Tag: performing arts

Posted on

My Midlife Cabaret

Calm down!  This post is not about my midlife cabaret.  I promise that I am going to stick to only singing in the car with the stereo turned up all the way (I don’t want to hear my singing either).

No, this is about a one-woman show that a friend of mine invited me to.  His friend from college had written/produced/was starring in it.  He knows that I am always up for an adventure and that I love interesting theatre. When he brought it up, I enthusiastically said “yes!” immediately.  What was there to consider?  A one-woman show in a performance space above a bar in North Hollywood on a Sunday night?  I am hard-pressed to come up with a reason to ever go to the valley, but Juliet Fischer-Schulein’s My Midlife Cabaret certainly was one.

Getting there was surprisingly reasonable (getting anywhere in LA in under 30 minutes is always a surprise).  We found our seats (right up front and center) and settled in.  I quickly realized that I was probably the only person in the place who didn’t actually know Juliet.  Everyone who did (basically everyone else there) was so nice which was great reflection on her, and I was looking forward to getting to meet her after the show.

The pianist and drummer took their places on the teeny, tiny stage.  The first thought that flashed through my mind was the poetry reading scene from So I Married An Axe Murderer (don’t you just love that movie?).  How great would it be if this show was all beat-style poetry and chain smoking?  It wasn’t of course, this was a cabaret after all.

Well, I certainly didn’t have to wait until after the show to get to know a whole lot about Juliet. She was a Rockette!  She got in trouble for kicking too high.  She had this whole wonderful life in her twenties performing on Broadway in A-list musicals.  And then she met her now-husband, fell in love, and decided to give up her career for happily-ever-after suburban life behind the orange curtain.

She was very open about the not-a-Hallmark-movie parts of her life that led her to create this show.  We’re around the same age and I could totally relate to what she was talking about (except for the part about having kids – I never fell for that trick).  Much in the way that she lost herself to her mommy-life in her thirties, I lost myself to my work-life during those years.

#midlifecrisis, #cliché, #trueanyway

I was just so proud of her.  For being so talented and disciplined, for keeping herself in great shape (she would have gotten in trouble for kicking too high if the Rockettes police had been there), for creating this whole show herself, and for being so open and brave to talk about things that are really hard for people to admit.

Today, if someone asked me how I knew Juliet, I would tell them that had seen her show and that she is my sister.  I’m so excited that she has rediscovered her creative voice and look forward to hearing what else she has to say (or sing).  I would like to thank her for inspiring and encouraging me to continue working on my creative path without even knowing it.

Here’s a short YouTube video about the show.

Posted on

Wendy Whelan, Associate Artistic Director, NYCB

Something happened recently that I think is very exciting – Wendy Whelan was hired as associate artistic director of New York City Ballet (NYCB). Together with Artistic Director Jonathan Stafford, she will be helming the country’s largest ballet company as it emerges from years of scandal following #METOO allegations of misconduct by former AD Peter Martins as well as several male dancers.

You might be saying, “yes, but she is only the associate artistic director, big whoop,” or asking, as the New York Times did, “if the AD job is too big for one person, why not make Whelan and Stafford co-artistic directors?” Fair enough.

Research shows that women are often appointed to C-level roles at organizations in crisis. But not because women are deemed the most qualified to turn things around. The underlying attitude with these appointments seems to be, “well things are already a mess.” It has also been demonstrated that women are judged more critically than their male counterparts for their performance and given less credit for creating positive outcomes.

I think that what NYCB is doing here is a really interesting way to avoid this paradigm. The position that they created for Whelan has clearly defined responsibilities focused around her sweet spot – programming and dancer development.  They are elevating her to a leadership role in which she is likely to be successful, not just to serve as a female figurehead or sacrificial lamb.

Wendy Whelan’s Career

Whelan is one of my all-time favorite ballerinas. Seeing her perform Agon when I was in college was such a formative moment – the way that she attacked the movement, the way that you could see the power radiating from her. From then on, I strove to infuse my dancing with that kind of fearlessness and energy.

As an artist, she was fierce and precisely technical. Her lines were always correct, and she owned the stage. I saw her and Craig Hall perform After the Rain by Christopher Wheeldon at USC on March 24, 2011. I had seen this piece before in San Francisco, with Yuan Yuan Tan performing, and had a very vivid memory of the work. For a few minutes, I thought I may have been mistaken, it looked like a different piece. It was Whelan’s clean lines and exacting positions. I was blown away!

She retired from NYCB in 2014 after a 30-year career. I watched the snippets of her farewell concert on the internet, disappointed that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to see her dance in person again. Fortunately for me, retirement was the beginning of her career as a modern dancer, and I was able to see her in 2015 and 2017 here in Southern California.

New York City Ballet Leadership

New York City Ballet has a long and storied history. Founded in 1948 by George Balanchine and Lincoln Kirstein, Balanchine served as artistic director (and force of nature) until his death in 1983. Jerome Robbins, who had been assistant artistic director since 1948 and Peter Martins then assumed the roles of co-ballet masters in chief. When Robbins retired in 1990, Martins was solely in charge of the company until 2009, when NYBC created an executive director position to oversee the administrative functions of the company. Martins continued to run the company from an artistic perspective until 2018.

