Martha Graham Dance Company

Cal Performances presents
Martha Graham Dance Company
Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley
February 14th, 2026

Cupped hands. Airplane spins. Spirals. Contractions. What do all these movements have in common? All are tenets of Graham technique, the dance language pioneered by modern dance master Martha Graham (1894-1991). The entire Graham physical library was on full display this past weekend as her titular company returned to Cal Performances as part of their 100th anniversary celebration tour. Two different bills unfolded. There were Graham classics. And newer works from fresh choreographic voices. If you were at Zellerbach Hall on Saturday night, it was the combo of 1947’s Night Journey, 2023’s Cortege and 1936’s Chronicle that sparked awe and buzz. As Artistic Director Janet Eilber alluded, the Valentine’s Day program wasn’t going to be hearts, flowers and chocolates. Eilber was indeed correct, it wasn’t a particularly romantic two hours, but it was so powerful. An evening where shocking mythology was unraveled and the ravages of war were mined.

Blakeley White-McGuire in Night Journey
Photo Brigid Pierce

The mythological Oedipus narrative is about as tough as it gets. So rather than relaying the gory details, let’s just say there’s a horrific prophecy and an attempt to escape it, which is ultimately unsuccessful. And in Night Journey, Graham seeks to relay that tale through the lens of the Queen, Jocasta. Anne Souder as Jocasta and Lloyd Knight as Oedipus were potent and tortured as the doomed pair ensnared in a terrible prediction. Cupped hands were everywhere, which my Graham teachers explained like this. Cupped hands expose the veins of the wrist, directly connecting to one’s heart and soul, laying bare truth or evil. A description that I can still recall from decades past. 

Though the principals were phenomenal, for me, the triumph of Night Journey has always resided in the corps, the Daughters of the Night, led at this performance by Marzia Memoli. They appear and disappear throughout the ballet, cycling through untamed, severe movement sequences. But at the same time, the group displays a curiously stern regality. Do they serve as Jocasta’s memories? Do they enter the space to stop and interrupt the course of events? Are they present to judge and condemn? Or are they simply witnesses? Maybe all four.

It was terrific to see newer works planned for both Cal Performances programs, crafted by contemporary choreographers over the past few years. It is no surprise that much of the company’s performance repertory is pure Graham. But a simultaneous commitment to new commissions, new dances and new choreography is what will propel any troupe forward into their next chapter. Saturday night brought Baye & Asa’s 2023 Cortege, which was noted to be inspired by Graham’s 1967 Cortege of Eagles and “to consider groups under attack in our time.” I can’t say that I really saw the latter. Rather, the dance felt to be abiding in that same world of mythology, abstractly investigating the underworld and the voyage to it. 

A tunnel of black material unveils each of the eight performers, almost like they were traveling to Hades via ominous waterslide. Marching rhythms (score by Jack Grabow) rang through the air. And the intensely physical vocabulary, which looked great on this company, gave snapshots of the unknown, with all its trepidation, fear and aggression. But there were also moments when the cast cradled each other, tenderly providing care and comfort. As Cortege concluded, the black shroud was back covering the cast as they continued their journey. I get where things were going with the lighting design (by Yi-Chung Chen). The stage was dim and shadowy, just as one might imagine that particular sojourn to be. But at the same time, there were whole segments of the piece that were lit very lowly and a bit hard to see. It was a tad distracting. 

Leslie Andrea Williams in Chronicle
Photo Melissa Sherwood

The oldest work of the night closed the program, Graham’s Chronicle (1936), which as the notes shared, “was a response to the menace of fascism in Europe.” Broken into three chapters and danced by an all-female cast, Chronicle was weighty, compelling and (at least for this viewer) hopeful, full of all-encompassing emotion and full body physicality. Part I, titled ‘Spectre-1914,’ blends deep despair and lament in one dramatic statement. Leslie Andrea Williams embodied the solo with such raw ferocity. Her hands oscillated from splayed palms to clenched fists. Her solar plexus prayed heavenward. She crumbled to the floor. And her leg moved in slow motion, circling from second position to attitude derrière- a desperate attempt to turn to new page or open a new door. 

