Dance review: Looping, live-generated sounds form the score for meditative Core/Us
Action at a Distance artistic director Vanessa Goodman’s work has its world premiere at Dancing on the Edge
Core/Us. Photo by David Cooper
Dancing on the Edge Festival (July 7 to 16) presents Core/Us at the Firehall Arts Centre on July 7 at 7 pm and on July 8 at 9 pm
CORE/US IS a work of layers. Sheets upon sheets of made-in-the-moment sounds are laid upon each other, gradually building to a crescendo, echoing the movements of four dancers, who journey from complete stillness to a collective driving, primal rhythm.
Choreographed by Action at a Distance artistic director Vanessa Goodman, the 70-minute piece is having its world premiere at the 2022 Dancing on the Edge Festival. It’s unique in the way Goodman incorporates vocoders, which synthesize the human voice; real-time effects samplers; and looper effects pedals: Press once to record—say, the sounds of dancer Ted Littlemore hmmm-ing and oooo-ing into a mic; it’s not exactly singing—then press once again to play the loop. Littlemore does this again and again, making various noises—whistling, clicking his tongue against his teeth, softly thumping his chest—adding so many layers of sound and harmonizing with himself to form Core/Us’s score. Other performers contribute here and there, with Adrian de Leeuw recording the sound of him coiling a microphone cord and dropping it to the floor, over and over; the effects yield spacey, wobbly, gurgly waves that bring to mind a mad scientist’s lab.
Much of the movement is hyper controlled, almost butoh-like, with contorted poses and an extremely slow tempo. Consider the section where Anya Saugstad and Eowynn Enquist crawl diagonally across the stage, bit by bit: We notice every… single… small… gesture. Acclaimed lighting designer James Proudfoot chooses stark lighting to accentuate the deliberate pace.
Amid the work’s meditative mood, there are moments of surprise: Enquist captivates as she travels laterally like a tumbleweed being blown by the wind. Her duet with Saugstad, each resting their chin on the other’s shoulder, is a rare instance of physical and emotional connection.
Sometimes the dancers’ phrasing is robotic; by the end, it’s relentless. With their own bodies providing the music that ultimately surrounds them and fills the Firehall, their movement is that much more meaningful.
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