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Dance Review: Preaching to the Choir, MilDRED Gerestant's "When She Was King"   Haitian-American actress, MilDRED Gerestant's one "woMan" show is a reflection of her own life. She takes on the multitude of personalities within herself, both male and female. She preaches self-love, and freedom of expression, ideas that I can't argue with. The problem is, nobody in the audience can argue either. I guarantee that everyone in the liberal, open-minded, artsy, Dixon Place audience agrees with every message she delivers, preaching to the choir, so to speak.
MilDRED is introduced to us as a man, so from here on, I'll refer to her as him. Confused yet? This gender-bending back and forth is the most fascinating part of the performance. When he's a woman there's still a hint of man, and when he's a man, there's still a hint of woman. He challenges gender stereotypes by demonstrating that it's possible to be both male and female simultaneously. Throughout the show he changes costume as he changes personalities. Each costume waits in its own chair in a semicircle of chairs, a crescent moon of spirits waiting to inhabit the body of the performer. The transformation takes place in plain view, and we have the patience to watch these onstage costume changes because we're watching to see what he turns into next.  The characters range from male to female, old to young, and slutty to holy. Mac Dred wears a comically huge afro that takes on a life of its own as he busts out some super fly disco dance moves. Mother Dred is an old lady who can still get funky, and Dredisha dresses in a slutty outfit and eats chicken wings with hot sauce.
The final Dred character is a peaceful, holy character dressed in white. It is the purest character, stripped of all of the extra flair of the previous personalities. He flows through yoga movements and repeats the mantra, "I am in love with me again, I am in love with me again." And that is the end. Although her intentions are noble and she puts on an entertaining show, it serves as little more than her own self-affirmation. In a brief post-performance discussion, she said that she started to accept herself when she started performing. I give her credit for discovering freedom of expression and wanting to share it, but the role of art needs to extend beyond self-therapy. Maybe I'm being harsh. I was reminded to love myself, and that can't be all that bad.  iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: MilDRED Gerestant, When She Was King
Venue: Dixon Place, New York City
Date: September 26, 2009
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Dance Review: Self Punishment - The Solo Show, Perre Rigal at BAC 
Not many people choose to do a solo show and there's a reason for it. It's a masochistic endeavor, physically and emotionally exhausting, and if the show fails, there's no one to blame but yourself. Perhaps it's French performer Pierre Rigal's past as a competitive athlete that has instilled in him the necessary discipline, physical endurance, and appetite for self-punishment to do a solo show. Factor in his studies in mathematics and cinema, and the result is a virtuosic hour-long performance of meticulously calculated movement displayed in a mesmerizing visual environment.  The entirety of Press takes place within the confines of a box, a small room, a cubicle. Although obvious associations arise, the box serves more as a visual element and facilitator of movement than as a metaphor. It's brilliantly designed to clarify focus. It's the only space that's lit. Nothing exists outside the box, amplifying what goes on inside the box, and drawing us into his performance.
Rigal stands in a black suit, a model of perfection, like a Hugo Boss ad. The ceiling is just above his head so that he can reach up and touch it to facilitate his spiraling turns. His movements are controlled, precise, perfect. Then for a moment he starts to go haywire like a robot malfunctioning. It's the first hint of distress. Nihil Bordures' electronic sound score creates an eerie mechanical atmosphere, like that of a boiler room. There's a feeling of uneasiness and impending danger. With a thunderous sound, the ceiling presses downwards and stops right at the top of Rigal's head. At this point it is apparent that the ceiling will continue to "press" down in intervals until the inevitable crushing end.  Each time the ceiling stops, it's at a height precisely planned to correspond to the dimensions of Rigal's body and offer acrobatic opportunities. With it at head height, he stands on his head, feet on the ceiling, and hands in his pockets. It's a surreal image of a world turned up-side-down. Reoccurring clever moments like this infuse the hopeless situation with humor.
The second press stops at shoulder level and with his head bent forward, Rigal creates a convincing silhouette of a headless man. He's a magician with movement. Later he runs frantically in one spot, slipping and getting nowhere, Fuerza Bruta style only without a treadmill, just a slippery floor and a mastery of movement. The space is compressed further, leaving a horizontal gap, a claustrophobic sideways world. Then the ceiling retreats, suggesting that perhaps he's not doomed to being crushed. But how else could it end? It finally descends completely, and like the lowering of the curtain, the show is over. Pierre Rigal's performance is riveting from start to finish. His movement quality, and maintained intensity is awe inspiring. It's not until he comes forward for the bow that he relaxes and shows any sign of being human. With heavy breath and dripping sweat, it's like he just came through hell, and in a way, he did.
