From cooking and baking within these dietary guidelines, I’ve found that my creativity in the kitchen has grown tenfold — I can equate this to dancing and how we are often our most creative when we are given limitations to work around. I’ve also discovered, especially here in Denver, that I’m not alone in my quest for delicious and healthy gluten-free, dairy-free cuisine. There is a plethora of restaurants in the area that boast a menu of allergy friendly options and I’ve meet a handful of individuals who are happy to share their alternative food epiphanies and recipes. So, now I’d like to pay it forward and share a recipe that recently came across my gluten and dairy-free radar.

This recipe, which lives on Celiac-Disease.com, will satisfy your sweet tooth without sending you to the dentist. I use sunflower butter — one of my newest culinary obsessions because it has more protein and less fat than nut butters, but still has that nutty bite. However, feel free to experiment — so long as your allergies permit it — with peanut, almond, cashew, hazelnut, or walnut butter.

A healthy treat

Gluten & Dairy-Free Sunflower Butter Muffins

Grab these items…
- 1/2 c. sunflower butter or nut butter of your choice
- 2 tbsp. Earth Balance spread at room temp
- 2/3 c. light brown sugar
- 2 eggs plus 1 egg white (add an extra egg white for high altitudes)
- 1 tsp. gluten-free vanilla
- 1 c. all-purpose gluten-free flour (I use Bod’s Red Mill)
- 1 tsp. gluten-free baking powder (use 1/2 tsp. for high altitudes)
- 4 tbsp. almond milk
- 1/2 c. carob chips (I get these at Whole Foods)

Make some magic…
1. Preheat oven to 350 and line a regular muffin tin with muffin papers (the batter makes about a dozen muffins).
2. Beat sunflower butter, Earth Balance spread, and brown sugar in a large mixing bowl with the paddle attachment of your mixer rather than the whisk. Beat in eggs, mixing well with each new egg. Then beat in vanilla.
3. Mix together dry ingredients then add to wet mixture. Mix well. Add in almond milk. Finally, stir in carob chips — don’t use your electric mixer for this. Spoon batter into muffin tins, 1/2 to 2/3 full.
4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes (for high altitudes lean towards less time so as not to dry out your muffins), until tops are puffed and lightly browned and springy to touch. Let cool in pan 5 minutes before removing.
5. Enjoy with a dab of Earth Balance spread!

Hungry yet?

Cedar Lake dancers in Horizons; photo by Paula Lobo

Jiri Kylian’s Indigo Rose was a refreshing and invigorating start to the evening. A thin wire descended diagonally across the stage, which was illuminated with crisp, white light. Four male dancers entered in turn, each one performing a speedy and energetic solo. These solos evolved into a quartet that paired spirited releases of the head, chest, and upper body with multiple, sharp directional changes. The dancers’ movements gave an impression of escape and abandon—two themes that reflect Kylian’s aim for Indigo Rose to celebrate youthful vitality.

An elegant, delicate, and nuanced pas de deux section followed—quintessential Kylian that incorporated innovative, weight-sharing techniques. Then, an enormous triangle of white fabric sailed across the suddenly darkened stage. Streams of light beamed onto the fabric, and the dancers’ silhouettes moved through absurd, illogical, and sometimes crude scenarios. The dancers became still, the lights dimmed, and Indigo Rose drew to a close as moving images of the dancers’ faces were projected onto raised screen.

Jon Bond in Indigo Rose; photo by Paula Lobo

I was especially pleased that Indigo Rose intentionally incorporated humor. Silliness befits a dance work that strives to give some representation of youths and youthfulness. And, further, it is a welcome relief when a concert dance audience laughs. This rarely happens, so it’s remarkable that Kylilan’s work inspired peals of laughter multiple times throughout the dance.

Crystal Pite’s Ten Duets on the Theme of Rescue was the second piece performed, and by far the most stunning. A semicircle of tall, standing lamps warmed an otherwise dark and shadowy stage on which various pairs of dancers moved through intimate, poignant duets. Most of these duets were intricate partnering sequences seamlessly executed by quietly meditative dancers. When not engaged in a duet, the dancers sometimes arranged and rearranged the lamps’ positions.

