Friday March 27th, 2015 – Takehiro Ueyama’s TAKE Dance celebrating their tenth anniversary with an evening-long work entitled THERE AND HERE, presented at the Schimmel Center. For this special occasion, guest artists Miki Orihara, Amy Young, Nana Tsuda, and Orion Duckstein joined the members of Take’s company, and Take himself appeared in an enigmatic role. Take talks about influences and inspiration here.
Composer Kato Hideki performed his mystical score live, perched on high in the shadows at the rear of the stage. The music feels improvisational, giving the dancers a soundscape in which their individual expressiveness can be sustained. Hideki’s score has an other-worldly quality, with the sounds of wind blowing, resonant drumming, and a sustained motif of perpetual sonic beeps, which seems like a signal from another world that is trying to reach us.
For indeed THERE AND HERE straddles two worlds: the world of the living and the unknown world of the afterlife. The performing space, open to the riggings on the sides, is a patch of desert – the sands of time – with a small mound to one side. Pieces of broken altar-rock are scattered in the space, indicating it as a once-sacred setting for some lost or forgotten tribe.
Darkness has settled over the land, yet a spirit (Nana Tsuda) slowly awakens to sombre, eerily ominous music. Over time various wanderers come into the space, moving in a stylized manner; at times they seem almost like sleepwalkers. Fleeting connections between dancers – all but Take clad in red, unisex overalls – maintain the sense of mystery. Much of the choreography is slow-paced and ritualistic; from time to time there are bursts of activity and ensemble passages where the dancers seem increasingly absorbed into the landscape. The stones are piled, cast down, walked or sat upon; and sand sometimes falls from the sky or is sprinkled in handfuls by the participants.
In this purgatorial setting, there were numerous passages which seized our imagination: Jill Echo quietly seeks to re-build the shattered altar; John Eirich and Nana Tsuda rushing about like flying birds and go scampering up the hill; a combative duet for John and Brynt Beitman; an inventively-choreograhed pas de deux duet for Amy Young and Orion Duckstein. Brynt has a solo, observed by the others seated on the rocks. A vivid swaying motif is danced to drummed rhythms; Gina Ianni’s impressive solo (later joined by John Eirich) and a wild duet for Marie Zvosec and Kile Hotchkiss followed by solos for Kile and Brynt show off the members of Take’s company to distinct advantage.
The girls fling themselves into the arms of the waiting boys, then all the dancers collapse in a domino effect. As the others perform gestural sequences, Orion is isolated and is perhaps being judged. Amy Young appears as a living statue; to intense music she sifts the sands. In a moment of exquisite beauty, Miki Orihara walks along a pathway of stone blocks – so simple yet so effective.
At last Take – a priestly figure all in black – returns, and the restless spirits at last sink into rest on the desolate Earth.
Oberon's Glade 