Zephyr Dance S45

In an evening of diverse works inspired by avant-garde choreographer Merce Cunningham, Zephyr Dance's S45 presented risk, danger and surprise in a celebration of the mature dancer. Opening with Cunningham's Suite for Five and closing with a chance improvisation by the five seasoned choreographers who participated in the evening, the concert took place in Chicago's intimate and intriguing SITE/less space. The program also featured a grouping of new Cunningham-inspired works.

A home for the exploration of architecture and dance, SITE/less functioned as a colorful unique play space for both dancers and audience. Levels of bright green, red and blue wood platforms designed and built by architect David Sundry, created a patchwork quilt-like floor that extended into all areas of the oddly shaped room. Like a giant Alice-in-Wonderland staircase, the performance area angles and edges looked to pose challenges beyond a traditional stage space, especially a few spots where the design left open gaps in the floor. Audience was invited to sit on the platforms or stand along the edges on ground level, and to move about during the performance. Multiple vantage points gave each audience member a unique perspective.

Beginning with Suite for Five, a quintet of young dancers took on the strong, taut demands of the Cunningham technique. Sprinkled with repetitive jumps, balances, inverted positions, lifts and directional shifts, the piece requires near technical perfection and these dancers brought it.

Impersonal, the dancers interacted and shared each others weight, but barely acknowledged each other as if they were robots programmed to perform special physical feats. In one highlighted moment a dancer sits on his knees while another perches on his shoulder like a soaring gull. He gently shifts his knees little by little until he has taken his bird on a 360 degree flight. He then rises to standing, dancer still extended on his shoulders. Suite for Five served as inspiration for what followed, with each piece feeling more and more human.

In Aux sources, Roxane D’Orléans Juste, striking in long grey braid and burgundy leggings, responded to the Cunningham piece with a fluid solo. An older body than the youth of the opening piece, D’Orléans Juste commanded the space with willowy gentle curves—a contrast to the stiffness of the previous dance. In this borderline folk dance, she tilted with one leg extended and arched back, suddenly falling as if her knees gave way—a direct lift from Cunningham. Throughout, lighting by Rich Norwood mellowed the stark bright colors of the space.

Butoh-trained dance veteran, Kota Yamazaki followed with a raw, articulate untitled solo. Embodying a childlike curiosity, Yamazaki highlighted the SITE/less space by using every inch. Turning it into a refreshing playground with limitless opportunities, he ran a long diagonal as if being chased, pounded on the hollow floor and slid down the curves of the wall like a tired toddler in need of a nap.

In Holding Ground, a minimalist trio from Zephyr director Michelle Kranicke, dancers wandered the space at random, but as the piece evolved, their direction became more clear. Relationships and connections emerged as the dancers bent at the hips, repeated handstands, and ebbed and flowed with each other. In one striking moment all three posed in a straddle with heads on floor like a flock of strange ostriches. Dowel props became an extension limbs from which dancers draped their arms or used as support. Eye contact among the trio (something rare in the original Cunningham quintet) suggested a struggle between and among otherworldly creatures. The piece succeeded in creating a simultaneous togetherness and isolation, and that's where it connected with its source material.

Darrell Jones' solo Low began in the stiff athletic nature of the Cunningham style with arresting shapes, quick level changes, and muscular control. The brief piece evolved quickly into a loose release of frantic movement. Jones chose not to use much of the physical space, but to challenge the mental space of the audience. Juxtaposing a soundtrack of spoken text from a Religious Ethics Lecture with a recorded automated Peleton exercise voice, the dance moved from complete sustained power to out of control flailing. Even Jones' strong and confident performance skills couldn't crack this tough-to-follow abrupt trajectory, although the end evoked some humor as if to comment, “Don't bother working hard. You won't get very far.”

A duet entitled release your darling came from Paige Cunningham-Caldarella. Linear, and more akin to (Merce) Cunningham's sharp style with its technical difficulty and swift shifts of direction, release your darling ditched the inhuman disconnection of its root material to evolve a clear partnership. These two clean-lined dancers relied on each other. Toward the end, an unfortunate stumble by one of them accidentally stepping into one of the pre-designed cutout holes in the floor drew audible gasps, and overshadowed anything that came before it.

All five choreographers presented their distinct personal style in Quintet—A Chance Event. This final improvisational dance introduced each choreographer and their unique movement quality. Simple, slow and gentle, stepping onto the platforms one at a time, the eclectic group didn't interact, but coexisted in the space. But a collective feeling among the audience still resonated---of wonder for the safety of the dancers and concern for the well-being of the one who fell.