One moment of this piece was particularly remarkable. In it, a dancer stage right was trying to run offstage, his straight arms pressed against either side of his forward-tilting torso. Though he moved vigorously, he did not travel, each of his steps landing in just about the same place from which it began.

Eventually, he began to move toward stage right, all the while continuing the restrained motion.  As he exited, a female dancer entered from stage left. With her left arm extended straight behind her, her left hand fully outstretched, and her fingers splayed, she lunged forward across the stage, her steps heavy and labored. Making slow but deliberate progress, she continued her journey as another male dancer entered behind her, running just as the first running dancer had. These overlapping movement vignettes created a visual effect that was both heart-wrenching and witty, perhaps because I ascribed so many dramatic and romantic meanings to the section.

Pite’s work finished with a simple, bittersweet image—two dancers, hands linked and heads bowed, guiding one another toward the upstage left corner.

The evening ended with Horizons, a world premiere by Greek choreographer Andonis Foniadakis. The dancers wore costumes that resembled the uniforms of superheroes or Star Trek characters. Perhaps this choice was a reference to strength, conquest, and exploration. But, the interpretation seems forced to me, so it’s hard to say for sure.

Cedar Lake dancers in Horizons; photo by Paula Lobo

Horizons began with four men performing simultaneous solos. Every few minutes, they paused together in the downstage left corner of the stage, standing still with splayed limbs outstretched. Shortly after, they abandoned this position to first establish a huddle  and then returned to their respective solos. All the while, a recording of a man discussing relaxation techniques played. Though this section’s movement was mentally stimulating, the audio accompaniment was distracting, and so lessened the section’s overall impact.

Next, small groups of women and men quickly ran, leaped, and turned across the stage, their straight arms slicing and swiping the space around them all the while. Their movements simulating little fighter jets, they sped around until one dancer remained, crouching downstage. Three men reentered and draped a large, red rectangular piece of fabric over her. On one end of the fabric stood another dancer who stood in a static, angular position.  The crouching woman wriggled out from under the blanket, unceremoniously placed herself next to the dancer on the fabric, and began pumping her arms and knees, As the lights brightened and the music quickened, the second joined her, and the two moved through unison and contrasting rhythmic patterns. They ran offstage, another pair of dancers replaced, and a series of brief, high-energy duets on the red fabric followed.

Then came a drastic shift in energy, intention, and overall aesthetic. Two dancers wearing, flowing, flesh-colored costumes danced a final duet comprised of slow, sensual, and highly dramatic movements. Many times throughout the duet they would reach over to touch or hold one another’s faces. Water began to fall around and on the dancers, at first only sprinkling, but then progressing to a steady stream of raindrops. As the intensity with which the dancers moved grew, so did the speed of the raindrops until, eventually, the soaked dancers stood on the red carpet.

The radical compositional changes that Foniadakis introduced in final moments of the work ignored Horizons’ already-established mood, vocabulary, and themes. Rather than making a lasting impact, the conclusion distracted the viewer from the work being concluded.  As a result, Horizons ended up being confusing, convoluted, and subsequently incoherent. It was an odd and largely unsettling close to an otherwise enjoyable evening of virtuosity and artistry.

Choreographer Alex Ketley mentored the whole process, but he, unfortunately, never got to see our work. No one did. In a sour twist of fate, Rachel swung herself into our next rehearsal on a pair of crutches with a cast entombing one leg, bringing the whole shebang to a screeching halt. It happens. The Intensive continued. Our lives all continued. I used the material from our beginnings for my Senior Choreography project at my college, and it later moved to the Inside/Out Stage at Jacob’s Pillow, launching my professional choreographic career. I saw Darren again out East a couple times–the dance world is tiny, and we have mutual friends. Rachel recovered, of course, and three or four years later she surfaced on a poster for Ballet British Columbia. So when the company came through, I marked my calendar.

Rachel Meyer, poster girl. Photo by Michael Slobodian.

