Above: choreographer José Limón, photo by Paul Draper
Tuesday April 19th, 2022 - The Limón Dance Company celebrating their 75th Anniversary Season with performances at The Joyce Theatre. This evening marked my third experience watching the Limón troupe: the first was in 2008, and more recently in 2019. There have been quite a few changes in the Company's roster since my last viewing, including the departures of such entrancing dancers as Jacqueline Bulnés and Jesse Obremski. But the current ensemble is a staggeringly beautiful assemblage of forms and faces.
Each work was prefaced by commentary from an unseen narrator...spoken by my longtime friend, actor Dion Mucciaito. These brief speeches provided us with interesting background material for the works being performed. But I wish Dion had appeared onstage to impart this information, because...he's such a great-looking guy!
Doris Humphrey was José Limón's inspiration and mentor. Watching Humphrey's achingly gorgeous AIR FOR THE G-STRING, created in 1928, gives us a sense of the timeless resonance - and the great necessity - of dance in our lives. Bringing to mind the iconic female danced-rituals of Isadora Duncan, AIR FOR THE G-STRING shows us the value of great music as the inspirational springboard for creating danceworks that will endure.
Above: from Humphrey's AIR FOR THE G-STRING; photo by Christopher Jones
From the curtain-rise - on the dancers in silhouette against a rose-coloured back-panel - to final pose, AIR FOR THE G-STRING held us under its spell. Five women, clad in simple gowns of varied hues and long Renaissance-style golden cloaks with trains, move slowly in processions and circling motifs. Though not in any way religious in feeling, it conveys a depth of spirituality that speaks to me poignantly.
This evening, Frances Lorraine Samson, a petite woman with a space-filling presence, led the ensemble: Mariah Gravelin, Deepa Liegel, Jessica Sgambelluri, and Lauren Twomley...distinctive beauties all. This Humphrey work is part of that long continuum of dances of sisterhood that spans the centuries from the swans, slyphs, shades, and Wilis of classical ballet, through the more intimate Duncan, to Graham's epic CHRONICLE, Balanchine's SERENADE, Robbins' ANTIQUE EPIGRAPHS, and Lydia Johnson's CROSSINGS BY RIVER. Watching this spell-binding work tonight gave me an incredible lift of spirit - something so desperately needed in these bleak days as the world sometimes seems to be crumbling around us.
Two Limón masterpieces were central to this evening's program. The first of these, PSALM, dates from 1967. The choreographer drew inspiration from the French author Andre Schwarz-Bart's semi-historical novel, "The Last of the Just," which traces the martyrdom of the Jews through thirty-six generations of the Levy family, ending at Auschwitz.
Above: Nicholas Ruscica in Limón's PSALM; photo by Christopher Jones
For PSALM, Limón was unable to obtain the music he wanted to use - Stravinsky's "Symphony of Psalms" - so he created the work in silence. Nearing the date of the premiere, the choreographer asked composer Eugene Lester to provide a score, based on his "million counts". Later, Limón disciple Carla Maxwell, feeling the choreography called for something grander, commissioned a score from Jon Magnussen which included a full chorus, ten instruments, and a baritone soloist; it was to the Magnussen score that I saw PSALM performed in 2019. This evening, the Lester score - more intimate and highly personal - was back in place. Lester's score is percussion-based, features a male singer/speaker, and somehow feels right.
Superbly lit Al Crawford, PSALM is a story of the triumph of the human spirit over death, created by Limón at a time when his own untimely death from pancreatic cancer loomed before him. The Lester score, while quite spare in contrast to the Magnussen, provides vividly contrasted rhythms which give the dancers an aural roadmap for the movement.
Eight dancers appear, seemingly searching for someone...or something. The whole Company then takes the stage, moving in finely-wrought patterns. In one passage, they kneel in a row, reminding me yet again of Robbins' ANTIQUE EPIGRAPHS. Dancer Nicholas Ruscica was the central figure in tonight's performance, commencing with a solo to the sound of a baritone voice. We hear the word "Adonai" (Hebrew for 'God') which put me in mind of Krzysztof Penderecki's monumental SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM; with such references, PSALM became more and more meaningful to me as it progressed.
Mr. Ruscica's dancing was very subtle and expressively detailed. As the comings and goings of the populace surged around him, the danseur's movement took on a hypnotic, other-worldly feeling. He collapses; to delicate music, the women tend to him. He then awakens and begins to dance, first on his knees, and then - gathering strength - he rises. The group swarm about him in a celebratory dance. Circling in a dazzling passage, they lift him aloft.
PSALM thrilled me tonight, even more than it did in 2019. To me, it seems a dance very much for our time. All of the dancers are captivating to watch, and each has a distinctive personality. Mariah Gravelin, Savannah Spratt, and Lauren Twomley had featured roles among the women, with the ladies from the opening Bach work all dancing divinely here. Terrence D. M. Diable, B. Woods, Joey Columbus, MJ Edwards, and Johnson Guo are the Company's wonder-men, and it was great to see Robert M. ('Buddy') Valdez again, very tall and handsome, with eyes that dazzle. In this large-scale scale work, dancers from Limón 2 - Erin Hollaman, Nicole Miera, and Sabrina Olivieri - joined the full Company.
José Limón created the solo CHACONNE in 1942 to the familiar music from Bach's violin Partita #2. Onstage tonight, standing in separate pools of light, were violinist Johnny Gandelsman and guest-artist dancer Shayla-Vie Jenkins. Ms. Jenkins, a poised beauty with the gift of lyrical grace, wore trousers and a soft, loose-fitted blouse. When Mr. Gandelsman struck up the familiar Bach piece, the dancer began to move in place, her expressive arms and hands speaking to us in dance's silent language. Later her movement becomes almost balletic, her dancing at once supple and courtly. With the violinist's subtle nuances tempting the ear, the two made this Limón gem a sheer delight.
Above: Samantha Spratt, MJ Edwards, and B Woods in Tarpaga's ONLY ONE WILL RISE; photo by Christopher Jones
In line with the current quest for choreographer-based companies to find new works to provide fresh opportunities for their dancers once the founding choreographer has passed away, tonight we saw ONLY ONE WILL RISE, choreographed by Olivier Tarpaga. This work tells of the 'dark horse', the person who unexpectedly triumphs in the end: in this case, it was the the youthful-looking MJ Edwards, who made a very fine impression both in movement and presence, with a poetic face. The choreographer provides brief solos for the other dancers, too, as well as well-constructed ensemble passages. The work is quite dark, and the final illumination of the dancers, with Mr. Edwards having risen in their midst, was a beautiful moment.
Above: Johnson Guo, Nicholas Ruscica, and Lauren Twomley in ONLY ONE WILL RISE; photo by Christopher Jones
What gave ONLY ONE WILL RISE its appeal was the music, composed by the choreographer and guitarist Tim Motzer, and played live onstage by Mr. Motzer, with his fellow musicians Daniel Johnson and Saidou Sangare. They were fantastic.
It's not easy to find danceworks that can appear on programs alongside the masterworks of some of the world's all-time greatest choreographers without being eclipsed. The Balanchine, Graham, and Taylor companies have to work in this current situation, as does Limón. Perhaps though, it's true that - as Miki Orihara once said - "To find the future of dance, we must look to the past."
~ Oberon