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Nrityagram Dance EnsembleFebruary 2008 New York, Joyce Theater by Rachel Straus |
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In western dance, hands are extensions of line, devices to grasp a partner, the body’s addendum in space. But with the Nrityagram Dance Ensemble, hands form flowers, birds, fluttering hearts, rivers, temple roofs and steeples to heaven. In the world premiere of Pratima: Reflection at the Joyce Theater (February 19 to 24) choreographer Surupa Sen, the Odissi dance artist and the company’s artistic director, performed with her four, female, flower-like dancers. Their hands told stories about flirtation, love betrayed, and the creation of the world. In this full-evening work—whose title dangled but never delivered a distinct theme—the power of these gold and red-costumed women crystallized when they sculpted their eight arms to represent Shiva x 4. At that moment, universal harmony quantified by feminine grace reigned. Nrtiyagram, which means dance village and was founded in 1990 by Bombay socialite Protima Gauri (1948-1996), is not just a dance company and a music ensemble located near Bangalore. It is the only community of its kind in India dedicated to the education, dissemination, preservation and development of Indian dance. This is the company’s twelfth visit to the United States. From 1990 to 2004, Nitryagram organized annual, all-night dance and music performances in celebration of spring. A reported 30,000 visitors attended the last event. On Wednesday night, it was hard to imagine the eight-member group performing in a larger space or for more than the several hundred assembled. The Nrityagram I saw produced intimacy and a meditative mood. As the women’s percussive footwork, in combination with their ankle and waist jewelry, produced a silvery, chiming sound Budhanath Swain’s Mardala, a percussion instrument, meted out a velvet, trance-like bass line. Srinibas Satapathy’s melodic flute playing echoed the dancers curving torsos and Sanjib Kumar Kunda’s mastery of the violin—like Sen’s development of contrapuntal spatial configuration of the dancers—illustrated this group’s selective, successful adaptations of western artistic influences.  Surupa Sen (right) and Bijayini Satpathy of Nrityagram Dance Ensemble performing in Odissi style at a dress rehearsal at the © Jack Vartoogian/FrontRowPhotos Nrityagram primarily draws from Odissi, the youngest and most lyrical of classical Indian dance forms, whose origins in the temples of Orissa state circa 200 B.C. are preserved in friezes and sculptures where the divine love of Krishna and his consort Radha are depicted. It is in sacred spaces, I imagine, that solos such as Khandita or Love Betrayed would have had greater impact. But at the Joyce, with its plain black curtain and scuffed up Marley floors, Sen’s solo, which came at the end of a 40-minute long first act, didn't evoke a solemnity that a sacred space might have provided. This was not an athletic, space-covering or rhythmically executed solo either. But Sen’s eyes in this were remarkable. Dagger straight and willful at one moment, their dark orbs softened, drawing me into deep, protective pools of feeling. Sen’s eyes take one on a pilgrimage to her heart.
In the final moments of Pratima, Sen’s hands repeatedly shaped a sphere, emanating from her womb as though she was propelling the last moments of her creation into being. When Bijayini Satpathy lunged head first toward the audience as the quartet grasped imaginary ropes, she resembled the docking of a ship’s prow. Making landfall, the Nritryagram dancers took in their hands two small candles. As they made their way off stage, their hands turned into fireflies and the audience used theirs to meet out a rousing applause.
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