The first two works on Saturday’s program demonstrated the spectrum, from forboding to funny, that contemporary ballet tends traverse to in tone; they also introduced the company as a skillful group in which Rachel and Darren, perhaps thanks to my own bias, still stood out. Jacopo Godani’s A.U.R.A. (Anarchist Unit Related to Art) was dark and industrial: harsh lights in rows overheard shone onto lines of dancers performing counterpointally and in unison. 48nord’s dissonant score left room for rhythms to be layered on top of it–the dancing and the lighting were equally musical, and came together with the sound to form a collaborative score, a complete audio-visual experience. The effect was geometric, with all of the underlying natural beauty that mathematics intrinsically possesses. The costumes, also by Godani, were minimal and uniform for both men and women. Dancers wore royal blue briefs with spiderweb-y strips of fabric running the length of their torsos and arms; stylistically splayed fingers completed the image with the costumes of several broken, fraying wires, or of each arm a vector exploding into fifths.

A.U.R.A., photo by Michael Slobodian

Aniel, by Artistic Director Emily Molnar, contrasted from A.U.R.A. in several aspects. The stage was brightly lit and appeared bigger when filled with bodies in brightly colored, closely fitting satin dress clothes. The choreography became more gestural, veering into the slapstick, complete with conga lines. Purely classical footwork disrupted the funny dialogue building amongst the group: a subresaut here, a jeté there. Meanwhile men manically kissed their biceps and everyone grooved, deadpan. The dancers scooted around the stage like wind-up toys, heads wobbling, the men in ties, and the women all buttoned up. Did a deeper meaning lurk beneath this incandescent staging? Could there be some clock ticking ominously within, threatening an apocalyptic ending, if not ruined composure? Brave New World popped into my head, with Mad Men trailing close behind. However, these references might be more reflective of my own imagination than the work itself–perhaps I’d been watching too much television. Ultimately, the dance crescendo’d into a typical finale-type ending, the opportunity for a more surprising finish lost. A dancer in extremely green pants blew us a kiss, and that was all.

The curtain rose before the second intermission ended, and the backdrop had been removed, revealing the bowels of the stage itself–a convention which hearkens to Forsythe and other postmodernists. A single dancer walked onto the stage. Audience members were still milling about the house, talking, obviously accustomed to their usual cue: first, house lights dim; then, collective hush. Rachel joined the first dancer, drifting in from stage left. The two stood next to each other, rocking from side to side, performing a syncopated step TOUCH, step TOUCH. The “TOUCH” was a flexed and supinated foot that met the inside of the opposite ankle. More dancers joined from offstage, entering through the house and the wings, utterly compelled to join in this simple, rhythmic walk-in-place. A warm-up? A ritual? Darren drifted past our row as the lights finally dimmed, his focus unblinking, and then climbed up onto the stage. A scrim descended behind the company, and with all of the theatrical pieces now in place, the company’s engaging final presentation of Petite Cérémonie, choreographed by Medhi Walerski, began.

The dance unfolded episodically, wherein the play between broken convention and certain basic laws of dancemaking became as fun to watch, from a choreographic standpoint, as the dancers themselves were. Entailed in the program as a collaborative piece, the work focused on men and women, their “different brains,” and “boxes and wires trying to connect, to create a congruent image.” In section after section, the work retained a cohesive structure. Elegant costumes by Linda Chow–black suits with white shirts for the men and black dresses for the women–established a simple color palette from which neither props nor lighting detracted. The step TOUCH upon which the work had been founded recurred in each development, often with gestures or facial expressions added to it; it was also performed sitting down.

Photo by Michael Slobodian of Walerski’s “Petite Ceremonie”

In one section, a male dancer juggled three white balls while speaking, trying to pinpoint the difference between men and women. “Men have one box in their heads that is filled with absolutely nothing,” the jester posited. Another man stood by, armed with a huge, crane-like microphone, which he held overhead. When asked for his opinion, the man holding the microphone only shrugged. Just behind them another pair of male dancers performed fluidly arcing movements in unison.

