{"id":36064,"date":"2017-10-30T16:53:12","date_gmt":"2017-10-30T22:53:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/?p=36064"},"modified":"2018-09-19T10:16:32","modified_gmt":"2018-09-19T16:16:32","slug":"dexo-takes-an-operatic-peek-into-our-future-with-2047","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/dexo-takes-an-operatic-peek-into-our-future-with-2047\/","title":{"rendered":"DEXO Takes an Operatic Peek Into Our Future with 2047"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>The Bertelsen Manor was an uncommon venue for Deseret Experimental Opera Company\u2019s\u00a02047<\/em>. Filled with childhood photos, piles of mail, and an old dog that wandered across the wood floors, the space was immediately intimate: I felt as if I was visiting a friend rather than attending a performance. Bolstered by this informal energy, the operas themselves were presented in the home\u2019s attic ballroom.<\/p>\n

Founded in 2013 by Logan Hone, Jesse Quebbeman-Turley, and Luke Swenson, Deseret Experimental Opera Company (DEXO) is an artistic collective that emphasizes cross-medium collaboration. \u00a0In this vein,\u00a02047<\/em>\u00a0asked four teams, each comprising a librettist, a composer, and a choreographer, to create \u201cmicro-operas\u201d addressing a simple but open-ended question: what will the Wasatch Front be like in thirty years?<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Beekeeper\u2019s Journal\u201d followed a beekeeper and her apprentice as they attempted to manage a swarm of bees that commandeered a data center, putting both the beekeepers and the data retrievers at risk. \u00a0\u201cBack Below\u201d delved into the memories of Sarah and Rachel as they flew home to a Wasatch Front that no longer sees winter snow. A security system trapped an unhappy couple in \u201cOpen House.\u201d \u00a0Finally, \u201cThe 55 Brides of Brileen Young\u201d profiled a group of polygamist brides as they prepared to travel east across the plains.<\/p>\n

Written by Lara Candland and choreographed by Jasmine Stack, \u201cThe Beekeeper\u2019s Journal\u201d punctuated brief dialogues and audio of journal entries describing the mesmerizing beauty of a beehive with movement accompanied by layered counting in various languages. \u00a0The beekeeper and her apprentice folded into mirrored positions, echoing and tessellating into each other with soft fluidity. \u00a0The warmth of these dance sequences contrasted the vacantly precise gestures employed by the beekeeper during the rest of the operetta. \u00a0Utilizing spacious silence, expressionless voices, and an ominous buzzing of hidden instruments, sound designer Jesse Quebbeman-Turley created an open landscape that was far from what I expected of an opera. \u00a0Ending with the suggestion that the bees had disturbingly embalmed the beekeeper and workers in sweet honey, I questioned what exactly the relationship was between the bees and the humans.<\/p>\n

With an incisive libretto by Ilana Fogelson and crisp music by Hannah Johnson McLaughlin, \u201cBack Below\u201d focused on Sarah, as she returned to her family and home after twenty years away, and Rachel, as she attempted to introduce her daughter to a childhood home far away in place and memory. Emma Sargent\u2019s performance as Sarah stood out for its simplicity and sincerity. \u00a0As Sargent leaned her head against an imagined window, her movement and voice\u2019s nuanced clarity were arresting. A foil to the quiet seriousness of Sargent, Nicholas Daulton\u2019s Flight Attendant was delightful. Full of humor and charm, Daulton\u2019s playful gestures poked fun at the familiar pre-flight speech. I actually laughed out loud as he signaled the chorus\u2019s direction changes while in a one-legged airplane balance.<\/p>\n

Emma Wilson\u2019s choreography for \u201cBack Below\u201d was witty and engaging. \u00a0Wilson deftly arranged the chorus with movements recognizably specific but heightened just enough to make them feel futuristic. They argued over seats and climbed across rows, wove their hands like blades of grass and jostled with the turbulence of the plane. Wilson tightly forged the movement to the story and music, creating a predicted future that felt darkly realistic despite its comedy. At one point, a silver cord physicalized the connection between Rachel\u2019s daughter and Sarah, tying one\u2019s head to the other\u2019s heart. Simple and poignant, the cord twisted to entangle the two, binding childhood creation of memory to adulthood\u2019s remembering. I wondered how we will convey the memory of this place once it has changed beyond recognition. How do you tell a child about snow when they may never see it? As strange as that question sounds, \u201cBack Below\u201d reminded me that it is an unfortunately practical one to consider.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t make up my mind about \u201cOpen House.\u201d It felt like the collaborators couldn\u2019t either. The franticly absurd energy of the two dancers portraying the rogue security system, their wonderfully silly bright red goggles, and a mid-action rave complete with LEDs, glow sticks, and light-up gloves primed me for a darkly surprising comedy. But the music and story took themselves very seriously. I wished \u201cOpen House\u201d had gone more the direction of Carly Schaub\u2019s quirky choreography; it was a missed opportunity.<\/p>\n

Closing the nearly three-hour evening, \u201cThe 55 brides of Brileen Young\u201d opened with deep voices singing navigation directions from Provo, Utah, to the Missouri site where the LDS Church places the Garden of Eden. Brides of all genders, dressed in a mixture of white skirts, silken nightgowns, and billowing sleepshirts marked with blue \u201cb\u201d\u2019s, pantomimed preparing, searching, and gathering. Supported by an ominous drone recalling an electric generator, the brides seemed trapped in the repetitive forward motion of travel. Luke Swenson\u2019s allusive libretto related a series of vignettes in the life of the group of polygamist brides.<\/p>\n

One bride, a cappella, called the rest to prepare. Their answers were layered so thickly that individual voices were difficult to differentiate. One by one, the brides met each other mid-stage to matter-of-factly detail preparatory shopping and the quiet rigors of child rearing. Joined by a few audience members, the brides sang a rustic hymn and alluded to Mormon Sunday meetings, one of the many references throughout to LDS culture. \u00a0Introduced by the ward choir director, they called upon members, all with the last name Young, to \u201cfulfill their destiny.\u201d Even when the brides were separated, they were distinctly united as if their lives had been entwined to the point of becoming indistinguishable. This feeling largely came from the dense compositions of Stuart Wheeler and from Meagan Bertelsen\u2019s simple but skillful spatial arrangements. Voice and body were defined by those around them in a way that did not diminish individuals but instead honored dependency.<\/p>\n

In a particularly absorbing moment, two bearded brides stood chest to chest, their bodies pushed into each other and sparely lit by a flashlight pressed between them. Lips nearly touching, they sang of an intimacy that softened edges and they echoed this intimacy in the boundary-blurring nearness of their bodies. The indefinable story coupled with the uncommon sight of such closeness captivated me. I relished the ability to wander through all possibilities of their relationship and did not want the tender moment to end.<\/p>\n

As I wrote this review, I found myself talking through the show much more than usual, only able to process the performance through rambling conversation. Because only theme and medium loosely tied the four operas,\u00a02047<\/em>\u00a0did not lend itself to a neat concluding impression. Some moments made me sit up straighter and some didn\u2019t. However, that was the draw: it was an evening formed around wondering and striving rather than arriving.<\/p>\n