By GUILHERME MELETTI YAZBEK
In This Moment celebrates the 15th anniversary of Texture Contemporary Ballet, and the company takes the stage with maturity and strong presence. Under the artistic direction of Pittsburgh choreographer Alan Obuzor, the program fulfills the company’s mission of inspiring appreciation for dance through captivating performances. What I witnessed last night was exemplary of an artistic path that has certainly matured over the years. The evening consisted of three distinct—and entirely new—works by three different choreographers, which nevertheless revealed some intriguing connections.
These were three distinct directions, three explorations of movement language that refuse dogmas about what dance is while searching instead for what dance can be. In each of the three works, the corporeality of the performers resisted confinement within any single aesthetic—though occasionally drawing on the vocabulary of classical ballet—to seek a unique expression, reminding me of dance’s immense creative potential as a language. Of course, nothing arises out of a vacuum, but what I saw were three mature choreographies drawing from diverse sources to express feelings and sensations through bodies, facial expressions, and the interplay of other theatrical languages (light, music, etc.). Acknowledging the strength of each piece per se—though I found it fascinating to see them presented together—I will attempt a brief reading of each, without exhausting the reader with overlong description. Here’s a spoiler: it’s worth it—go see the show!
The evening opened with Portraits, choreographed by Madeline Kendall Schreiber. On stage, we see movements rooted in classical ballet, with abundant pirouettes, développés, jetés, and cambrés, yet free from aesthetic strictures. The dance flows continuously, a sinuous current without conflict. This sinuous quality is especially noticeable in the port de bras. The work has a landscape-like quality, with a steady tempo-rhythm and powerful unison passages. While watching, I recalled Merce Cunningham’s description of unison as a “flock of birds”—movements not necessarily identical, but patterned, coherent. The music reinforced this continuity: a classical sound dominated by piano and strings (a cello, I would guess, though I’m not certain).
Costumes in earthy tones, with flowing pants, added to the piece’s cohesion. The ensemble was composed mostly of women, plus the striking presence of Alan Obuzor—a detail I will return to later. The choreography incorporated a few duos and trios, and very few solos; its power lay in the continuity and sinuosity of the whole. What I saw were bodies like fine threads stitching space together. Bob Steineck’s lighting design was excellent: broad washes, a few sharply defined and precisely focused specials, some textural play, and of course, plenty of sidelight to sculpt the dancers, giving them volume. The palette—sepias, earthy tones, with hints of blue—blended beautifully with the costumes. The haze was calibrated just right to reveal the light without excess.
The second work, The Art of Conversation, was choreographed by guest artist Shana Simmons. Conceived in 2020 but never staged due to the pandemic, it immediately set a very different tone. The beginning was highly theatrical: costumes with puffed sleeves and colorful corsets evoked an Elizabethan atmosphere, though not literally. Simple scenic elements—small platforms—created levels onstage. These verticalities, along with movement and facial expressions, suggested hierarchies, debates, and disagreements. What unfolded was an expressive dance where movements evoked gestures and discourse, sometimes even incorporating vocal utterances.
The music began in the classical realm, but soon, following the body language, veered into more contemporary directions. The piece’s driving concern was clearly communication (and its challenges), as well as disagreement—the “art of conversation” indeed. At times, I felt I was watching figures passionately debating the future of a society, and I couldn’t help but think of Kurt Jooss’s iconic The Green Table. The vocabulary relied on expressive, often close to quotidian gestures, structured by repetition. There were even moments of comedy—a bold choice! The choreography also moved through faster tempos, adding dynamism. Yet, for me, the most powerful moment came when the movement slowed down and all top/front light disappeared. Illuminated only from the sides, the performers became symbolic figures in an undefined space. It was beautiful to watch!
The evening concluded with Falling In/Out, choreographed by Alan Obuzor. The work stood out immediately for its postmodern aesthetic. Dancers wore simple shorts and Lycra tops in muted grays, blues, and greens. For the first time that evening, pointe shoes appeared, enabling quick, elongated movements. Obuzor’s choice of songs in the pop realm—male voice, with lyrics—was audacious. Personally, I feel that when choreography is set to music with lyrics, interpretation can become more directed or constrained (not necessarily good or bad, just a choice).
The result was a rosy-toned, overtly feminine, and smiling dance. At times, it felt like a chorus of young women freshly kissed by the man of their dreams. Once again, Obuzor was the only male dancer onstage, which, in a sense, tokenized masculine energy. His presence was strong, and his duets with female dancers fluid and moving, but overall, masculine energy was scarce within the choreography, reinforcing my impression that the piece radiated femininity. Although the ensemble was essentially the same across all three works (with remarkable stamina!), this quality stood out more sharply in the final piece.
Falling In/Out combined ensemble sections with a few short pas de deux and trios. What struck me most was the beauty of the port de bras—precise and expressive—not only in this piece, but throughout the evening. Nothing in Obuzor’s choreography felt gratuitous; he crafted with a company of dancers of remarkable technique and stage presence. It is truly impressive how each dancer radiates both skill and charisma.
Leaving the New Hazlett Theater, delighted by the performance, I couldn’t help but reflect on the scarcity of male dancers onstage. Was this an aesthetic decision, or simply a casting limitation? Where are Pittsburgh’s male dancers? Do we (still?!) live in a society where dance for men is stigmatized? Though this feels outdated, I suspect it may still be the case. We must encourage boys, children, and adolescents alike—to dance! I worry, with sadness, that gender and sexuality prejudices may be stifling countless talents. Overcoming such bias is a responsibility shared by the whole community.
But back to the show: In This Moment continues tonight and tomorrow at the New Hazlett Theater. Don’t miss it! And if you can’t go, keep an eye on Texture Contemporary Ballet, which for fifteen years has been offering Pittsburgh new choreography that, as I said earlier, explores what dance can be rather than conforming to what it is supposed to be.
TICKETS AND DETAILS:
Texture Contemporary Ballet’s presentation of In This Moment is at the New Hazlett Theatre through September 21, 2025. Tickets at: https://www.textureballet.org/in-this-moment.html
Guilherme is a Brazilian theater practitioner and scholar, currently pursuing a PhD in Theatre and Performance Studies at the University of Pittsburgh.
Categories: Arts and Ideas, Reviews
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