feature

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
  • Reviews

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.

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
  • Reviews

Joy in SPEAK

Emilee Lord

When Masters Converse

Mulunesh, a Black woman in a thick, hooded raincoat, stands crookedly with her weight shifted over one foot. Her arms are lifted out from her sides and her hands are in fists. She is lit with harsh, bright lights, and boxed in on three sides with heavy transparent plastic. Behind her, a sheet of white marley and two red cables dangle limply, as if caught mid collapse. The floor beneath her feet, made of the same white marley, is spotted with piles of black paper confetti.
Photo: Bas de Brouwer
  • thINKpieces

Decomposing Mediation: On FRANK

Writings from tD's Emerging Writer's Fellowship

A group of dancers move together in a clump holding toilet plungers, some of which are donning messy black wigs or flightlights-as-eyes.
Photo: Jenna Maslechko
  • Interviews

By the Way, You Can Laugh

Rachel DeForrest Repinz

Brian Golden on disability, play, and humor as access.

In a dark-lit space, a group of barefoot dancers huddle together. Someone lays on top of their shoulders, their face upside down to the audience.
Photo: Michael Tubbs
  • thINKpieces

Ephemeral Patterns: Translating “The Yellow Wallpaper” into Movement

Writings from tD's Emerging Writer's Fellowship