Pierre Rigal in "Press," Photography by Frédéric Stoll  iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: Pierre Rigal, Press
Venue: Baryshnikov Arts Center, New York City
Date: September 10, 2009
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Dance Review: Da∙Da∙Dance says "Yeah right," Da∙Da∙Dance Project at Joyce SoHo  Da∙Da∙Dance Project is a company of two; Korean born Eun Jung Choi-Gonzalez, and Guillermo Ortega Tanus of Mexico, its conception inspired by Dadaism. The literal translation of da da into English is "yeah yeah," as in a sarcastic "yeah right." With reoccurring moments of absurdity, Da∙Da∙Dance Project seems to be saying "yeah right" to conventional modern dance throughout the evening.
In Ploy, the first of four duets, the two enter, their bodies covered in squares of brightly colored tissue paper, like human piñatas. They stand under a stark square light, covering their faces with their hands. Like a game of peek-a-boo, they open their hands, framing their face to speak and then close them again. This on/off switch leaves us with overlapping, disjointed bits of stories, incoherent as a whole, but enough to suggest the theme of a couple building a life together, a house, a baby, etc. As the piece builds momentum, they begin to shed their tissue paper, covering the floor more and more, and their bodies less and less. Their movement vocabulary is contemporary, punctuated by quirky movements and theatricality. The two have a similar physicality, a beautiful way of moving, and personalities which you can't help but love.  Short films serve as a pallet cleanser between pieces. Directed by Eun Jung and staring another couple, these absurd shorts show insight into the director's sense of humor and reflect the "yeah right" attitude of Dadaism.
In Blood Orange, Eun Jung stands facing upstage in a short, sexy dress. Guillermo manipulates her like a Barbie doll while serenading her. He sings "love me tender..." as Barbie takes on a mind of her own. Her movements go faster and faster and eventually go haywire. Guillermo, no longer in the power position, struggles to regain control of her as his vocals speed up to comic gibberish. Simply placing a man and a woman onstage sets up a relationship. Throughout the evening, Da∙Da∙Dance Project shows aspects of a relationship in an abstract, disjointed way. It is not linear. It is not a love story, but at the same time it is. The two dance with an intimacy which suggests they could be lovers, combined with a playful teasing which could be of a brother and sister.  Tiny Voices by guest choreographer, Helena Franzén of Sweden, is the only pure dance piece of the evening. It incorporates a more traditional vocabulary, tendus, rond de jambes, etc., but composed in a contemporary way. Crisp rhythmic foot work, combined with quirky shoulder isolations, make the piece visually interesting and moments of sustained counterbalances create a connection that goes beyond just dance.
An excerpt from Blueprint wraps up the evening. In raincoats they stand facing upstage, humming a minimal melody as if standing at the edge of a canyon, calling into the void. Eventually music with a dance beat comes in, and along with it comes quirky movement, in particular a hop forward with a pelvic thrust, done in a nonchalant manner which exaggerates the comedy of it.  As is the nature of any program consisting of short pieces, it's hard to get into anything deeply. Butter and Fly: Intends to Walk consists of whatever repertory the company has managed to create in its young life, since 2008. The only thread throughout the evening is them. Eun Jung and Guillermo have the ability to maintain interest for a longer period of time and to go deeper into what they are doing. It is my hope that they may drop the short piece format in the future and create an evening from start to finish, a journey from beginning to end. If they are willing to take me on a journey, I'll be more than happy to go with them.
iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: Da∙Da∙Dance Project, Butter and Fly: Intends to Walk
Venue: Joyce SoHo, New York City
Date: August 1, 2009
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Tags: Dada Dance ProjectJulie FotheringhamiDANZ.comiDANZmodern Dancecontempo
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 Pilobolus Dance Theatre has a 38-year history of keeping their brand alive. Innovative in the 70's, their signature style of acrobatic body constructions is still maintained today. Unfortunately, it is preserved by adding more and more cheese. At the opening night gala performance, the company serves four different kinds of cheese. The program includes three new works and one aged.
