Jacob Jonas' Ant-ics

I have nowhere to go, and I’m going there,” has been attributed to such disparate writers as Charles Bukowski, Carl Sandburg and Charles Simic, though this reviewer thinks the existential phrase sounds more like Cunningham or Cage. But whoever may have penned it, the sentiment seemed to be a motif of Jacob Jonas’ 45-minute hyperphysical world premiere, “Coyote Fox Wolf Dragonfly Butterfly Bee Eagle Raven Hawk.”

Performance

Jacob Jonas the Company: “Ant,”choreography by Jacob Jonas and Peter Walker

Place

Occidental Studios, Los Angeles, California, July 2025

Words

Victoria Looseleaf

Jacob Jonas the Company in “Touch, Pulse, Send” by Peter Walker. Photograph by Kate Kondratieva

Heroically performed by eight members of the Jacob Jonas the Company (the troupe is celebrating a decade), the work was set on a cavernous soundstage at Occidental Studios on Saturday. The last piece of a two-night, sold-out run in Los Angeles—a feat in itself, as 300 hipsters/spectators, most of whom were standing; ouch—surrounded the dancers on three sides.

One of a trio of works in an evening that also featured a terrific new opus, “Touch, Pulse, Send,” choreographed by New York City Ballet principal, Peter Walker, the program, which really began with the audience walking through a near-blinding haze/fog thing (scenography and creative direction by Jonas; art direction by Emma Rosenzweig-Bok), opened with “Rain, Arrival Installation.”

Choreographed by Jonas, the relatively short work featured eight dancers, including Alexa Donnelly, Paulina Donnelly, Nic Walton and Jordan Plange. A kind of assault to the senses—and with the score an uncredited electronic/ambient soundscape—the dance featured numerous yoga poses in thudding mode, i.e. the bodies, after assaying a posture, were flung to the floor.

This brief and brutal exercise in stamina highlighted toned bodies clad by Entire Studios in variations of unitards, shorts, muscle tees and kneepads, with the dancers endeavoring variations of walking and lying down in a kind of contact improv style, their contact, however, mostly with the floor. The torturous tableau, also featuring Rosenzweig-Bock, Jill Wilson, Jarrett Yeary and Alyse Rockett, at times resembled a prison yard, William Adashek’s harsh lighting design akin to that found in an interrogation room.

Jacob Jonas the Company in “Rain/Arrival Installation.” Photograph by Kate Kondratieva

JJTC’s poet-in-residence, Nathan Birnbaum, then read something about the Hopi nation being saved by the ant people, before Walker’s ebullient, “Touch, Pulse, Send.” Set to selections from Eighth Blackbird’s sumptuous “Hand Eye” album (heard on tape, it teemed with an array of percussion and flute), the cast of six, including the choreographer, deployed fine unisons, the lighting scheme creating Kara Walker-type silhouettes.

Replete with plenty of leaps, quarter turns and spinning, the piece, while über-athletic, featured real connections between the dancers. Indeed, there was something soothing about this sextet of humans, whether in solos, pairs or as a group, maintaining rigor while also showing a soupçon of emotion.

Here, the yellowish light could have been a perpetual sunrise, giving hope for another day, while one of the various formations recalled, at least to this critic, a Botticelli-like Venus rising from the sea.

During the brief intermission, a trio of films were shown, two by Jonas, whose directorial prowess is evident, before Birnbaum read another poem, which was followed by the previously mentioned, “Coyote Fox Wolf Dragonfly Butterfly Bee Eagle Raven Hawk.”

With the full cast (Entire’s variations on exercise wear, as well as ruched and see-through tops) moving primally for three-quarters of an hour, and the intensity never abating, it was difficult to keep the mind from wandering. Set to a score by Patrick Watson, a kind of endless white noise effect that featured an assortment of crescendos and accelerandos, along with shades of Lou Harrison-type percussion, violin noodlings and a smattering of organ music, the different scenarios blended into one long slog.

Sure, the dancers, who again offered variations on yoga postures, as well as earnest walking, ambling on all fours and occasionally resembling an amoeba or a kind of centipede, were nothing short of phenomenal. But there was no pacing, no deviation from the singlemindedness of a body being pushed to the limit. When one dancer hurled himself to the floor backwards, his head landing like a brick, there were audible gasps from the audience.

Other moves included insanely twisty flips, a bit of break dancing and backwards crawling, the droning score reverberating through the space. There were also several occasions when the performers didn’t quite stick their landings, but, for the most part, their moves—walking hunched over like a hominoid, one-legged balancing and flying jumps—proved swoon-worthy for their daredevilry.

nJacob Jonas the Company in “Coyote Fox Wolf Dragonfly Butterfly Bee Eagle Raven Hawk” by Jonas. Photograph by Elen Glazova

As the work continued, the dancers, who, at one point conjured Nijinsky’s “Rite of Spring” circle/sacrifice scene and achieving a quasi-totemic status, the prison image returned. Yet, like the zombies from the classic Night of the Living Dead, they persisted in the dance that also featured upraised and outstretched arms in a seeming act of defiance, as well as out-of-nowhere flips. In one instance, Paulina Donnelly, prone, with beseeching arms, was carried by the heavily tattooed Yeary, a Christ-like figure whose gaze was reverential.

It mattered not, though, if bodies were dragged or in savasana (corpse pose), these super-human creatures who were both dependent on one another and in their own private world—Planet Pain—one longed for an outcome, peaceful or otherwise. Well-trained and highly skilled, with deep splits and articulated footwork also commendable, the dancers—and this scribe—seemed to be in a terpsichorean abyss.

That said, Jonas, who documented his years-long battle with lymphoma in a book, Cemented Beauty, which will be co-published by Atelier Editions in November, absolutely must be congratulated for his determination, grit and wherewithal to not only keep a troupe together for ten years, but one that can also draw 600 people to a pair of dance concerts. It’s also notable that he welcomed another choreographer to share the bill.

And while we wish him continued good health and are in awe of his performers, Jonas could decidedly benefit from a dramaturg, some judicious editing and, well, a crash course in choreography. In any case, this writer looks forward to JJTC’s next outing, be it film, collaborative or a more consequential level of dancemaking. In the interim, please carry on, sir!

Victoria Looseleaf

Victoria Looseleaf is an award-winning, Los Angeles-based international arts journalist who covers music and dance festivals around the world. Among the many publications she has contributed to are the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, Dance Magazine and KCET’s Artbound. In addition, she taught dance history at USC and Santa Monica College. Looseleaf’s novella-in-verse, Isn't It Rich? is available from Amazon, and and her latest book, Russ & Iggy’s Art Alphabet with illustrations by JT Steiny, was recently published by Red Sky Presents. Looseleaf can be reached through X, Facebook, Instagram and Linked In, as well as at her online arts magazine ArtNowLA.

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