In another section, two men partnered each other to a pulsing, steady beat, and then, halfway through, retrograded the entire thing.

In yet another, several women performed a gestural phrase with measured femininity while men crouched before them holding flashlights, silhouetting the women’s figures to scary proportion onto the backdrop.

Later, couples partnered while the dancers all talked among themselves, supplanting the mostly classical score with the din of speech. It hearkened back to the beginning, which had been innocently accompanied by the audience’s talking.

The dancers themselves retained a strong sense of unity throughout the work, which helped hold it firmly together. Individuals gracefully transcended the unit in solos and duets, and then melted back into the whole seamlessly. It was during this work that I got to see Darren and Rachel partner each other again, and as they moved mercurially together I meditated on their history–my little unfinished duet and all the duets they’ve probably shared since. All of the dancers in the company were unique and compelling to watch, but to be tied to the dance through these friends of mine, even in some small, probably forgotten way, was for me the cérémonie of the evening. Meanwhile, Walerski’s choreography was the evening’s standout.

In his program notes for his new comedy, Gym Shorts: The Show, Robertson speaks of the unavoidable presence of the gym in all of our lives. In his words, “Maybe you don’t think about the gym at all. But you’ll still pass 5 or 6 of ‘em on your way to work, or see ads every 5 minutes on TV!” By using this common setting in five short plays, Robertson addresses heavy hitting issues such as love, divorce, infidelity, and sexuality.

With a talented cast of ten men and one woman, Robertson has ingeniously crafted a comedy that is much more than meets the eye. Comedy without substance can fall flat.  So, Robertson set out to make plays that are funny, yet poignant, full of witty banter and real emotions. By looking at the macho relationships of men in the setting of the gym, we are invited to laugh at our own lives.

In The Spot, one gym partner confronts the other for betraying his trust by working out with a new gym buddy while he was injured. In The Toughest Thing, Shane makes a most shocking “coming out announcement” to his personal trainer and gym owner. The Solo Flex uncovers a huge secret, as one gym rat’s obsession with workout videos is accidently discovered by his buddy. In Resistance Training, Craig learns his personal trainer will be replaced by a new one, turning his world upside down—he rebels and lashes out as he fights to discover if it is possible to accept another trainer into his life while remaining true to his first. The last play, The Cool Down, deals with seventeen-year-old Brad’s first time working out with an experienced partner. Shame, guilt, excitement, and a slew of emotions are unearthed making me think about my first time at the gym.

Each of Robertson’s vignettes is crafted well enough to be stand alone plays, but he has found a gentle arc that connects them all. Robertson’s unique and comedic mastery combine to make a piece that can be as meaningful or as silly as the beholder would have. These Gym Shorts definitely don’t stink.

Click here for Dd’s interview with Eric Robertson

I met Claire Salant at Barnard College, where she focused on history, math, and dance. She is, without a doubt, one of the kindest, most genuine, and brightest women I’ve encountered. (I also recall that she was a Writing Fellow who expertly edited at least one of my papers.) Claire is currently a freelance dancer and academic teacher in New York, and we wish her a smooth recovery from a dance injury. We are so lucky to have her!

ART: Performance or visual? What place does art have in your life?

Both! Or rather, all kinds. I identify mostly as a dancer, but I also love to draw, and love art that blurs boundaries between forms. I grew up surrounded by lots of different kinds of art and art-making: my older sister is a visual artist, my twin sister is a musician, and my mother is a writer and former painter. Questions about art make me think as much about family as they do about myself! As a currently injured dancer, I can say that I need to dance in order to feel like myself.

CRAFT: Knit or Crochet or Other? What is your craftiest project to date?

I am a not-very-skilled knitter, and I mostly make scarves. I’m from Michigan and I get very cold!

DESIGN: Classical or modern? What designer or architect inspires you the most?

More modern than classical, but with both I care as much about practicality and comfort as I do about aesthetic. My mother used to be an architect and now writes about architecture, so she is definitely my biggest design influence.

FOOD: Salty or sweet? Do you know how to make your favorite dish?

