Author’s Note:
Valinkat (aka Kathy Valin) is a blog I created in the summer of 2010. I am currently a freelance writing and editing professional enjoying life in the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood of Cincinnati, Ohio, when I’m not traveling all over the world with my husband.
On Valinkat I regularly post a mix of urban diary, dance, pets, food, and some stuff that just feeds my crazy sense of humor. Among other credits, I’ve drawn on my over decade-long history as a dance writer, critic, and contributing editor for CityBeat (the Cincinnati alternative newspaper),The Cincinnati Enquirer, Dance Magazine and other publications. On the Dance front, I’ve also been Staff Writer for Cincinnati Ballet (I am the proud creator of their tagline: Beauty. Power. Passion.), and Publicity Director for Jefferson James’ Contemporary Dance Theater. I’ve received an NEA Journalism Fellowship at the American Dance Festival in Durham, North Carolina, and the Gary Parks Memorial Scholarship from Dance Critics of America. I also hold an MFA in Writing from Washington University in St. Louis.
As a dancer, I have performed, taught and studied almost all my life. I’m also an accomplished pianist, and mommy to my dog Puppy.
I think the dance scene in Cincinnati is awesome, and I am happy to be able to report on it and all the culture that comes my way.
A few Fridays ago, I arrived at the Cincinnati Art Museum around 7 p.m. during an icy rain. Slick or not, I was determined to brave Mt. Adams’ steep slopes to see a brief dance choreographed by Cincinnati’s Heather Britt, during which the dancers would be wearing fantastical “Soundsuits” crafted by Chicago-based artist Nick Cave.
The performance was part of Cincinnati Art Museum’s INVASION! Nick Cave: Meet Me at the Center of the Earth, a special exhibit running January 21 through April 29, 2012, featuring 40 of Cave’s so-called Soundsuits. These babies are towering, mixed-media, semi-human forms, imaginatively arranged throughout the museum’s galleries. Several peripheral activities (such as the one I was attending) invited the audience to not only see but to hear firsthand the swish, clang, jingle and rattle that the suits were said to make when dancers were moving inside them.
I knew Cave had been inspired to build his first suit in the early 1990s after the brutal beating of African American Rodney King by Los Angeles police officers, noting that when he was inside one of his elaborate suits, his identity as an African American was erased and he felt protected. “I was a shaman of sorts,” he has said. I also knew he was chairman of the fashion program at the School of the Arts Institute of Chicago, and had studied with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.
Well, on that dark, icy night, a good several hundred people hungry for company and art had managed to slide up the hill to join me in the museum’s Great Hall, a round, marble-floored space crowned by two staircases, where we snacked on a thoughtfully provided finger buffet and accompanying cash bar. There were a few tables and chairs arrayed here and there, but most people were standing when the sound of recorded African drumming brought us to attention and space was cleared for the performers, a few of whom descended the staircases, dancing as they came.
Nine slightly larger than life performers in whooshing raffia costumes and afro wigs in electric hues of yellow, pink and red were eventually joined by two very tall forms covered in swinging hair in the hall’s center area. The costumes themselves made an aural and visual impact, drawing oooh’s and aaah’s.
The raffia outfits, in which the torso, arms and legs were encased in bouncing fringe, seem to have been built on the model of a traditional West African ritual costume, in which an underlying outfit of woven fabric is covered in frills made from raffia palm. The African dancers also typically wear black and white masks, as did the dancers here.
At any rate, the dancers filled the space wonderfully with energy. It was a startling and exhilarating effect to see them stamp, jump, ripple and sway to the beat of the drums.
In formations they marched, they turned, they jumped side to side. They shimmied their shoulders and their rear ends, they barrel-turned, they kicked and dived. Sometimes they engaged with the surrounding audience, moving aggressively towards the first row. However, these masquerade characters, which I eventually decided they were, also leaned against each other in friendly clumps and bounced in time to the beat. At one point, in a more jazzy interlude, there was a brief pas de deux.
In sum, this was a very enjoyable evening topped off with a fillip of classic performance art. The length of the dance itself was the perfect length (shortish) for the setting. The choreographer was challenged to work within the scope and style of the Soundsuit sculptures, but there was never a sense that the dance was simply “illustrating” the costumes. If there was a larger social message in the costumes, however, it was overshadowed in this case by the playfulness of the movement and the correspondingly buoyant mood of the audience.
