‘Yolk’ Hatches at Links Hall

By Lauren Warnecke

After a bumpy and confusing start, the petite Sarah Gottlieb emerges into the beautiful amber glow (from Margaret Nelson) softly lighting a chunk of the audience seated in the round. Sarah is small in stature, but a stoic and strong witness with the ability to capture her audience simply by standing there.

Gottlieb’s opening solo for an evening titled Yolk in the white space at Links Hall begins slowly, as her hand rises and slowly melds into a fist. As she begins to fill the space with movement, we are reminded what a glorious mover we have in Sarah Gottlieb. Her fluid ins and outs from the floor and lovely technique compliment gestures that give rise to the theme of the night. Yolk is a two-part dance beginning with Gottlieb’s 20-minute solo and followed by a trio of about an hour. Said to explore birth and death, Yolk seems to hone less specifically – instead exploring and meditating on the experiences of women. Gottlieb’s movement resonates to and from the pelvis with moments of strength and others of submission.

Following Gottlieb’s solo is an audience change to Links’ traditional stadium seating and intermission that feels too soon in the program for a break. While it’s easy to understand why Gottlieb would want audience surrounding her for her solo, the kerfuffle of shoes coming on and off and changing of chairs is unnecessarily awkward. Floor cushions or carpet squares might have eased this transition, and this particular audience was so amiable that it didn’t really matter, but the question remains whether or not a mid-show shift of audience is justifiably called for.

The trio that follows begins with a game of peek-a-boo from the offstage corner, accompanied by Gregorian-esque chords until dancers Amanda Maraist, Chrissy Martin and Cat Miller are blown onstage like tumbleweeds.  Gottlieb’s choreography alternates between embodied gestures, quirky characterizations, and full-on, dance-y phrases. The initial insertion of unison dancing catches the viewer off guard, but as the piece continues, they grow increasingly refreshing. You see, Yolk is littered with props, the most notable being three fish bowls filled with eggs. The women hold the eggs to their abdomens, engaging in juxtaposing movements that demonstrate exaltation of a prized position, while at times appearing burdened by the “cross” that they bear. When free from their props, which also include a moveable bench and old fashioned washtub, the women move with reckless abandon leading up to the power play of the piece.

As Chien-An Yuan's subtle sound score fades out the dancers shiver back and forth, catalyzing a series of vocal karate chops and “suck it” gestures moving downstage. So powerful was this moment of feminine strength that the audience moaned and wooed, unable to contain itself. Indeed it is difficult to come down from such a high, and the descent isn’t as satisfying as the build up, despite the work’s magnificent end.

Two dancers wrap one in strings extending from giant sized wooden spools placed in the audience, creating an interesting effect, though perhaps more impactful with brightly colored string to bounce off the white backdrop of Studio A (as has been done by Zephyr Dance and Zoe Juniper in similarly white spaces). Despite its visual beauty, the binding confinement of a woman who, not five minutes before, laid her girl power out on the floor, is a bit of a downer. Perhaps this is the point – to put a woman “in her place” as the quiet protector, the conforming damsel… depressing nonetheless.

In its final moments, Yolk comes to a glorious end with a gospel hymn sung into the washtub and each woman releasing herself from her viscous burden – leaving six eggs to splat on Links glossy maple floors.

The only thing that’s missing from part two of Yolk is Sarah Gottlieb, if only because of her loveliness, who watches from the audience with a beaming glow of pride. Gottlieb and her small group of dancers she calls BodyCompass Dance Project haven’t, to date, been incredibly visible in the community, but you’ll want to keep your eye on this one.