The premise of their work was interesting. A score for piano and voice by John Cage, a response to a lost dance play written, directed and choreographed by Cunningham. “Four Walls” was performed only oncein 1944, made this reimagined version something of a fantasy dance.What were Cage and Cunningham doing in the early days of their collaboration?
There were mirrors, mirrors, and even mirrors. They surrounded the stage in ways that doubled and tripled a cast of 25 people, including musician Vanessa Wagner. Vanessa Wagner’s piano was placed on the right side of the stage, acting as a kind of anchor for the lines and vortices of the body. Soon, they begin to immerse themselves in vigorous exercise, dropping shoulders, raising arms high, and lowering them into deep pliers.
Primarily in shades of white, grey, and black, the outfits, shorts, and tops by Jacobson, Cary, Augsburger, and Annabelle Santier were a mix of playsuits and athleisure. Stretching forward made it look more like dancing than warming up before class while waiting for the teacher to arrive. In faint phrases, their curved spines and highly-tuned controls referred to Cunningham, but were softer, as if they weren’t fully integrated into their bodies. Sometimes it had the general look of Gaga.
And then there were those mirrors. Jacobson and Kaley’s set, shimmering under Eric Wertz’s lighting, was the most compelling part of “Walls.” That landscape made the most grounded statement about the push and pull between infinity and legacy—in dance, nothing lasts forever.
But Cunningham wasn’t the only ghost in the room. Paul Taylor was even more present, from “Last Look,” a dance about despair that uses mirrors to haunting effect, to “Esplanade,” which celebrates the movement of pedestrians. In one scene in “Walls,” the dancers even jumped into each other’s arms without fear. However, this room lacked a lot. The set was the dance, not the set enhanced the dance. It was like watching magic. Not only did I know tricks, I also knew I was being tricked.
