The Kalamazoo College dance company Frelon decided to expand their normally annual showcase to a Fall/Spring split.  Tonight, the talented group showed off their affinity for all things art, not just dance, but also spoken word poetry, music, and interpretive performance.  Frelon extended an invitation to all talented students within the Kalamazoo College community, giving them an opportunity to creatively express themselves in front of an audience in Dalton Theater, Light Fine Arts.  Not only that, but this year Frelon has created a grant to help students in the tricollege area complete any their art-related projects.   This grant was made possible through collaboration with the Arts Council of Kalamazoo (http://www.kalamazooarts.com/).  Katy Ehlert, one of Frelon‘s six senior-directors, says that “the big qualification for it is that these artists have to support Kalamazoo and have an impact on the Kalamazoo community in general.”

The short performance of “Arts, Feets & Beats” was divided into two acts, both of which contained a pleasing amount of every element the show had to offer (dance, song, etc.).  Although I want to avoid critiquing the individual performances, some of them really stood out, especially “Mercy”, choreographed by Katy Ehlert, “Crestfallen Angel”, an original song by Chris Hutchinson, and “Nightingale”, performed by Natalie Brazeau, Laura Fox, and Claire Lindley.

The dance numbers of “Arts, Feets & Beats”, of which there were six, were probably the least interesting aspects of the show, although they were far from boring.  With the exception of the “Mercy” tap number, most of the choreography was amateur ballet mixed with totally unexploited modern Tharpism.  Every time I saw something great and original, it was followed by a jeté or a plié, techniques which some of the dancers couldn’t perform very well, especially in strict unison.  The Frelon directors, Katy Ehlert, Anna Hassan, Kristen Jost, Laura Marshall, Blayne Milbeck, and Marina Takagi, performed in almost every dance.  They’re the directors for good reason: not only are they seniors at Kalamazoo College, but they were also the best dancers on-stage, always keeping positive energy and poise, which made them a real treat to watch.

The second act, which began with a reading by our very own Entertainment Editor Joseph Schafer, was outstanding.  Whether purposefully or not, the ambiance, the lighting, and the physical performances of the second half were much more cohesive than those of the first.  It was as though the pieces had fallen into place, which is not to say that the performances of the first act lacked in any way; it was the act itself that was trumped by its twin.  “I love you guys.  This poem is deep.  It’s about the ocean,” said Schafer, who beat out his second poem in a way that perfectly transitioned into Ben Cooper’s original instrumental “Oklahoma Revisited.”

Furthermore, the second act really utilized the space of Dalton Theater to its advantage.  Specifically, the “Rhinoceros” performance by the Kalamazoo College Theater Department and the song “Nightingale”, performed by those previously mentioned, truly allowed the audience to succumb to the experience and the abstraction of space.  This with the duller tones of the lighting (which deserves much credit) made for a positively eclectic experience.

Like all college student performances, however, “Arts, Feets & Beats” was hurt by its audience, who cat-called, yelled, and screamed out names at every available opportunity.  Although Frelon has a history of eliciting such reaction, it’s still unnecessary.  Whether or not it bolsters the performance and the performers, it cheapens the experience for those who are not screaming and cat-calling.  For example, the last dance “Green Light”, choreographed by Erik Aiken and Blayne Milbeck (another noteworthy performer) was a perfect end to the drabber tone of the second act.  It was upbeat, yet repressive.  It was ecstatic, yet exhausting.  And it was almost ruined by the people behind me.

All in all, “Arts, Feets & Beats” was a worthwhile show which deserves a second performance.  Every performer should be proud of themselves.  Frelon should congratulate itself especially for organizing such a wonderful show for such a wonderful cause.  If you missed “Arts, Feets & Beats”, make sure to see Frelon‘s regular Spring show at Kalamazoo College during Spring of 2010.

Rubber coated clouds bounce through the sky today

There is a fog of deceit in the city, and a fog of tradition in the country

The cable that runs between continents is rusted but functional

The world plods into the future, repeating the past

Things are good, but they are not great

Most of people try to find their way without really looking

Apparently, only the cynics actually look

The names of everything are temporary and unkempt

The names of everything do not lead anywhere

All the insects of the world would together outweigh all the animals

And that is simply put the beauty of very simple things

How many oceans do we really need to keep us afloat?

What number do I call to order one more?

Most things use battery life

Those that don’t, use the sacred

The sacred is that which we harbor from the winds of truth

Life happens in reverse

You die then you live

You know then you understand

Strange colors streak the brain

It is not a pinkish milkshake, but a swinging set of hues and tones

Multiples are better than singles, that’s love

Buying in bulk is cheaper too

C.R.E.A.M

Crime washes away the best endings, the endings that bring painless tears

Crop circles mean only one thing, pigs on the loose

We are alone in the universe

Remember, we are alone with the universe

Us and the universe. That makes two, so we are really not alone

It is good to see the world as a stick of bubblegum

Chew it, and be free

Today I saw a geyser of gum erupt from the plastic bottle I was carrying

Helpless to arrest the torrent I felt like baggage on the side of the road

Unwanted refuse, unable to capture the care of another

I stood watching the ejaculation ruin the floor, a violent elemental force without a plug

It flowed out 15 feet in the air through an algebraic arc and 15 feet back down to earth.

This outpost will be destroyed in time,

So I struggle to keep the walls upright and I must keep moving

Beyond the suffering there is the next struggle, in the face of apocalypse

We will be flooded over by gum

Such a furious loss will be met with panic at first and later, grief

Grief is apathy and grief is war

The gum cannot be overcome

I set the stool down to cry, because that is what I needed to do

Heaven is not today, tomorrow perhaps, I must keep moving

Gum is so sticky, so hazardous, it does not decompose.

I cry a little more because gum does not decompose,

What can stop this geyser?

I alone, cannot. We together, can try, They, then, simply must.

And this is what life is, the things that are necessary if life is to continue, that is, work.

Beyond life is sweet dripping joy,

Turn the knob left for a full onslaught,

Turn the knob right for a string of glistening beads emerging one by one endlessly

It will happen soon I must keep believing.

Today is Veteran’s Day in America, but around the world it is still known by its older, and more specific designation as Armistice Day, in memory of WWI. In light of the holiday, a classic and fitting poem from the era:

Dulce Et Decorum Est

By Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep.  Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod.  All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS!  Gas!  Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And floundering like a man in fire or lime.–

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.