Named after insects, two dances by two choreographers share a programme at Bats.

Moth by Julia Sadler is well into its lifespan (this being its 4th incarnation I think) and tick is newly emerged. Consequently the former is well integrated into the dancers’ bodies and the latter sits less comfortably. The programme notes offer this for Moth: "Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, as a moth brushes a window with its win. – Christopher Fry."

The dance begins in darkness with a low rumble of sound and a dancer is revealed, fleetingly, arms spread, face down … She proceeds to flail against the ground in gorgeous curves and sweeps, following the head before disappearing suddenly into the gloom. She is replaced by another on the edge of being seen, who slices and cuts and darts into the space with clever use of the momentum between forced arch and head. Neon lights offer an attraction for our eye and for the dancers as moments of stillness lets us ponder just the hint of a narrative before dissolving again into movement.

There is a great balance between repetition and the introduction of new movements through unison, canon and counterpoint. Sadler understands the muscle of rhythm and choreographic craft. Touch and partnering between the black ‘moths’ is introduced late in the piece as a new idea that needs a more pointed reason for being and more development.

Moth has been performed in a few different places. I saw it in Christchurch last year at The Body festival in a long rectangular space, which had a mystery and immediacy, not recaptured in Bats. That said, the work is beautifully realized with an a elegant teasing of the senses that has me curious and leaning slightly forward as the dance is revealed under shadows and short scenes – the dancers appearing and then blending into the darkness leaving me wanting more.

It is a wonderful feeling to have my curiosity invoked in a dance performance and to have my ears as attentive as my eyes. Sadler and Ben Brady worked on the sound-scape together and it sits equally with the inventive lighting by Rob Larsen and the dancers in the flesh of the piece. Sadler’s desire to "explore the lure between space, light and body" is fulfilled.

The dancing is sweet! Three gorgeous movers: Tamsyn Russell is tall, her extensions which can cause a gasp are gone too fast, leaving me grasping for more of her particular visual pleasure as the space still reverberates from her vast technical skill; Mariana Rinaldi always gives herself fully to the movement, leaving an electrical charge in her wake as she cavorts, small, dark, intense and passionate; Sadler completes the trio and has the choreographer’s complete understanding of the grammar of this work in her body. There is a new integration and luscious surety in this dancer/choreographer as she begins to clearly define the movement vocabulary that most intrigues and brings pleasure to her body. Her kinaesthetic pathways are cooking and we are more than happy to enjoy the ride with her.

tick by Katie Burton is fresh from the sweaty floors of the annual dance laboratory Choreolab, run in conjunction with Footnote Dance Company by Deirdre Tarrant.  Burton showed some of her dynamic movement phrases in the studio at the end of this workshop last week so it is interesting to see how the images and movements have been translated into the theatre. It is the first draft and hopefully Burton will continue to expand and explore her movement and music ideas. Sally Nicholas and Josh Tisly provide live and visceral sounds.

In tick, bathroom plungers are stuck onto the body and the floor as well as being hurtled throughout the dance, consequently these props command a lot of attention. I find it hard to get beyond their utilitarian purpose and although they are used to represent the sucking action of a tick or the notion of sucking something from the human form – blood, soul emotion and the image of a plunger stuck to a dancers face is indeed a powerful one – they still represent for me an instrument to remove blockage from the drains.

Burton’s movement vocabulary is rough, unformed, awkward, suiting the themes of her work: attack, recovery, growth, a fight for survival. But somehow the real juice is blocked – yet to be unleashed, as if she needs to spend more time away from the concept for the movement and simply exploring the movement itself, sans plunger, to find the deep kinaesthetic logic of her vocabulary. This may lead to a more surprising tempo and rhythm in the movement, scenes and music.

There are echos in this work of motifs from a previous work that Burton did for Footnote Dance Company: she has a love of stillness, explores animal aggression, the tussle for status and has a wry sense of humour at play as well as an element of drama between dancers. This indicates the emotional landscape she seeks in her programme notes but has yet to fully realise.  Russell, Rinaldi and Burton perform the work with the intensity that the choreography requires and I look forward to seeing the work developed and the dancers given the opportunity to really inhabit the movement that results when a dance has many incarnations.  

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