Magnified Ground
At the end of a recent showcase of new work by Karen Peterson and Dancers, an audience member asked the company’s founder and artistic director why she choreographs for dancers with mixed abilities.
“I’m interested in how different dancers can come together to create a movement vocabulary that is unique, meaningful, and interesting for an audience,” Karen Peterson responded. “One dancer is A and the other Z. My interest as a choreographer has always been the exploration of the middle ground where two dancers can meet.”
In Peterson’s latest piece, Mano a Mano, a collaboration with visual artist Maria Lino, innovative use of video magnifies this “middle ground” to startling effect.
In the opening scene, John Beauregard, Marjorie Burnett, Enid Harum-Alvarez, and Jennifer Smallwood huddle around a table as if playing a game of cards. As they engage in an intricate series of hand movements, Lino stands over them, holding a small video camera. The live footage is projected continuously onto the studio’s back wall. The larger-than-life projections of the dancers’ hands dwarf the dancers themselves, creating a riveting contrast.
As the dancers (two with wheelchairs and two without) leave the table and move through the small studio space, Lino, unobtrusive, but omnipresent, follows. At times she pulls the camera back to focus on movements. Other times, she closes in on body parts or the dancers’ faces. The live video feed does more than give the audience options; it gives them a fascinating perspective.
When Enid Harum-Alvarez trudges across the room with Marjorie Butler’s thin form on her back, Kevin Roman’s lighting creates an ominous hulking shadow of the women’s profile. Lino’s camera zooms in on Butler’s dark brown eyes to capture a haunting expression that is both cinematic and grounded the in movement.
Most video that accompanies dance (the recent Miami performance by Australian Ros Warby is a perfect example), contributes another layer of images, symbol, or narrative, but Lino and Peterson’s interactive technique actually adds dimension to what often with the Peterson company has been a “flat” or one-dimensional presentation. Mano a Mano is a tour de force, offering a more exquisite and inquisitive look at mixed ability dance.
Since most dances don’t address the audience directly, dance audiences are inherently voyeuristic. The camera complements this experience fantastically. It also becomes an exploratory tool. Watching hands, arms, and legs (some in motion, some not, some bent, others flexed) through the camera, we don’t see the obvious differences between disabled and not disabled dancers. We see contrasts among bodies in motion. This distinction makes Mano a Mano innovative and meaningful.
In Future Memories, Peterson uses film in a more traditional, albeit effective, way. Interspersing family archival footage with dance, she tells the story of being a mother, choreographer, and dancer.
Statuesque Melissa McInnis bounds across the floor in an energetic series of leaps and turns then climbs a ladder and sits above, looking down on Jessica Pusceddu, Crystal Sepulveda, and Jennifer Smallwood, an energetic trio that spins, circles, and responds to McInnis’ question: “Did I make the right choice?”
Responses:
“I’m not sure.”
“Absolutely.”
“No.”
It’s this kind of honest ambiguity in the words and the narrative of the dance that makes Peterson’s exploration of motherhood and careerism engaging.
These younger dancers are humorous as toddlers, toppling over one another in wobbly plies, and making goofy faces. The archival footage serves as an effective transition. For example, the film shows a man (presumably a husband) burying his face behind a newspaper, which leads to a moving duet between Alvarez and Beauregard. Alvarez ricochets around Beauregard, at times curling by his side and at other times repelling him. Beauregard, who is paralyzed from the torso down, draws upon his amazing reserve of physical strength to lower himself to the ground in a series of rolls, and then pulls himself fluidly back to sitting on a bench. His subdued persona contrasts well with Alvarez’s dramatic intensity and the two vividly reflect the ebb and flow of a well-worn relationship.
This duet makes sense within the narrative Peterson has established, but its gravitas threatens to overwhelm the more whimsical Future Memories. It could easily belong to the Mano a Mano section.
Audiences will have a chance to see both pieces when Karen Peterson and Dancers perform at the Byron Carlyle on Miami Beach, Saturday, October 3 at 4:00 and 8:00 pm.
