Work Performance: Jill Johnson’s “The Copier” for Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet (Dancer Magazine)

by Mary Staub — Oct 14, 2008 (Dancer Magazine) 

Humanity is brought center stage in Jill Johnson’s dance installation “The Copier” performed by Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet in New York this August. During the 40-minute event, Cedar Lake dancers gently glide from preparatory warm-up into full-out performance, and in so doing, blur the boundaries between intuition and intention, individuality and conformity.

When you first walk into Cedar Lake’s warehouse-style theatre, it is unclear whether “The Copier” has already begun. Exposed brick walls, visible lighting structures overhead and an absence of spectator seating give the event a no-frills feel. The sense of storeroom starkness is further enhanced by the constant electronic whirr of a computer, copier or maybe a shredder. This industrial drone subtly switches to birdsong and city sounds throughout David Poe’s richly varied musical score.

Fifteen dancers distractedly stretch, roll their shoulders and mark simple steps on a t-shaped, curb-high platform in the center of the room. Dressed in fancified training gear – women in short shorts and lacy tops, men in colorfully clashing shirt-pant-and-sock combos – they might be rehearsing and making sure they remember their moves; or, this may be part of the show.

But within minutes, 15 individual stories begin to captivate and intrigue, and whether it’s preparation or performance ceases to matter. One man sits on the ground, legs stretched nimbly before him, and gently massages his calves and purple-socked feet. With increasing vigor, as arms, torso, shoulders and head become part of the story, this preliminary rubdown gives way to full-bodied narrative.

Cedar Lake dancers, Nickemil Conception, Acacia Schachte and Oscar Ramos
Photo by Julieta Cervantes

Throughout the room, individuals tentatively tell movement tales that build into life stories. In the opposite corner, a pedestrian woman extends a leg, reaching farther and farther, as though trying to overstep a gigantic puddle of water. Eventually she jumps, turns, and jumps again, her body coiling as though trying to circumvent a pillar.

Like people on a busy market square, sometimes these stories intersect. When one woman glances up from her own absorbed day, she catches the eye of a passerby. Tentatively a conversation develops wherein movements are mimicked and experiences are mirrored.

“By choice, force, or design, we copy others every day;” Johnson comments in program notes. “We stand in lines, forward e-mail, repeat overheard slang and opinions and follow trends. But of course we are all individuals and as such are inherently different from each other even when we do the same thing.”

On Johnson’s market square, or city sidewalk, occasionally everyone falls into step. Like a military regiment, they march forward, backward, halt and start again. But when two women start to break rank, others slowly follow suit, and again separate stories subtly ensue.

Throughout “The Copier” dancers repeatedly break the boundary between performance space and audience. They dash through the crowd to rest against walls, leaving just single stories as the central focus. Although we’re told – again in program notes – that dancers and audience will share the same sphere, and that the audience is encouraged to move through the room, this rarely occurs. The set-up, with all movement center stage, creates little incentive to change one’s perspective, and only outside the boundaries of the platform stage in our sphere could any sharing of stories truly take place.

Cedar Lake’s dancers transform contorted twists, body ripples, distant gazes and quiet stances into human stories. They alternate between individual absorption and interaction with others. If spectators truly became part of their sphere, they might experience the dance within everyday life, and the force to fit in, more acutely. But perhaps that’s not needed, because as it stands, Johnson’s “The Copier” already presses us to recognize the rhythm and ritual of our own daily lives.

Cedar Lake Goes Gaga

New York Sun
By MARY STAUB June 4, 2007

Adapting to a new choreographer's style is never easy, but this season has been a particular challenge for the dancers at Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet. Working under the direction of guest choreographer Ohad Naharin, the artistic director of Israel's Batsheva Dance Company, the classically trained dancers have had to discover a whole new approach to movement: "gaga."
For the past three months Mr. Naharin and assistants from his company have supplemented the Cedar Lake dancers' classical training with daily workshops in gaga, Mr. Naharin's original movement approach, to prepare them for performances of Mr. Naharin's "Decadance," a piece composed of excerpts from 10 past works that begins performances June 7.

Gaga has more to do with the discovery of a certain quality, texture, and intention of movement than a specific technique, according to the choreographer. "The first thing we do is cover the mirrors and we try to get the dancers to really start sensing their bodies," Mr. Naharin explained on a recent afternoon between rehearsals. "So many dancers dance with just one idea; their school's idea, a strength idea, an idea of line, or form, or drama. But there's always more than just one idea that you can work with."

For most dancers, working without mirrors during the rehearsal process is like jumping into water without swimming lessons. There's nothing to hold onto, no way to know what's right. Without the continuous ability to watch one's own reflection and check one's placement, movement, rhythm or spacing, dancers invariably discover new sources of feedback.

"I've been trained in a way that something was either correct or not and I've now had to let go of these concepts of right and wrong and learn to make more of a feeling be the aim," a dancer in his third season with Cedar Lake, Jubal Battisti, said. "When you check yourself in the mirror constantly, it distracts from the sensation and emotion of what you're doing. All you have while you're working now is yourself, the images in your head, the people around you, and you're suddenly relying more on sensation and imagery in your head, rather than shape."

The approach of gaga is something Mr. Naharin has been developing for many years. While he was recovering from a back injury more than 20 years ago, he found he had to discover new and more efficient ways of moving. Over the subsequent years, he has continued to integrate input from dancers and nondancers alike. Mr. Naharin makes a point to collaborate with companies without any prior experience in more sensorial approaches to dance, and tries to help these dancers fine-tune their sense of expression.

"Many things are already in their bodies: ability, musicality, fantasy. They're just not using it because it's locked in," Mr. Naharin said. "It's hard if a company is very story oriented, or point oriented, or skinny-ballerina oriented. I try to find the right key to help them unlock something new."

In one of the early gaga classes Mr. Battisti recalled lying on the floor like overcooked spaghetti in a pot of boiling water.

"I don't know what this looked like, but it's not about what it looks like," he said, sounding slightly worried about appearances. "We were basically flopping around on the ground, but in your head you're feeling like you're spaghetti and in a pot of boiling water."
Since then, Cedar Lake dancers have come a long way. "They start to feel how the body is made up of 1,000 small places that can isolate," Mr. Naharin said. "Even if you're moving in one piece, you're moving many pieces together, not just a block. This is important to be alive in your dance."

During a recent rehearsal of an excerpt from "Black Milk" at Cedar Lake's Chelsea theater, four male dancers moved toward one another slowly, peering in over a fifth dancer lying on the floor beneath them. After a first runthrough of the excerpt, Mr. Naharin had the dancers repeat this segment again and again, gently giving them information about their attitude and intention.
"You're curious about him, that's why you bend in, don't think about how far down you have to bend because that looks stiff and hostile. You're interested, not confrontational; think less, do less, sense more," Mr. Naharin said, as he and his assistants demonstrated on the side. The dancers tried to let go of their more dramatic approach. Mr. Naharin added one more command: "And have fun."

Begins June 7 (547 W. 26th St., between Tenth and Eleventh avenues, 212-868-4444).