(Mary Callahan)
Let me preface the following story with a quick thought: I am so grateful to be living in a city where live dance performance is so prevalent an event and so revered an art form. With my dad in “Sales,” my family moved from West coast to East coast… to Midwest and back to the West coast. Despite my sporadic relocations to various US cities, dance was rather sparse – my mom and I were lucky to catch a touring theater company or to make the drive to a bigger city for a ballet company’s annual “Nutcracker.” In brief, live, professional dance performances were few and far between. But as a brand-spanking new resident of the island Manhattan, I can (graciously) boast having attended more dance concerts and viewings over the past six months than in my previous twenty(-ish) years of existence. From musicals on Broadway, to the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City, to ballets at Lincoln Center, to concerts at the Joyce, dance is around every crowded New York City corner (not to mention in every newspaper, on many taxi cab/Grey Line advertisements, etc.). Oh, and student tickets are always available – I’m thinking I’ll stay in school forever.
It’s times like this that I realize I’m living in the right place, a city where dance is truly respected for all that is has been, is, and can be. Working with the Heidi Latsky Dance Company has helped me to recognize that even more. At each of our company meetings regarding securing rehearsal space, composing grant proposals, etc., the whole HLD team ends up engrossed in a controversial discussion about dance as a political and progressive tool. My artistic side both challenges and complements my critical intellect. Yes, I am surely in the right place.
All right now, on with my actual story. Last night I attended a performance by Parsons Dance Company at the Joyce Theater in SoHo. David Parsons’ choreography fuses modern dance technique and awareness with theatrical charm (theatrical in terms of “theater” as opposed to “exaggerated”). The concert included older Parsons repertoire as well as two world premieres, thereby exhibiting both the evolution of the company’s work and the traditional Parsons aesthetic.
However, I noticed that the joyful spirit and fluid composition of the Parsons repertoire was somewhat disconnected from the middle piece, “A Stray’s Lullaby,” choreographed by Katarzyna Skarpetowska (former Parsons dancer, freelance choreographer, native of Warsaw, Poland). This guest-choreographed piece, which seems to illustrate the struggle of laboring families during the time of the Dust Bowl/Great Depression, reminded me of John Steinbeck’s “The Grapes of Wrath.” The work is staged on four dancers, two male and two female, and includes either a solo or duet that essentially “tells” each dancer’s “story.” An article in the New York Press explains,
“‘A Stray’s Lullaby’ is an intimate work, set for four dancers who portray down and out characters on the margin of society. Their journey is a personal one and presented without comment, yet it is clear they are on a quest for salvation. Their stories are the rich and wise examples of our own vulnerable natures. The piece offers no clear solution, it only opens a window on the way we face our private demons and how we strive to improve our human condition.”
This storyline clearly breaks away from Parsons’ own choreographic motifs: circularity, love, joy, etc. Yet, what struck me the most about “A Stray’s Lullaby” was the first solo of the piece, performed by Christina Ilisije. Ilisije, dressed in dreary beige slacks, a cream tank, and black lace up shoes, “danced” to a song with a twangy singer, strumming banjo, and rather dismal lyrics. She maintained a strict diagonal plane of movement across the stage and often repeated a phrase of traveling movement, as if struggling to get from one side of the stage to the other. While the first work of the evening, “Round My World,” incorporated fluid, circular, natural movement from the dancers, this piece required Ilisije to contort her body in order to create intense, twisted, and harsh choreography. The New York Post describes, “The foursome moves unsteadily at first to traffic noises that change to scratchy-voiced blues. As the lights change from golden to a smoky haze, one woman dives and claws her way through.” Ilisije contorts her limbs into uncomfortable shapes (both for her and the audience watching), falls gawkily, and limps across the stage by literally dragging her legs. 
I was surprised that in my online research of “A Stray’s Lullaby,” I could not find any articles or reviews that really critiqued the movement of the piece, as it is so unusual and disturbing, but also beautiful at the same time. From my cheap seats in the side balcony, I scanned the audience to notice their reactions. No one was ruffling through their programs or checking their text messages on their phones. No one coughed or mumbled to their neighbor either. The entire theater was completely attentive and engaged with the solo performance, admiring the juxtaposition of beauty and deformity within one dancer.
The hamster wheels in my mind began to race. Why is it that this onstage soloist depicting unnatural bodily movement is admired while everyday men and women who are born with or develop such movement styles are not? Why is a limp so intriguing and innovative onstage but so unsettling and awkward on the sidewalk? Why is it acceptable to watch this movement onstage but it is disrespectful to stare in real life?
