Seattle’s modern dance community tends to ebb and flow with the tide. Previously a dedicated follower, I eventually tapered off my attendance at certain companies’ and venues’ performances, due to what I perceived as a seemingly permanent shift to pandering or (too) high-concept, and I have to admit that Whim W’him was one of those. But things can always change — a random tip led me back to their latest offering, and I ended up being delighted to be wrong.
Three pieces, four different choreographers, only one of them Olivier Wevers, the founder and artistic director. You might ask what the thread is; did he choose choreographers that matched or complemented his own style? Though he introduced the pieces as being “all very different,” I believe the answer is yes – with an additional note that his own style seems to have evolved.
I would describe the thread as “a surging tapestry” that definitively showcases the dancers’ skills in a themed but not predictable context of unity amidst adversity. There was no showboating, pandering or confusion — simply a tight, well-integrated flow of orchestrated development that reminds one of contact improv at its best.
In the first piece, “here at the edge for a while,” by Emilie Leriche, the program notes state: “Maybe solitude was its own kind of limit (it turns out your arms can only reach so far on their own).” A group of dancers in everyday clothes sits on chairs beneath a hanging fluorescent light, and cluster around a hanging school clock whose changing colors dictate the lighting and mood of the stage. The music is ambient, and the atmosphere slow and conscientious – think of a doctor’s waiting room. Then waves of movement begin to form and reform. The style is undulating, squishy and spongy, as if the dancers were amoebas, stretching, merging and pulling each other around and along in an organic mass. In the process, the chairs are moved, the clock is activated, and the lighting goes through changes, at one point lighting the entire stage with an eerie red glow. Movements become more dire and dramatic and less controlled. There’s a stellar duet by two male dancers who seem torn between angry conflict and an attempt to connect. The piece ends suddenly.
The second piece, “Still,” by Wevers, maintains the theme of organic group flow, but in a different key. Somber but energetic music drives a primitive, tribal spirit. Dancers in simple leather-look brown pants drag each other, sit on each other, roll on and over each other, or carry each other around in sometimes awkward ways. At one point, perhaps as in a kind of ritual, they dance together on their toes with hands and heads contorted, then lean over with arms swishing. There is an atmosphere of torment or possession, with swirls of tangling, untangling, falling and re-forming clumps. Bits of partnering happen quickly – at one point including a duet where the dancers aggressively shove each other away from each other by their heads. Finally, the group moves confrontationally as a bunched-up unit towards the front of the stage with hands outstretched, then with heads thrown back and arms swaying in unison. Again, there’s a sudden end.
The program notes for the third piece, “The Tower,” by FLOCK (Alice Klock and Florian Lochner) inform us that we are dealing with “the magical world of Tarot, exploring the power and necessity of collapse in the process of growth and rebirth.” A cluster of dancers in black and white skeleton-esque body suits and light white face paint emerges out of the mist, after which a variety of arcane, perhaps medieval rituals and protestations ensue. The music is intense and atmospheric, with some choral sections and dramatic strings and bells. There is still a baseline of group forming and reforming, but the movements are more discernably conventionally “modern”; i.e., graceful, stretchy, precise, posed, gestural, dramatic, and intentional, verging on Kabuki or Noh. The program notes allude to “unseen forces,” no doubt represented by the robed figure that, like Hamlet’s father’s ghost, periodically walks on or off the stage. Other repeating motifs include some of the dancers periodically lying inert on the floor, or alternatively, rushing busily about with legs and arms flying. Toward the end of the piece, a woman in a yellow body suit does a stylized solo, and at the very end we just begin to see the robed figure walk onto the stage again. Though perhaps not as intriguing or creative in terms of its movements or story, this piece still maintains the integrity of the evening in terms of its strong emphasis on group versus individual dynamics and the changing nature of time.
In the post-show talkback, one of the dancers mentions that Wevers “is into the imperfection of how humans move,” and that his bottom line is for his dancers to be “engaged energetically,” since energy is more important than shape and structure. In today’s uneasy world, accepting that everything is constantly moving, and being able to creatively and intentionally move with the changes is an inspiring note for our times.
