“Imagination” is a frequently cited attribute when critics discuss Ivy Baldwin’s choreography. In recent years, she has created a series of compelling and evocative—if not always clearly decipherable—human landscapes, ranging from a snowy fairy-tale world in which Russian peasants engage in mysterious struggles, to one in which the dancers enacted animalistic courtship rituals that one critic described as “by turns beautiful and ridiculous, achingly familiar and bracingly strange.”
The title of her latest work, Bear Crown, refers to the most popular brand of beer in Romania, whose label features a brown bear sporting a gold crown. Baldwin and her dancers bonded over that beverage during her residency last October in Bacau, Romania, where she created a significant portion of the hour-long new work.
“When I originally started this piece, I had very different ideas in mind about what I wanted to explore,” Baldwin says. “My month there changed everything for me. My initial ideas were definitely thrown out the window once I was immersed in this completely new culture, learning about their history, talking to people who were young during the revolution. I ended up making a work that was far more serious and a little bit darker. These people had been through so much, and there was a sense of exhaustion. But they were very optimistic about the future, and that had a big influence on what I was thinking.”
Clearly, the piece evolved considerably from the early portions created at the height of last summer’s Olympic glory, when she was drawing on images of “the grandeur and power of Olympians.” The completed work begins with a certain stately grandeur—there is even an introductory overture, before the dancing begins—but evolves towards deterioration. “There is this controlled, bonded group at first, but it goes into a place where people are out on their own. It turns into a very personal, individual journey.”
As the dancers run through portions of Bear Crown a week before its premiere, one striking aspect are the unusual and often constrained positions in which the dancers hold their arms and hands. Closed fists, stiffly angled arms, hands pressed together but with the palms facing away color the action, which alternates crisp, forceful passages of movement with intimate, off-kilter encounters. Snatches of dialogue evoke conflict, possibly interrogation.
The sound score by Justin Jones incorporates pealing bells as well as exploding cannons, among its many and subtly varied textures. This is the third evening-length piece on which he and Baldwin have collaborated, and their give-and-take during rehearsal is clearly comfortable and trusting. “Sometimes he composes with specific sections in mind that he’s seen, and sometimes he creates material that is inspired by my e-mails and discussions of what we’re working on,” Baldwin said about their collaboration. “I give him a lot of input as to where I’m going with the piece.”
Their ongoing collaboration clearly inspires Baldwin, as does the option of creating one work to fill an evening. “I really love going on that full journey. I’m interested in the big emotional arc of where you can go in an hour.” In recent years, those journeys have proved intriguing in their allusions and imagery, and decidedly persuasive in inviting audiences along for the ride.
March 18-21, Dance Theater Workshop, 219 W. 19 St. (betw. 7th & 8th Aves.), 212-924-0077; 7:30, $10-$15.
The title of her latest work, Bear Crown, refers to the most popular brand of beer in Romania, whose label features a brown bear sporting a gold crown. Baldwin and her dancers bonded over that beverage during her residency last October in Bacau, Romania, where she created a significant portion of the hour-long new work.
“When I originally started this piece, I had very different ideas in mind about what I wanted to explore,” Baldwin says. “My month there changed everything for me. My initial ideas were definitely thrown out the window once I was immersed in this completely new culture, learning about their history, talking to people who were young during the revolution. I ended up making a work that was far more serious and a little bit darker. These people had been through so much, and there was a sense of exhaustion. But they were very optimistic about the future, and that had a big influence on what I was thinking.”
Clearly, the piece evolved considerably from the early portions created at the height of last summer’s Olympic glory, when she was drawing on images of “the grandeur and power of Olympians.” The completed work begins with a certain stately grandeur—there is even an introductory overture, before the dancing begins—but evolves towards deterioration. “There is this controlled, bonded group at first, but it goes into a place where people are out on their own. It turns into a very personal, individual journey.”
As the dancers run through portions of Bear Crown a week before its premiere, one striking aspect are the unusual and often constrained positions in which the dancers hold their arms and hands. Closed fists, stiffly angled arms, hands pressed together but with the palms facing away color the action, which alternates crisp, forceful passages of movement with intimate, off-kilter encounters. Snatches of dialogue evoke conflict, possibly interrogation.
The sound score by Justin Jones incorporates pealing bells as well as exploding cannons, among its many and subtly varied textures. This is the third evening-length piece on which he and Baldwin have collaborated, and their give-and-take during rehearsal is clearly comfortable and trusting. “Sometimes he composes with specific sections in mind that he’s seen, and sometimes he creates material that is inspired by my e-mails and discussions of what we’re working on,” Baldwin said about their collaboration. “I give him a lot of input as to where I’m going with the piece.”
Their ongoing collaboration clearly inspires Baldwin, as does the option of creating one work to fill an evening. “I really love going on that full journey. I’m interested in the big emotional arc of where you can go in an hour.” In recent years, those journeys have proved intriguing in their allusions and imagery, and decidedly persuasive in inviting audiences along for the ride.
March 18-21, Dance Theater Workshop, 219 W. 19 St. (betw. 7th & 8th Aves.), 212-924-0077; 7:30, $10-$15.
