Photo: Maddie Rabin
Photo: Maddie Rabin

Not a Ballet, but a Labor of Love

Miryam Coppersmith

Down the cracked and narrow sidewalk of Grays Ave, up a flight of graffitied stairs, and past a table of homemade cookies for sale    lies the low-budget dreamworld of Sprout: A Full-Length Not-A-Ballet. I feel instantly comforted by an atmosphere that includes homemade fake flowers strewn across the space, a warm lamp light, and the sweet sounds of a band led by the honey-voiced Addie Herbert.

Sprout tells the story of a young plant who loses one of her leaves and treks far and wide to find herself. The child-friendly tale—told in dance, music, and the storybook narration of Dawn Pratson—is an allegory for the journey of finding oneself as a young adult. The choreography is peppered with cleverness, including a cheeky Argentine tango nod in the midst of a group party, and a slow dance between the sprout and its accordion lover (played by an ensemble member with an accordion strapped to their back). The sprout embraces the other dancer, wrapping its arms around them to play the accordion as they dance. Aside from these clever moments, I long for more progression in the choreography. Even as the sprout takes on a life-changing journey, the dance remains within the same genre and its mood is light, lyrical, and delicate.

The music, sets, and costumes carry the production. The mostly silent sprout breaks out into song halfway through the show, singing to its lover as it leaves. Maddie Rabin, who choreographed the piece and dances as the sprout, has an expressive, folksy voice that cuts deep. Pratson as the narrator is another highlight of the production, from her careful kindergarten-teacher vocal tone to her adorable flowered hat and suspenders. The show radiates with the love and care that the cast and crew have poured into it—love that encompasses the audience. As the sprout finally starts to blossom, audience members with flowers strapped to their wrists and ankles rise from their seats and lie down on the stage to make a meadow of flowers, bringing new meaning to the term “audience plants.”

In their final song, the cast urges us to transcend the chains of shame that bind us and blossom in our own lives. The message fortifies me as I exit the comforting space to the complex not-a-ballet of my own life.

Sprout: A Full-Length Not-A-BalletMaddie Rabin, Panorama, 2019 Fringe Festival, September 12-15.

Share this article

Miryam Coppersmith

Miryam Coppersmith is a performance artist, writer and educator who aims to create spaces for transformation for her collaborators, audience, and greater community. She currently serves as the Executive Director for thINKingDANCE.

PARTNER CONTENT

Keep Reading

A (Mostly) Moving Romeo & Juliet for Our Times

Caedra Scott-Flaherty

Benjamin Millepied’s Romeo & Juliet Suite uses dance, theater, and film to retell a timeless tale.

David Adrian Freeland Jr., wearing a blue sleeveless top and pants, and Morgan Lugo, wearing a red sleeveless top and pants, kneel facing each other on the red-lit stage. With closed eyes and tilted heads, they touch palms, one arm straight and the other bent by their cheeks.
Photo: Stephanie Berger

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