On Saturday I went to see Dusan Tynek’s Dance Theatre perform two pieces, Fleur-de-Lis and Apian Way, at Mount Tremper Arts. As a poet and writer, I find much of my expression through words, and was blown away by the dancers’ precision and communication through the body. In both pieces there was a commitment from the dancers to connect with one another and the audience in such a concentrated way over an extended period of time with a clear and conscious ability to express story and emotion. Wordlessly.

Dusan Tynek Dance Theatre

The program description of Fleur-de-Lis informed me that the piece was inspired, in part, by Caravaggio’s paintings and that it deals with encounters between divine beings and mortals. I am not very familiar with Caravaggio’s art, although this did not hamper my enjoyment of the piece. For some of the first section of the performance, I found my mind engaged in the question of which dancers were mortal and which divine? Three male and three female dancers took the stage. At a certain point, I decided that the men were the divine beings because of the confidence, power, and the control they expressed through movement. They were the force acting upon the almost-lifeless female dancers for much of the first section. The women moved in response and reaction to them. For me, this piece, and particularly the first section raised lots of gender issues, largely because the male and female dancers were in a physical relationship that reminded me of traditional male-female gender roles. It was a personal relief—one which I felt in my own body—when the female dancers began moving more independently in the middle of the first section. I enjoyed the creative ways in which the dancers gave and received one another’s weight—finding a shoulder shelf or a knee ledge to rest, perch, or balance on. The weight sharing was a particular delight for me to watch, and it reminded me of contact improv classes I’ve participated in in the past.

The second and third sections of the dance exploded the kinds of male-female roles I previously mentioned by pairing couples of 2 men or 2 women, as well as creating shapes with the entire company, at times. While the first section explored the sensuality and sexuality, as well as the relationship between single male and female dancers, the dance unfolded into interesting groupings and different kinds of movements—forceful, passionate. Some of my favorite moments involved rotating groups of three dancers each, in which there was more experimenting with weight sharing. By the end of Fleur-de-Lis I was so moved by the strength, control, expressiveness, and forms of the dancers’ bodies, that I figured they must all be divine and I was the mortal who had encountered them.

The second piece, Apian Way, was fun! The dancers embodied bees to the extent that I felt as if I were not watching human bodies anymore. There was definite communication between dancers, whether it was the sex dance of the Queen with her drone, or the worker bees industriously checking in with one another in the midst of their work. This piece was fresh and experimental with cool costumes—black bodices with shiny, iridescent goldish ruffles made out of the same material as the airy pants. There was a lot of energy in this piece, and I appreciated the versatility of the dance company—being able to perform two very different pieces, both thematically and physically, back to back.

Valerie Linet is a Hudson Valley poet and social worker, who is currently unemployed for a living. She recently quit her job as a trauma therapist at a rape crisis center, and plans to do full-time residential training at the Zen Mountain Monastery beginning this Fall.