dance: made in canada / fait au canada recently returned for its seventh rendition. If you’re not familiar with the festival, it features a range of solo and group contemporary performances, workshops, talks, and gallery space.
The festival’s Main Stage Binet series and Smith Series provide a unique opportunity to witness self-expression in action – and to experiment with our own through immersion in dance and music, in order to re-connect with our rhythms.
The event is curated by Artistic Director Yvonne Ng and made possible through volunteer work and generous funding from Canadian Heritage. Ng’s passion for and dedication to the festival warm the Betty Oliphant Theater, transforming it into an intimate community space where magic can bloom.
These are my detailed reflections on the featured pieces and the overall event.
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The Main Stage Binet series curated by Robert Binet opened with “Solo (not solo) Water Study” by Meryem Alaoui, a piece brought to life through collaboration between a percussionist and a dancer. The duo invite us to reimagine sound and music – and in the process, shatter preconceived notions of what an instrument is and how it can be used. The percussionist introduces water and metal to the stage and brings the elements to life, grounding the dance in the natural world . . . and awakening our senses.
Nonverbal communication is an integral part of the duo’s dynamic, and we watch as the two discover a language of their own. Textured, feminine and intuitive, the piece is a back-and-forth game of attentive listening and replying. In the moments of silence, breath becomes music, and in this exploration of sound, we accompany dancer and percussionist as they move through emotion. Informed by the wisdom of childhood innocence and laughter, this smart piece closes with the two coming back together, the offering of water – the connective element – and a return to the palace where it all began.
The path of self-discovery continued with Derek Souvannavong’s “This Identity: Woven”. The piece is catharsis, realization, denial, grief, acceptance, and the exploration of self through the body and the stories it carries. In the words of Sculptor Constantin Brancusi, “Simplicity is complexity resolved”, a statement that accurately characterizes Souvannavong’s work. From set to wardrobe to choreography, the piece is an environment for exploring the soul. There is elegance in every movement: the hand’s position, the slight rolling back of the shoulders, the lengthening of the spine – tender, and fluid. The piece feels refreshingly unrehearsed, as if inviting the viewer to embark on a journey together, for the first time. And yet . . . at the same time, it doesn’t feel like the first time we are witnessing this story. It is a celebration of all that has transpired for us to be here – together, in this moment.
“Unfold Attachments” by Vania Dodoo-Beals then broke through the stillness which opened the evening. This piece heralds primal dreams of birds and thunder and survival – until the theatre itself vibrates with the power of drums, charging every cell and goose-bumping the skin. A quick look at the audience confirms that there is no resisting Dodoo-Beal’s rhythm. Whether tapping the feet, waving the hands or drumming of the fingers, the body of every audience member is impelled to experiment with movement and participate in the dance. Dodoo-Beal’s genuine connection with the percussionist is deeply moving. Each artist is completely present in their work, while simultaneously and sensitively aware of their partner. The two are so in tune that they need not even look at each other to know what they’re feeling.
Moving from solo to collective performances, Hanna Kiel’s “Body” boomed onto the stage and electrified the room. Kiel’s choreography is crunchy, rhythmic, transcendental . . . and deeply cathartic. Futuristic synthesizers inject modernity and introduce a new frequency to contrast with the evening’s previous pieces. The dancers exude a magnetism that is impossible to look away from: you want to look everywhere at once without blinking, for fear of missing even a second of this explosive performance. And the piece ranges from high energy to meditative silence, as the dancers explore the boundaries of expression and hold space for the range of freaky, wild, sexy and alive feelings that comprise the human experience. Body is an entrancing example of what happens when people dance for themselves and the sheer pleasure of self-expression. The dancers move with lightness and confidence, unburdened by the worry of looking silly or moving “strangely”.
