The dancers are crossing and intermingling, swirling together on the stage. They鈥檙e trying to move like an estuary. After this rehearsal, in early August,听they听performed this piece in ,听a multimedia dance concert in Grand Junction, Colorado, about the town鈥檚 namesake confluence.听
The Gunnison and Colorado Rivers converge in town, and artistic and visionary director Rebecca Fleishman wanted to show the confluence鈥檚听many facets, and why it鈥檚 so crucial to the community, through dance. She鈥檚 been running rivers for 15 years and even met her husband in a river-safety class.听鈥淚t鈥檚 ephemeral, it鈥檚 about being in the moment,鈥 she says. 鈥淎nd dance is ephemeral, too. River is all about movement. So is dance. Dance is underfunded鈥攄ancers get hardly paid and it鈥檚 underappreciated鈥攁nd rivers are, too. When I started thinking about it, there was parallel after parallel.鈥
Fleishman, whose most recent show was about different aspects of nighttime, started brainstorming about combining the concept of rivers and dance two years ago. Last year, when the western slope of Colorado was suffering from听drought, she reached out to local nonprofit about a dance performance that would follow听the life of the river听and could fundraise for work on the river. 鈥淭hey don鈥檛 know anything about dance, but I came at them with all this enthusiasm,鈥 she says. When the group听got behind the idea, she had a twofold challenge: First, how would she tell a story about conservation and currents with movement? And how would she do it in a way that wouldn鈥檛 weird out the paddlers听or feel preachy to the arts community?
Translating concepts like endangered fish and confluences to choreography is tricky, especially when your dancers and your audience aren鈥檛 necessarily water people. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a head trip,鈥 Fleishman says. 鈥淣o one in the cast knew how a river formed听or what an estuary was, so we studied videos about them and had the dancers bring homework.鈥 She says the performers now have a new relationship with rivers, both in terms of what they know about the ecosystem听and how they move. 鈥淚f you think about your veins moving like a river, you can move like them,鈥 one dancer says in a video piece that鈥檚 part of the performance.听
The first piece of the performance, called听鈥淓ddy,鈥 emphasized the back-and-forth between two dancers to show how obstacles in the river change and redirect flows. 鈥淲e studied what eddies do and what they mean. It can be getting out of danger, and it can be dangerous,鈥 Fleishman says. In another piece, called听鈥淲ave Train,鈥 a group of dancers made听currents with their bodies. 鈥淲e thought about river currents, which feel like they鈥檙e so metaphorically about our feelings. We wanted chaos, because wave trains have that, and I wanted to capture those dynamics.鈥澨
While dance was听the backbone of the event,听there was also poetry, music, and a video of some of the performers dancing on the banks of the Colorado, soaked in evening light. They wore听dresses over wet bathing suits鈥攚hat you鈥檇 wear on a river trip鈥攖o ground the experience in what鈥檚 going on in the outside world.听
Fleischman says that was part of the goal for the performance. She wanted to set the dynamics of the river into a different kind of motion, but she also wanted to show the threats to the drought-stricken, overused, often ignored waterway so that it would resonate differently than a didactic lecture or press release.
鈥淚 want to bring together different demographics, like the arts community, conservationists, and fishermen,鈥 she says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been challenging to try to roll this out in a way听that it鈥檚 intriguing听but not alienating. I don鈥檛 want to be too arty for people who are uncomfortable with arts.鈥 She also tried听to show why it鈥檚 important to be on or near water听and what it can do for mental health and connection. 鈥淚 want someone to feel something. That鈥檚 what dance does for me鈥攊t鈥檚 not just motion for motion鈥檚 sake. Instead of reading听or seeing a beautiful painting, I wanted them to feel something ephemeral. I hope it sparks something.鈥