By Kerry Clawson
Beacon Journal staff writer
POSTED: 08:32 p.m. EDT, Sep 16, 2009
GroundWorks DanceTheater combines elements of humor, surprise and unconventional light and sound for an eclectic, satisfying program at the Akron Ice House, the urban playground where the company is performing for its 10th year.
Artistic director David Shimotakahara aptly calls this cavernous historic building an ''industrial cathedral,'' dominated by a 55-foot ceiling. It took five days for the crew to transform the empty, decaying space into a performance venue with lighting, sound, a dance floor and riser seating.
On Sunday, a freight train that ran right next door became part of the show. Even the dankness was part of this earthy dance experience, but you soon forgot the smell.
The Ice House performances, which continue through this weekend, include the world premiere of artistic associate Amy Miller's Valence. Here, she and composer Peter Swendsen work closely to play with blurring the line between the genres of music and dance, using the breath as both a visual and aural metaphor.
Swendsen, a professor of computer music and digital arts at Oberlin College, creates an electronic city soundscape where the sounds of traffic and rattling trains are most recognizable. Dancers become awash in fluttering sound: A noise that seems like industrial air conditioning is actually a generator recorded in the mountains of Norway. Distinctive chiming reverberations were recorded with a microphone inside a kitchen mixing bowl.
The five dancers begin circling close in near darkness, joining hands in the center in a ceiling fan configuration. They run through and around Dennis Dugan's remarkable lighting patterns, which create both a dappled effect on the dance floor and the look of wood slats high on the Ice House wall.
According to Miller, ''valence'' is a chemistry term to describe the combining capacity of an atom, or, in the dance, the capacity of a person to react with or affect another. Her dance is characterized by quick, seemingly ephemeral partnerings and duos running in a circle in tandem.
Dancers repel and attract each other. Miller, holding hands with Damien Highfield, tries to lean away from him but he pulls her back. Finally, the dancers seem to coalesce as one in a unified line.
The most arresting portion of GroundWorks' program is Tipping Point, in which the dancers, seated straddled on the floor, create a spasmodic accumulation of movement. Miller starts with a robotic jerk, pushing back on her right hand, which is positioned between her legs with fingers spread. The other four dancers follow suit, and more straight-limbed movements are added one by one to a percussive score by Sara Murat.
The dancers have intense looks of concentration, and it's no wonder: Nearly the whole piece is improvised, with each performer choosing what to do next within the prescribed set of movements. At times, all of the performers are in unison. Even those moments come organically as the dancers sense one another without ever making eye contact.
Movements that began in isolation end up in a community of movement. Contained bursts of energy prevent the repetition from becoming tedious.
GroundWorks shifts gears to Shimotakahara's Open Seating, which the company has been performing for a decade. The piece has four dancers using four chairs in a variety of ways, beginning with an engrossing version of musical chairs with the props set in each corner of a square.
The most fun comes in the surprises. Restless bodies sit waiting in a train station, where Sarah Perrett is possessed by an itch to dance. In another segment, surprising interruptions to a series of duets become more and more comical. Chairs collapse and dancers become spent. Open Seating is meant to evoke our search for connection, but a wacky vogueing section seems to be pure play, with swaggering dancers holding chairs above their heads, prancing on an imaginary runway and striking poses with ''I'm too sexy'' looks on their faces.
Arts writer Kerry Clawson may be reached at 330-996-3527 or kclawson@thebeaconjournal.com.
