This is not an unusual type of twist in the work of Gillian Walsh, who scrutinizes what we take for granted in dance, beginning with the fundamental question: Why would you do it?
There are, of course, plenty of reasons to dance. But in her latest creation, “Fame Notions,” which had its premiere Friday at Performance Space New York, Walsh is concerned specifically with why anyone — herself included — would pursue a career in such an economically precarious field. (She has described the job market for people with college dance degrees as “a void.”) What are dancers seeking?
The three-hour “Fame Notions,” for five women, offers no direct answers. But in its uncompromising use of stillness, slowness and repetition, it distills the endlessness of the dancer’s quest, which may, after all, be inexplicable to the public, known only to the dancer herself.
Walsh has deployed these tools before (she calls stillness her “one true love”), often to the frustration of audiences. But compared with her previous works, and to its advantage, “Fame Notions” gives the viewer more breathing room. Unfolding from 4 to 7 p.m., it felt continuous with the sound and changing light outside the theater’s open windows, which look out over East Village rooftops and, Friday, allowed a breeze to waft in. Audience members can come and go at any point, though staying to the end, I found, was rewarded.
In this swath of time, the dancers — isolated from one another, each at the center of her own meditative sphere — cycle through poses that read like snapshots of ballet class or cheerleading practice or high-school dance recitals. Each has an inventory of moves, some of them shared. Kiersten Foster, from a backbend on her forearms, kicks into a back walkover, suspending the action midway. Brianna Lux contracts on the floor with the cupped hands of the Martha Graham technique. Emma Cohen uses the wall as a barre, pulling one leg to her head with her free hand.
Up close, we can see the trembling effort of stretching and balancing — the dancer’s asymptotic relationship to perfection. It can always be better; do it again. Yet Walsh also integrates images of rest, or exhaustion: a body hunched over, hands on thighs, or reclining with an elbow propped on a knee.
Observed for long enough — against a sonic backdrop of warbling birds and New Agey chanting, designed by Michael Hernandez and Walsh — the work takes on a mystical dimension. Is the drive to dance, at its core, a spiritual one?
In dealing with the sacrifice demanded of dancing, and with archetypes of the American dancer, “Fame Notions” echoes the work of Sarah Michelson, in particular her “Devotion” series. Yet Walsh seems less interested in the theme of a director’s control. The dancers put themselves through their own paces; even if wildly impractical, to be there is their choice.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.