Changing Lot, an evening of three solo dance performances at Dock 11, begins with its weakest link, Isak Immanuel’s deliberately-paced “A Day Without Images”. Images opens with Immanuel pacing slowly in front of a projected visage of a foggy landscape, on a stage occupied by a simple mock-up of a living room (paper floor; nine plywood beams). The projection eventually disappears, leaving Immanuel to explore his onstage structure, a task he completes with no particular flair. Immanuel’s dance has striking moments, but much of his action feels ad hoc and under-realized. He moves neither in sync with his projection, nor in counterpoint to it; though he dances next to the furniture he’s assembled, he rarely engages with it. Immanuel’s assembled a large bag of tricks onstage, but it seems he hasn’t quite figured out how best to use them.
Mari Osanai’s “dance b-1” proves an altogether more affecting piece, a lesson in the simplicity that Images lacks. According to the program, Osanai was heavily affected by the earthquake and tsunamis that hit her native Japan in 2011; her piece reads as a reflection and mourning for the victims. Isolated in a spotlight, Osanai undulates to the oppressive sound of rushing water. At first her body takes on severe, almost marionette-like angles, but then begins to dissolve into softer shapes, bending and contorting as she moves out of her spotlight and begins to inhabit the entire stage. Osanai, who appears to be middle-aged, brings both maturity and a wildly impressive physicality to her dance; she knows when subtler movements are called for.
The evening closes with “Nine Steps to Dust,” choreographer-dancer Yuko Kaseki’s nod to the “kusozu,” Japanese depictions of corpses in various stages of decay. The piece’s theme hints of dire things to come, but “Dust” actually proves by far the most upbeat of the evening’s offerings. The rail-thin Kaseki begins her piece by opening a suitcase to reveal a human skeleton. She then fiddles with the skeleton – sometimes draping its arm over her shoulder like a buddy, sometimes crawling alongside it in an attempt to mimic its jerky movements. Aided by a soundscape that ranges from jungle noises to something vaguely Enya, Kaseki conveys a sense of playfulness and awe at the odd ways the human skeleton – both her own and her companion’s – can move. The piece is buoyant and, when Kaseki strikes a distorted pose, unsettling. The tone feels just right for the theme.
Changing Lot may drag in moments, but the evening provides a compelling view of three distinctive solo performance approaches – wisely arranged with the most engaging material saved for last.