The dancers, virtuosic and athletic, execute grand leaps, surprising shifts of weight, and daring moments of partnering.
The emotion and the dynamism of the dancing transcend any language barrier.
The juxtaposition of the frightening terrorist soundtrack with the dancers' robust and alluring bodies is strange and haunting.
Asking the question, "How do I change when I dance and work with different people?"
Keigwin's narratives could be read at face value, interpreted and enjoyed in the moment. It was showbiz—well executed, popular and easy on the eyes.
This was not scenic glam but a gender slam, reinforcing the gender stereotypes of the evening’s prior works.
Glass has found partners in Monica Bill Barnes and Anna Bass whose work parallels his.
Lisa Bardarson and Kirsten Kaschock chat about Parsons, cravings, and crowd pleasers.
Lubovitch exposes his strategy and follows its logic, responding closely to the music he chooses.
Green Chair Dance Group's constant interaction with the audience served to include us in what otherwise could have been a very insular topic: the dancers’ relationships with one another.