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“And I’m out with lanterns looking for myself”. Emily Dickinson’s words perfectly describe the opening act of The Smith Series, curated by Santee Smith. Rich in texture and feeling, Alexis Fletcher’s “Altar’d” is a soothing whisper to the soul that speaks to the journey of peeling back the layers . . . until we find ourselves again. How many stories have we held onto that are not ours to carry? The message is one of impermanence . . . of allowing things to unfold as they will. Everything is change, and things are not always as they seem. So honouring our inner seasons, complex and painful though they can sometimes be, is the only way through. Only when we shed all that we are not . . . are we born again into who we truly are.
The choreography is a mirror of the endless reliving of patterns and old stories that we must revisit until the mind finally understands what the heart has always known. When this embrace happens, we realize that Herman Hesse was right: we are not going in circles, but upwards spirals. Fletcher’s storytelling is a candle in the night showing us what it means to find our way to our knees: to learn to pray and keep the light on – and how to use it to guide ourselves and others through the dark. And all along is the sea in the distance, whispering lessons from the water, the earth, the fire, and the wind. For nature knows the time, and there is peace in surrendering to her wisdom.
Realizing our power and learning how to use it was a present theme throughout this night. Liliona Quarmyne’s “Resonances of a Warrior Boy” is the drum calling us home. Quarmyne crawls, jumps, and slides through the landscapes of her story: one moment a bird, the next a panther, one moment the hunter and the next the hunted – but always a woman. The stories that live inside of her emerge red, primal . . . and feline. Reflected on the wall behind her is her shadow. And the fire. And her ancestors all watching over her shoulder.
Warrior Boy is heavy with generational pain and wisdom: how we carry it in our bones and muscles and nerves, and how this memory is alive in us. In Quarmyne’s choreography, we see the whole story: a noose around the neck creating suffocating pain – and how, taking it into her hands, she has reclaimed her power, with feet planted firmly on the ground. Her palm floats up to her chest right before the curtains come down, and we know then that she has completed the journey and come out the other side. Here are softness, gratitude and sovereignty: a powerful presence balanced by tenderness that draws unexpected tears.
In every end, we find a beginning. Haunting and post-apocalyptic, “Reawaken” by Meghann Michalsky is a symbolic close to the Smith Series. Complete with hellish violins and strings, this is the sisterhood of the creaking bones: a melange of Krumping and Contemporary dance. Yet despite the frigid sounds and lights, a sleeping dragon is about to awaken. When the music warms, there is softening. Fluidity is invited in. Seeing the three women on stage coming together, then flowing apart reminds us that there is the work we must do together, and work we must do alone. And there is a way to feel supported as we do both.
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While the performances in dance: made in canada / fait au canada stood strongly on their own, they felt complete because of their connection to one another. This carefully curated program ensured that each piece picked up where the last one left off . . . and fed into the one about to follow. The order was organic. And once the curtain closed for the last time, a moment of quiet ensued where the whole evening came together as a single dance.
This big-picture feeling is abetted greatly by the fine-tuned, intuitive lighting design present throughout the performances. While it is true that beautiful things do not ask for attention, they innocently attract it, nonetheless. Light and dark are an utterly integral part of the overarching story: perfectly synchronized with the dance, and fluidly weaving one moment into the next.
Experiencing the vivacity of dance made in Canada leaves you, frankly, with the desire to move your own body. And while one option is to rearrange your living room furniture so you can dance uninhibitedly and safely to your soul’s content, the La Tresse workshop is the true playground. It’s a place to interrupt, unglue, and shake yourself: to keep your eyes open, and feel your flesh melt away from the bone.
It’s an open invitation to hold space for yourself and free the body from the control that tends to govern it.
How deeply can you release? How light can you become? How will you show up today?
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The seventh rendition of dance: mic/fac was a celebration of body-based storytelling, an opportunity to rejoice in the transformative power of dance and music, and an occasion to marvel at creative expression at its peak. Delicately interconnected, the festival’s many performances came together to tell a powerful universal story – and to invite us to explore our own experiences with curiosity and compassion.
Thank you, dance: mic/fac, for lifting the curtains from our eyes and opening our hearts to the healing energy of rhythm and movement.
© Emilia Voudouris, Sesayarts Magazine, 2023
