Orchids is a dance by Sarah Foster-Sproull and collaborators. This finely wrought work of art maps the ineffable and mysterious depths of the female psyche.  It is as perfect in form and structure as an orchid – the inspirational metaphor that, as the choreographer states, “manages to grow in the crevices of other plants”.

What impresses most is the integration of all aspects of the work into an organic totality of immense aesthetic precision.  This is a testament to the four-year creative process and a revisiting of the work for a second season. It is rare to see a New Zealand dance work reach this level of maturity. [More]
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Six dancers. An under-utilised piece of scrim. Symmetrical lighting and brooding darkness. A glorious score that shifts from spacious arrangements, into pulsating beats that lift us, lifting the bodies. And one child.

Fingers flutter over skin, limbs wind around one another, and palms open like fronds around faces to create mandalas from living body parts in this sensual study of female relationships and the female sublime. The dancers are diverse in physicality, age, and ethnicity but find a special connection as a well choreographed ensemble in this new work by Sarah Foster-Sproull, with music by Eden Mullholland and lights by Jennifer Lal.

Over one hour, the work moves through a series of dance sketches, sometimes wandering, sometimes digressing, to arrive at a very powerful and compelling final sequence. Despite some great beauty, it does fall into the trap of getting lost between either creating a legible structure or committing to a more abstract, textured experience. At times I recognise the confident formalism of companies such as Rosas, but end up being distracted by unexpected characterisations or shifts in style.

Joanne Hobern is an incredible discovery in this work, demonstrating an explosive strength and precision which makes me want to see more from her. However, her animated presence sometimes distracts from the shared focus of what is a very group-oriented piece. Others such as Rose Philpott and Jahra Wasasala take their roles with equal virtuosity, but have a more mature, relaxed connectedness with one another and their dance.

Philpott leads a spellbinding sequence with the cast taking the ends of her hair and accompaning her as she leaps and rolls around them. Attached to each of them in this way, her crown of hair twists and untwists around her – exploring the connections she has with each of the other dancers. Throughout the work there is this same sensitivity towards the dense intertwining relationships on stage, echoing vines and roots to create a sensuous world of touch. But this connectivity is not just a characteristic of the ingenious choreography, but also a felt, shared thing in the work – of an emotional connectedness and empathy between dancer and dancer, between dancer and choreographer, between a choreographer and her work. There is an empathy for each of her ensemble that is felt through Foster-Sproull’s choreography, where the character of each is allowed to flourish and blossom in their own way. While at times it can be distracting (as above), it is also a strength of the work in other ways.

The orchid lives on other plants, their roots growing in bark and seldom finding soil. It is Foster-Sproull’s symbol for the feminine divine – “a mysterious and potent allegory for the dark and light masks of the female psyche”. This idea finds its most distinctive imagery in the final scene, when the crowd of bodies part – to reveal a young girl of orchid-white skin (Ivy Foster). With angelic grace she steps into the air and is lifted, walking a forest-canopy of upraised palms and gentle hands. It is a dance of incredible delicacy and tenderness, and utterly breathtaking. Working with such a light body, the choreography is able to explore a whole new language of movement and meaning. As the lights fade, Foster floats above Philpott lying below her, one mirroring the other. Orchids blossom from each of their mouths.

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This is the second time round for Orchids, choreographed by Sarah Foster-Sproull, produced and assistant-directed by Natalie Maria Clark and with an abundance of collaborative energy in the assembly of gorgeous dancers. I wish I had seen Orchids first time round, and at the end of the performance during the standing ovation I want to see the work straight away again; in case I miss an orchidaceous detail.

Translating the flow of the experience into the written word is not easy. The warm soft buzz of the auditorium is an entrancing start to an evening with my grown-up daughter. What sets the scene is listening to one or two engaging queries around the auditorium – about who an audience member ‘might they know on stage’. Lights out to black, soft padding of feet on the floor takes me back to when I gave up dancing the first-time round.

I cannot distance myself from knowing these people. Even the initial moments of fluorescent detail, the glorious feminism, feminist femininity of former Limbs dancer, Marianne Schultz dancing with Tori Manley-Tapu, connects to the exquisite sweetness of the final girl dancer, Ivy Foster. Orchids is about the telling of age and the tracings of women. My daughter and I share a generational revelation through our lives within the realm of contemporary dance. Composer, Eden Mulholland makes a punctuated score with emotive cues extracted by some lovely strings that pluck and celebrate the isometrics of every female life.

The set, a black diaphragm designed by Andrew Foster is suspended above the dancers who, when we first see them, are coupled as a heart organ. The first scene feels like visceral witness; of the heartbeat, of the organ, of the muscle, of the blood flow, of blood flow, of the pulse of every woman. Somehow in its organic simplicity, the billowing set reveals a fluent and fluid mise-en-scène. At one point the material releases from the ceiling in graceful swathing, the menses flow a metaphorical register, and each member of the Orchid cast points and hugs like cries within this symbolic gesture. Contributively mythological, each subsequent section of the work is as much about sensuality as ingrained texture.

At times, in Jennifer Lal’s light, of the curvaceous moon beam, gesture (tiny or grand) becomes delicately ignited, though always peripheral to Orchid’s inter-embodied choreographic forcefield. By dancing together and on their own, these seasoned dancers embroider the seams of a critical piece of New Zealand’s dance story. The powerful artistry of solos, duets, trios, group and ensemble movement reveals a considered interpretation of the anatomy of dancing women’s sensibility. Sharing and linking histories through writing is not sufficient to do that.

As much as New Zealand lays claim to variation in the species of its many orchids, the dancers warrant individual mention. Marianne Schultz is ineffable in her emotive precision. Her overwhelmingly good coupling of power and vulnerability pulls the dance into its sense of completeness. Tori Manley-Tapu is strong and clear with a generous nature and a rich and smooth movement conviction. Rose Philpott epitomises dancing in female wisdom. Jahra Wasasala’s ornate and expressive body and face captures raw beauty in womanhood. Katie Burton expresses herself in joyous and Douglas-esque suspensions in mid-air: all female patterns of style and poise. Like a gleam in the dark, Joanne Hobern adds speed and dexterous dancing, figurative to a work on the aesthetic margin. Yet, with all this femaleness, the work never delves into blatant sexuality. With sensitive costume design by Rose Philpott & Tori Manley-Tapu what emerges from deep within the collaborative turn, is the naturalistic passion of their choreographer, Sarah’s form.

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The darker side of women’s relationships with one another is at the heart of Foster Group’s beautifully atmospheric Orchids.

These relationships are examined through repeating cycles of succour and support which degenerate into rejection and betrayal. It uses six female archetypes and their shadow selves morphing into the maiden, mother and crone of matriarchal societies while a preternaturally aware fairy-child completes the roster.

Intense individual moments of rage, anxiety, frenzy and narcissism are interspersed with group encounters, collectively comprising a disquieting portrait of femininity.

Throughout the work there are detailed images of a diverse array of orchids. The symmetry and particular structures of the flower, stems and tendrils are reproduced by arraying fingers, hands, forearms and whole bodies brought into focus or settled into niches.

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Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer