Varone’s movement style lends the dancers an element of elation—tilting back their heads, with arms lifted in a wide port de bras, small arch to the upper back. They voraciously eat up space, arms like street signs pointing the way. Yet the vocabulary is at the same time deeply personal, as if people in conversation. Varone can carve out a telling hitch in the shoulder or a duck of chin, without interrupting the grand sweep of momentum.
Costumes by Caitlin Taylor are a pleasing collection of grayed out shades of blue, maroon, gunmetal. Casual outfits of pants, tunics, or shirts, each different, yet of a set. After intermission, the evening resumes with seemingly the same clothes, only now glowing with burnt orange and yellow tones. Shirttails flap and whip as the dancers fly through space.
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