I like both, but if I am being honest, I have a pretty mean sweet tooth. I love to cook and bake, and can make many of my favorite things. I’m looking forward to baking my favorite summer dessert soon, a clafouti made with sour cherries (which are only in season for a short period of time). It’s a family recipe and it’s delicious!

THOUGHT: Fiction or Nonfiction? What form does the bulk of your own reading and/or writing take?

I love to read both, but my writing is always non-fiction. I’m currently on a non-fiction reading kick as well. I studied history in college and am revisiting some of my academic roots!

FUN: Where in the world do you want to go or be stranded? What five things would be in your bag?

There are plenty of places I’d like to explore all around the world, but if I had to be stranded somewhere, I think I’d go home to Michigan–when it’s warm. It’s certainly slower than New York, but in the summer you can go canoeing down the river, or go to a lake surrounded by nothing but trees. (And Lake Michigan isn’t too far away either!) I’d bring what’s in my bag all the time: a bottle of water, sunscreen, a good book, a snack, and a phone to call my friends and family when I finish reading!

I jokingly like to refer to this time of my year as “Doodle Season.” For two years now, I’ve helped out with this awesome project called National Doodle Day where actors/celebrities/artists doodle little drawings on note cards. From May 9 -19, all of the drawings are auctioned off on eBay to raise money for research into a disease called Neurofibromatosis (NF). This year, we were lucky enough to get some dancers in on the action with the awesome Allison DeBona (“Breaking Pointe”) and 2 “Bunheads” cast members, Bailey Buntain and Matisse Love!

I love being a part of this project not only because it raises a lot of money for NF research, but also because of the creative aspect. It’s always fun to see what everyone comes up with for their drawings when they’re really given no parameters. A doodler can draw whatever they’d like using pencil, charcoal, paint, crayons, markers, etc to complete their creation.  In addition to the awesome dance-inspired doodles, this year I’m loving the drawings from Sarah Paulson, Jorge Garcia, Piper Anderson-Klotz, Scott Adsit, and so many more.

Head on over to eBay to view all of the amazing doodles! You’ll be supporting a great cause!

Also, who doesn’t want some more fun art for their house?

Happy bidding!

One band I’ve come to adore for both its artistic ingenuity and immense talent is Paper Bird—a Denver gem I collaborated with back in the fall for Wonderbound’s (formerly Ballet Nouveau Colorado) production of Carry On. So, it was a no-brainer when it came to whether or not I would attend their CD release party at the Oriental Theater back in March to celebrate the creation of their newest album, Rooms. I expected a great night of music from Paper Bird, but what I hadn’t bargained for was discovering a new musical obsession—one from West of the Rockies, an eclectic LA band called He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister.

He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister – Lauren Brown on far left

With an edgy, indie sound, rock-star worthy attire, and a catchy name, the charisma of the entire ensemble was palpable. But, as a dancer and rhythm-driven individual, I found myself particularly drawn to the band’s percussionist, Lauren Brown.

I’ve seen many drummers that can rock—the lead singer and ferocious drummer of rock-a-billy band Cowboy Mouth, Fred LeBlanc, comes to mind. But, I’m specific in labeling Brown as a percussionist and not merely a drummer. Standing high atop her instrument, Brown towers over her fellow musicians, pounding out a song’s rhythm with both her drumsticks and her tap shoes.

The Story

“I’ve been a dancer for a large part of my life,” says Brown.

Starting with modern dance when she was about four or five, Brown picked up tap, jazz, and ballet a few years later, and it wasn’t long before dance had become an integral part of her life.  By high school, she began to focus more on tap dancing and developed a “great love” for the style of movement.

Formally trained in dance, Brown was mostly a self-taught drummer—it’s something she picked up only two years ago, which is surprising given her ease and skill with a pair of drumsticks. With the help of a few friends, she learned the basics, but discovering out how to tap dance and drum simultaneously took a more trial and error approach.

“I mostly had to figure it out for myself,” she explains. “Nobody really knew how to [drum while tap dancing], including myself.”

