Forever Changed

At a baseline, good art should move you. At its peak, it can change you. I did not expect to come out of Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company’s season closer, Re-Act, a changed person, but that’s exactly the effect the performance—and particularly one work, Daniel Charon’s “From Code to Universe”—had on me.

Performance

Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company: Annalee Traylor’s “A Mischief Sublime” and Daniel Charon’s “From Code to Universe”

Place

Leona Wagner Black Box Theater, Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center, Salt Lake City, UT, April 2025

Words

Sophie Bress

Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company in “From Code to Universe” by Daniel Charon. Photograph by Stuart Ruckman

The piece, Charon’s last for the company where he has served as artistic director for the past twelve years, followed the story of Adam, played and danced by Charon, and his wife Francis (Nikki Nixon), who is killed in a car accident on her way to work. Co-created with theater artist and dramaturg Alexandra Harbold, the story unfolds gradually, and Francis, as she appears in the majority of the work, is revealed to be some sort of humanoid robot made from an exact amalgamation of the human Francis’s thoughts, feelings, and memories.

“From Code to Universe” melded the worlds of dance and theater, using dialogue and monologue to pose questions, and dance to delve deeper. What makes us human? Where do we go when we’re gone? And what does it mean that technology can outlive us?

When I was 20, my then boyfriend died in a motorcycle accident. I have videos of him on my phone, so, if I want to, I can still hear him talk, laugh, and say my name. Immediately after his death, these videos, as well as some songs we both loved, became the secret soundtrack to my life—one that simultaneously soothed me and immersed me in a painful world of memory.

Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company in “From Code to Universe” by Daniel Charon. Photograph by Stuart Ruckman

“From Code to Universe” opens with Charon entering this world by putting a record on. As the sunny sounds of Bill Withers’ “Lovely Day” fill the air, the company dancers surround him in a lively approximation of breakfast preparation. Though I found myself smiling at this section’s spot-on musicality and silly renderings of morning rituals, I felt a growing sense of foreboding—a premonition.

I remember the hours before finding out my boyfriend had died as wonderful ones. It was sunny, and I was unusually “on my leg” in my morning ballet class. Is it always the days that start out the brightest that become the ones that cut our lives in two? Or do the beginnings of those days just seem so perfect because, looking back on them, we know what happens next? To quote one particularly poignant “From Code to Universe” line: “these things only make sense in reverse.”

As the work progresses, Adam and the Francis-bot revisit their memories through the bodies of the dancers. They look back at their wedding, rendered as a duet between Sasha Rydlizky and Fausto Rivera, and at their last morning together, as it is portrayed in both the beginning of the piece and through their own, differing, recollections. In the process, Adam seems to reconcile within himself the things about that day that will never make sense. Contrary to the adage, everything does not happen for a reason.

Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company in “From Code to Universe” by Daniel Charon. Photograph by Stuart Ruckman

As the work comes to a close, Francis disappears, and the six company dancers join Charon onstage. As he dances with his memories, in the form of the dancers, the audience witnesses him navigating the foreign landscape in which he’s been placed—a world suddenly without his wife with which to share it.

My boyfriend’s death changed me. And, until watching “From Code to Universe,” I thought I pretty much understood all the reasons why. But, as I pondered Charon’s work in the days after seeing it, I realized this dance had revealed new, unconsidered layers. But really, what is each new day but a dance with one’s memories, building on what we’ve known and experienced before to brave our ever-developing reality?

“From Code to Universe” was preceded by Annalee Traylor’s “A Mischief Sublime,” a playful, yet poignant, interrogation of performative identity. Traylor, based in Atlanta, is Ririe Woodbury’s first Choreographic Canvas commissioned artist, an ongoing program that will offer one up-and-coming choreographer per year an opportunity to create on the company.

Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company in Annalee Traylor’s “A Mischief Sublime.” Photograph by Stuart Ruckman

Traylor’s work was strong but bite-sized at only 15 minutes, and it felt a little dwarfed when positioned alongside Charon’s 70-minute opus. Regardless, it showcased an artist with a strong viewpoint and a developing signature.

The work opened with a clown-like character (Luke Dakota Zender), peeking through the curtain, faux-smoking, coughing and moving through the crowd. The house lights remained on during this section, which caused me to ponder my own performance. As Zender singled out members of the audience, sitting next to them or pointing at them, I found my mind wandering to consider whether I would be noticed and how I would behave if I was.

As the house lights went down and the dance progressed, I relaxed, but the dancers seemed to amp up. The music was frantic and circus-like at first, as the performers eagerly introduced themselves through movement and established their unique and distinctive characters. Then, after a moment of stillness, a slower score was introduced. At this point, the characters began to shed their layers (literally, as well as figuratively), and, while remaining themselves, seemed to grow more authentic.

When the work was coming to a close, Zender, who opened the piece, was laid bare, having shed both their performativity and their clown collar, suit jacket, and skirt. Miche’ Smith ended the piece, in front of the curtain, eyes wide, arms moving like a frantic conductor. As the lights went down, she seemed to relax too, just like I had.

Sophie Bress

Sophie Bress is an arts and culture journalist and dance critic. She regularly contributes to Dance Magazine and Fjord Review, and has also written for the New York Times, NPR, Observer, Pointe, and more.

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