First is Dog-Id, their most recent piece using shadows. A lonely white dress stands center stage. The cast enters in true Pilobolus style with their most popular mode of travel, the backward roll. They lift one dancer and slip her into the dress, which begins this young girl's journey through a dreamland built from shadows cast on screens by hidden dancers. Much of the movement in front of the screen consists of muscle-ly men lifting the girl to make her appear as if she were floating, something I've seen so many times, but done flawlessly enough to make up for the lack of novelty.
The shadow sequence begins with using only the dancers' bodies to create fantastical shapes of animals and objects, which is what makes it fascinating. Later, props are introduced and it  seems like cheating. As the scene becomes more slapstick comedy and progressively more cheesy, I'm convinced I'm watching a cartoon. I notice the program notes and it makes sense. Dog-id is a collaboration with Steven Banks, the head writer for SpongeBob.
Impressive acrobatic partnering is the best part of Redline by Pilobolus founder Jonathan Wolken. Some exciting, high-energy moments make me sit up straighter in my seat, while the slower sections don't live up to the driving music nor do they contrast it enough to appear intentional. The cliché swing dance partnering tricks seem inappropriate to represent the intensity of war, and the dramatic death and reawakening of one dancer in the end is unintentionally comical.  Aged cheese is definitely better. The 1971 classic Walklyndon is also slapstick comedy, but has a simplicity and sophistication that is missing in their more recent works. In silence, dancers clad in yellow spandex pass across the stage creating a series of short scenarios and collisions. Nearing the end of the piece, a seemingly random parade of naked people skitter across the upstage. It's brilliant, and opposed to the other pieces of cheese in the evening, this one is short and sweet.
Lastly Rushes, by Israeli choreographers Inbal Pinto and Avshalom Pollak, is the most theatrical and emotionally engaging piece on the program. It demonstrates that the right choreographers can draw something more out of the same cast. A pedestrian scene is set with chairs, a train station perhaps. Two hunchbacked ladies accompany a trio of men with quirky walks, and stylized movement. Later they slip their feet into socks. The men pick one, and pull her around the stage, allowing her to gracefully glide on her  socked feet. A widely used piece of music by Arvo Part comes in and I understand why this music is so popular in dance. It instantly transforms everything and I become completely engulfed in a magical world of floating movement.
Pilobolus continues to have sold out annual seasons at the Joyce, so they must be doing something right. The physicality of the performers is impressive and the content is accessible to a wide range of people. It draws a large, but unadventurous audience. There's safety in seeing something you've seen before. And apparently a lot of people like cheese. Photography by John Kane
iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: Pilobolus Dance Theatre
Venue: The Joyce Theater, New York City
Date: July 13, 2009
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Tags: Pilobolus Joyce
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Dance Review: Avant-Garde-Arama Goes Askew Remembering the Future of Art in NYC
 P.S. 122 is one of my favorite venues. Located in the East Village since 1980, it continues to carry that era's attitude of daring disregard for the mainstream. As the venue's longest running series (spanning 25 years), Avant-Garde-Arama is a thread between the then and the now, and the next now. This year they join forces with Theatre Askew, giving the show a LGBT twist.
Eccentric hosts Bianca Leigh and Everett Quinton comically over exaggerate their dependency on note cards to introduce the first piece, a film "Black & White Study" by Peter Cramer. Both comical and sincere, this silent film on 16mm depicts a relationship between a black man and a white man, switching the image back and forth between the two in the nude, black and then white, until they finally connect and join in acrobatic kamasutra cleverly obscured by the split of the split screen. Professional cabaret performer, Daniel Isengart, gives a performance that is almost too good. A stunningly beautiful man, he opens with a European style cabaret song, then sits at his dressing room table and gives an autobiographical account of growing up as a man who identifies more with doing the things that women do. His calculated captivating performance reveals that he has had plenty of practice manipulating audiences. I question if it's genuine while falling for it at the same time. I would expect for the only dance company of the evening to bust out some serious "dance", and I'm actually glad that they didn't. Irene Ruiz-Riveros builds her choreography for BLISS Dance-Theatre Company out of theatrical facial expressions and gestures, rather than jetés and fouettés, and within the context of the evening, it works. Following intermission is an audience participation performance. In "Forty Second Street" each volunteer gets forty seconds of fame, a chance to get up on stage and do whatever they want for forty seconds. I briefly consider volunteering, then giving myself a rave review, but decide against it.  Both Bianca Leigh, and Theatre Askew, show excerpts from upcoming shows; comical and absurd, they show good things to come. The final performance of the evening is a brilliantly written and performed one-woman skit "The Last Artist in New York City". Karen Grenke tells an NYC artist's story, teaching art, working so hard to maintain life in the city that she hasn't made any art in four years. The piece is packed with clever comments about how NY has changed since the 80's, hitting home with the long time New Yorkers in the audience.
