It's been nearly a week since I went to see the above show and it's still turning over in my head. What follows is my somewhat lengthy attempt to recap it for myself and solidify it in the memory. Read on if ya want. :)

Tim Rayborn did a masterful job in composing the music and in selecting dancers to bring the story to life. To quote from the program:

"The Flame and the Shadow is an interplay between music and dance, utilizing many legends drawn from mythologies ranging from the Baltic and Slavic regions to the Balkans and Crete, from Turkey to Arabia, and from Persia to India. The common thread linking them is the concept of dualism and opposites, and how these are both opposed and complementary."

To give an overall sketch of the structure of the production, Tim asked a number of dance companies to collaborate and produce each act, with Tempest acting as the master storyteller, appearing in each act in the guise of different deities and archetypes, both light and dark, to introduce and awaken each scene to life. I don't think I can possibly do justice to each performance, but I will try to recount some of the images that particularly stood out to me.

As a general note: having heard the music only once, I feel like I would need more time with it to provide a good review. Overall, the impression that I had was of a marriage of more folkloric sounds with the soaring lyricism of larger classical orchestra productions - there was a certain monumentality and grandeur to it that rendered the production as more of a cohesive ballet than individual works (which I understand was the intent). What I do want to comment on was how well the dances and movement seemed to match. Each group had their own distinct style that shone through, but overall there was a fusion of traditional bellydance isolations, which tend to be highly controlled and subtle, with the more sweeping and dramatic gestures and emotionality that I associate with modern dance. I thought each group did an excellent job balancing the traditional with the new and fusing them together to move the story forward. There was something in the combination that I felt was successful in unfolding the progress across time and space, and the interplay that moved the drama between dark and light forward, in ways that pure modern dance doesn't (at least for me).

The production opens with the Shadow, as Tempest in the guise of the horned and cloaked Shaman awakens the dancers from Atash Maya, who slide onto stage knee-walking, smaller shadows detached from the larger darkness of the wings. In their guise as shadows, the pair is all slow sinuous darkness, slipping in and around one another, fading into and out of the ground, and ultimately parting the way they entered. It was a nice touch having the fundamental duality of male/female energy opening and closing the production, and the contrast between the slow, gooey start and fast, upbeat ending. You could tell the dancers are absolutely tuned in to one another, because they nailed both.

From the Shadow we move to a dark tale from the Baltic of the "Blood Countess" who bathed in the blood of virgins to maintain her own youth, that evolves into a story of rebirth from darkness as her assistants become embodiments of the phoenix. Desert Sin did a marvelous job of portraying the story. The most memorable details for me were the countess with shisha mirrors attached to her palms like eyes, first entranced with her reflection, then horrified by it. In her final madness, she bathes in a sea of blood, represented by an enormous red veil that is blown by wind machines to reach out and almost embrace the first row of the audience. From this frenzy, the dance evolves to a moment of quiet reflection as the veiled countess and her draped assistants almost seem to mourn the prior madness, evolving into a mood of forgiveness or elation as the veils are lifted, the dark accomplices revealed to be creatures of fire and light, and the three end on a note of celebration.

The next act takes us to Turkey and the dawn of civilization, represented by Mira Betz, Hannah Romanowsky and Holly Shaw. The costuming has distinctly classical Greek and Asian overtones. The scene opens with a nude dancer draped only in a long white cloth slowly striding across the stage towards a tent frame, the fabric stretching behind her from one wing to the other. As she exits, two dancers emerge to take up the drape and create a dwelling. Each dancer takes a turn soloing, emerging from the tent, and being reabsorbed into the shadows of her compatriots shown by a light from within as they trade places. The costumes resemble a blend of early 20th c. European (with the jaunty caps and buttoned and cap-sleeved cholis) and near eastern (with gold pants with white fabric looped through the legs to created a draped "skirt"). The most memorable image for me was when all three dancers appeared with pale blue-white paper lanterns draped from their wrists. I also loved the fact that the dawn of civilization was symbolized by the dancers' manipulation of light and cloth, the latter of which functioned as architecture, cover and dance prop, as the tent fabric was finally whirled and manipulated like a giant veil. (Textiles and weaving being one of the fundamental technologies of civilization, one that eventually gave us the computer. Yes, I know way too much about this being a fiber nerd.)

The first half of the production ends in Arabia, as Tempest emerges in peacock bedlah and mask to awaken a sleeping dancer on the stage. Two priestess figures slowly make their way onto stage from the audience, clothed in shimmering gold-brown hooded robes. The myth here is that of the serpent and its ability to renew itself through shedding its skin. The dance primarily reflects this sinuous movement, as the priests activate the central dancer, clothed in shimmering reds and golds, who in turn helps them shed their skins to reveal bejeweled bodies underneath. Dancers here are Ayse Cerami, Katie Kay and Monica Fernandez. The color palette and more belly-dance focused small movements reflected the magical/mystical tone and desert environment well. I loved the interpretation of serpent scales in the thick, scale-like arrangement of acrylic jewels on the eyes and foreheads of the dancers, as well as up their spines. Really nice touch.

The second half of the show opens in Persia, with Urban Tribal embodying humanity's awakening into awareness of itself, and Tempest as the shadowy deity that first calls them into that awareness and then antagonizes them. Through the conflict both humanity and the deity are forced to come into their own (or at least, that's what I took from it). Urban Tribal's liquidic slow style and symbiotic movements are perfectly suited to this idea of humanity slowly stretching forth its senses, becoming aware of the world and one another. When the veiled Shadow (Tempest) menaces them in the second half, the response is a peaceful and deliberate unveiling of the shadow side, as the dancers calmly exit, taking the veil with them. The act ends with the shadow/deity first cringing in its exposure, and finally ending in exultation as it expands and comes into its own. I really liked the improvisational relationship between the dancers in this act - especially finding out that they had basically one rehearsal to figure out how Tempest was going to work with each scene.

From Persia we travel to India, with Tempest presiding as Kali over a trio of veiled dancers gathered in a half circle on the floor. As Kali retreats, the veiled dancers begin to rise, working first on the floor and then standing as they gradually unveil. The dancers to either side have glittering burgundy sheer fabric manipulated on rods (akin to Isis wings, but different), which function both to clothe them and create shapes reminiscent of temple architecture as the central dancer emerges and retreats within them. The dancers here are Blue Damsel and Shawna Rai. Here the movement is much quieter, and we see more emphasis on subtle isolations and gestures that blend middle eastern dance and various forms of the traditional temple dances of India. The focus is more on moments of intimate contact and expression between the dancers, an almost maternal feeling to it, of beauty being born and unfolding.

The journey concludes with a dance of pure Flame, the transition from Shadow to Light complete. Once again, Atash Maya embodies the extreme of light as they did the extreme of dark. Their joyous dance blends belly dance and modern elements as they work with silk fans painted in flame hues that flutter and envelope them as they spin. There was something about the lighting and the color in the silk that made it even more luminous than fire itself could be - it was absolutely mesmerizing and a fitting conclusion to the tale.

The whole experience was hugely inspiring. In my own studio work, I'm trying to find ways to take clothing and sculpture beyond the physical and activate them in some way that tells a story and brings the work out of itself. Watching this production has definitely given me a lot to chew on. Kudos to everyone involved - you did a fantastic job.