An Evening of Forced Interpretation

To view contemporary dance is to be exposed to a medium of utmost earnestness. Black Moon, one of three pieces in Whim W’him’s Spring ‘26 season, is described as follows: “Time moves like phases overhead—each connection ripening, dimming, and disappearing—while the body carries the fatigue of what remains unspoken.” Whim W’him has opened for their last show of the season. There are three dances choreographed by three different artists, yet they flatten and morph together, each of their topics very similar to the next.  None are particularly memorable for what they want to showcase: an unpretentious social commentary that defies and transcends the “rules” of art. 

Despite the verbose diction of the program descriptions, all three dances offered a fraught and dystopian mood. The dancers were set to a worn concrete wall, their bodies adorned with cold neutrals. The first dance, James Gregg’s Static Bloom, opened with the performers standing center stage, collecting in a three-by-three grid. They were wearing cheetah print jorts and heavy trench coats (which dancer Stella Jacobs described as “badass”). Hyperpop music was playing and the dancers seemed to enter a tortured vogue. Around two thirds through the performance, the dancers came back out in their trenchcoats but nearly nothing underneath. The story—supposedly to be a form of divine perseverance—was now being maintained on the basis of sensuality. At the end, the dancers got more and more discouraged. The first dance did not end with the same triumph they opened with, the confidence they possessed at the beginning of the show dwindled, they ended the performance sobbing.  

Black Moon, by Rena Butler, started with the dancers convulsing on the floor, wearing mesh veils akin to fencing masks. The music varied in this set: the beginning held a more acoustic sound, almost a Nick Drake dystopia. The dancers lingered around the stage as Mac Miller played overhead. They were swift but his voice was heavy. Miller’s ramblings clashed with the dancers’ sincerity. 

We arrived to a fog-filled stage for Oliver Wevers’s Dark Echoes Come Shining. A spotlight bounced off of the motes and illuminated the dancers on stage. A great deal of the final dance was a remarkable duet which  was awarded a standing ovation. It was less absurd, it wasn’t trying to apply any abstract commentary. It made for a satisfying ending to the night, and is one of the few moments from the set I find myself coming back to. The dancers’ bodies moved in a sharp manner. Their technique was good. They were confident. But their fastidiousness rejected the honesty of their subjects, or rather their staggering moves rendered a more despondent quality than what it set out to do. Interpretive dance can only become so lawless, it is not as groundbreaking or outlandish as it tends to be portrayed. The genre has turned into a modern dance Animal Farm, artists addressed with the conviction that one has nothing to defy when everything already has. If the font is all in bold, there is nothing withstanding. Although having superb technique, Whim W’him does not bring anything extraordinary. It is simply another dance. Whim W’him seems to strive to foster a connection with its patrons–one that doesn’t read as transactional as it is. They make a point to the audience before the curtains are drawn to build some intrinsic bond—something that makes it seem like a prosperous exchange of life and divine energy, not just currency. It can and has the right to be meaningful, but the process of which it takes one to discern and decide how they feel is also the right of the audience. Their perceptions ultimately decide—whether they are completely aware of it or not—what it means to them. The dances tried overly hard to cast an introspective mirror without allowing the audience to decide whether they reflected deeper meaning. 

Whim W’him’s Spring ‘26  does not find itself relevant in my mind. I left the performance feeling indifferent. I did not grow a sense of higher virtue, do not count myself  better affected by whatever parable the dances convey. Maybe it is a problem within myself to not identify with that level of sincerity. Passion for dance is expressed in a certain type of person— the kind I don’t find myself to be. What seems imperative to viewing Whim W’him’s Spring ‘26 is being someone who can surrender themselves to someone else’s vision, allowing another person to impose their idea onto them.

Lead photo: Choreography: Olivier Wevers - Photography: Jim Coleman - Whim W’Him dancers

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