“You are an ocean of memories, an encyclopedia of experiences.” Nichole Canuso’s dreamy voice channels gentle science through our headphones as we float through layers of moonscape during the premiere of Lunar Retreat. The show spans almost the whole course of one complete lunar cycle.
In person, Canuso welcomes our group, the first of several overlapping waves of guests, with a retelling of her own dream in the first of many intimate spaces. In the dream, she is birthed from the belly of Earth to travel upward through a chameleon-like series of images, shape-shifting their way into the cosmos. As we follow her into the next space, Canuso completes her cast of nine women, wearing iridescent costumes by Olivera Gajic. The tidal movements of Annie Wilson, Eun Jung Choi, Chelsea Murphy and Rhonda Moore swirl us about the space. Waxing and waning solos performed by Chloe Marie Newton and Helen Hale are supported by enveloping other-worldly projections. While I did not get to see them at the performance I attended, Tammy Carrasco sometimes subs in for some of the dancing roles and Shannon Brooks joins the show as a guide for blind and low vision participants on days when there is audio description and enhanced tactile engagement for blind participants.
We are ushered with calm softness through Anna Kiraly’s vast set; a full lunar exploration inside the Leonard Perlstein Gallery. Along the way, I learn that the scientific term, “lunar retreat” refers to the gradual drift of the moon and Earth farther apart from one another, “a slow inevitable release.” Amongst a maze of corrugated cardboard curvatures, prompts bring me into reflection about dead and distant loved ones. The narration, direction, and swelling musical score pouring through our headphones seem to offer both privacy and intimacy with each other.
“What in your life is rising and falling? What if brightening, allowing ourselves to shine, was the safest, smoothest path forward?” These questions, among many, are interspersed between facts. I hear about the firefly squid and read that the dark regions of the moon are in fact “vast plains of dark basalt, set against bright, rocky highlands.” This immersive sensory experience feels like an exercise in resting; quiet, soft, reflective. As Galileo discovered about the moon in 1609, our shadows are proof of our dimension.
Billowing layers of set and audience grow from sparse to inhabited as waves of attendees catch up with one another. Inside a womb of memories where the water body floats, the dancers, and us with them, recede and gravitate toward each other without will but full of sensitivity. In multitudes, individual intentions are obscured, yet irreversible patterns are illuminated. Lunar Retreat provides a respite from the pedantic whilst demonstrating the gravity of our interactions with one another and our moon mother.
Lunar Retreat, Philadelphia Fringe Festival, Leonard Pearlstein Gallery, September 9-20.
Editor’s Note: This article was updated on September 18, 2026, to correct a direct quote from the performance and to update the credited performers’ names to more accurately reflect their roles in the work.