I see Whelan’s appointment as the board’s way of signaling an earnest endeavor to change the culture. Beyond her esteemed 30-year career as a ballerina, she has pursued innovative artistic paths and actively worked to cultivate young talent. I am optimistic that the organization will give her the resources and support required and that she will have a significant and lasting impact on the dance cannon beyond her career as a performer.

Posted on

In Space & Time

In this installment of Ballet Season 2019, I will tell you about San Francisco Ballet program 3, In Space & Time.  This was a mixed bill of three works, one neoclassical, one narrative, and one classical.

The Fifth Season

The first piece was The Fifth Season (2006), choreographed by SF Ballet artistic director Helgi Tomasson.  Helgi discovered the music of composer Karl Jenkins in 2005 and was inspired to create a ballet using it.  This piece features six movements with six principal dancers in different combinations and a small corps de ballet of eight dancers.  The partnering is for the most part interesting and innovative.  Some of the movements are interpretations of traditional ballroom dances such as the waltz and the tango which I really enjoyed.

The highlight of this piece was seeing our favorite prima ballerina, Yuan Yuan Tan on stage.  I don’t think that we saw her at all last season.  The other leading ladies in this piece, Wona Park (a soloist) and Mathilde Froustey held their own next to Yuan Yuan, an impressive accomplishment.

Snowblind

Next in the program was a success from last season’s new works festival, Snowblind (2018).  Choreographer Cathy Marston used Edith Wharton’s novella Ethan Frome as the plot for this narrative work.  I’m not familiar with the source material and I didn’t find the any of the characters particularly sympathetic, but Cathy was a very efficient storyteller.  She presented well developed characters and a compelling dramatic arc in a short period of time.  Her innovative use pantomime and the corps de ballet was highly effective in furthering the plot and enhancing the drama.  My favorite element was the way that she turned the corps de ballet into a blizzard.  They were fast, unpredictable, and instantly recognizable as a natural phenomenon.  Think Waltz of the Snowflakes from the Nutcracker only dangerous and menacing. 

Etudes

Etudes (1948), by Royal Danish ballet choreographer Harald Lander closed the evening.  This is what I would describe as a very academic ballet.  The piece is based on the structure of a ballet class, beginning at the barre and progressing through all of the exercises in a traditional class.  These days it can be really refreshing to see a ballet that uses the traditional dance vocabulary so explicitly.

The Danish ballet style is very upright, athletic, and precise, but effortless and light at the same time. These qualities are not the strengths of the San Francisco ballet and I felt that the dancing lacked the sparkle that would have made such a literal ballet demonstration truly successful.

There were bright points in the performance.  I was tickled by the extensive mazurka variation that even included a brief czardas solo.  This is the kind of thing that you are only going to see in the Danish style.  But by far, the highlight of the piece was my beloved Aaron Robinson who again demonstrated that he is the only member of the San Francisco ballet who can actually leap.

It was a fun night out but not a can’t miss program.

Posted on

Merce Cunningham, Part II

I recently made a trek to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) with a couple of friends for a day of culture and artistic inspiration.  My ulterior motive for our little excursion was to see a special video installation of Merce Cunningham’s work.  The exhibit is called Merce Cunningham, Clouds and Screens and is on display through March 31, 2019.

Last week’s post focused on Merce Cunningham’s background and artistic legacy.  Today I will tell you about the exhibit at LACMA.

Merce Cunningham, Clouds and Screens consisted of two installations and two video projections.  It was housed on the first floor of the Broad Contemporary Art Museum building at LACMA.

In the foyer was a work called Silver Clouds by Andy Warhol and Billy Klüver .  The label explained that the silver mylar “pillows” were originally a work exhibited by Andy Warhol in 1966.  Cunningham approached Warhol about adapting the work as the scenic elements of his dance, Rainforest (1968).  It was a fun, interactive way to begin to experience the exhibit.

Next, we spent a few minutes watching a piece called Changeling (1957) that was being projected in an adjacent gallery.  It was a great illustration of the way that Cunningham would use random chance to create movements.  The way that movements of the head, torso, arms, and legs were combined randomly created very complex and unnatural feeling movements.

After watching Changeling briefly, we were ready to enter the main exhibit, Charles Atlas’s installation, MC⁹ (2012).  Well, as ready as we were going to be.  It was a fantastic sensory immersion.  There was so much to look at.  It took a while to realize that there wasn’t any specific order or right way to experience it.  One great aspect of the installation was that if there was something that you missed or wanted to spend more time watching, it would likely be coming up on another screen in the gallery sometime soon.

The installation consisted of a black box room with nine 8’x12’ double-sided projection screens (get it, nine screens, wink, wink) at various heights and on various angles throughout the space.  Interspersed among the projection screens were a number of smallish (36” to 48”) monitors.  The screens and monitors showed seemingly random clips of various Merce Cunningham Dance Company (MCDC) performances and Cunningham himself performing.  A clip may be on one or both sides of one of the large screens, on a small monitor next to it, and on another screen on the other side of the exhibit simultaneously.  One of the gallery attendants who I spoke to said that the entire piece is a loop that runs for more than an hour.