“I’m interested in how different dancers can come together to create a movement vocabulary that is unique, meaningful, and interesting for an audience,” Karen Peterson responded. “One dancer is A and the other Z. My interest as a choreographer has always been the exploration of the middle ground where two dancers can meet.”
In Peterson’s latest piece, Mano a Mano, a collaboration with visual artist Maria Lino, innovative use of video magnifies this “middle ground” to startling effect.
In the opening scene, John Beauregard, Marjorie Burnett, Enid Harum-Alvarez, and Jennifer Smallwood huddle around a table as if playing a game of cards. As they engage in an intricate series of hand movements, Lino stands over them, holding a small video camera. The live footage is projected continuously onto the studio’s back wall. The larger-than-life projections of the dancers’ hands dwarf the dancers themselves, creating a riveting contrast.
As the dancers (two with wheelchairs and two without) leave the table and move through the small studio space, Lino, unobtrusive, but omnipresent, follows. At times she pulls the camera back to focus on movements. Other times, she closes in on body parts or the dancers’ faces. The live video feed does more than give the audience options; it gives them a fascinating perspective.
When Enid Harum-Alvarez trudges across the room with Marjorie Butler’s thin form on her back, Kevin Roman’s lighting creates an ominous hulking shadow of the women’s profile. Lino’s camera zooms in on Butler’s dark brown eyes to capture a haunting expression that is both cinematic and grounded the in movement.
Most video that accompanies dance (the recent Miami performance by Australian Ros Warby is a perfect example), contributes another layer of images, symbol, or narrative, but Lino and Peterson’s interactive technique actually adds dimension to what often with the Peterson company has been a “flat” or one-dimensional presentation. Mano a Mano is a tour de force, offering a more exquisite and inquisitive look at mixed ability dance.
Since most dances don’t address the audience directly, dance audiences are inherently voyeuristic. The camera complements this experience fantastically. It also becomes an exploratory tool. Watching hands, arms, and legs (some in motion, some not, some bent, others flexed) through the camera, we don’t see the obvious differences between disabled and not disabled dancers. We see contrasts among bodies in motion. This distinction makes Mano a Mano innovative and meaningful.
In Future Memories, Peterson uses film in a more traditional, albeit effective, way. Interspersing family archival footage with dance, she tells the story of being a mother, choreographer, and dancer.
Statuesque Melissa McInnis bounds across the floor in an energetic series of leaps and turns then climbs a ladder and sits above, looking down on Jessica Pusceddu, Crystal Sepulveda, and Jennifer Smallwood, an energetic trio that spins, circles, and responds to McInnis’ question: “Did I make the right choice?”
Responses:
“I’m not sure.”
“Absolutely.”
“No.”
It’s this kind of honest ambiguity in the words and the narrative of the dance that makes Peterson’s exploration of motherhood and careerism engaging.
These younger dancers are humorous as toddlers, toppling over one another in wobbly plies, and making goofy faces. The archival footage serves as an effective transition. For example, the film shows a man (presumably a husband) burying his face behind a newspaper, which leads to a moving duet between Alvarez and Beauregard. Alvarez ricochets around Beauregard, at times curling by his side and at other times repelling him. Beauregard, who is paralyzed from the torso down, draws upon his amazing reserve of physical strength to lower himself to the ground in a series of rolls, and then pulls himself fluidly back to sitting on a bench. His subdued persona contrasts well with Alvarez’s dramatic intensity and the two vividly reflect the ebb and flow of a well-worn relationship.
This duet makes sense within the narrative Peterson has established, but its gravitas threatens to overwhelm the more whimsical Future Memories. It could easily belong to the Mano a Mano section.
Audiences will have a chance to see both pieces when Karen Peterson and Dancers perform at the Byron Carlyle on Miami Beach, Saturday, October 3 at 4:00 and 8:00 pm.