Well, I continue to write - just not here. At the risk of sounding like I'm going for some tell-all blogging without the appropriate sense of irony, I say this: I am re-evaluating just how satisfied I am to write about LA dance and LA dance alone. So for now (clearly) I am taking a bit of a break (not from CultureSpot, just from this ranting site) to decide whether to make a more, oh, shall we say, liberal-arts-ish receptacle for my oft-overwhelming thoughts on, oh, whatever comes to mind.
What I'm trying to say is, it's not you, it's me.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Snort, hack
I've been writing some. Just not much. Hello, Chicago! The Joffrey visits The Music Center, and Hubbard Street 2 comes to Pasadena. Locally, Mr. Perez has the birthday that never ends when an inspired tribute goes (went) up at Highways, featuring company members old and newest. (I will be missing this, thanks to excessive sniffles and a recent fever. Le sigh.) Third Street Dance is having a Haiti benefit class series tomorrow!, and then there's this.
No, let me emphasize: this. I can't decide whether to laugh. Ballet (which seems to have the same bipolar potential for ethereal beauty and laughable frivolity as does figure skating) has done plenty to botch cultural representations. Heavens. Just look at my beloved The Nutcracker. But in the Battle of Who Could Care Less (About Cultural Sensitivity), the skaters have won. I... I don't know what to say. And that's saying something.
No, let me emphasize: this. I can't decide whether to laugh. Ballet (which seems to have the same bipolar potential for ethereal beauty and laughable frivolity as does figure skating) has done plenty to botch cultural representations. Heavens. Just look at my beloved The Nutcracker. But in the Battle of Who Could Care Less (About Cultural Sensitivity), the skaters have won. I... I don't know what to say. And that's saying something.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Improvisation: Class v. Concert (Please)
An improvised dance is not a chaotic dance... or not necessarily a chaotic dance, anyway. Before you read this, pop on over to the neat-o Electric Lodge in sunny Venice. Classes are on the pricey end, performance tickets are $20 or so, but the LA Improv Dance Festival is a sample platter of exactly where improvisation is going, how, and - with some DIY introspect - why. Go ahead. Buy your tickets.
With quite a few instructors roaming around throughout the past few days (and today, and tomorrow), it seems that the festival really has managed to capture the various aspects of improvisational dance. Or, in the instance of the Platt Brothers, dance that hones the confused (but surely relevant) modern habit of artistic pastiche to make a tight, goofy, perceptive routine.
The performance varies per night, with certain pieces appearing twice and others disappearing into the relatively un-codified, un-choreographed ether of Improv Performance. Now here it is: the beef. Friday's performance began with "Music/Dance Collaboration," led by Jones Welsh and Will Salmon. (Reading Rainbow, anyone? Sorry, Will.) This isn't chaos! This! Is! Improv! But that doesn't make me like it. The disorganized visual mess of it was enough to narrow my eyes. The apparent gym-clothes-ambivalence toward presentation made me question the form's respect for its own appearance. Furthermore, the enormous ensemble was relentlessly un-cohering except in occasional imitations - which were, by their nature, reduced to triteness! Blast. Apart from a divine moment of duet between a trombone and a man in blue, I'd had quite enough of the sprawling class presentation almost as soon as it began.
Twisting the knife was that attitude. You know - the one of a happy and bewildered lower primate tinkering with some new contraption. It's a worthy and oft indispensable aspect of workshops and class time (hey, improv ain't easy!). I've had that attitude for a long time, given the right place for it. But once presentation time rolls around, I truly tire of the "what's this? Oh, it's an arm! My, look how it hinges!" attitude. That attitude. Ugh. Classroom time is process-of-discovery time. I'd like to watch performers who can present, rather than demonstrate.
Am I a traditionalist?
At any rate, after the first piece-ish thing ended and the glaze lifted from my eyes, the Platt brothers came on stage. Are any of them single? (Sorry, but I couldn't ask on CultureSpot.) They are hilarious. They are silly. They are the aforementioned YouTube-sensation-worthy trio that had, as far as I can tell, little to no improvisational work at all in their routine! So tightly arranged was the act that when I caught one of the brothers wiping sweat from his brow, for what can't have been a second, I thought "HEY! You messed it up!" Which is not to say that such disciplined comics don't belong in a dance festival. I'm just not sure how this one makes sense. But they perform tonight as well.
I'll replace my usual rant about the inanity of infantile playground-style panel-of-judges television and just say that these guys are well-noted.