We spent nearly an hour walking around the space, experiencing the exhibit from different perspectives.  Eventually, I let go of my obsessive desire to try to determine some sort of pattern in the way that the clips were shown on various screens at certain times.  I’m not convinced that it was completely random, but whatever pattern existed was complicated enough that it would have taken more time than I was willing to devote to deciphering it.  It was enough to step back and just let the experience happen.

In general, I find the concept of random chance in the creation of artwork fascinating.  It is one of those things that does not discard technique and virtuosity.  Randomness does not mean that the elements are not carefully considered and created.  In some ways, I would think that the component elements of a work would need to be more precisely crafted.  Cunningham was certainly a pioneer in applying this methodology to creating dance.  The only contemporary choreographer who I am aware of who is currently working in a similar milieu is Bill T. Jones.  I hope that there are others.

Posted on

Merce Cunningham

I recently made a trek to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) with a couple of friends for a day of culture and artistic inspiration.  My ulterior motive for our little excursion was to see a special video installation of Merce Cunningham’s work.  The exhibit is called Merce Cunningham, Clouds and Screens and is on display through March 31, 2019.

I find Merce Cunningham fascinating, so this will be a two-part post.  Today will be some background about him and next week’s post will be about the exhibit.

Merce Cunningham (1919-2009) was a mid-20th century, American, modern dance pioneer. 

Growing up, Cunningham studied tap dancing.  This medium emphasizes precise musical timing and rhythm, which would become foundations of his technique.  His first professional dance experience was with the Martha Graham company.  He danced with Graham for six years (1939-1945) before leaving to establish his own dance company, Merce Cunningham Dance Company (MCDC).

A prolific creator, over the course of his 60+ year career, Cunningham created 190-200 dances and 700-800 events.  A Cunningham dance is a stand-alone piece of choreography, which could be recreated.  By contrast, an event is defined as a site/time specific performance.  Mindful of his artistic legacy, he established the Merce Cunningham Trust in 2000 to hold and administer the rights to his works after his death.

His work is known for innovative use of collaboration, chance, perspective, and technology.

Collaboration

Cunningham’s most enduring collaboration was with his partner, composer John Cage.  The two presented their first collaborative performance in 1944 and continued to work together until Cage’s death in 1992.  As collaborators, they provocatively asserted that dance and music should not intentionally be coordinated.  This is a radical departure from dance convention.

Cunningham’s collaborations with visual artists included Robert Rauchenberg (MCDC resident designer 1954-1964), Jasper Johns (MCDC artistic advisor 1967-1980), Rei Kawakubo, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol, and filmmaker Charles Atlas.

Chance

To me this is the most fascinating and innovative facet of Cunningham’s work.  Cunningham and Cage became interested in the concept of chance in the 1950’s when a translation of the ancient Chinese text, I Ching was published in the U.S.  They began using stochastic operation (random chance) to determine musical composition and dance movements. 

Stochastic operation was employed by Cunningham in a number of different ways.  It could be used to create steps, to determine the sequence of steps, and/or even the number/composition of performers.

In order to create steps, Cunningham divided the body into parts – head, arms, torso, legs.  He would generate lists of all possible movements for each part, then use random chance to determine the movement of each part in order to create a step.  This created choreography that was often exceedingly difficult to execute.

Often sequences and dancers would not be determined until just before the performance.  Further, this was all done without regard to the music, which would be determined by its own chance procedure. 

As someone who likes to plan and prepare, this concept is mind-boggling and maybe slightly terrifying.  However, as someone who has had the opportunity to experience performances structured by this method, I find it an amazing opportunity to create great art.

Perspective

Cunningham discarded the conventions of proscenium orientation.  Work could occur on any part of the stage, oriented in any direction (not necessarily front) at any point.

Technology

The most long-reaching facet of Cunningham’s work may be his pioneering use of technology in dance – video in the 1970s and computers beginning in the 1980s.  I believe that one key reason that he was able to so successfully translate his work to the video medium is his abandonment of proscenium perspective.  Dance that is oriented to and filmed from an exclusively front-facing perspective tends to lack dimension to the viewer.  By abandoning this convention, he enabled the camera and by proxy, the viewer, to become a part of the movement.

He was an early adopted of a computer program, DanceForms which enabled him to create choreography via computer that would later be translated onto living dancers.

Cunningham viewed randomness as a positive, naturally occurring quality.  I find his dedication to the concept of chance both contradictory and inspiring.  He very consciously committed to developing and cultivating a level of virtuosity that would allow his dancers to execute movement that however randomly generated had begun as a very specific and defined idea.  In his work the movement stands alone, it does not represent a narrative or ideas such as emotions.  He was very self-consciously trying to avoid imposing his own biases upon his work. 

Next week, part II of this post will talk about the exhibit, Merce Cunningham, Clouds and Screens.