Chronicle’s second movement, ‘Steps in the Street,’ saw ten women entering the space, walking backwards. As their hands transitioned from shoulders and hips to flexed palms to strong fists, they bravely navigated the space behind them; a path that they couldn’t quite see but were willing to traverse together. Each woman walked with strength, purpose and resolve - a community of power and resistance. This reverse traveling recurred in Part III’s ‘Prelude to Action,’ though the tone of this final section felt different. Still incredibly strong, but also with a sense of grace. Perhaps a message that resistance needs so many different things: power, determination, courage, and also love and advocacy. And Chronicle’s finale brought yet another note to the table. As the ensemble erupted in turning attitude jetés, there was an added buoyancy, energy and forward propulsion.  

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - "Spring Point"

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Spring Point
ODC Theater, San Francisco
February 13th, 2026

Friday evening at ODC Theater was all about newness. Four world premiere dances. An event that actually started on time! Curtains around the city are consistently being held for close to fifteen minutes in anticipation of latecomers. It’s getting tiresome, so a show that begins when it says it will feels like a new experience. And, of course, the launch of Spring Point, the newest choreographic platform at Smuin Ballet. As Artistic Director Amy Seiwert explained to the packed house, Spring Point is designed to foster emerging choreographic voices as they navigate the complex journey from early studio performance towards (hopefully!) a main stage. It was a lovely night showcasing a collage of divergent work, danced impeccably by Smuin’s company artists.

Costumed in matching white and taupe, eight dancers took seats around the perimeter of the stage to kick off Julia Feldman’s Wallflower. Alone, in pairs or in groups, they would take turns inhabiting the open middle space. The cast cycled through a unique physical vocabulary, marrying classical ballet technique, contemporary twists and present-day style. Gestural sequences abounded, as did port de bras from ballet’s positions of the body (croisé, efface, écarté). Straight flying arms matched with the bird sounds in Wallflower’s score. And Tessa Barbour’s developpé in 2nd was a thing of beauty. Feldman’s phrase material had such a circular, breathy feel – expanding in space with every inhalation and cascading with the exhale. Though where I think Wallflower particularly excelled was how it showed support, camaraderie and celebration of a community. Each dancer was afforded time and opportunity to share their individuality while also harnessing a collective energy when the full ensemble danced together. And with the presence of the chairs, it was poignant how Feldman explored that each cast member was simultaneously a performer and a witness. 

Charmaine Butcher in Babatunji's Society
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

The sextet for Babatunji’s Society entered the stage, dressed identically. Slowly trudging across the space in long black trench coats with stiff high collars (costumes by Erin Yarbrough Powell), the mood was heavy, angsty and foreboding. Over Society’s six chapters, dancers would shed this ominous outerwear in an attempt to break free from the mold of the group. And they did so in a very Dance Theater container, where numerous theatrical devices were employed. Lighting, music, scenework, characters and text conversed with Babatunji’s highly physical movement. Movement that was full throttle and high-octane, full of acrobatic flips and rolls, as well as martial arts, breaking and percussive dance influences. Desperation was palpable, but so was persistence and success.

Another multi-episode contemporary ensemble work, Cassidy Isaacson’s Chapter 3 is inspired by “a moment of personal change and deepened awareness,” as shared in the program notes. With equal parts groundedness and soaring, Chapter 3 was full of highly kinetic and athletic syntax, harkening to various movement traditions. Pilates was present, as was yoga. A Horton tilted side turn. Ample partnering. In fact, Isaacson’s partnering passes had the most interesting points of contact and support, almost like the material that might have arisen out of Grand Union’s contact improv practice. And with the recurring notion of spinning and rotation, each turn transported every performer somewhere new.

Tess Lane and Maggie Carey in
Carey's In the Blue Hours of Morning
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

Closing the inaugural Spring Point program was Maggie Carey’s In the Blue Hours of Morning, danced by a cast of eight. While I enjoyed every world premiere on the bill, this was my favorite of the night. Everything was so joyful - the banjo-filled Oh Hellos score, Carey’s sweeping choreography, Tess Lane and Yarbrough Powell’s flowing costumes, the demeanor of each dancer. So bright, so dazzling, so much happiness. Waves were a conceptual throughline. Canoned phrases rippled across ODC Theater’s stage. Bodies swayed from one side to the other. Arms undulated and cartwheeled, suspension and release informing step after step. And in Morning, many of the quick, complex phrases, particularly with the arms, directly punctuated the score, suggesting a foray into neo-classical ballet. 

