HQ Review: MADCO presents Hope Alive: Moving Stories
“Community. How do we show up for each other?” In her opening speech, artistic director Arianna Russ states that themes of community have been central to the work of MADCO’s concert “Hope Alive: Moving Stories.” Russ continues to remark that this concert was produced in collaboration with MS Bright Spots of Hope, an organization that seeks to “educate, empower, spark creativity, and enhance wellness for the MS (multiple sclerosis) community.”
The opening work, “A Loud Hum,” choreographed by company member Annie Mitchell, highlights this collective energy from the start. A group of seven dancers huddles tightly together on the ground, beginning stage right. Unceremoniously, a hand emerges from the clump and reaches upward. Other hands join, and the clump begins to unravel itself as dancers climb over each other, pull each other out from it, and Gail Honeywell executes a solo that continues to draw the group from the confines of their slumber. Soon, the dancers are no longer huddled together, yet their physical bond remains intact as they navigate the space around them. Collapses in their hips and shoulders bring them to the ground as the weight of their bodies collide with each other. Soon enough, they are passing through vigorous movement phrases, a stylistic element that these MADCO dancers are exceptionally proficient at. Spiraling through attitude turns, whipping their arms diagonally, and rolling swiftly through space. Even though the choreography could be taxing, it is not evident in the stamina of these dancers. A performative durability that continues throughout the entire concert.
As the piece tumbles itself through numerous physicalities, the journey of its framework gains clear momentum as the seven dancers stand in a clump, rocking back and forth with a jolting intensity. The pulse of their collective bodies builds. Delainey Bailey climbs onto the hips of two dancers and stands upright even as their pulsing rhythm escalates. Finally, their momentum explodes outwards as dancers spiral out from the clump and movement ripples between them in moments that are both individual and shared. As the strong gust of wind that empowers this moment settles, the dancers form another clump on the ground, this time stage left. Their harmonious breath is music amongst the silence. Except for one. Drawn back to where the piece began, one dancer finds themselves alone in their old positioning, reaching upward once more, longing for the past even as the others have moved on.
“Sleep,” choreographed by artistic director Arianna Russ, is starkly engrossing from the start. Covered in silence, Paige Van Nest is slumped over the shoulder of Daryon Kent. Kent rotates this statuesque position ever so calmly as Van Nest slides down Kent’s body with such subtlety that it is hard to tell she is even moving. The muted tonality of this beginning envelops the theater as the gentle fabric of Kent and Van Nest’s relationship unfolds. This striking visual is soon joined by the ethereal music composition “Sleep,” by Eric Whitacre, giving their duet a sacred intensity that reverberates throughout. Van Nest and Kent juxtapose qualitative dynamics with full commitment, fluctuating between sharp edges and sensuous release. Russ’ knowledge of these two as dancers is clearly present, and she harnesses their performative capabilities fully, crafting a duet that is soft to the touch, but could also spark a flame.
The next work, “It’s Uncanny,” by guest choreographer Lily Sheppard, harnesses an electric pulse within these MADCO dancers, while still remaining faithful to what they do so effectively: moving through vigorous phrase work with exceptional efficiency and support of each other on stage. Six dancers sit in a horizontal line, focus filling their limbs. Suddenly, one dancer begins to frantically bend their legs back and forth, and the other dancers are quick to follow this impulse. With exacting dynamism, their legs bend and straighten, like the cogs of a factory, churning out something just beyond our sight. Then, the mechanics of this moment unravel itself with a quality almost like combustion. Dancers flip onto all fours, manipulating their own body with their hands, torsos pulse, and hands smear across the ground with gratuitous pleasure. These six bodies have been enveloped by an external force, and we are merely witnessing the outward extensions of their inner turmoil.
In this work, the dancers are on the move from start to finish. Electric pulses sizzle upon the edges of these dancers’ limbs. Bodies fill with viscosity, before melting into states of flow. Yet for all its fizzing energy, the forceful movement qualities gradually become mundane. Sustained busyness begins to become overwrought. Eventually this becomes tired, but perhaps this frenzied exhaustion is actually the goal. Clearly evident near the end of the piece as Gabriella Billy collapses to the ground as the others look down upon her with a preying visage. They grab Billy’s legs and force her back into the mechanical churning in which this piece began. Eventually her legs jerk without any outside impulse, and she is stuck in a loop which she cannot escape.
“Saga,” by guest choreographer Noelle Kayser, harnesses all the expended energy from the evening and melds it into a soft and contemplative framework. This piece, in direct collaboration with MS Bright Spots of Hope, was processed alongside individuals who experience multiple sclerosis, a chronic disease that affects the central nervous system of an individual. For me, using individuals with a disability or individuals who are experiencing a disease as source material, brings to mind works like “Still/Here” by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company, likely because it was just revived in New York this past fall for its 30th anniversary. For works like these, questions arise about who’s body is actually being represented, and what types of bodies get to execute that representation. In the program notes for “Saga,” Kayser specifically dedicates this work to Jane Horvath and Margaret Yanics, and writes how “your stories, strength, and vulnerability are the foundation of this work. I am humbled to honor your experiences through movement.”
Ultimately, MADCO represents these themes with a breath of gentleness and care that resonates between the ten dancers on stage. Their calming presence is furthered by a video projection designed by Emma Bright. Projected onto the back wall of the performance space, the video projection draws the dancers in, often gazing and slowly walking towards its enigmatic shifts of texture. And it is not just the dancers who are entranced with these prismatic undulations. Threading together vibrant colors superimposed with vintage film footage, the colliding nature of these images feels nostalgic and current at once. Bright blue waves crash upon sepia tones. Leaves pass and memory pervades itself. It is easy to get lost in the hypnotic lull of Bright’s film, but it ultimately gives this work a further layer to rest its gaze upon.
Whether it be a stoic headstand that collapses to the ground, or a lighthearted skip juxtaposed against dancers dragging themselves through space, “Saga” reflects upon the numerous undertakings that our body must witness. Even as the body grows strong, it can falter and grow inert. The complex nature of the body is what Kayser seems to grapple with in this collaboration with individuals experiencing MS. It is not one story being told. It is textured and layered, breathing with vivacious color, even as the memories of the body carry enormous weight. There are many chapters to read in the saga of one’s body. Perhaps this current chronicle is merely the start.