There were no program notes, but I later found out that the cast had been recruited by Britt from her students at Northern Kentucky University, Cincinnati’s Rhythm & Motion staff, and a handful of others. The duet was performed by Courtney Duncan and Cameron Imbrogno, NKU BFA Dance students. Susan Autran, Bryan Fox, Ian Forsgren, Jyreika Giat, LeAnthony Holliness, Steve Irwin, Alena O’Donnell, Danielle Shoreman, and Julie Sunderland completed the cast.
–Kathy Valin
A few Fridays ago, I arrived at the Cincinnati Art Museum around 7 p.m. during an icy rain. Slick or not, I was determined to brave Mt. Adams’ steep slopes to see a brief dance choreographed by Cincinnati’s Heather Britt, during which the dancers would be wearing fantastical “Soundsuits” crafted by Chicago-based artist Nick Cave.
The performance was part of Cincinnati Art Museum’s INVASION! Nick Cave: Meet Me at the Center of the Earth, a special exhibit running January 21 through April 29, 2012, featuring 40 of Cave’s so-called Soundsuits. These babies are towering, mixed-media, semi-human forms, imaginatively arranged throughout the museum’s galleries. Several peripheral activities (such as the one I was attending) invited the audience to not only see but to hear firsthand the swish, clang, jingle and rattle that the suits were said to make when dancers were moving inside them.
I knew Cave had been inspired to build his first suit in the early 1990s after the brutal beating of African American Rodney King by Los Angeles police officers, noting that when he was inside one of his elaborate suits, his identity as an African American was erased and he felt protected. “I was a shaman of sorts,” he has said. I also knew he was chairman of the fashion program at the School of the Arts Institute of Chicago, and had studied with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.
Well, on that dark, icy night, a good several hundred people hungry for company and art had managed to slide up the hill to join me in the museum’s Great Hall, a round, marble-floored space crowned by two staircases, where we snacked on a thoughtfully provided finger buffet and accompanying cash bar. There were a few tables and chairs arrayed here and there, but most people were standing when the sound of recorded African drumming brought us to attention and space was cleared for the performers, a few of whom descended the staircases, dancing as they came.
Nine slightly larger than life performers in whooshing raffia costumes and afro wigs in electric hues of yellow, pink and red were eventually joined by two very tall forms covered in swinging hair in the hall’s center area. The costumes themselves made an aural and visual impact, drawing oooh’s and aaah’s.
The raffia outfits, in which the torso, arms and legs were encased in bouncing fringe, seem to have been built on the model of a traditional West African ritual costume, in which an underlying outfit of woven fabric is covered in frills made from raffia palm. The African dancers also typically wear black and white masks, as did the dancers here.
At any rate, the dancers filled the space wonderfully with energy. It was a startling and exhilarating effect to see them stamp, jump, ripple and sway to the beat of the drums.
In formations they marched, they turned, they jumped side to side. They shimmied their shoulders and their rear ends, they barrel-turned, they kicked and dived. Sometimes they engaged with the surrounding audience, moving aggressively towards the first row. However, these masquerade characters, which I eventually decided they were, also leaned against each other in friendly clumps and bounced in time to the beat. At one point, in a more jazzy interlude, there was a brief pas de deux.
In sum, this was a very enjoyable evening topped off with a fillip of classic performance art. The length of the dance itself was the perfect length (shortish) for the setting. The choreographer was challenged to work within the scope and style of the Soundsuit sculptures, but there was never a sense that the dance was simply “illustrating” the costumes. If there was a larger social message in the costumes, however, it was overshadowed in this case by the playfulness of the movement and the correspondingly buoyant mood of the audience.
There were no program notes, but I later found out that the cast had been recruited by Britt from her students at Northern Kentucky University, Cincinnati’s Rhythm & Motion staff, and a handful of others. The duet was performed by Courtney Duncan and Cameron Imbrogno, NKU BFA Dance students. Susan Autran, Bryan Fox, Ian Forsgren, Jyreika Giat, LeAnthony Holliness, Steve Irwin, Alena O’Donnell, Danielle Shoreman, and Julie Sunderland completed the cast.
February 26th, 2012at 1:49 am(#)
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October 26th, 2013at 6:49 am(#)
CS-16 Model Concert Adjustable Piano Bench in Leather.
Its wooden legs are usually developed together with impressive and high-quality
wood that will last for so long. The adjustable piano bench is suitable for
all ages and preferred by many teaching institutes and training centers.