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. 

 

Mark Morris Dance Group - "MOON"

Cal Performances presents
Mark Morris Dance Group
MOON
Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley

January 25th, 2026

Outside Zellerbach Hall on Sunday afternoon the atmosphere was bright and clear, if not a little chilly. Inside the auditorium, however, the quality was much darker. Not ominous nor foreboding, but with a lens cast skyward - towards space, towards the moon. Mark Morris Dance Group had landed in Berkeley for their annual Cal Performances engagement, this time bringing the West Coast premiere of Mark Morris’ MOON. 

An ensemble work for nine performers, MOON was divided into short chapters or vignettes, each exploring aspects of the celestial, with many theatrical devices employed throughout. Choreography certainly, but also live and recorded music, props, moving projections, set pieces and text in an array of languages. Minus the genre’s typical angsty narrative, MOON seemed a work of Dance Theater, and kind of a departure for MMDG. A captivating one that mined the enormity of space. 

The opening piano tremolo (performed by music director Colin Fowler) bellowed from the pit, like a vessel being launched into the stratosphere. Stars arced along the cyclorama and the stage was marked with small astronaut figurines. The company joined the scene with stylistic marching, playing imaginary trombones and flutes. We were off to a destination far, far away from earth. 

Costumed in dual-sided jumpsuits (by Isaac Mizrahi), MOON’s choreography featured a fair amount of spinning and circles, just like an orbit. Chaîné turns with bent knees and hands on hips. Bodies twirled like figure skaters atop gliding stools. An energetic, community-filled square dance moment featured circular dance architecture. And a late chapter saw each individual cast member rolling on the ground while together crafting a round circuit.

Lilty low arabesques were also part of the physical picture, as were delicate weight shifts from side to side. Second position plié grew into a signature Morris side-tilt. One group sequence found the dancers scurrying through the space with stick straight postures and lightning fast parallel boureés. They looked just like space creatures from another galaxy. Wistful faces explored the stage’s surface. And several quiet, yet powerful, gestures appeared to be saying, “look what we have found.”

Mark Morris Dance Group in MOON
Photo Xmbphotography

An entire team (Wendall K. Harrington, Paul Vershbow and Kristen Ferguson) worked together to make MOON’s projections quite dazzling. There were starry scrims along with planets and orbits invading the backdrop. Living, moving images of the surface of the moon. A spinning record. An escalator to the heavens. A rising full moon. Rocket ships lined up, preparing for ascent. Every projection felt integral to the work. The imagery was not just there to frame the action; it was an active participant.

MOON’s score frequently abided in a delicious in-between state, oscillating between minor and major modes. Popular during the impressionistic era of the late 1890s early 1990s, this changeable tonality leads to a plethora of emotion. Uncertainty. Fascination. Depth. Surprise. And as MOON continued, one of the most famous impressionistic compositions sang through the air: Debussy’s Clair de lune, composed in 1905. The accompanying group dance scene was floaty, ethereal and unexpected, speaking to the qualities in both the music and to MOON’s concept. At this chapter’s conclusion, one dancer was left on stage, staring intently at a setting projection image. It was so beautiful and seemed a clear and fitting end to the piece. There was more to come, which felt a little odd after that perfect cadential moment.

 

Liss Fain Dance - "End Point | Open Time"

Livanna Maislen in End Point | Open Time
Photo RJ Muna

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts presents
Liss Fain Dance
End Point | Open Time
The Forum at YBCA, San Francisco

January 23rd, 2026

The Forum at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts is one of my favorite spaces in the city to check out contemporary dance. It’s vast and airy; inviting and cavernous – a blank canvas, an empty container filled with possibility and promise. Sometimes a production set in this special place has a more conventional format with the audience facing a stage or designated performance zone. Sometimes viewers are seated in a square perimeter or in the round. One deeply special performance found each audience member with their own personal headset, controlling how the score interacted with the movement. Then there are the mobile, immersive dances where the audience is encouraged to traverse the room and choose their own adventure, engaging with the work in front of them at their own pace and in their own time. Liss Fain and her company of collaborators have long presented work of this last type, and on Friday evening brought their newest must-see world premiere, End Point | Open Time, to the Forum space. 

A two-part quartet unfolding over fifty-five minutes, Liss Fain Dance’s 2026 debut began with an introduction/prelude of sorts, End Point. Around the edge of a stunning installation by Matthew Antaky, each dancer appeared in one corner. Like a living board game, they explored the outside square. Slow, controlled, meditative motions gave way to stylized running and wing-like arms. They surveyed the horizon, while step ball changes revealed shifts in weight and intention. It was a strong opening sequence, providing a perfect opportunity for everyone to settle into the space and take in what was yet to come. 

Over the next forty-five minutes, a simultaneous collection of duets, solos, (occasionally trios and quartets) unfolded within the central installation structure. As noted in the program, Open Time harkens to an excursion Fain made to the Arctic, and Antaky and costume designer Mary Domenico certainly captured that essence. Four open rooms were separated by doorways and paths. Fabric slats, studded with wave-like designs in light grey, hung from ceiling to floor. The costumes flowed with dripping silver. It felt like a house made of snow and ice.

Because we were encouraged to move through the space, every member in the crowd had a unique and personal experience with the piece. You may have seen some sections fully, some partly and others, you may have been missed entirely. Sometimes you found yourself in front of an empty room, not knowing if and when a dancer may arrive. Fain created such beauty in this dualism – intense agency coupled with acceptance of emptiness and void. Over the course of Open Time, I opted to cycle through four different external vantage points. The audience was also invited to watch from inside the structure, but to be honest, at this particular performance, there were too many people present to make that a successful option. 

Like the evening’s overture, Open Time paired moments of quiet with high-octane movement phrases. There was stillness, repose and reflection: heads cradled gently, bow and arrow arms moving slowly as if through molasses, deep static side lunges. In contrast, we saw giant rond versés, where the leg circles to the back against a snaking spine. There were delicate, yet powerful jumps. Limbs cartwheeled through the space. Bent-kneed chaîné turns whirled like a centrifuge. It was equal parts containment and freedom. Whether staccato and angular or smooth and controlled, an undeniable sense of vastness and expanse was present in all of Fain’s choreography. 

Livanna Maislen, Elena Martins, Katherine Neumann and Isabel Rosenstock were onstage for almost an entire hour without a break and delivered the most captivating performances with such impeccable technique. Bravo to the cast!

The one disconnect for me was mood and vibe. End Point | Open Time’s physicality was deliciously varied. Similarly, Louise Glück’s framing text oscillated from desperation to happiness, fear to contentment. Such breadth of material. But the dancers’ demeanor stayed in one dynamic; never budging from an overwhelming held angst (at least not in the sections that I saw). A little joy or lightness would have been a welcome addition.