The evening leaves me with thoughts about NY and where this city is going. I think of venues like P.S. 122 as survivors of the corporate epidemic, an endangered species, the last of its kind. But as I consider the situation longer, I'm filled with new hope. Perhaps the "recession" will allow real art to seep back into the city, and it will be the underground, counterculture of the 2010's that people are reminiscing about in the future. Or perhaps I'm crazy. I thank P.S. 122 and Avant-Garde-Arama for reminding us where we're going.
iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: Avant-Garde-Arama Goes Askew
Venue: P.S. 122, New York City
Date: May 15, 2009
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Tags: Julie Fotheringham Avant Garde Arama Theatre Askew Ps122
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Dance Review: In and Out of Focus, Molly Shanahan/ Mad Shak, My Name is a Blackbird  My Name is a Blackbird is a piece questioning identity, form and mutation. At the start, the full title is projected on the wall. Later it returns as just My Name is..., suggesting that the blank is a variable, reminding us that the idea of self is constantly changing. In this 50-minute improvisation, or "spontaneous composition" as she calls it, Molly Shanahan follows the continually shifting impulses which define herself in the moment. Regardless, I feel like I am the one doing the shifting. My mind is shifting in and out of focus for the duration of the piece.
Tonight the Joyce Soho Theater is transformed into an intimate space. The seats span the length of the longer wall, allowing more people to be in the front row, and dissolving the proscenium stage feeling the venue usually has. She begins by inviting us to feel comfortable, shift in our seat, or take a sip of water during the performance if necessary, saying that she will notice our actions but not interpret them. Unfortunately her attempt has the opposite effect on me, making me feel more self-conscious and apologetic for taking notes during her performance. Shanahan has an earthy, natural look. She is barefoot and wearing a costume of layered cut t-shirts and flowy dance pants, much like what someone would wear to a modern class. Apparently she wants to be as comfortable as she invites us to be.  The sound score is comprised of original works by three different composers. Shifts in music style as well as lighting changes are enhanced by the fact that so much of the performance is the same. Details and subtle changes are magnified by the lack of other stimulation, which actually gives certain moments a power that they wouldn't otherwise have.
Her movement, for the most part, follows a continuous path of wavelike phrasing. The experience is like looking out at the ocean. Within this sea of fluid movement, there are little idiosyncrasies. Finger vibrations and foot squiggles are amplified by their fluid surroundings. In this context, stillness is magical. Following a continuous length of full-body movement, she stands still. Her hand on her chest draws focus to her breath, which is not intentionally exaggerated, but the natural result of prolonged physicality. This moment is beautiful. Moments like these grab me, while for much of it, my mind is off on a journey of its own. Although I appreciate her honesty and generosity, I wonder if I wouldn't prefer Shanahan's previous work, which is craft and theme driven. Much of this free-flowing improvisation serves as a backdrop against which my mind performs its own show. I give Molly Shanahan credit for the prolonged focus and engagement required for a full-length solo performance. I just wish that I had been engaged the whole time too.