Scott Wells! Who are you? The men of Scott Wells & Dancers have come down from San Francisco for the weekend, and stag. This follows the joking-but-not "(h)improv" coincidence of the all-male cast of dancemakers putting the festival up this year. "Call of the Wild" is a tightly scored, but still beautifully intuited, piece of dance. It's a little Ted Shawn & His Male Dancers (a troupe of men a few decades ago who helped make dance look red-blooded again), a little mockumentary style (stereotypical improv dance class words abound, deadpan), a little stunt show (WHY DOES EVERYONE SUDDENLY THINK IT'S OKAY TO CALL A CLASS EXERCISE A PERFORMANCE?), and a little... no, a lot profound. I will say that there are games obvious and subtle involved. I will also say that a wrestling mat and a Gobo lighting effect get involved. I will even say that all the men wear black pants. Even that tiny element of costume coordination brought everything together in a way that the "Music/Dance Collaboration" totally, erroneously, infuriatingly overlooked...
...as did the last piece, simply called "Dance Collaboration." Charlie Morrissey and the "iDFest Ensemble" closed out the Friday performance with the kind of activity I just can't shout in all-caps about again right now. I'll just leave it at that.
Likes: The trombone- and trumpet-players. The device (didn't mention it yet) of closing wings curtains to transition between sections. The Platt family genes. All but the trick show part of "Call of the Wild." Performances where the audience can chatter and buzz and react and feel totally all right about it.
Dislikes: Seeing a class when I came to see a concert. That monkey-with-a-new-toy carriage. The iPhone ring during the last piece.
And, hey. Go to the jam. If my calves ever recover from the jazz class I took with Danyol Jaye, I'll be there.
With quite a few instructors roaming around throughout the past few days (and today, and tomorrow), it seems that the festival really has managed to capture the various aspects of improvisational dance. Or, in the instance of the Platt Brothers, dance that hones the confused (but surely relevant) modern habit of artistic pastiche to make a tight, goofy, perceptive routine.
The performance varies per night, with certain pieces appearing twice and others disappearing into the relatively un-codified, un-choreographed ether of Improv Performance. Now here it is: the beef. Friday's performance began with "Music/Dance Collaboration," led by Jones Welsh and Will Salmon. (Reading Rainbow, anyone? Sorry, Will.) This isn't chaos! This! Is! Improv! But that doesn't make me like it. The disorganized visual mess of it was enough to narrow my eyes. The apparent gym-clothes-ambivalence toward presentation made me question the form's respect for its own appearance. Furthermore, the enormous ensemble was relentlessly un-cohering except in occasional imitations - which were, by their nature, reduced to triteness! Blast. Apart from a divine moment of duet between a trombone and a man in blue, I'd had quite enough of the sprawling class presentation almost as soon as it began.
Twisting the knife was that attitude. You know - the one of a happy and bewildered lower primate tinkering with some new contraption. It's a worthy and oft indispensable aspect of workshops and class time (hey, improv ain't easy!). I've had that attitude for a long time, given the right place for it. But once presentation time rolls around, I truly tire of the "what's this? Oh, it's an arm! My, look how it hinges!" attitude. That attitude. Ugh. Classroom time is process-of-discovery time. I'd like to watch performers who can present, rather than demonstrate.
Am I a traditionalist?
At any rate, after the first piece-ish thing ended and the glaze lifted from my eyes, the Platt brothers came on stage. Are any of them single? (Sorry, but I couldn't ask on CultureSpot.) They are hilarious. They are silly. They are the aforementioned YouTube-sensation-worthy trio that had, as far as I can tell, little to no improvisational work at all in their routine! So tightly arranged was the act that when I caught one of the brothers wiping sweat from his brow, for what can't have been a second, I thought "HEY! You messed it up!" Which is not to say that such disciplined comics don't belong in a dance festival. I'm just not sure how this one makes sense. But they perform tonight as well.
I'll replace my usual rant about the inanity of infantile playground-style panel-of-judges television and just say that these guys are well-noted.
Scott Wells! Who are you? The men of Scott Wells & Dancers have come down from San Francisco for the weekend, and stag. This follows the joking-but-not "(h)improv" coincidence of the all-male cast of dancemakers putting the festival up this year. "Call of the Wild" is a tightly scored, but still beautifully intuited, piece of dance. It's a little Ted Shawn & His Male Dancers (a troupe of men a few decades ago who helped make dance look red-blooded again), a little mockumentary style (stereotypical improv dance class words abound, deadpan), a little stunt show (WHY DOES EVERYONE SUDDENLY THINK IT'S OKAY TO CALL A CLASS EXERCISE A PERFORMANCE?), and a little... no, a lot profound. I will say that there are games obvious and subtle involved. I will also say that a wrestling mat and a Gobo lighting effect get involved. I will even say that all the men wear black pants. Even that tiny element of costume coordination brought everything together in a way that the "Music/Dance Collaboration" totally, erroneously, infuriatingly overlooked...
