Dancers walk down the theatre aisles carrying small plants lit with a single, small bulb and bringing life and breath into the space. Slowly, they ascend to the stage, gently placing the plants down to set the tone for a work that demonstrates the connection not only among all humans but among all living beings.
Marisa Gold’s spoken word poetry makes clear the theme of interconnection in Alexis Fletcher’s Everything and Nothing:
We hear a familiar voice emerge
Learning step by breath, this divine climb
Landing heart to depth
Pulling strain across chest
Fear, met by the test and oh..
How our young selves still must grow
Remember, Never-end
Mother multitude, home of seed
All from and to become
Never and completely
The same
Heart
Shared
Gold’s performance is rousing and passionate. Justin Rapaport joins Gold on stage and interprets her words with equal emotion. At this moment it becomes clear that Everything and Nothing may be a seminal work in our dance history — a new creation melding spoken word and contemporary movement that seems to speak to our collective consciousness in a new way.
Full of deeply philosophical and existential themes, Fletcher’s choreography, paired with Sylvain Senez’s stunning sound and visual design, evokes a sense of desperation and uncertainty, a search for answers. Apocalyptic imagery and an eerie soundscape set the scene for a climactic duet that leads to a joyful denouement. Aside from some distracting humming during one section, I wouldn’t change much.
Gold’s poetry continues to explore the theme of universal and cosmic connection with lines like “This singular everything is also nothing” and “What do you sense through the marrow of your bones?” A French voice over explains things more directly, discussing atoms and stars. We’re left with plenty to ponder and a declaration of why we’re all here: “The purpose? To feel.”
Fletcher’s piece is followed by Fernando Hernando Magadan’s Statera, in which Fletcher performs. Hernando Magadan’s work features simpler staging: a large asteroid and transparent house hanging from each end of a balance bar that spins above the dancers. The atmosphere is darker, feeling post-apocalyptic with flashes of light and music by Ben Waters evoking sudden crashes of thunder. The small house adds an ominous tone, asking us to consider both our individual and collective homes and how we might ensure a sustainable future.
Statera, Latin for balance, is a powerful piece of choreography from Hernando Magadan full of sprints and spins. The pace is urgent, demanding yet fluid; the group is together and precise in their movements. Strobe lights add to the sense of peril. The dancers stack one on top of the other, heads down and arms outstretched, connected as one unit they create beautiful shifting shapes. Fletcher and Rapaport share a beautiful duet before we’re left with a final image: the small house hanging above the stage, the only thing to be seen in the darkness before the light fades.
