a merry tune was performed live by the orchestra, followed by a deep, almost creepy, cry of violins for the rest of the performance.

As stated previously, the choreography was divided in two halves. The first one  contrasting musically and scenically, and the second one focused on a depressing, frustrating and exasperated tone. The dancer’s movements were at times very slow and dreamy, then suddenly of an exasperating energy. Jumps and fallings, twitching and the nudity gave the dance a very raw and exposed tone.

In the dance, it seemed that deeply engraved within it were the sorrowful experiences of insecurity of women today. In particular, strengthened by the choice of nudity, it seemed that the conflict woman versus own body was central. The dancers seemed to try at first to fit the expectations of society (e.g. putting on fancy decorations that looked out of place on them), trying to convince themselves that what was obviously unnatural, looked good on them and gave them the confidence they needed. This seek for external strengthening for internal confidence is consolidated by the runway-like walks the dancers seemed to be forcing themselves to do, screaming “DO IT!”. They kept poses, walked in a certain way with certain attitudes, as if attempting to feel accepted, but they ended up driving themselves to exhaustion and exasperation, to the point where they all started twitching and falling and turning until they couldn’t move anymore. Then, suddenly, an awakening follows, they remove their clothes, the music changes. It’s “the beginning of something.” They are comfortable, accepting their bodies and themselves; the music sings “accept me the way I am, love me the way I am” as if conveying the message that before being able to be loved, one has to love themselves.

This dance extremely connected to me; throughout its unfolding at my eyes, I saw more and more meaning within my experience as a woman. It was very raw and intense piece that would definitely leave and imprint in the audience’ memory.

Sara Camnasio

The moment you walked in, you could feel a change in the atmosphere. It might have been because of the sparkling curtain of beads that fragmented and distorted the light or because of the dark ambience created by the dimly lit room. The one sight that greeted the audience as they walked in to find their seats was the nude woman strumming a guitar. She sat, legs crossed, on the elevated platform, strumming a soothing melody. Chairs were arranged in such a fashion that it entirely surrounded the platform. Mirrors of all different shapes and sizes were placed on the wall, angled downwards, allowing all different kinds of views for the audience as well as the dancers.

The dance started with a single spotlight at the woman who was strumming the guitar. She dressed herself in beads, twisting and turning, prancing at times and dancing at times. Three other women, who donned a fur coat, cloth skirt and a thin black coat, respectively, soon joined her. They stomped, screamed, jumped, skipped, ran, fell, convulsed and stared. Their many different actions at different times all came together at certain points, and all scattered and dispersed at others. There were times when they were organized, strutting across the platform confidently, and there were times when they nearly crashed into each other as they lunged and jumped.

RoseAnne Spradlin’s “Beginning of Something” was certainly the beginning of something. The way the dancers stripped themselves of their clothes showed their vulnerability, with no clothes to hide under. They bared themselves of anything and in a sense freed themselves from whatever limitations they had.

RoseAnn Spradlin’s beginning of something was interesting, but the audience’s reaction to it was even more so; it was captivating. As the four women flew to the edges of the stage, their bodies completely bared, some lookers-on grew wide-eyed at the flesh undulating and jiggling. Some looked away when a performer extended her hand or tried to make eye contact while some grasped the hand in front of them; some seemed to lean in to the performance while others sat rigidly in their seats. Audience members reacted in a wide spectrum of ways (from crying to smiling uncontrollably to nodding off to sleep) to each part of the performance.

Sophie remarked that, in the very beginning of the performance, no one sat in the four seats directly in front of the naked woman strumming an electric bass. At the end of the performance, when the last dancer had walked off the stage platform, the audience seemed to fall in on itself, the four sides collapsing in and crashing against each other at the absence of performers to take up space–act as a buffer–between the four sides of the rooms.

My last remark is that this piece felt more like a multimedia performance than a dance. The dance components were central and powerful, but I feel that “dance” does not fully or accurately described what we witnessed tonight. beginning of something feels like a journey into an unfamiliar dimension more than it feels like watching women dance.

