Living, Breathing, Moving Stories: It starts with a single movement

As the lights slowly fade into existence, artfully employed as decorations on the blank setting of the stage, the dancers are brought to life. They craft the space around them with every outstretched arm and pointed toe. Music lifts, builds and fills the theater, taking the dance on a ride as it swells and drops. The astonished audience is spellbound.

This is Moving Stories, a compilation of ten student-choreographed pieces performed this past weekend in the Baker Theatre.

Every individual dance told its own unique tale, spoken so clearly without words through the incredible imagination of the choreographers and flawless execution of the performers. As the house lights came up after each piece, the audience visibly and audibly reacted— whereas a few seconds before they had been silent and still, taking in the art being shaped in front of their very eyes, they now released their built-up emotions into the surrounding crowd, unable to contain their wide-eyed looks of astonishment and exclamations of beauty for another moment.

The process to create these incredibly complex and sometimes hysterical dances (see Megan Ross ‘17’s To Meep Like a Peep, a dramatization of dancing alone in one’s bedroom) was, according to performer Emily Forster ’20, extremely collaborative and rewarding. “For each dance the choreographers propose a piece to the teachers involved in heading the program; the director this year was Megan Flynn,” Forster said. “They propose their concept and a few bits of choreography and then the directors choose which ones will be a part of the show! After this, the choreographers are given free rein to teach and devise their piece, with three showings for the teachers to critique them and guide them along in the process…it started as movement and ended as a story.” Fellow performer Jessica Afflerbach ’19 recalls that these showings are when the collection really begins to evolve into its final form. “It’s very cool to see all of the different pieces come together,” said Afflerbach. “We have the opportunity to see the different dances as they develop at the showings but during tech it’s almost magical to see everything finally making sense with costumes and lighting and music.” This side of performance art is absolutely essential: these technical aspects are what truly create the universe of the dance. Miriam Oderberg Moss ’20, a member of both the costume crew and the Moving Stories audience, believes that her membership in the crew gave her a unique lens through which to view the performances. “I was only really involved in the construction of the costumes, but as far as I understand the choreographers worked with the designer (whose name is Lex) to conceptualize their shows and explain the look they were going for, and then Lex translated that in to drawings and then into actual clothing,” Oderberg Moss said. “… This means that I don’t really know what the costumes for any one show look like because I only work on small bits and pieces, so…it was cool to see it all come together on stage.” Oderberg Moss’s favorite work of all, Ann Corrao ‘17’s Vestige of an Heirloom, was the piece to which Forster lent her dancing talents. “[Corrao] used us a lot in the process of choreography,” Forster said. “She gave us the movement sequence of the piece, and requested that we create our own strings of movement based on what we connected the most with. We used those strings to create duets, etc., etc. It was incredibly fun and inspiring.”

Afflerbach, on the other hand, danced in Forster’s best-loved piece besides Vestige of an Heirloom: The Fleeting That Follows by Marissa Finkelstein ‘18.

“I thought the way [Finkelstein] choreographed the piece was so intelligent and carefully thought out,” said Afflerbach. “Additionally, it was an incredibly fun and rewarding experience to be a part of.”

Forster has her own reasons for holding this work near and dear to her heart.

“This piece develops upon the concept of memories,” Forster said. “Memories that swirl, reoccur, expand, and fade. This work of art hit home for me, because my grandparent is a victim of Alzheimer’s. He reached for memories, yet they had left him. The piece ends with one figure reaching with the soft rhythms of the music, reaching into the open air. The entire ensemble retreats away from her in the configuration of a circle. The figures and the shapes were gorgeous, and my heart connected with its incredible intent. Of course it was my favorite!”

This profound outward expression of such a personal idea is the crux of Moving Stories: these pieces tell the stories we want – or perhaps need – them to. Dance is magical in that an audience member can imagine their own seemingly obvious explanation, and, confident in their proposal, turn to tell another viewer – only to realize that both of their ideas are completely and totally different.

Still, somehow, each idea is possible – starting and ending with just one single movement.

Photo courtesy of Scott Snyder.