Photography by Sandbox Studios Chicago
 iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: Molly Shanahan/ Mad Shak, My Name is a Blackbird
Venue: Joyce SoHo, New York City
Date: April 10, 2009
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Tags: Molly Shanahan Mad Shak Joyce Soho Julie Fotheringham
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Dance Review: Keigwin Kabaret; Good Klean Fun!  The Keigwin Kabaret is good klean fun, well, maybe not so clean, but definitely good fun. Keigwin's cast of dancers know how to get down and dirty, and his burlesque special guests round out the evening for a sexy good time. A voice welcomes us to K-Air, reminding us to turn off all portable electronic devices, cell phones, pagers, rabbit vibrators, a whole slew of other naughty devices, you know, the usual. The company enters dressed in airline attendant uniforms for a campy, over the top, opening number. A section of hand choreography based on airline attendant gestures proves that strong dancers performing crisp, clean hand movements can be as visually stimulating as pirouettes and leaps, and holds the advantage that  recognizable gestures are something to which everyone can relate. But don't worry, his brilliant cast of dancers do plenty of pirouettes and leaps as well. The special guest host for the evening, New York's comedic superstar Murray Hill, ties the show together with hilarious routines and irreverent comments, like pointing out the bad waitress service. She/he leads an audience participation dance-off, in which two of the volunteers just happen to be dancers. Perhaps it really is true that only dancers attend dance shows, or perhaps it's a coincidence. Since Keigwin reaches such a wide audience, I'll vote for the latter.  Another special guest, Big Moves New York, is a burlesque trio of women size XXL, XXXL, and XXXXL. They flaunt their flab with a sassy dance dressed in red satin lingerie which had to have been specially made in their sizes. The largest busts out her massive lumpy belly and shakes it around. For a moment it becomes abstract, not ugly, but alive, and dare I say, beautiful.
Throughout the show, solid dance technique continues to state its presence and justify the uptown location. Dancer, Ying-Ying Shiau, dressed in a polka dot bikini, floats between three men with effortless looking lifts. And guest, Scott Lyons competes in a "fierce-athon", busting out appropriately fierce extension while wearing only a rain coat and a patch of black feathers in the place of pubes. In my favorite dance section, Keigwin's diva dancers dance to Devo. His choreography is technically impressive, and entertaining, and has just enough strangeness for a downtown dance girl, like myself, to justify liking it. This piece includes highly physical and quirky floor work, complete with lizard licks and bird beak hands. Special guest surprises continue to pop up, and out, with the World Famous Bob, who is actually a busty blonde. She proves the power of simplicity in her hilarious strip tease to highly recognizable, dramatic music. There's the build up..... then....... off comes the top, then..... the bottoms. Boom, boom, boom, boom. There's no extra movement or drama, only the side to side movement of her booming body, and the drama created by the music. It's brilliant. In his Kabaret, Keigwin does what he does best; bring dance to a wide audience. He creates work that is entertaining and accessible while maintaining a sense of style and intelligent sense of humor. He makes work that is sellable without selling out; something a lot of choreographers could learn to do.
Top, Larry Keigwin, Photography by Tom Caravaglia iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: Keigwin + Company, Keigwin Kabaret
Venue: Symphony Space, New York City
Date: April 9, 2009
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Tags: Larry Keigwin Kabaret Murray Hill World Famous Bob
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Dance Review: Crazy Fun with Crazy Head Space @Seaport  Some sensitive issues, like mental illness, shouldn't be taken lightly. But there's some unwritten law that we're allowed to make fun of ourselves, giving Elizabeth S. Davis, who's living with bipolar illness, the license to write Crazy Head Space. This mostly comical musical, performed by Abraxas Stage Company and choreographed by Matthew Neff, celebrates psychological disorders through eccentric characters singing witty lyrics, making having a mental illness look like fun.
@Seaport looks like a restaurant turned theater, with just a few feet of stage space before a staircase rising up in the back. The 23-member cast fills the space, using the stairs as a second tier. As they open their mouths for the first note, I realize that this production is big talent in a small space. It's Broadway calibre talent on Front Street.