There is no such thing as a bad view at the New York Live Arts center where RoseAnne Spradlin showcased her choreography “Beginning of Something”. As soon as the audience members walk in, they are faced with a pretty peculiar sight. The room is dimly lit and surrounded by different mirrors. The stage is bare, except for one lone figure, a nude dancer sitting on the edge of the left side of the stage playing the guitar. For many, like me, this was a huge bewilderment, especially because it was the first contemporary dance piece I have ever seen.

As soon as the performance started, three more dancers came on stage, each with different garments. The guitar-playing dancer was covered with beads, while the other dancers were covered with fur, a thin cloth hanging at the waist and black undergarments. As the show progressed, these women began to rid themselves of their clothing. Their movements were powerful yet vulnerable. There were times when the women would be stomping and walking with confidence as if they were models on a runway, but there were also moments when these women would fall to the ground, shaking and expressing fear.

I believe that this dance is titled the “Beginning of Something”  because of the radicalness of the choreography. I believe that RoseAnne Spradlin is the”beginning” of “something” new in dance. Her choreography is something new that broadens the term “dance”. I believe she wanted to show the different sides to human nature as well in this piece. All humans have a confident side, as well as a vulnerable one.  These women went through a collection of emotions in the one hour time period they performed. There were times when they were confident with their bodies, while there were other times when they were self-conscience. RoseAnne Spradlin’s piece was very unconventional and is the “beginning of something” new in the dance community.

Analytic Post-Modern Dance is a technique different from past styles. This new movement uses movement almost exclusively as the means of performance. While other styles use costume, lighting, set, etc. to express the meaning of the show, Analytic Post-Modern Dance kept anything besides the dancing simple. Dancers tended to wear ordinary clothes, and the stage is usually well-lit. The dancers did not need to be professionals; furthermore, they did not even need to dance, necessarily. Some Analytic Post-Modern Dance consisted of the performers eating, some the dancers were nude and expressing sexual imagery. The concept was that dance is only considered as such because it is put in the context of dance.

Trisha Brown was part of the Analytic Post-Modern Dance movement, but the pieces we watched were not Analytic Post-Modern Dance. The dancers were trained professionals in both “Glacial Decoy” and “Solo Olos.” They danced freely, with non-traditional motions, but this is not all that Analytic Post-Modern Dance includes. They were in costume, had a set, and had lighting.

Despite this, one might see this as Analytic Post-Modern Dance, as these factors were very limited. In ballet, for example, the costumes are specific and expressive. The lighting helps move along the narrative and the set gives a setting for the narrative in ballet. In Trisha Brown’s dance, the costume, set, and lighting merely create a stage for the dancers. The focus of the dance was entirely on the movement, which is the essential point of Analytic Post-Modern Dance. 

Meira

Analytic post-modern dance differed from modern dance in the way that it wasn’t about the music, or the meaning of the dance. In fact, post-modern dance choreographers defined dance as almost any type of action: walking, running, games and even contests. To them, it wasn’t about the content – it was about the context. They believed that a dance for the audience should only be the dance itself, without the special effects, lighting, or even music. Anyone could become a dancer, whether they were trained or not. It was all about the movement of the “natural” body.

Steve Paxton’s contact improvisation is the epitome of the belief of the analytic post-modern dance. It only consisted of dancers using their bodies as their own props, and nothing else. With each interaction, the dancers knew a little more about their partners. It was not about the glamour of dancing, but about movement and the body itself. There was no music, but the way the dancers were interacting almost made you think as if there was some silent song playing in their heads. It’s almost like a pendulum, the way one dancer moves and interacts with the other and how the other will respond back to the movements of that dancer. This un-choreographed dance is fluid even with the sudden hesitations and whatnot. For post-modern dance, only body and movement mattered and Paxton’s contact improvisation embodies this idea.