Tidal Movements

Three dancers drip down a wall like paint. Their backs press against the background as they slowly bend their knees, oozing down a blank canvas. This is a scene from John Jasperse's latest work, “Tides,” which had its premiere as part of the La MaMa Moves! Dance Festival April 10-13.

Performance

John Jasperse: “Tides”

Place

La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club, New York, NY, April 12, 2025

Words

Cecilia Whalen

From left: Jace Weyant, Jodi Melnick (center, floor), Vicky Shick, Maria Fleischman, Cynthia Koppe in John Jasperse's “Tides.” Photograph by Maria Baranova

“Tides” is an intergenerational work exploring mentor/protégé relationships and how postmodern legacies get passed down. The piece looks particularly at the work of Trisha Brown, with whom two of the dancers, Vicky Shick and Jodi Melnick, worked directly. Shick and Melnick, both award-winning choreographers, act as the elders to three younger dancers—Cynthia Koppe, Maria Fleischman, and Jace Weyant.

The piece begins with all five dancers emerging ominously in long black dresses (Jasperse also did the striking costumes). They enter the deep Ellen Stewart Theatre with slow walks forward while imposing lighting (by Ben Demarest) burns behind them. When Melnick arrives downstage, she winces into contorted standing positions. She bends back a pointer finger then forces the finger into her opposite palm. She touches her head and neck and scratches her hands, then points at the audience with a crooked finger and a piercing stare.

This initial ghostly mood is enhanced by smoke which lingers on the upstage, and a rumbling score by Hahn Rowe which simmers in the distance. Things lighten up as the other dancers juxtapose each other in polyphony, each twirling and waving independently with loose, subtle phrases.

Cynthia Koppe, Jace Weyant, and Maria Fleischman in John Jasperse's “Tides.” Photograph by Maria Baranova

The title, “Tides,” is evoked conceptually in considering waves of artistic movements, and the coming and going of these styles and artists through time. The title is also evoked through oceanic imagery: for example, the five dancers flowing slowly down and upstage in linear walking patterns, or the bobbing, liquid dancing phrases.

Some of the greatest “tidal” moments come from the interaction with the back wall. Lit almost fluorescently, the white back wall becomes its own vertical stage which dancers return to in multiple groupings. Each time, the dancers use the wall as leverage and support, balancing against it in acrobatic positions, or falling into it from standing positions. They press into the wall, then brush and slide across it. These moments are visually and auditorily arresting: The dancing against the wall creates a wonderful swishing sound, the sound of the tides.

Later on, Melnick and Shick engage in duet, both at the wall and downstage. They partner each other gently, laying in each other's laps, and caressing each other's faces. Once standing, Melnick nuzzles her head underneath Shick's arm. Shick does a “downward dog” forward bend, and Melnick helps adjust her hips. Back on the floor, Shick presses her pelvis up on all fours in a backbend position, her head draped upside down, once again looking at the audience. This movement, as well as others initiated by Melnick and Shick, are picked up by the other dancers who likewise lift into backbends on the floor.

Cynthia Koppe and Maria Fleischman in John Jasperse's “Tides.” Photograph by Maria Baranova

While the elder and younger dancers occasionally make direct connections, Jasperse demonstrates a lineage of movement that is passed down indirectly. We see Shick and Melnick's motifs repeated and altered by the other dancers, but it doesn’t come across as either imitation or a student's practice. Instead, it is as if the movement was just drifting along in the air (or in the water), inhaled then exhaled by the younger dancers, who probably weren't at all aware that it had passed through them, let alone where it came from.

This idea—that movement styles, like accented speech, move and change across generations with little reflection on origin or technical integrity—does not scare Jasperse. He explains in program notes that the “evolving rhizome of styles” resulting from a “corruption, contradiction, and cross-pollination” of influences are to be celebrated and not mourned.

The evolution of movement styles is part of what allows dance as an art form to live and grow, Jasperse says, and he welcomes the changes. What Jasperse does emphasize is intergenerational dialogue, as well as the coming together of generations in order to cultivate mutual respect, mentorship, support, and understanding, all of which he considers vital to an artist's life.

At the end of “Tides,” all five dancers return downstage together. They don't look at each other so much as out, but they do stand shoulder to shoulder. They tilt their heads, and rub their faces, necks, and hands, each one a little differently, but all with a similarly dreamy look in their eyes.

Cecilia Whalen

Cecilia Whalen is a New York City-based dancer, choreographer, and writer. She is a graduate of the Martha Graham School and the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. In addition to her work with Fjord, her writing can be found in various publications, including Dance Magazine and Commonweal Magazine.

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