"無"

[Here and Now - UofU]






無... or "Mu" is difficult, if not impossible, to translate into English. It's part of an illogical Zen riddle, or koan and essentially means "non-" or "nothingness."

University of Utah student, Arwen Ek, whom you might remember being arrested for performing in the street a few years ago, certainly has a formidable challenge before her: To translate MU into an embodied response to the koan.

The preview performance she gave last night was magnificent. Incorporating video, music and three forms of Japanese theater - Noh, Kabuki and Butoh - Arwen underwent a horrific transformation, de-constructing and rebuilding the nature of woman, only to re-emerge as MU itself.

So, if you're seeking for something to add to your weekend of Japanese culture (you ARE going to the Japanese festival this Saturday, riiiight? *nudge nudge*), "MU" will certainly answer that riddle.


MU Performance artist Arwen Ek combines movement, music, theater, visual art and theoretical physics. Studio 115, U of U Performing Arts Building, 240 S. 1500 East, 581-7100, April 24-26, 7:30 p.m. Tickets: $9/person, $7 for UofU faculty, $5 for students (with ID).
*Not suitable for audiences under 14*

(SLC Random Team)

Closer to Home

[Follow-Up] The current City Weekly cover story features two young Hispanic artists, Jesus Silva and Marisela Perez, finding their lives in a new dance by choreographer Charlotte Boye-Christensen. Friday night Silva and Perez went to see the dance, "Lost," at the Rose Wagner Theater. Their mentor Walt Hunter went with them. After the sold-out performance, Silva and Perez went to Ririe-Woodbury's Christmas party and mingled with the dancers and Ririe-Woodbury founder Joan Woodbury. "They were treated like celebrities," Hunter says.

Meanwhile, in Tijuana the next day, Jose Hernandez got off an aeroplane. Hernandez's idea for a club, a place where undocumented Hispanic kids--kids without a country--could go, was the genesis for what became the "Lost" project.

Hernandez landed in Tijuana having just been deported by the U.S. government after serving 11 months for a gun possession conviction. Deportees are not allowed to enter Mexico without money. Hernandez had $100. Within the hour, he and another deportee were arrested by local cops and robbed.

"The cops know who we are, they know what the deal is," a frightened Hernandez told Hunter on the phone. With no family in Tijuana and no money, quite how Hernandez will survive is open to question. (Stephen Dark)

It's Good to Be the King

[Dance] The ornate costumes, tight choreography and impeccable technique showcased at the first performance of The Three Musketeers—incidentally the opening night of Ballet West's 2007-08 season (Nov. 2)—proved that the company's international reputation as a world-class dance company still holds.

There were a few opening night glitches (damn you, fake stage door that won’t open!), but the palpable energy of the corps and the dynamic performances of the lead dancers—notably Christiana Bennett, masterfully portraying the evil Countess De Winter)—compensated from any technical problems.

The indisputable highlight of The Three Musketeers was demi-soloist Jeff Herbig’s Captain Jack Sparrow-esque portrayal of His Majesty King Louis XIII of France. Herbig’s pompous, self-interested Louis dominated the stage, even though his role was primary a character part with very little actual dancing. Every detail—from his childish lip curl to the way he gazed at his jeweled fingers instead of the people surrounding him—was spot on the entire time. Like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean, Herbig employed a cocky strut to communicate his character’s vanity and laughable obliviousness to everyone and everything around him. King Louis’s oversized wig, tiny pet dog—a live, squirming dog who exited the stage in a hurry—and white, red-heeled boots were another glaring indication of his garishness.

Character roles are the true test of a ballet dancer. It is possible to have flawless technique, and still forge absolutely no connection with the audience. Herbig consistently garnered the most laughter and applause because he kept the audience engaged every second he was on stage.

