One of the great things about the old Morristown Madams roller derby bouts was the intimacy.
Spectators sat on the rink floor. You could hear the huffing and puffing, every grunt and every expletive. Your bones reverberated with the pulsating rhythms of the blaring band. The omnipresent possibility of three or four wheeled warriors careening wildly in your direction added a degree of excitement several orders of magnitude beyond that of, say, dodging a foul ball at the ballpark.
A similar sense of intimacy was experienced Saturday within the cozy confines of the Madison Community Arts Center.
Carolyn Dorfman Dance performed three pieces in a space about the size of a large rec room.
To be clear, there were no expletives. And these 12 dancers were considerably smoother than the derby queens.
Still, folks in the front row had to pay attention. Anything can happen with a dozen bodies in motion, even when they are choreographed by Carolyn Dorfman, whose internationally acclaimed company is celebrating its 40th year.
And you could hear every breath of her superb artist/athletes.
Slideshow photos by Kevin Coughlin. Click/hover on images for captions:
They provided vital cues for the dancers.
“We don’t have counts,” Maiko Harada explained during an audience Q & A, describing her duets with Jarred Bosch.
“I’m 100 percent paying attention to my partner…I know certain breaths he does at a certain time, and I take all of my movements from that breathing.”
The program started with excerpts from Prima!, set to the exuberant swing of the late Louis Prima.
Next came NOW, a futuristic piece by Juel D. Lang that created a human conveyor belt to a throbbing bass line reminiscent of the rink scene.
The company concluded with excerpts from The Attitude of Doing, an elegant, lyrical, sensual delight set to the stylings of jazz violinist Regina Carter.
This penultimate presentation of Morris County Dance Connections Festival Week, underwritten by Morris Arts, was aptly titled Backstage Pass. The half-hour session after the dancing yielded revealing insights into how these dancers approach their art, and how it’s shaped by Dorfman’s vision.
Unlike a play, where (directors hope) the narrative unfolds predictably every night, modern dance is more fluid.
“Every time you dance it should be different, it should feel different, because every day is different,” said Dominique Dobransky.
Dorfman asserted that “each dance creates a world,” for dancers and spectators. That appeals to Dobransky.
“For me, I love creating the worlds that I’m dancing in…that’s part of the magic,” the dancer said.
The company’s movements are choreographed, but not like X’s and O’s from a football playbook.
“There is a dance notation that exists. But nobody knows it!” quipped Dorfman, a Michigan native with dance degrees from the University of Michigan and New York University.
Dancers said they rely heavily on video and rehearsals to work out their moves. Dorfman pushes her charges to tap their creativity.
“Dancers are used to copying what they’re told to do: Look beautiful, get your leg up here, do this! And so when you actually ask them to really dig from the inside out, it’s a very vulnerable feeling,” she said.
OCCUPATIONAL HAZARDS
Like roller derby, modern dance has its occupational hazards. Prima! was created via Zoom during the pandemic. Dancers shared stories of running into radiators, knocking over lamps, and fending off cats and apartment neighbors.
(A flapping sweater, worn by a dancer in her chilly apartment, inspired an element incorporated into the piece.)
Graceful as they appear onstage, dancers sometimes get their wires crossed. One troupe member sustained a broken nose during practice, said Katlyn Baskin, a 12-year veteran of Carolyn Dorfman Dance who doubles as rehearsal director.
On Saturday, dancers executed heavy lifts and threw themselves across the floor, among many other acrobatic feats. One would suspect an elevated risk of serious injury, but Baskin said dancers rarely miss a performance. (Although a separated shoulder sidelined her for about six weeks.)
They eat properly, listen intently to their bodies, and seek medical attention before nagging injuries become too serious, Baskin said. Like other top athletes, dancers also develop a certain mental toughness.
“We perform and rehearse daily with what ever’s going on–neck issues, bleeding foot, whatever. We wrap it up,” she said.
Disciplined rehearsals and full immersion in the moment enable dancers to ignore the pain. “I didn’t feel my ingrown toenail the entire night!” Baskin said, sharing a laugh with the crowd.
One sensed that these dancers also may give a little extra for their boss.
As the child of Holocaust survivors, Dorfman inherited a painful legacy. Yet it also taught her the joy of community. Her artistic mission has been “creating a company where each human being is valued, where the depth of who they are is asked for in the work,” she related.
“I will tell you, dancers are a dime a dozen. Artists are not. And great artists who are beautiful human beings are a little more rare. But that’s the goal,” Dorfman said.