Modern dance and postmodern performance art collide in Gina Hoch Stall’s “between us and everyone here,” running through July 11 at the Neo-Futurist Theater. Hoch-Stall acts as mediator between performers and audience, for the former, as a choreographer-collaborator and guide of movement-method, for the latter, as an affable M.C. and administrator of participatory events with the audience. The performance’s surreal yet logical format is delightfully quizzical and leads to many serendipitous moments.
“between us and everyone here” is a candid look at the dancers’ creative processes. Two dancers-collaborators, Amanda Maraist and Chrissy Martin, enter wearing an amalgamation of clothes made for sport and exercise but modified with holes for nonexistent limbs and worn so that the lines of the material tilt, bunch, and drape at odd angles (costume design by Jeff Hancock). The lighting is sparse and tuned down, dark and murky (lighting collaborator, Amina Gilbert). They engage in a mixture of improvisation and choreography, much of the latter composed on-the-spot via twelve audience suggestions—e.g., “lurch,” body whoosh,” “opening,” “side dripping”—gathered by Hoch-Stall before the performance at the theater’s entrance.
Behold, a world premiere is crafted before one’s very eyes. Maraist drips onto the floor and slides on the side of her body. Martin lurches forward like a bird balancing on one leg. In tandem, their bodies whoosh the length of the floor as if pushed by a mighty wind. These movement choice are both apropos of the suggestions yet abstract enough to conjure delights in the imagination. Maraist and Martin speak to each other throughout the process, fine tuning in real time. This peek into the collaborators’ process of creation is an interesting and beautiful sight to behold.
Other works by Hoch-Stall & Co. break up the threat of monotony. Announced beforehand by the dancers, pre-planned works punctuate the performance, listed on the back of the program via charming pictures by artist Ray Madrigal.
In “conducting a thunderstorm,” Maraist and Martin flow through what looks like variations on genres of dance—ballet, different eras of modern, hip-hop-like floorwork, and melting meditations—while nonchalantly discussing mundane subjects like a favorite hair stylist, the adorableness of goats, and the movie “Shrek.” ” Performed early in the program, “thunderstorm” feels like a warm up for the dancers and audience; the former gets in some moderate calisthenics; the latter forms a connection with the dancers by getting to know them beyond their physical capacities.
“soft donna” is a study on weight distribution and momentum. At one moment, Maraist forcefully leans on Martin as the latter’s legs compress like coil springs. Then, Martin drops her but quickly grabs her by the waist and uses the speed of her fall to launch Maraist into a spin like Superman caught in a tornado. During a pre-show announcement, Hoch-Stall gave the viewer permission to close their eyes at any time, which I did now. When only listening, the dancers’ footsteps fall harder. Loud clomps whiz right and left, near enough to touch, then grow softer, until the sound of sticky feet are heard exiting the room. Then, BAM! they’re back in again. The pounding stops, and when I open my eyes, they are locked, frozen mid-chase. Very creepy! Very cool. The permission to experience the work in a non-traditional way, for me, transformed it entirely and allowed my subconscious more freedom to collaborate with the artists.
Through multiple recapitulations, the new spontaneously composed work returns and continues to evolve. The suggestion-movement phrases become stretched, elongated, or amplified. When it ultimately concludes, with Martin, peeling herself off the back wall and crossing downstage to Maraist and placing her hands in theirs, an entire story is realized. For me, it is a tumultuous companionship, with one friend tolerating and finally taking action against the downward spiral of the other by simply expressing that, “I’m here for you.” What’s sad is that this work will probably never see the stage again, being created especially for and during this performance, an example of the ephemeral nature of dance, how most of it exists for only a cosmic second before disappearing from existence forever—But who knows?
There is much to discover in “between us and everyone here” if one can let go of traditional theatergoing conventions. The format is explicitly laid back. There is no music to accompany the performance (aside from background music during a pause for audience feedback). The relatively simple lighting design, a meager splash of color, barely obscures the black-painted, fractured, and cracked wall that serves as the backdrop. The fact that the house lights are on for part of the performance may cause some to struggle with entering a numinous state of mind. In short, one gets as much out of this performance only as much as one is willing to put into it via their imagination.
While the dancing is of the modern idiom, the format of the performance plays with postmodern aesthetics. Dancers, collaborators, and the audience become a collective where the thoughts and opinions of all help shape the work. Permission for the audience to slouch, stand up, close eyes, or leave the room can drastically transform one’s perception of the artists’ intentions. “between us and everyone here” asks the imagination to do some heavy lifting, but by lifting heavy one grows stronger.
Gina Hoch-Stall presents “between us and everyone here” through July 11 at Neo-Futurist Theater, 5153 N Ashland. For tickets and more information, check out the event page by clicking HERE.
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