Physical comedy is much more challenging than drama, especially in a ballet production. So, if you’re looking to be wowed by a live performance, check out Jeff Herbig’s portrayal of King Louis in The Three Musketeers. His ingenuous interpretation of a pompous French ruler will remind you why live performances trump YouTube. (Jenny Poplar)

Believe the Hype

[Review] I will fully admit that I'm a recovering ballet snob. I spent many years in pink tights and a black leotard, with my hair slicked back into the most flawless bun I could manage, believing that every other form of dance was totally inferior to ballet. A big part of my self-prescribed rehabilitation program is to branch out and expose myself to as many non-ballet dance performances (and classes) as possible.

Attending Transfusion Hype’s Rebirth Sept. 18 made me realize that I’m steadily overcoming my ballet snobbery. Three years ago, Rebirth’s energetic mix of hip-hop, jazz and modern dance would have sent me fleeing for the nearest exit. But I’m far enough along on my rehabilitation schedule to sincerely congratulate choreographer Ashlee Prentice for creating a thoroughly entertaining and engaging evening of dance, even if I had to fight for the first 20 minutes not to scream "high school dance company calibre!" at the top of my lungs.

Transfusion Hype’s passionate and able dancers (most notably Prentice, Lynn Palermo and Rachel Clayson), tight choreography and sharp musicality certainly had me clapping by the end of the show. (Jenny Poplar)

Partly Local: Dance Theatre Coalition's "Proving Ground"

[Multimedia] I'm always happy to hear about and support productions in the vein of the Proving Ground that provide an appropriate space for amateurs to stage and develop their work, or perhaps professionals trying their hand at something new. It’s also nice to see an arts community as fecund as Salt Lake's fostering emerging and innovative talent by spreading funding, space, support and energy around to those that might be in need. That, in short, is the No. 1 reason I make an extra effort to attend such productions.

Proving Ground’s producers, Dance Theatre Coalition, decided to forgo traditional ticketing in favor of online reservation and a suggested donation of $15. Obviously this technique is aimed at getting more butts in seats. Still, it’s a risky venture in the sense that people might actually pay for what they feel they got—and Utah audiences are notoriously fickle (read: cheap).

I was under the impression that as a locally-grown production—funded for the most part by local monies and attended by local audiences—Proving Ground would consist of local emerging artists and talent. And there were some. Joey Guesthouse—a used-appliance salesman who attends school part time at Salt Lake Community College when not otherwise busy—and his VHS Quintet opened the show by twisting and tweaking various knobs, sampling and mixing sounds culled from the five VCR’s he’s ingeniously wired to a multi-tracker, delay pedal, delay unit, battle mixer and drum machine. A brilliant kaleidoscopic dance for the camera was choreographed and edited by Erin Kaser. And there was Lindsay Ellis-Ermidis’ Remote Beyond Control dance piece, half-heartedly constructed around the growing banality of America, fueled by a blind devotion to all things media. There was even a one-act scene directed by Alexandra Harbold that culminated with a passionate delivery of Ptolemy’s self-written eulogy.

The problem lay with the fact that this multi-disciplinary evening—which included dance, film, theater, music and mixed variations on all those mediums—included several artists that not only had little or nothing to do with Utah, but also didn’t deliver anything particularly unique. Sure, Dana Michel’s solo performances were filled with interesting and provocative movement that consisted mostly of hyperbolic, pedestrian themes made grotesque. But such movement always works better when juxtaposed with something beautiful and serene.

Still, the best example of the evening falling flat came with the closer: “Stairway to St. Paul’s” by the Dutch-born Jeroen Offerman. This short film, created in 2002, shows Offerman himself singing Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” backwards. He taught himself how to sing the entire song backwards, filmed himself doing so on a street somewhere, reversed the film, added Zepplin’s score and, voilá! What I thought was a local artistic Proving Ground turned into YouTube’s greatest hits.

And really that may be the theme for the evening. Proving Ground is supposed to be a space to develop new ideas, and a sphere for emerging artists. But the result was a stewing pot of ideas, many of which needed to simmer a little longer. (Jacob Stringer)