...as did the last piece, simply called "Dance Collaboration." Charlie Morrissey and the "iDFest Ensemble" closed out the Friday performance with the kind of activity I just can't shout in all-caps about again right now. I'll just leave it at that.
Likes: The trombone- and trumpet-players. The device (didn't mention it yet) of closing wings curtains to transition between sections. The Platt family genes. All but the trick show part of "Call of the Wild." Performances where the audience can chatter and buzz and react and feel totally all right about it.
Dislikes: Seeing a class when I came to see a concert. That monkey-with-a-new-toy carriage. The iPhone ring during the last piece.
And, hey. Go to the jam. If my calves ever recover from the jazz class I took with Danyol Jaye, I'll be there.
Monday, January 4, 2010
LA Ballet
Oh, and how could I forget! I reviewed the Los Angeles Ballet's production of "The Nutcracker," which was super. Forgot to copy and paste. Looking forward to their upcoming productions.
Holidays? Any of 'em?
Are there any more coming up? I recall an "In Case You Need an Excuse to Party" poster in my brother's room at home... but then, time flies. Turns out he's not 16 any more.
Happy new year!
The IDFest is coming up - take classes, see a show, help me decide when to attend. There's also word of a great Be-or-Bring-a-Beginner night at the LA/Santa Monica improv jam, and a viola? Played by someone? Next Sunday? I'll probably go, if I recover from last night. Turns out that stuff's not easy when you haven't done it for a while...
...other than that, I'm mostly just avoiding that public-funding-for-arts-education rant that's been sitting in my draft box. There's an Anatomy Riot coming up?
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas is over.
Happy new year!
The IDFest is coming up - take classes, see a show, help me decide when to attend. There's also word of a great Be-or-Bring-a-Beginner night at the LA/Santa Monica improv jam, and a viola? Played by someone? Next Sunday? I'll probably go, if I recover from last night. Turns out that stuff's not easy when you haven't done it for a while...
...other than that, I'm mostly just avoiding that public-funding-for-arts-education rant that's been sitting in my draft box. There's an Anatomy Riot coming up?
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas is over.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Whirlwinds that Smell Like Peppermint and Sound like Hootie and the Blowfish
Okay, so I don't like to fail. I also don't like to procrastinate, although according to Facebook I do.
But I am doing BOTH of those things by lazily linking you to the following: read about the dance year according to New York, buy tickets to one of the best Nutcracker performances EVER (I'll tell you why later, possibly from LAX and/or Dulles [if it's resurfaced]), and listen to Hootie and the Blowfish singing The Christmas Song (I'm obsessed).
By the time you're done with those things I might have finished my holler about public funding for the arts... which, as if it surprises anyone, was something I meant to finish days ago.
But I am doing BOTH of those things by lazily linking you to the following: read about the dance year according to New York, buy tickets to one of the best Nutcracker performances EVER (I'll tell you why later, possibly from LAX and/or Dulles [if it's resurfaced]), and listen to Hootie and the Blowfish singing The Christmas Song (I'm obsessed).
By the time you're done with those things I might have finished my holler about public funding for the arts... which, as if it surprises anyone, was something I meant to finish days ago.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Woof.
Well, that'll learn ya: don't eat really old bell peppers tossed in curry sauce before going out to swing dance. I'm sorry, Third Street Dance! I hope your party was a success. I'm glad you're helping critters out.
In a non-gastronomical update, congratulations are due to Show Box. After a good life at Metabolic Studio, the new home for DANCEbank classes is even more downtown! (I think the Colburn School owns the building? Not sure...) Also, the next Anatomy Riot is coming! And it's coming to that MiMoDa space I find so compelling. Perhaps I shall finally attend? The 2010 schedule is up somewhere for all of these things - I'll post it in a big ol' preview, which I keep telling myself I'll write before I go back east for a week.
Okay, so this was basically one long shout-out to Meg Wolfe. But ya gotta hand it to the woman. She gets things done.
Happy Wednesday!
In a non-gastronomical update, congratulations are due to Show Box. After a good life at Metabolic Studio, the new home for DANCEbank classes is even more downtown! (I think the Colburn School owns the building? Not sure...) Also, the next Anatomy Riot is coming! And it's coming to that MiMoDa space I find so compelling. Perhaps I shall finally attend? The 2010 schedule is up somewhere for all of these things - I'll post it in a big ol' preview, which I keep telling myself I'll write before I go back east for a week.
Okay, so this was basically one long shout-out to Meg Wolfe. But ya gotta hand it to the woman. She gets things done.
Happy Wednesday!
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