Svenja Bühl's long titled piece is an impressive exploration of relationship and power performed by the talented Johanna Merceron and Natalie Sloth Richter. Bühl's unique creativity is clearly articulated through the movement, theme and staging of each scene. Black garbage bags filled with air lay on a bare stage, the two dancers shuffle, jerk, one seemingly happy the other in distress. They huddle together, sliding across the floor; which looks intimate until their faces reveal the uncomfortable nature of the moment as one strips the top off the other. The movements are subtle but there's a tension between their experiences and emotions that it's both humorous and arresting, while being slightly alarming against a light and airy sound track. There's a particularly poetic scene where the dancers sit on the floor and open their mouths to scream only for the sound of a hairdryer to blast out. So simple, so absurd, so illuminating.
Instigate Unknown presented six talented dancers dressed in black giving a hip hop vibe in BLACKBALL where balls are literally thrown, kicked and rolled between their bodies. The power of the dance company and the choreography shone in the ensembles with grounded modern and hip hop inspired movements, head bobbing, shoulders rolling and body dropping. Choreographer Cherilyn Albert (who also performed) created well coordinated sequences, duos and trios that gave each of the dancers their moment to shine, in a piece where the balls and light are an integral force. Dancers with torches created striking strobe effects, casting bright flashes and shadows in the darkness, illuminating glimpses of bold dance scenes.
After two strong performances Becky Namgauds' Like Honey reached a new level with a powerful, confronting and rageful piece of genius exploration being a woman. Two exceptional women perform an incredible symbiosis of voice and movement. A woman sits on chair with a microphone and a sound machine, next to the other who lies face down half dressed on a white square. Her voice starts to click, making the other's hand move, the voice and sound change, her upper body moves, the sound escalates as it continues to instruct the movements of the other until she stands, mannequin like, her body mechanical, just a device that she can't seem to control. She stops, dark red blood runs down her leg, with clenched fists she unleashes her inner strength in a dynamic emboldened finale of stomping and lashing to an intense vocal roar that brought the house down. Namgaud is a talent that needs to be seen and heard.