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Kid Zone

Who says choreography can’t be taught? Not Ellen Robbins, a modern dance educator who has been teaching the art of choreography to young people in Soho for decades. On the last weekend in January, New York Live Arts hosted Dances by Very Young Choreographers, a showcase starring Robbins’s students. This year, the fifteen budding choreographers ranged in age from 8-18. They choreographed and starred in their own dances. They also selected the music, came up with the titles, and decorated the title cards which announced their pieces all by themselves. It’s a show made entirely by children, for children.

Performance

Dances by Very Young Choreographers

Place

New York Live Arts, New York, NY, January 2025

Words

Faye Arthurs

Oona Pennock and dancers in “Who Says Penguins Can’t Fly?” Photograph by Eric Bandiero

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The program included a glossary of terms relevant to the performance, including “choreographer,” “choreography,” and “Terpsichore.” And instead of an intermission, there was an onstage lesson break, in which children from the audience could go onstage and perform their own moves—under Robbins’s guidance—to Mozart’s variations on “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” I brought my 8-year-old along, and I’ve rarely seen him so engaged in a performance. He’s seen a ton of kiddie dance shows, and they really range in their ability to speak to children. (New York City Ballet does a great job in their family matinees, for example, whereas American Ballet Theater apparently targets people aged 20-40 in theirs). Robbins is nailing it. She meets kids on their level and educates people of all ages in the process.

Though the fifteen (mostly solo) dances on the program were short and thematically all over the place, they were incredibly revealing about the capabilities and traps of choreography in general. There was too much skipping in circles overall, but that really is the blueprint for many high church masterpieces by George Balanchine, Mark Morris, Paul Taylor, and Jerome Robbins. It may even be the basis for human civilization! It was telling to see the kids start from scratch in every area. Their experiments with entrances and exits, lighting changes, narrative, and props illuminated many choreographic basics that seasoned audiences take for granted. For example, running offstage and back on is a surefire way to illustrate the passage of time or a reset, like the start of a new day. Adult spectators easily intuit this, but it was fun to watch the kids discover it and utilize it so effectively.  

Maisy Rosen in “You Can Tell It’s Homemade.” Photograph by Eric Bandiero

Maeve Baldwin in “In the Hall of the Mountain King.” Photograph by Eric Bandiero

What can be conveyed through the movement of one body on a stage? It’s a huge question, but Robbins’s charges capably broke it down. Before even getting to the choreography, their mostly narrative (just a few were more abstract) concepts were supported musically, sartorially (through cute homemade costumes), and graphically (through their creative title card art). The smallest of the set, Oona Pennock, even utilized a corps in her “Who Says Penguins Can’t Fly?” She cleverly set herself apart from her large cast of choreographer-peers, who acted as a homogenous penguin flock. She performed jazzy little flapping solos to her Don Byron score against the shifting wedges of the group, adorably conveying her dream of taking flight through strained, flat-footed jumps and longing skyward gazes. 

Every choreographer demonstrated great skill in carving their score’s shifts into thematic blocks of steps. It was impressive. I liked how Maeve Baldwin envisioned Edvard Grieg’s famous composition “In the Hall of the Mountain King” as a jewel heist gone wrong. She tiptoed around like the Pink Panther and hilariously got handcuffed by a cop (Romy Kim) on the last note. In “Time Flies,” Ruby Lewis, one of the teenage practitioners, used dramatic scarf work and Beethoven’s repeats to show the stages of life from babyhood to dotage, then rewound them. Maisy Rosen used text, music, and sound by Cora Cadman, an alumna, in her solo “You Can Tell It’s Homemade.” To the voiceover baking instructions in the soundtrack, Rosen shrewdly went back and forth between acting out the role of the baker and physically enacting the food as it was being cooked—like when she convulsed on the floor as the violently cracked and beaten eggs. 

Just like in any live performance, things went wrong, but the kids were incredibly professional in the face of the gaffes. Hazel Ryan cast her little sister Georgia as a disruptive mouse to her haughty queen in “Let It Reign!”, which was set to the “Puss n’ Boots” music from Tchaikovsky’s “Sleeping Beauty.” Though Georgia was being cued by a stagehand in the wings (who came onstage a few times to try to push her in the right direction), she was still obviously not where Hazel had intended her to be throughout. But Hazel went about her own choreography with just a few concerned side-eyed looks at her rogue co-star. Hazel’s concept was wrecked, but she seemed to sense that the hilarious cuteness of a teensy confused mouse was doing wonders for her star nonetheless. 

June Magro in “A Chance to Dance.” Photograph by Eric Bandiero

Romy Kim in “Chasing Rainbows.” Photograph by Eric Bandiero

Some of the kids had more formal dance training than others, which led to more choreographic options. An ability to articulate through the feet, go on demi-pointe, turn faster, or perform complicated jumps added to the children’s choreographic palettes, but didn’t necessarily make pieces better—which was interesting. However, when expanded dance facility aligned with good choreographic instincts, the works were elevated. Agnes Khoury used her deeper skill set effectively in “Hello World,” set to music by John Zorn. A repeated collapsing grand plié motif was a neat, moody accent—as was her excellent pairing of electric guitar reverb with her wildly cascading black locks. Romy Kim put speedy running balancés to the triplet notes in the Maurice Ravel score of her solo “Chasing Rainbows.” In a pastel pink chiffon dress, her little chassés en tournant, sautés, and open-armed lilting-about evoked Isadora Duncan.     

Some of the kids were better choreographers than dancers or actors, and some were better actors or dancers than choreographers. Excitingly, tiny June Magro excelled in all three areas. Her solo “A Chance to Dance” was a delight from start to finish. Styled in a floral skirt, choker, and cardigan—a nod to her folksy, Spanish-inflected flute and guitar music by Emile Desportes—she balanced euphoric cavorting with crystal-clear mime. She pretended to splash water on her face, skip on river stones, and pick flowers and put them behind her ear. Sometimes she grabbed her skirt to flourish a hop step or suavely put her hands on her hips to a strummed chord. This pastoral frolic was structurally sophisticated, yet innocently joyous. She looked like a kid just dancing around outside for the love of it, but obviously, so much artfulness was involved. What a hard tone to strike, even for professionals. My son excitedly leaned over to me afterwards and said, “that was great!” It really was.                                                  

All the choreographers in the showcase were girls. Since women choreographers are underrepresented in the adult dance world, this was a promising case of one-sidedness. It will be a boon to the art form if some of them can stick with it, and I look forward to seeing how these fledgling choreographers continue to develop their skills as they grow. Growth, incidentally, was a big factor in the show.  As Robbins explained in a mid-show speech, these pieces premiered at the end of the kids’ school semester last June and many of the girls barely fit into their costumes this January. Robbins noted that one girl couldn’t move as fast as her smaller self of seven months ago and had adjusted her steps accordingly. I found it touching to think that these children have artistic snapshots of their bodily growth. Wouldn’t it be cool if every kid had a record of dances to go alongside their growth chart wall notches and collections of finger paintings in basement boxes?      

Faye Arthurs


Faye Arthurs is a former ballet dancer with New York City Ballet. She chronicled her time as a professional dancer in her blog Thoughts from the Paint. She graduated summa cum laude with a B.A. in English from Fordham University. She lives in Brooklyn with her partner and their sons.

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