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In 2006, Fumi Murakami and Kelly Smith based Full Tilt, an annual festival-style up to date dance present. In that very same 12 months I gave delivery to my second little one. I keep in mind it was intimidating to return to superior trendy courses a 12 months later as a 39-year-old mom of two. I felt like (and possibly was) the oldest dancer within the room. It has been a battle over time to seek out my place within the dance group as an “older” dancer, so it was actually refreshing to be taught that a part of Full Tilt’s mission is to recruit dancers over 40.
As an viewers member this 12 months for Full Tilt 2025, I witnessed a clean mix of dancers and choreographers ranging in age, reflecting the Seattle dance group as I expertise it. The over-40 dancers didn’t stand out any in another way than their youthful friends, however I recognize Full Tilt for making the express invitation.
Browsing this system earlier than the present, my coronary heart shreds just a little after I learn choreographer Davianna Griffin’s notes for the primary piece, Shades of Rage. “Dedicated to my little sis, Jalia. I love you and I miss you always.”
The lights come up on six dancers, backs to the viewers. The motion is rooted within the down beat. It appears like a fusion of avenue dance and vocabulary I acknowledge from taking West African dance courses. The dancers scream. They look over their shoulders, battle with one another when holding fingers in a rope-like line. Chests pulse. They punch down and cross their wrists like they aren’t going to take any extra sh*t. When the music switches to saxophone, I can really feel the draining, bluesy-ness of grief that’s the flip facet of anger. They make slicing motions. I consider what it feels wish to be lower off on the knees by grief.
Words from the soundtrack hit me on a guttural stage. My grief, my anger is totally justified. Struck by Griffin’s bravery choreographing about one thing so private and uncooked, I requested her through Instagram message if she was keen to share about her course of. Graciously she replied, “I was already in the process of making the piece before my sister passed. I previously made a piece about anger, and I was interested in exploring the complexity of the emotion in this piece. How it’s not always direct–sometimes it’s reflective, silent, bubbling, etc….The dancers brought their own experiences with anger into it as well to portray it from their point of view.”
At first look, the subsequent piece, Ambiguitas choreographed by Audrey Byrne, has a Bob Fosse-Chicago-cabaret vibe. The dancers put on black leotards and tights. Most put on heels, however I ponder why some have socks on as a substitute. The central dancer (Maisy Neill) is dazzling in dramatically darkish lipstick and a lustrous (however apparent) wig. She lip syncs, “Tell me what, is your currency?” The temper switches when the opposite dancers strip off Neill’s wig and footwear and depart her convulsing and crying. They stroll by blind to her misery like strangers on a avenue. They tilt her head for her like a model—an ambiguous physique formed by outdoors whims. The group’s heads loll like they’ve misplaced the power to suppose for themselves. Suddenly, the dancers are backlit so we will solely see their silhouettes. Their legs shake, they flip their arms ahead, virtually like they’re turning themselves inside out for out of doors validation.
Set to ethereal, soulful, instrumental music, Trace by Evelyn Morrison, is sort of a delicate, transferring poem. I see themes of dedication, freedom, and belief. I discover a movement that appears like pulling off a marriage ring. Peace fingers tentatively reaching out. They cowl their eyes. There is determined scratching on the ground like attempting to dig out of a foul state of affairs. In the tip, the six dancers stand with arms out like they’re soaking within the solar and one lofts her arms like winging to security.
Back from intermission, I discover a telephone on a tripod set low on the ground in entrance of the primary row of the viewers. The sight of the digital machine dissipates the inside, reflective, dreamy temper Morrison’s piece left me in. When Touch Starved by Jeremy Cline and dancers begins, one of many dancers is speaking into the propped telephone like an influencer. Her chipper face is projected on an enormous display protecting the again of the theater. The stage lights dim and the performers dance holding telephones with the flashlights on, creating star-like pinpoints of sunshine at nighttime. As they transfer, their photographs are concurrently projected behind the theater. After a while the projection alters, and thru some sort of digital manipulation, begins to seem like an summary portray.
The dancers discuss to the viewers about likes and views. How being considered isn’t the identical as being seen for who you might be. They converse of lacking bodily hugs. The dancers use index fingers to function their telephones reminding us that “touch” in our days might be lowered to tapping, scrolling. As the piece concludes, the display at the back of the stage transitions from fractured traces to trying like we’re headed right into a black gap of doom scrolling.
In Skeletons, choreographed by Sally Hollman, every dancer wears a brightly coloured tie and a white button-down shirt. The piece is structured in sections the place the lighting matches every dancer’s tie coloration. I’m reminded of the film Inside Out the place completely different colours are related to completely different feelings. There are actions symbolic of carrying the burden of the world on their shoulders—sluggish crawling, arms that look to be holding a heavy ball. Suddenly fouetté turns in second place and cut up jeté jumps punctuate the choreography. Stylistically, these technically difficult strikes appear fairly completely different than the previous motion high quality. I ponder in regards to the choreographic intent. Perhaps these dazzling actions belie the work it takes to attain them?
Choreographer Arinze Okammor’s background in acoustic and electrical engineering shines via the sound composition for the show-closing, show-stopping piece, AM/FM. As the title signifies, radio advertisements, climate studies, emergency broadcast indicators, and static blast the viewers together with extremely brilliant mild. The dancing, crisp, excessive velocity, and exact begins and stops precisely because the radio sign tunes into completely different frequencies. Several instances a voice asks, “What was that?” “I don’t know what that was.” I’m unsure both, however judging by the viewers reactions, all of us agree the piece is pure delight to observe.
Evoke Production’s Full Tilt 2025 was carried out April 5 and 6, 2025 in NOD Theater.