Though she had to carve out her own technique, Brown was able to hone her special craft because of the many similarities she found between the two disciplines. “They are tremendously connected,” she says, having approached learning the drums the same way she approaches learning new choreography. “I break it down into individual physical sequences, then put it all together. The phrase begins with the tap of the foot and ends with the beat of the drum. It’s all one dance move.” She adds, “Also keeping time is keeping time. You have to pay attention to the rhythm in a very similar way.”

The Band

He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister

While at first it may seem an odd artistic trajectory for a tapper to get involved with a rock band, Brown has known the brother-sister team behind He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister since college; so, getting involved with their musical journey and working together felt like a natural choice.

Now, Brown is thrilled to call it her full time job and the rock group is currently tackling a busy summer tour schedule, performing in cities throughout the U.S. and U.K.

Fun Facts: What Makes the Tapper Keep On Tapping

Brown sites tap legend Savion Glover as one of her biggest inspirations, calling him a “king.” She says, “I wish I had his ability to create rhythmic patterns…[and] to riff like that.” Brown also admires his “freedom and the flow his upper body.”

Does she have a favorite song to perform?

It’s not an easy question for Brown to answer, but she does confess that she enjoys performing a cover of The Velvet Underground’s “What Goes On.” She revels in the challenge and speed of the song. “It’s so freaking fast, and my tap is just constant,” expresses Brown. “It ends up being a test of stamina while trying [at the same time] not to speed up [or loose] the groove.”

Learn More

See Brown in action for yourself and find out if He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister is coming to a city near you by checking out their website.

You can also follow the band on Facebook and MySpace.

It was a crowd-pleaser, no doubt, and one that affirms the growing prevalence and popularity of circus arts in the theatrical sphere. I suspect this is the direction more and more theater productions are going to head in the coming years. Performers best get themselves to some circus classes if they want to stay ahead of the curve.

The show was a perfect example of how being a “triple threat” – singer, dancer, and actor – isn’t enough anymore. One should also try to have sufficient expertise in other skills such as aerial work, acrobatics, and even skateboarding. The limits of stage craft are being broken down in every direction and Traces is a testimony to this cultural change and the demand for it from the public.

It’s the same demand that’s cropping up in dance studios all over Los Angeles. Aerial work and circus training is appearing more and more on dance academy syllabi and artists’ resumes. On the one hand, it’s thrilling that this fusion of theater, dance, and circus is growing, but on the other, this new demand puts a new level of pressure on performers to learn even more skills, some that may not be completely conducive to the others. Where is the line between fusion and a frank bastardization of different art forms? Right now the circus arts are literally walking a tightrope between their big top roots and the “legitimate theater,” and it’s rather unclear which way they’re going to fall.

© Michael Meseke 2010

It was strange to see tattered wings and an industrial style set on the elegant Dorothy Chandler Pavilion stage. Right away the show seemed out of place in it’s environment. It felt like the kind of show one would normally see in a small indie theater, on the hip side of town. Still the theater was packed – another sign that the circus has perhaps outgrown it’s tent. Yet again, I was impressed with the Music Center’s choice to bring in a more diverse program of shows to their repertoire.

Traces, directed and choreographed by Shana Carroll and Gypsy Snider, is performed by eight men and one woman. As a result, lone woman Valérie Benoît-Charbonneau perhaps did the most in the show, and spent a good deal of time being thrown through the air. The troupe began the performance with each artist introducing themselves. They threw a hanging microphone around the stage, each then giving their name, hometown, and a few choice adjectives like “flirtatious,” “clumsy,” or “romantic.” Like the seven dwarves, these adjectives became a way to identify each performer.

The audience was given the chance to get to know them on a first name basis and see their different personalities emerge throughout the show. As a result, we rooted for them. We wanted them to succeed in their gravity-defying feats, cheering for them even when a mistake was made. We were made to really like them and this culminated in a moment near the end where the troupe played out a farce on the American Idol style of being asked to vote for your favorite performer by texting in numbers.

