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.