Bob Eisen ON GO ING

The first image of 77-year-old Bob Eisen is striking, and not the way one would expect a dance concert to begin: with a tall, lean, white haired man, looking every bit his age in a red and blue sweat suit and sneakers, standing at the center of Links Hall stage. But in the opening dance of five on the program, An Ongoing Solo, Eisen begins to move slowly articulating his spine, and any notion of ageism that was creeping in fades away immediately. In fact, he seems to reverse the aging process and grow more youthful as the dance progresses. Pacing the room, nodding, swinging his arms in impossible directions, one moment summersaulting backwards on the floor, the next standing doubled over and fidgety, wringing his hands like a child needing to use the restroom. The piece is detailed and frenetic with enough repetition to bring understanding to Eisen's strange movement language. If we didn't know him before, we know him very well by the end of the piece.

Eisen moves with surprising grace and ease, with a unique brand he has honed over his lengthy career. He's not a choreographer, per se, but a dancer and improviser, and this opening solo (to a Philip Glass score) is vintage Eisen: Weird and fascinating movement that articulates and expresses in a way that words can never do. Good thing he is back home in the Links Hall that he helped to found in 1978. Links is in a new space these days and just getting started after shuttering through the pandemic, but still dedicated to supporting emerging artists and to intimate performance programming. A few other artists join him for this two night run, and Eisen's work bookends the show.

Following Eisen's colorful opening solo, Zachary Nicol slows the pace with Solo. Dimly lit, and reciting a poem in smooth baritone, he traces the outline of the exit door downstage, balances precariously on one leg in thick-soled boots, and slowly paces the perimeter of the space, creating hieroglyphic-like silhouettes as he goes, much of the time his back to the audience. He lets us in at one moment downstage finally revealing his front side. A moment of transformation, perhaps, but the shift is too subtle to propel what comes next. Nicol retreats to his dark silhouette space, this time further concealed with his shirt lifted overhead covering his face. Moments of humor spice this otherwise serious effort, and Nicol hooks us, and although it's not clear what trip we went on, we know we went somewhere. Here's hoping for more chances to see work from this young artist.

According to the program, Jennifer Monson's Heap Loose is about “movement of toxicity”. What transpires is more the creation of a curious abstract animal kingdom. Monson takes us into a bizarre jungle of dancers circling with arms outstretched, elegantly cawing like herons, and angular stork-like beings that pose in impossible shapes. At one point, three dancers interlock their feet and slug their way across the floor on their backs, no longer appearing as dancers, but as a single struggling creature simply trying to get from one place to another. Later, a lone dancer spins repeatedly on one knee, rising abruptly, then falling again to repeat the spin.

The nine dancers of varying body types respond to Monson's demanding vocabulary with ease and awareness. But Monson never shows the toxicity in this otherworldly place. Instead, it feels like the opening picture of a piece that has yet to be developed.

Another piece also titled, Solo, features Abra M. Johnson moving to a soundtrack of Mini Ripperton against a backdrop of various projected quotes on oppression. In a minimalist way, Johnson moves through the space, unfurling a series of fluid gestures that clearly come from the heart. The piece feels almost too personal. A striking presence on stage, with close cropped hair and long flowing dress, Johnson's journey is one that begs to be understood. An abrupt exit stage left comes too soon, cutting off the possibility of finding that understanding.

Eisen along with three other dancers close out the concert with ON GO ING. In this playful romp for all ages (the four dancers announce their birth years in the opening moments of the piece--aged: 27-77!), the brightly clad group runs together in sweeping arcs, rolls on top of each other like playdough colors mixing together, and tips each other upside down into handstands that hang like coats on a rack. Longtime Chicago dancer, Joanne Barrett, stands out here at age 58, performing with a welcoming technical strength and clarity. Barrett shows no signs of the usual physical wear and tear of a lengthy dance career. Created by Eisen and the group, this piece is pure energy and fun. No need for deep meaning here, just an invitation to enjoy the energy and witness the events that unfold.


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