The show takes us on a theatrical journey of psychological disorders from A to Z, literally, dedicating one song to a disorder for each letter of the alphabet, with projected text to help us follow along. "Addiction" introduces the cast of crazies, dressed in multicolored whimsical outfits and hospital bracelets. A naughty nurse introduces herself with a sassy jazz dance, doing grand battements in red fishnets and heels. In true bipolar fashion, the pendulum swings from comedy to drama, from upbeat pop song to ballad, and from ensemble to solo. "Depression" shows the dancers appropriately still, they can't be bothered with dancing, while other sections explode with high energy dance, front walkovers and leaps in second. Abraxas Stage Company is not afraid to get down and dirty. In "Vagina Envy", the naughty nurse spreads her legs in a super wide second for an extended crotch shot. "Urophilia" shows the cast waving yellow ribbons over Mike Harrison's head as he sings "ur-ine over your head." Then he touches on blasphemy by belting gospel hallelujahs while reveling in having ribbons of "urine" tickle his face. The show offers so many clever moments that if you happen to miss one, you'll catch the next. In "Narcissism," a solo of course, singer Carl Anthony-Tramon holds an epic note while glancing at an imaginary watch, milking every second of undivided attention. As a side note, I'll mention that his bio is the longest in the program. Coincidence? Another brilliant moment is with the letter "W." In lieu of a psychological disorder starting with "W," they dedicate the letter to Woody Allen, projecting his image briefly with no additional commentary. This is my kind of humor. This musical is not all about singing. The dancers bust their asses. From high energy acrobatics to slinky jazz on pointe, they're on top of it the whole time. I'm under the impression that a way to deal with mental illness is to put it out there in the open. Suppressing the problem only exaggerates it. This cast is putting it out there, and having a blast in the process. It makes me want to tap into the crazy inside of me, which may be closer to the surface than I think. Photography by Mia Rossy iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: Abraxas Stage Company, Crazy Head Space
Choreography: Matthew Neff
Venue: @Seaport, New York City
Date: March 26, 2009
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iDANZ - The Social Network Where Dancers Live! Tags: Crazy Head Space Sheena DiMatteo Julie Fotheringham Mattew Neff
Tags: Crazy Head Space Sheena DiMatteo Julie Fotheringham Mattew Neff
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Dance Review: Deliciously Disgusting Grub, tEEth at Joyce Soho  I moved to New York because New York is where it's at. The highest concentration of edgy, innovative, shocking, and amazing art is here, so it's ironic that one of the best performances I've seen in NYC is by a company from out of town. The Portland based collective, tEEth, led by Co-Artistic Directors Angelle Hebert and Phillip Kraft, bring to Joyce Soho what the venue needs. Grub is a captivating and beautifully disturbing work. The piece deals with the idea of facade, and exposes what lies beneath in the murky depths of the human psyche. They flaunt everything that we try so hard to hide; the ugliness, the dirt, the pain. The six member company opens their mouths painfully wide, letting out powerful vocalizations that correspond to vibrating physical contortion. Then the group gathers for a family portrait,  putting on smiles as if to say, "we're normal, really". They're dressed in white racer-style suits, and there's a hint of death in their pale faces and darkened eyes. The women look the part of role played by Helena Bonham Carter. Hebert is one of the few choreographers to choreograph the face. Her performers take on Butoh-esque expressions of agony, and they use their hands to further manipulate their face, stretching open their mouths, tugging on their eyebrows, and squashing their flesh. This human disfigurement, especially in the face, creates an automatic visceral reaction, and their prolonged extreme tension enhances the quality of calm once it is released. There is a moment when performer, Melissa Murray turns in a circle, opening the spiraling zipper on her costume, shedding her skin like an orange rind, and exposing the soft, vulnerable inside. Left in a dress of flowing white fabric, she performs a tender and dramatic solo, holding a video camera in her hand to catch close-ups of herself.
tEEth uses technology to enhance the visceral aspects of live human performance, rather than allowing technology to overpower or distract from the live performance, which is often the case in multimedia work. Here, live video projection magnifies the sweat, the saliva, the breath; the human. It's also used for abstraction, juxtaposing prerecorded animation with live video projection within the same frame. In the most intense moment of the piece, all six dancers line up side by side downstage. As they make robotic shifts in position, an almost intolerable droning sound gains volume until I feel the vibration in my seat. Stark white light and periodic bursts of flickering strobe exaggerate their zombie-like movements and create the horrific atmosphere of a Frankenstein film. I'm physically affected by the performance, making it impossible for my mind to be anywhere else.
 I've seen so much work by downtown choreographers concerned with making an "honest" and natural performance that I'm so excited to see something exaggerated and distorted. And really, there's nothing more honest than making yourself look ugly. I'd say tEEth should move to New York, but then maybe their work would slip into the mediocrity in which so many New York dance companies have. So, I'll let them stay in Portland as long as they promise to bring their deliciously disgusting "grub" to NY regularly.
Photography by Aaron Busch + Xilia Fay, Coloring and Touchup: Mark Hebert, Tim iDANZ Critix Corner
Official Dance Review by Julie Fotheringham
Performance: tEEth, Grub
Venue: Joyce Soho, New York City
Date: March 19, 2009
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Tags: Teeth Julie Fotheringham Joyce Soho
Tags: Teeth Julie Fotheringham Joyce Soho Angelle Hebert Phillip Kraft
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