Taking a break to enjoy a well earned rest, Festival founder Chantal Guevara, brought Hush, Cloud Dance’s last choreographic platform for a while, to its first residency at the Cochrane Theatre in Holborn, central London.

As always Sunday’s festival was a mixed bag of sweets, the evening kicking off  with the little difference words make (song of sibyl) [excerpts]. Choreographed by Julia Pond, this solid work draws on the renowned dance technique of Isadora Duncan to divulge the story of the Sibyls – mythical Greek or Roman ancient prophetesses. From the start, Pond paints a theatrical scene worthy of a Greek tragedy, as three dancers appear in floaty layered dresses beneath an otherworldly hazy light; heavenly bells chime, then the sound of spoken text proceeds one dancer’s brief solo - her fellow sibyls echoing movement behind like a chattering Greek chorus. Strong themes of the Sibyls continue to shine throughout the dance. Connecting in a nimble and breathy duet, the heads of two females are covered by long white swathes of sheer material, the illusion of their impaired vision perhaps alluding to the Sibyl’s divine power to see past the veil and limits of human reality into future. Then as the dancers frequently fold movement into the floor, their white-cloaked bodies oddly resemble wriggly insect grubs encased and confined in chrysalis form. Thus, neither plain caterpillar nor beautiful butterfly they are stuck in a state of in between, like the Sibyls who being neither mortal or immortal exist in tragic isolation. Finally the work climaxes with an emotional feminine solo, which through the ripples of the dancer’s flowing fleshy arms, the abandon and soft curves of her torso and freedom yet sturdiness of her legs, one is able to witnesses the simplicity and power of Duncan’s pioneering technique, to not only illustrate the strength and sensuality of the Sibyl’s (such as Libyan and Delphic, as painted on the Sistine Chapel), but also to celebrate the natural and sublime female form.

SuperB Dance Theatre’s, In between us, attempts to address the individual loneliness and alienation often experienced in today’s modern life. Choreographed by WooJung Kim, the most prominent visual aspect of the dance is its use of umbrellas as a symbol for our own vulnerability or insecurity and as a tool representing the physical barriers we created. A few brief moments of humour emerged through the dance, such as a dancer as a would-be commuter, shrinking gradually behind her umbrella as a fellow traveller tries in vain to strike up a conversation; two dancers engaging in a seemingly friendly exchange of , “Hello... How are you...?”, whilst awkwardly ducking and dodging their bodies away from any actual physical contact with their peer standing opposite; the closing image of a dancer resolutely shutting her umbrella as protection and disposing it at the feet of her fellows, challenging them to confront her presence and vulnerability. However, despite delving into a potentially intense subject - that is current in many of today’s women’s magazine articles - Kim’s work overall fails to break out of its own comfort zone. Perhaps by stretching the idea to its extremes spatially - horizontally and vertically, in the air and down low - a more rigorous and mature dance could result, challenging the dancers’ capabilities but also offering a more acute comment on the lengths people will go to avoid each other and remain detached.  Thus such an enquiry may further reveal the effects such behaviour has upon the individual, mentally and emotionally.

The ‘shifting identities and changing relationships of three women seeking an unreliable truth’, laid foundation for the short but lively trio, Please please please, by Cambridge Contemporary Dance. Inspired by quotes by Sigmund Freud and, once again, Isadora Duncan, the company explode the stage with flashes of bold energy as they continuously shift and pursue each other in the space. Embedded in several mini solos and duets, the repetition of motifs appear to comment on: motherhood, with rocking arms; the pressures of beauty with gazes into a hand as a mirror and annoying personal habits or traits, with OCD-style itches and scratches. Pleasant to watch the dancers cleanly and proficiently execute the vocabulary before them with an assured and measured control. Although this reserved physicality may stand in contrast to the passion and freedom of expression that Isadora Duncan aspired to achieve through dance, it may conceivably point to the constraints and pressures placed on the lives of modern women.

In Over, American choreographer Mary Sherwin takes no prisoners, delivering a deliciously sinister, yet visually arresting work, to grab you by the jugular. Drawing on a rich vocabulary that keenly twists and distorts the body through awkward angles and precise isolations, Sherwin and fellow dancers Charlene Dinger and Kelly Manning seek to accentuate the pain, angst and stress of individual taken to breaking point and back again. The dulcet haunting tones of Portishead’s track also titled Over, adds further intensity to the onstage ordeal, its heavy dub beat interpreted and mimicked in a dynamic slick fashion by the dancers, whom styled in sombre black attire and wild tousled hair exude oodles of raw attitude. If there is one question that arises as the proceedings unfold, is whether using such a tremendous soundtrack will tempt the choreographer to follow its relentless beat too closely, allowing even the most creative of dances to feel predictable after a time. However Sherwin manages to avoid this by mixing up the pace towards the climax of the work, by breaking the unison between the dancers and adding more syncopated timings and rhythms into their individual phrases. Beautifully produced, hypnotic and imaginative, Over demonstrates in Sherwin a choreographic talent that one imagines would fit more than comfortably in the heightened visual world of the music video.

