Victoria’s dancing days bonanza
By Robin J. Miller
Victoria, BC, is a small, somewhat sleepy city perched on an island in the Pacific Northwest. Yet in a little over two weeks in January, it was possible to take in seven live dance performances, and it would have been eight inside three weeks had not COVID complications made it impossible for France’s Compagnie Hervé Koubi to appear.
Koubi’s Barbarian Nights was to be the grand re-start of Dance Victoria’s live mainstage presentations after two years, as well as the culmination of its annual Dance Days, a 10-day festival offering free dance classes city-wide and small-space performances by BC choreographers. As it turned out, Victoria celebrated dance remarkably well without the help of a major international company.
The one offering not presented by Dance Victoria, 1,000 Pieces of π, which won Pick of the 2021 Victoria Fringe, returned to the Metro Theatre on January 14. Created by Dyana Sonik-Henderson, it’s based on a clever idea: give five dancers 10 numbered moves — (1) Head, (2) Jump, (3) Slide, etc. — that they repeat in varying order until reaching the 1,000th number of π (Pi), the never-ending, never-repeating irrational number sequence usually written as 3.14. Sonik-Henderson stood at the side of the stage, writing down each combination of numbers as her dancers performed.
Combined with a great playlist from artists like Arcade Fire and David Bowie, 1,000 Pieces of π proved to be more than an intellectual exercise, showing that even a limited palette can express a multitude of moods — sorrow, glee, confusion — though by the end, two moves, Kick and Balance, began to pall. Varying their expression, and finding five equally talented dancers (not the case right now), would lift 1,000 Pieces of π up a decimal place or two.
Helen Walkley’s John, on January 20 at the Mary Winspear Centre in Sidney, just outside the city, tells the story of the Vancouver choreographer’s older brother, who disappeared in 1969. Told indirectly through letters read by dancer/actor Billy Marchenski to and from John and his parents, and from his parents to John’s doctors and friends after he disappeared, the piece poignantly revealed John’s diagnosis — schizophrenia — and the terrible toll his loss took on his parents. Their restrained, formal writing served to highlight rather than hide their pain.
Marchenski’s eerie stillness as he sat reading made dancer Josh Martin’s movement feel all the more extraordinary. Martin has exceptional control and precision: he can move lightning fast or heart-achingly slow, while never losing his ability to express emotion. His John responded to the letters as Marchenski read them — in one remarkable sequence, Martin balanced on his heels while his upper body swayed forward and back, the perfect incarnation of a man being buffeted by life. No less remarkable were the sequences where Marchenski joined Martin and they moved so exactly in unison it was uncanny, or where they whooped and skipped to the sounds of a fast-talking auctioneer — John’s mind beginning to split and fray? — before settling into a moment of peace, whistling softly until songbirds joined in.
Five performances took place in Dance Victoria’s upgraded studio performance space as part of its works-in-progress Rough Cuts series.
Victoria-based Kayla Henry received a 2022 Chrystal Prize to continue to develop a duet called Luminaries. The short segments presented on January 29 showed that Dance Victoria has not misplaced its money. In the first segment, Henry and dancer Alia Suarini, with live accompaniment from composer Finley Rose, were on the floor, twining and untwining in murky light; in another, they were upright, holding bicycle lights in their hands: creatures of the dark emitting their own light. That Henry took her inspiration from mycelium, the thread-like filaments of tissue that bring water and nutrients to mushrooms, was incidental. The feeling of wonder was enough.
The four afternoon performances on January 30 began with an untitled piece by Victoria’s Visible Bodies Collective, founded by Lindsay Delaronde (Kanienkehaka), whose intention is to help Indigenous women be seen. Seven women, lying in a semi-circle on sheets of brown paper, took turns drawing the outline of the woman next to them. After each covered herself with her own outline, they started to draw — some angrily, others quietly — on the paper. Were they missing or murdered women crying out for recognition, or just women trying to define themselves instead of being defined by others? No matter. It got the audience talking.
In Piña, Vancouver’s Ralph Escamillan explored the significance of piña, a fibre made from pineapple leaves that’s been used in the Philippines to create textiles for the rich since the 17th century. His tall bamboo frames covered with translucent fabric were interesting, but what they had to do with the mannered dance Escamillan and Tin Gamboa performed within them was unclear. However, a duet tinged with ballroom was fun and Escamillan’s quicksilver solo, based on the action of knotting piña fibres, raised goosebumps.
Kemi Craig’s the space between combined movement on film, live movement, and projections, all featuring dancers Lee Ingram and Tania Betiku, to clever effect — at one point, we saw the dancers, their projections, and their filmed bodies disappearing into infinity. What it missed was emotion and a clear tie to Craig’s declared intent to express BIPOC experience.
High Tide Low Tide was the ideal piece to end a West Coast afternoon. To a perfectly matched soundscape by Angus Gaffney, Amber Downie-Back’s solo completely “got” the sea: its ebbs and flows, its terror and its beauty. Never rising far from the floor, with exquisite strength and control, Downie-Back was adrift in waves, tossed and turned, shaped and reshaped by forces beyond her control. As are we all.
