Why it’s called American Street Dancer
Books are banned, DEI scuttled, and Africanist studies scaled back. Yet, the irrepressible spirit of African American artists is not extinguished.
PlusWorld-class review of ballet and dance.
There was a series of warnings that led up to the moment it all fell apart, but no one listened. Everything appeared to follow a linear trajectory, an illuminated, diagonal path that led straight to the suspended glass orb at the foot of the stage. But the breakdown that ensued, it was neither smooth nor gradual. And it certainly was not linear, as complex, interwoven systems sought to find an equilibrium in the aftermath. You can push things past a tipping point, easily, when armed with a three-pound mash hammer.[1] What you cannot do is push them back. The orb, once broken into pieces, cannot be reassembled. Irrespective of how much you try, you cannot reverse the transition of states.
Performance
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Books are banned, DEI scuttled, and Africanist studies scaled back. Yet, the irrepressible spirit of African American artists is not extinguished.
Plus“Lists of Promise,” a new work currently in a two-week run from March 13- 30 at the East Village cultural landmark, Theater for the New City, promised more than it delivered, at least for now.
Plus“State of Heads” opens with a blaze of white light and loud clanking onto a white-suited Levi Gonzalez, part Elvis, part televangelist addressing his congregation. A pair of women sidle in—Rebecca Cyr and Donna Uchizono—dressed in ankle-length white dresses and cowered posture.
PlusThe late John Ashford, a pioneer in programming emerging contemporary choreographers across Europe, once told me that he could tell what sort of choreographer a young artist would turn into when watching their first creations.
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