As if to embody the frisky spirit of the mural, dancers entered tumbling, whirling, even walking . . . in silence. And to compare the women to sylphs is not giving the gals their due: Indeed, the quintet of LADP women is breathtaking, whether moving in unison or unspooling through turns like a string of pearls, they command attention. And no matter that Taylor’s costume design (pale green t-shirts, black dance shorts and/or pants; construction by Annie Ulrich), left something to be desired, it was the body beautiful that spoke loudest.

As Styer’s lighting morphed from bluish to spotlighting different aspects of the mural—trees, fruit, Domino sugar—the cadre of movers seemed to be dream-walking through the space. Male/male duets are always welcome, and Kinouchi and Brubaker made for an ebullient pair, their gorgeous lifts adding to the testosterone factor.

Conovan and Spears made the most of their duet, whether deploying picture-perfect pliés or rising on the balls of their feet. There was also a falling backwards motif, with raucous, disco-like music accompanying Freeland, Jr. and Van Brunt, their coupling smooth as satin with high kicks tossed in for good measure, before other dancers joined in the merriment with head-bobbing prowess.

Decidedly wistful, yet teeming with a neo-balletic vocabulary—Taylor was a principal with New York City Ballet until 2014, joining LADP two years later—the piece was a study in luxuriating figures, whether soaring solo or as a group posing proudly against Styer’s backdrop, the sense of devotion to the art form was ever prevalent.

The same could be said of Millepied’s 21-minute “Triade,” which completed the bill (and is replaced on Program A by the choreographer’s 2012, “Moving Parts”). A Paris Opera Ballet commission that premiered in 2008 as a tribute to Jerome Robbins, and also set to a Muhly composition (heard on tape and again performed by Le Balcon), the dance featured two couples—Van Brunt and Brubaker and Fernberger and Freeland, Jr. on a bare stage, with Masha Tsimring’s dusky lighting design adapted by Caleb Wildman.

Arriving with an air of nonchalance, the quartet, once more clad in Assaf’s simple, yet affective satiny, sparkly, mesh-like attire, suggested fleeting, if cryptic vignettes as they initially moved, pedestrian-like, to the cadenced sounds of Muhly’s score. Slinky and muscular, Millepied’s vocabulary also featured his gravity-defying leaps and pirouettes, with the couples switching partners in a round-robin type funfest. Freeland, Jr. offered entrechats interspersed with powerful jetés, while Brubaker wasn’t shy in showing off his propulsive barrel turns.

The up-close-and-personal space made for viewing even the smallest details—an outstretched hand, a slight turning of the body—a thrill, while the wizardry of these performers, even when running or skidding across the floor, was both otherworldly and human, their occasional beaming faces speaking to the beauty of the art form, the sheer joy of dance.

More, please!