An Excellent Objects in the Mirror Closes Kindling Arts
Nashville’s independent dance community is arguably one of the finest in the country, and nowhere is that more evident than on the experimental stages of Kindling Arts. In Sunday’s Objects in the Mirror, the festival’s final production, a trio of new works choreographed by Emma Morrison, Becca Hoback, and Asia Pyron offered an intensely varied and compelling evening of performance. Moving from Morrison’s intimate meditation on doubt and purpose, to Hoback’s unsettling exploration of predation and vulnerability, and finally to Pyron’s exuberant and exhausting portrait of artistic ambition, the program revealed not only the extraordinary range of contemporary dance in Nashville but also the willingness of its artists to embrace risk, experimentation, and emotional complexity. United by a shared commitment to pushing the boundaries of movement and theatrical expression, the three choreographies demonstrated precisely why the city’s dance scene continues to be one of its most vital artistic communities.
Like the title suggests, Emma Morrison’s This is a Good Dance and a Bad Dance presents two contrasting perspectives within a work of remarkable intimacy and beauty. One is grounded in strength, presence, and determination; the other, underscored by Roy Orbison’s soundtrack, is infused with nostalgia and doubt. Ultimately, however, these impulses are not wholly given in opposition. Instead, they were intertwined, creating a physical expression of the complexities of the human condition.
In one particularly striking moment, Morrison strode purposefully across the stage, turned, and descended into a grand plié with her arms in first position—an extraordinary display of control and poise. Suddenly, she folded inward, covering her head and body in a fleeting gesture of uncertainty, only to reverse the movement and rise effortlessly from the plié. The sequence encapsulated the tension between confidence and vulnerability that animates the work. Equally charming was the final moment, when Morrison appeared to break the fourth wall, acknowledging the audience with a glance that felt both playful and deeply human.
Becca Hoback’s Rapt seemed to draw not only from her title’s conventional meaning—”completely absorbed, fascinated, or filled with intense delight”—but also from its possible connection to “raptor,” the image of a predatory bird of prey. The dance was chilling, especially in its first half: avian in character and constructed from a vocabulary of movement that conveyed terror, anger, and fear. Angular, aggressive, and fierce, this was not the nostalgic, romanticized Gothic horror of nineteenth-century ballet. Instead, it was contemporary, visceral, and genuinely unsettling.
Kat Tierney-Smith’s costume design was impeccable, gradually revealing itself as an essential component of the performance, one that Hoback employed to striking effect. Most compelling was the work’s transformation as dawn approached and the creature onstage softened into something gentler and more vulnerable. Yet the shift was neither abrupt nor entirely linear even as that vulnerability crept in. Throughout the night, Hoback’s movements seemed only to grow more threatening—as though, most appropriately, the darkness became most intense in the moments before daybreak.
The musical selections were equally inspired, particularly in the contrast they established between Ignacio Nieto Carvajal’s ominous score and the luminous beauty of Sangeetha Ekambaram’s voice. The tension between the two created a perfect sonic counterpart to the choreography’s emotional arc. By the end of the performance, I found myself wishing I had the opportunity to experience Rapt a second time—it is a wish that lingers today.
The third choreography, Ego, by Asia Pyron and performed by Ashley Dengate, Lenin Fernandez, Emma Morrison, Asia Pyron, and Phylicia Roybal—all veterans of Pyron’s ensemble, PYDANCE—was, remarkably, the most vigorous work of an evening already defined by its intensity. Perhaps some of that energy stemmed from its musical accompaniment: Nashville punk band Snõõper’s Super Snõõper, played in its entirety. True to the genre, the music was loud, immediate, and relentlessly propulsive, and the dancers matched its pace at every turn.
Snõõper vocalist Blair Tramel was responsible for the production’s marvelous visual elements, including its puppets, tinfoil masks, and oversized hands. Morrison and Pyron previously appeared in the band’s video for “Worldwide,” and the connection between the video’s aesthetic and the choreography’s frenetic energy was unmistakable.
The program notes describe Ego as “unpack[ing] the exhaustive journey towards success undertaken by experimental artists … wrestling with themes of self-belief, ambition, delusion, and the labor that it takes to make it all possible.” So much unfolds over the course of the performance that isolating any single moment feels almost impossible. What remains most striking, however, is that despite the choreography’s obvious physical demands, the dancers projected a palpable sense of joy throughout, as though exhilaration and exhaustion were inseparable parts of the same artistic pursuit.
If Ego offers any conclusion, it is that the pursuit of success for experimental artists—particularly in a city like Nashville—is both fierce and demanding. Yet the performers approached that challenge with such conviction, energy, and delight that the struggle itself seemed transformed into a source of creative vitality. Kindling Arts productions have again set the standard for experimental dance in Music City, and given the growth they are experiencing, I can’t wait to see what they come up with next year!
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Joseph E. Morgan is a father of two, husband, teacher and recovering guitarist in Middle Tennessee.