RAWdance - "There and Back"

Kelly Del Rosario and Madison Lindgren in
Art is a Guarantee of Sanity
Photo Chani Bockwinkel

RAWdance
There and Back
ODC Theater, San Francisco
February 6th, 2026

A swinging beam of light. The hum of fluorescence. Two dancers in flowing white cycling through a physically complex duet that simultaneously broadcasted quiet restraint and total control. With every movement, small or large, they floated in space. 

So began Art is a Guarantee of Sanity, a Bay Area premiere and the opening dance on RAWdance’s latest ODC Theater bill, There and Back. A collection of three works choreographed by RAWdance’s Artistic Directors Wendy Rein and Ryan T. Smith, the evening was an utter delight. The pieces were strong, the performances, resplendent. And the program reminded Bay Area audiences why this company is a cut above, why it is so exceptional. They are committed to risk-taking, creative growth and experimenting beyond boundaries. These values have always been part of the RAWdance story. But for this viewer, what makes the company so special is that their work is deeply grounded in modern dance technique. That may seem like an obvious pre-requisite for any contemporary dance company, but it’s actually a lot rarer than you might think. 

As Art is a Guarantee of Sanity continued, it grew into a deliciously (and purposefully) precarious quintet. There was a constant search for balance. Dancers shuddered, their eyes darting around like something or someone ominous was following their every move. With a suspicious and creepy tone, they frenetically scooted across the floor. They pulsed, breathing erratically, and teetered on tiptoe. Yet, like the opening sequence, there was an equal sense of groundedness and calm. A side-plank series. A splayed palm reaching slowly heavenward. These opposing modalities gave that sense of the in between space. A moment where extremes could co-exist without erasing each other. And with the swaying overhead light, the billowy filmy costuming and the word sanity in the title, one couldn’t help but see some kind of hospital ward.

Coincidentally, Friday evening was also the opening ceremonies of the winter Olympic games in Milan, and one of my favorite disciplines to watch is figure skating. When the pairs events come around, announcers will often comment on how long a particular couple have trained and competed together. And with the lengthier partnerships, the viewer can really see and feel the shared journey. The trust, the confidence, the understanding that comes with and over time. The world premiere of Time Passed, a duet made and danced by Rein and Smith, definitely had that sense of deep embodied history; two performers who are truly known by each other (they danced together in college, going on to found RAWdance in 2004). The opening lifted spin turned gracefully like a clock, each shape elegantly and seamlessly transforming into the next. Remembrance, recollection and fondness imbued every moment of sculptural partnering; care, ease and effortlessness emanating from the stage. And the spinning phrase material that recurred throughout really had a pairs skating essence, a great prep for the next two weeks of Olympic coverage!

Onto the closing dance, the Bay Area premiere of Veneer, an ensemble work for eight. Veneers appeared everywhere on the ODC Theater stage over the next thirty minutes. A covering of an existing structure. A restoration of something chipped or decayed. A new surface. A veil to hide. There were literal veneers: three individual, modular tables that were sometimes pushed together, sometimes separated, sometimes stacked. The cast posed beneath these tables and walked across them. At one point, they became a backdrop for a solo, like a scenery flat. Costumes of polka dots, houndstooth, checkerboard, zebra print and stripes in a palate of black, white and scarlet conjured Alice in Wonderland, a story that is certainly steeped in veneer. A rowdy, somewhat angry shouting match broke the façade of silence. At the same time, there were instances where veneers were removed - an unmasking, a rediscovering of what lies beneath. Hands gently plucked imaginary layers from the head and the shoulders. A number of choreographic sequences repeated: a series of parallel and turned out sissonnes, a gestural passage where the chin was traced by the back of the hand. Dancers would engage with this phrase material only to break out of the mold and explore their own individual physicality.