Ellie_Together_Fringe61

Get to Go Together

Kirsten Kaschock

Ellie Goudie-Averill and Pamela Vail began their joint program with “Mechanism,” a co-choreographed duet. The piece’s spare sensibility and air of futurism were enhanced by a score by Brandon Evans. Dressed in matching reflective gray pants and knit tunics, Goudie-Averill and Vail began the piece by alternating turns of the head towards one another. I read this motif as both metaphor and preparation—two women deciding to move together. When it returned later, the looks longer, it seemed a rare moment of meaningful contact in a largely impersonal movement landscape. The two had maneuvered around each other and the stage with the simple precision of a clockwork, touching occasionally without narrative or drama. But to call the dancing abstract would be to ignore the impact of the dancers’ weaving through the clear field of stage.

As I watched, a snatched lyric from a Fleet Foxes’s song embedded itself in my head…a functioning cog in some great machinery/serving something beyond me. The evening was studded with moments like these: small gestures (fingers rubbing together as if measuring pollen in the air), points of contact (a dancer’s hands skimming down another’s shoulderblades), and spoken words (“the back is a reflective surface”) that gained their significance from the nearly meditative strata from which they emerged. 

Both Vail and Goudie-Averill favor the full and fully-grounded execution of clear lines, circular and fluid pathways through the space, and a pared down approach to gesture and facial expression.  The evening showcased them not only as choreographers but as movers—Goudie-Averill also performed an improv solo, and Vail, in addition to a second duet and a solo, was featured in two short dance films directed by filmmaker Jeremy Moss. The first, “CONSTRUCTS,” with its obscuringly-close attention to a duet performed on snow-covered train tracks, and “CHROMA,” by editing Vail’s movements through the staccato strobe of a super-saturated color palette, offered two diverse terrains for consideration. Dance served as the departure point in these films: they did not so much document movement as choreograph the audience’s engagement with it. 

Goudie-Averill’s solo “Flesh for Sap: an improvisation” also provided choices. She asked us to pick one of three ideas—tree, avatar, and advice column. The written material she read after we chose and before she began dancing was developed from a somatic workshop she attended with CA Conrad, a local Philadelphia poet. This searching improv, about the difficulty of taking one’s own advice, as well as Goudie-Averill’s final work of the evening—“American Nostalgia: I think I no you from some knowhere”—included moments of humor and wit and even virtuosity that lightened the mood of a sometimes stark program. The live percussion and sense of community in the large group work “American Nostalgia” ended the evening with a picture of the chaotic, dynamic machine that is humanity. Order and disorder, monochrome and the spectrum, word and action, isolation and investment: such pairings, these choreographers recognize, create friction. Rubbed together—they go.

Go Together, Eleanor Goudie-Averill and Pamela Vail, Community Education Center, 3500 Lancaster Avenue, September 7, 6pm, September 8, 4 and 8 p.m., www.livearts-fringe.org

Share this article

Kirsten Kaschock

Kirsten Kaschock is the author of three books of poetry: The Dottery, A Beautiful Name for a Girl, and Unfathoms. Sleight–her novel about performance, artistic responsibility, and atrocity–is available from Coffee House Press. She is currently on faculty at Drexel University. She is a former staff writer and Editor-in-Chief with thINKingDANCE.

PARTNER CONTENT

Keep Reading

My Tongue is a Blade, is a Blade, is a Blade

Caedra Scott-Flaherty

Sweat Variant’s new durational work tests the limits of attention.

Performers Bria Bacon and Okwui Okpokwasili, both Black women wearing black, stand in the middle of a spinning structure at the center of the room, surrounded by a seated audience. The structure is round with a black bottom and reflective panels about 8 feet tall surrounding it. Through the spaces between the panels, Bacon and Okpokwasili are seen standing close together, facing each other. Becon's knees and arms are bent. Okpokwasili has a hand on Bacon's head and gazes above it.
Photo: Ava Pellor

Joy in SPEAK

Emilee Lord

When Masters Converse

From left to right, dancers Dormeshia, Rachna Nivas, Rukhmani Mehta and Michelle Dorrance. They are in motion. Dormeshia and Dorrance wear white pants, thigh length white tunics, and tap shoes. Nivas and Mehta wear white leggings, long white dresses with golden details on the skirts and bodices. They have bands of bells around their ankles and are barefoot. The tap dancers have a quality of bending and sending energy into the floor. The Kathak dancers are lifted, arms raised, poised.
Photo: Richard Termine