© Michael Meseke 2010

Traces had a little bit of everything, from aerial bands to steel poles, to staked hoops, to diabolos. The performers implemented these forms to show a myriad of tricks that were impressive and, at times, nerve-wracking. There were a few minor slip ups, but when a gag didn’t work perfectly, the troupe reset and did it again until they nailed it. There were no sparkly, elaborate costumes or grand set changes – the show remained focused on a realistic, urban look, which kept the attention on the action rather than the spectacle.  This look at the reality of their process further humanized the performers for the audience.

However, the most enjoyable tricks of the night were those done with common everyday objects. One number in particular, set to the song Paper Moon, was cleverly performed with skateboards in a style Fred Astaire would have appreciated. It had all the grace and charm of his iconic roller-skating dance number to Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off, from Shall We Dance, but maintained a modern street flavor. Another piece, performed by Benoit-Charbonneau, featured her executing amazing contortions with an easy chair and a good book. In it’s charming simplicity, the piece got to the heart of how we all feel when simply engrossed by the written word.

Valérie Benoît-Charbonneau enjoying her book © Michael Meseke 2010

In between numbers we were treated to the artists interacting as friends, throwing a basketball around the stage and taking turns at playing the piano. Clearly, all nine artists are very talented and they seemed genuinely at ease with each other on stage.

All these interludes wove a tapestry of ideas about friendship, time, and childishness. This added up to an overall theme about growing up, or rather refusing to do so. There was a potency in several moments about the way we continue to postpone adulthood, and whether that’s good or bad, I’m not sure.

Regardless of what Traces sets out to achieve artistically, it ultimately is just pure entertainment. It’s straight-forward fun and impressive performing that is sure to delight children and adults with it’s fabulous production values and easy-going style. It successfully breaks down the fourth wall and conventions about both the circus and the theater, resulting in a show that’s both accessible and clever. It was uncomplicated and easy to just sit back and enjoy. If you’re looking for an unpretentious kind of circus theater show,  7 Fingers’ Traces hits the mark.  

Fish Tacos:

What you’ll need…
- 3 to 4 fresh tilapia fillets (I prefer to get wild-caught fillets vs. farm-raised)
- cloves of fresh garlic, minced
- Tequila
- Mexican spice blend (you can also make your own blend with chilli powder, cayenne pepper, salt, paprika, onion powder, and cumin)
- soft corn tortillas (yes, corn over flour — trust me on this)
- shredded cabbage (I like to use green, but purple works too)
- cilantro, minced
- limes, sliced
- goat cheese crumbles
- Roma tomatoes, diced
- guacamole (see recipe below)

How it’s done…
In a small bowl, combine spices, minced garlic, and Tequila. Rinse off the tilapia fillets with water and then pat dry with paper towels. Salt and pepper as you like. Layer a baking dish with foil — this will help with the clean up — place the fillets in the dish and coat with the spice mixture. Set in fridge and let marinate

When ready, set the oven to broil and broil the fish until the fillets are flaky — keep an eye on the fish as this can vary from oven to oven, but generally it takes about 10 to 15 minutes. When the fish is cooked through, lower the heat on the oven and place the corn tortillas on a baking sheet. Bake the tortillas for a few minutes to warm them and make them malleable. Flake the fish with a fork.

Now you’re ready to build your tacos. I usually layer them with the cabbage, tomatoes, fish, goat cheese, cilantro, and then guacamole. Top it all off with a squeeze of lime juice. But there is no set formula.

Guacamole
This is possibly one of my all time favorite foods. Sometimes, I have just guac and chips for dinner — don’t judge! This recipe is simple, which is what I think makes it so good.

Gather your ingredients…
- 3 avocados, pitted and removed from their skins
- Roma tomato, diced
- 1/3 purple onion, diced
- lemon juice
- paprika
- salt
- cumin
- cayenne pepper

Making guac magic…
Mash the avocados till smooth. Mix in tomato and onion, then add spices to taste. Careful with the cumin and cayenne pepper because it’s easy to over do it.

Should I look among the living
Should I look among the dead
If I’m searching for you?