Cloud Dance Festival veterans Diciembre Dance Group made a welcome return with the exuberant Kensington Gardens. The first section opens high-spirited and simplistic as dancers Kate and Lucía, dressed in old-fashioned nautical stripes and shorts, cavort about the space with large jetés and leaps, as they express the light-hearted play and juvenile antics of two children in an environment of possibilities. However, with the arrival of dimmed murky lights, the mood rapidly transforms for a second section that submerges the dancers into intricate choreography and the darker, more complex unknown spaces of childhood. The eerie sounds of rising bubbles, a music box melody and the intermittent twang of  guitar strings accompany the dancers, who with impressive strength and flexibility contort their bodies through the challenges faced ahead. With a display of  hips protruding forward, rolls through splits and generous developés in the air, the girls mimic easy-to-bend toy dolls.  Enjoyable and intriguing the overall effect is barely scary for adults, although one is glad when Kate and Lucía emerge, a little wiser from their experience in the darkness and make their way back to rosier surroundings.

Taciturn brought a triple-bill of works to Hush, with Sunday night’s performance titled, Hang up your coat and stay a while,  a sweet amiable jaunt about three friends named Jen and a fourth called Michelle. Touting northern accents, girl-next-door styled tea dresses and colourful cardigans, the audience is immediately put at ease by the girls’ open manner, relaxed banter and cheeky confessions. Next, a well-devised, fun interchange ensues, as the performers entwine into the dance vocabulary the swapping, sharing and stealing of their cardigans – a garment which seems to act as a metaphor for the colourful and complicated, yet familiar hierarchies that exist within female relationships. The dominant mildly bossy friend; the slightly odd one out of the group; the pairing off into separate camps and the intimation of secrets and jealousies are a few scenarios to be recognised. Light-hearted and straightforward, this work is well directed by Taciturn and aptly performed by the dancers who manage their cardigans on stage with great ease and each other with a fine sense of unity and camaraderie.

Undeniably the most ambitious work of the night, boasting a cast of twelve dancers, was Crease, by Kinisi Dance Company. A vast yet courageous departure from her previous work, featured at the last Cloud Dance Festival, Canadian choreographer Charlene Dinger delves into the tradition and history, of the Japanese folk art of paper folding - wondrously bringing to life physical origami sculptures. Visually bold and impactive, Dinger packs the dance full with various ideas and elements: an aerialist perched bird-fashion on a hoop mid air - adorned with luscious red fabric - whose daring intermittent poses seem to signify the start of a new section; the excitement of the Japanese circus, with dancers in black pouncing across the stage like panthers, whilst others displayed feats of flexibility and strength, unfolding their long legs in developpes like proud crane birds. Multiple duets also transpired, with partners catching and lifting each other as if sparked into flight by kinetic energy, similar to action origami structures. Also the effect of dancers in opposing white and black leotards, performing steps synchronised in a continuous large circular pathway, reflected elements of the Chinese Yin- Yang philosophy. However the highlight of the dance featured a circle of white clad female dancers on bended knees. In unison and with precision they manipulate their limbs, meticulously folding and unfolding themselves - reminiscent of Geisha girls involved in the intricate pedantic ritual of a tea ceremony.  In fact to see this section transferred and exploited in standing duets, with partners folding and entwining each other, could have been an interesting and sensuous endeavour. Mindful that Crease could appear as a diluted version or poor imitation of rich traditional forms of Japanese dance technique, Dinger wisely sticks to a solid modern dance vocabulary - although it is a shame that the dancers’ ability to fully release and expand is often hindered by the venue’s limited stage space.

Setting the scene for Jarkko Lehmus’s solo of the same name, from its first clear sustained note of a woodwind instrument, Robert Moran’s choral work Da Enstunde ein Engel (There Appeared An Angel) immediately brings to mind the infamous main title soundtrack from the science fiction movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey. The dramatic atmosphere continues as Lemus enters the stage, a ghostly figure under a single spotlight shining down like a celestial beacon from the above. With a naked notably muscular body - bar a pair of white underpants – he is the image of da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. Harnessing elements of tai chi, martial arts and capoeira, Lehmus navigates his supple limbs through his immediate space with discipline poise and grace - an exhibition that does well to signify the glory, strength, spirituality and purity of the male human form. As the music ensemble builds along with the ferocity of his gestures, one expects Lehmus to leave his solo spot, occupied throughout the dance, and hurl his energies and physique across the expanse of the stage. However despite the vanity that may be interpreted by his naked muscular frame, in true Buddhist fashion Lehmus separates himself from his ego - resisting the urge to show off further - seeming to find strength in the state of just being. And so the dance ends with a humble  gesture of arms in prayer fashion, as he gives praise to the divine forces above greater than himself and remain constant to the concept of ‘the presence of god in the individual soul’ – the core inspiration for Moran’s original work.

Reviewed by Michelle Harris for Cloud Dance Festival