From its first steps in 1986 as Dundee Rep Dance Company with at the helm, to the present day, Scottish Dance Theatre has sealed it's reputation as a forward-thinking company who pushes the limits of what dance can do.
Dance artists and scholars have long asked the same question: how do we document an art form that, by nature, exists in one moment and is gone the next?
Ushering in the ninth season of Dance at the Odyssey, which takes place January 8–February 16 at the Odyssey Theatre Ensemble and features a number of cutting-edge choreographers and world premieres, curator, producer and festival co-founder Barbara Müller-Wittmann adores her job.
He’s a choreographer, movement composer and trans-media storyteller: He’s d. Sabela grimes, who grew up in Lompoc, California, and didn’t know that his true calling would be as a dancer, choreographer and teller of tales until he moved to Philadelphia in the late 1990s and met Rennie Harris of Rennie Harris Puremovement.
Times are hard for ballet. With national funding that favours the new and the bold, ticket prices rising, and accusations of elitism, only a fool would start a company focused on works of the past.
On a Saturday afternoon in late September, the air feels electric in an upstairs rehearsal studio at Kestrels, in the Gowanus neighborhood of Brooklyn.
Alethea Pace's latest work, “between wave and water,” is a journey. Performers physically lead an audience through the Hunts Point neighborhood of the Bronx while examining the history of a local Enslaved African Burial Ground.
Watching Matthew Bourne's reworked version of the “star-cross'd lovers,” I was briefly reminded of Veronica, played by Winona Ryder, in the dark 1988 comedy by Daniel Waters and Michael Lehmann, Heathers, and her line, “my teen angst bullshit has a body count.” Yes, this is the darker side of Bourne's repertoire,...
Beneath blue California skies, manicured trees, and the occasional hum of an overhead airplane, Tamara Rojo took the Frost Amphitheater stage at Stanford University to introduce herself as the new artistic director of San Francisco Ballet.
After a week of the well-balanced meal that is “Jewels”—the nutritive, potentially tedious, leafy greens of “Emeralds,” the gamy, carnivorous “Rubies,” and the decadent, shiny white mountains of meringue in “Diamonds”—the New York City Ballet continued its 75th Anniversary All-Balanchine Fall Season with rather more dyspeptic fare.