So read the prayer card offered up to the audience upon ushering into the house. The opening image of the pre-show figured embodied this question with a nicely juxtaposed visual: a “live set” of dislocated body parts, created by the visual artist Janine Antoni, floated above the orchestra right seats while Petronio himself was lying supine in a suit, perpendicular to the artwork. Living, check. Dead, check. Where else to search? Enter The Young People’s Chorus of New York City singing in a processional led by Son Lux on guitar, with C. J. Camerieri and Rob Moose on brass and strings; delighting all with the sweet voices of youth and vigor as they spirited through the audience.

Hallelujah

Once the chorus settled in the balcony, the first dance consisted of three trios working in canon, arms leading the body in and out, forward and back, twisting and unfurling. Dancers clothed simply in burial whites, advanced and receded in a seemingly perpetual cycle of replacement, setting up a concept of renewal. The grace of this opening wave and the subtlety of the dancers’ performances eventually crashed on the sands of biblical struggle as the groups dispersed and one man emerged, costume changed to black.

My father’s son

In a clear tussle with the lyrics, this solo tumbled into a quick men’s section that brought a plague of intense activity, full of sharp kicks and jumps. Interestingly, the dancers remained closed off from one another, swarming the stage while eschewing eye contact, preferring instead to dance simultaneous solos in close proximity.

Pictured: Joshua Green
Photo: Julieta Cervantes

I’ve born so many children

This trend of isolation and onslaught continued, ramping up with a duet between two women, one of Amazonian stature and the other Pygmy. Re-entering in new wine colored costumes that were full of fabric frills in the front and bare in the back, save trunks, the uniform costumes did nothing to dispel their disconnection. Rather than partners in a time of despair, they were individual nomads on epic movement journeys that picked up the allegro where the men left off. The company’s beautifully toned legs were never part of the mystery.

Done with this struggled world

As more dancers poured forth, appearing and disappearing, they remained singular visions with flesh crosses to bear and escape. It was disconcerting to watch them fly past one another, high-energy apparitions, continuing the battle alone. It was also unclear whether the apathy the dancers had on their faces and for each other was intentional, since there is an attitude to Petronio’s signature style that often reads as standoffish. This feeling of emotional stalemate made it a good time to check in with the musicians and singers. Keeping with the theme, Son Lux’s voice sounded as if it was filtered through a major distortion effect marooning him on his own island. Was this all part of a larger effect or just a coincidence of affectation? A new and welcome crisis came during a scantily clad pas de quatre, as three men plied one fearless woman. The narrative lyrics faded away and a heavier beat rode under a much cooler and more abstract instrumental section. Though her body moved as violently directed, it was apparent her soul remained intact, rising above the circumstances.

Don’t be weary

When the chorus returned, the company began a pilgrimage diagonally across the stage. The woman from the pas de quartre returned to the living in a pale version of the ruffled costume men and women wore alike. Partnering and floor work abounded, no longer rationed commodities, as a giant silk dropped from the rafters. Backside to the audience and clinging to the fabric like a lifeline, a solo of massive hip gyrations and body rolls hypnotized. But instead of being lifted up and away, the scene ended with the dancer’s feet firmly planted in the ground.

Pictured: Joshua Green and Natalie Mackessy (center)
Photo: David Rosenberg

Done with this troubled world at last

Another surprise came in the final full company section–another costume change. Materializing as a group in black and gold dresses for the women and red skirts for the men. This eleventh hour Eastern influence did nothing to illuminate an uneven work that seemed to be conceptually bound to a Western parable and history of strife. Samsara or resurrection? Are they just two sides of the same coin? Turns out raising the dead can be a tricky and philosophically confounding business. And this was not the finale.

Hush now baby, don’t you cry

Contorted and writhing in just a dance belt, LLD ended with a powerful and grotesque solo in an attempt to close the loop between life, death, and rebirth. The lights refocused on Antoni’s disembodied artwork as they faded onstage. Life in all of its difficult glory, check. Death and its strange pull, check. This left the audience with the last task on the prayer card, to go off in search of their own redemption and renewal in the May night.