DANCE REVIEW : Studio Is No Space to Display Dancer’s Daring Light Moves

New York-based Dana Reitz has made beautiful body music in silent settings for years. Dancing to her own interior rhythms--with only the interplay of light and shadow as accompaniment--Reitz has earned an international reputation and garnered two coveted Bessie awards, the dance/performance art world’s top prize.

Last weekend, the rebel dance maker went a step further in bringing her style of dance to Sushi, a low-tech loft space. Reitz always has shunned such “white-box” facilities because they play havoc with lighting designs--a core element in her dances.

However, with designer Clay Shirky as her collaborator, Reitz confronted the beast and premiered “White Plains” during her two-performance run.

Unfortunately, Reitz met her match. The combined handicaps of white walls, low ceilings, light spills, and the ever-encroaching environmental noises that overflow into the second-story studio, doomed this experiment to failure.

Reitz is a tall, limber dancer who seems to have total control of her finely tuned body. She wore no makeup. Her straight hair was pulled into a pony tail with a rubber band. Yet she can command attention with beautifully articulated gestures and a quirky catalogue of mundane moves.

Space-gobbling leaps and flashy floor-work are not part of her vocabulary, nor are intricate contortions. At times, Reitz seemed almost riveted to a particular spot. Even then, her expressive arms sent silent messages--like sign language--while her flicking fingers moved along independent paths of their own.

Reitz’ isolations extended to her neck and head, with darting moves that called to mind East Indian expressions. She can be exciting to watch--in the proper ambience, with sophisticated support.

But it is the unusual relationship between Reitz’ movement patterns and the play of light that gives her dances magical quality. That bond was never secure in the Sushi debut.

Silence can be deadly without a cacophony of visual effects. And “White Plains” was bland until it neared its conclusion. Reitz’ baggy white sweater and black pants did little to create visual interest, and the lighting rarely went beyond the predictable.

At one point, however, the dance took an ominous turn and came wonderfully close to demonstrating the dancer’s potential. It happened when the door leading backstage suddenly opened, and a stream of light spilled into the performance space. That striking image--and the dancer’s cerebral response to it--was quite mesmerizing.

Shirky bathed the dancer in small pools of light for some fascinating kinetic passages and turned down the lights to near-darkness for others. Unhappily, there were few episodes in which a strong fusion of light and motion took place. And despite her prowess, Reitz could not sustain attention throughout the long, abstract dance.

Reitz has been called a “stream of consciousness” dancer, meaning her work seems to meander where her impulses take her. But despite their improvisational spirit, there is a tight structure to her dances. However, “White Plains,” which has no story line or linear thrust was disconnected and allusive.

Commonplace street sounds, barely noticeable with musical accompaniment, proved annoying distractions to Reitz’ soundless performance. Even quiet shuffling in the seats imposed on the performance.

Reitz is a significant creative force, and an intelligent dancer with a commitment to her art that borders on the religious. She is the kind of artist Sushi nurtures so well. Unfortunately, her needs were sorely at odds with the no-frills facility.

Perhaps one day San Diego dance enthusiasts will get to see this iconoclast pair off with a lighting designer in a more appropriate setting.