The Dance Lens Podcast

WHERE DANCE MEETS ART, HISTORY, POLITICS & SOCIAL (RE)EVOLUTIONS

Dance exists at the intersection of fashion, history, art, politics, fashion, ritual and social evolutions. Through interviews, reviews, story times and behind the scenes we'll take a deeper look at the art form's history, industry and artists. thedancelens.substack.com

  1. Apr 26

    REVIEW: Firebird at Dance Theatre of Harlem

    In this episode, we review the luminous interpretations of The Firebird at Dance Theatre of Harlem and its relationship to New York City Ballet’s. Both works are a deluge of beauty and an ocean of visual richness. Though distinct in style and staging, these productions are deeply connected through history, lineage, and artistic exchange. At the center of that connection is Arthur Mitchell, founding force of Dance Theatre of Harlem and former principal dancer at NYCB under George Balanchine. Mitchell’s career bridges these two worlds in profound ways: shaped by Balanchine’s choreography, including works created on him such as Agon and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and later transformed by his mission to build something entirely new. In 1969, in the wake of the civil rights era and the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., Mitchell co-founded Dance Theatre of Harlem with Karel Shook—establishing a school and company where Black dancers could train, perform, and thrive in classical ballet. In that context, DTH itself became both artistic achievement and cultural critique, a bold act of resistance and redefinition. Balanchine’s influence carried forward not only through aesthetics but through direct support: he served as one of DTH’s early board members and encouraged Mitchell to create a version of Firebird for the company. When it premiered in 1982, it was met with acclaim, praised for its inventive staging and audience-shifting energy. Where Balanchine and Fokine’s versions of Firebird evoke mythic, wintry Russia, Dance Theatre of Harlem’s interpretation transports us into a Caribbean dreamscape—lush, humid, and alive with color and sound. Giant tropical florals hang over the stage, and Stravinsky’s score anchors the work across all versions, while the Firebird herself arrives in strikingly theatrical ways, including a flash of red light that feels almost playful in its simplicity. The production thrives in its contrasts: methodical character work against playful theatricality, luminous principals against a shifting ensemble, and moments of imperfect stagecraft that remind us of ballet’s evolving relationship with illusion. At its center is the Firebird, whose presence is a metaphor and a force of nature. Though Firebird has not been performed by DTH since 2004, its legacy remains a significant part of the company’s identity, reflecting both its artistic ambition and its historical role in reshaping who gets to inhabit classical ballet’s most iconic roles. If you want more reviews, interviews, deep dives, and LIVES, make sure you join me on Dance Lens Substack—linked HERE: https://thedancelens.substack.com/ Get full access to The Dance Lens with Cynthia Dragoni at thedancelens.substack.com/subscribe

    12 min
  2. Mar 17

    REVIEW: Hurlin Ignites Ratmansky’s Firebird at ABT

    IN THIS EDITION -Review: Amercian Ballet Theater in The Firebird. Performed on March 13, 2026. -Misty Copeland at the Oscars FIREBIRD REVIEW: This was my first time seeing The Firebird by Alexei Ratmansky which premiered in 2012 and hasn’t been performed since 2018, almost a decade ago. This Firebird’s dark whimsy calls back to earlier fairytales, like those of the aptly named Brothers Grimm. It is at once childlike and very adult, equal parts dreams and wonder alongside power struggles and sexuality. It opens with Ivan, danced by Daniel Camargo, dressed entirely in white, lying in front of a large white building. He gathers the courage to go in search of his lost love—the first departure from the original story (where he is in search of a magical golden apple tree). We follow him into a forest of large, metallic, mechanical-looking “trees,” structures resembling monstrous wrists and hands reaching from the ground toward the sky. Their branches stretch directly upward at varying lengths, some topped with red lights that resemble fingernails. Then there appears not one but an entire flock of male and female firebirds. They are all dressed in red bodysuits: the women with feathered bustle skirts and the men with pointed feathered headpieces. They flood the stage, forming a luscious view—albeit a slightly cluttered one. The upper half of the composition feels oddly bare with so many grounded birds; it makes one wish they could actually make use of the sky. Suddenly the lady of the hour enters: the Firebird, played by Catherine Hurlin in her debut in the role. The casting is superb. When Ratmansky first choreographed Firebird, the role was created on Misty Copeland, Natalia Osipova and Isabella Boylston. Osipova who danced in the premiere, was a technical phenomenon, Copeland could be almost lethal in her exactitude and Boylston even in her early career moved with an untamed quality. Hurlin steps neatly into those responsibilities. A perfect inheritor, she is quick and precise, an excellent jumper, and more importantly: her presence rises to the task. She stood out among the flock even before it was fully clear that she was the dancer in the titular role. Catherine Hurlin at curtain call March 13, 2026 Photo: C. Dragoni Ivan, in his character’s entitlement, captures her, and their connection is sexually charged. She meets him not as a different species but as a female in disguise. She eventually escapes and gives him one of her magic feathers to wave if he ever needs help. In the original, Ivan takes pity on the freedom-loving bird and purposefully releases her, so the gift of the feather is an exchange of care and compassion. Here, her would-be captor is outsmarted, yet she still leaves a piece of herself behind. Ivan continues his journey and a horde of young women appears. They’re called maidens, though they read more like a cross between aliens and nineteenth-century bar wenches. They’re all dressed in green dresses with green and yellow curly wigs (the whole ballet is an exercise in color blocking). They are at once grotesque and charming, as if they’re only partly human. They proceed to dance, eat, nap and throw occasional temper tantrums. (Stomping tantrums are a motif you’ll see elsewhere in Alexei Ratmansky’s work, such as in the party scene of The Nutcracker, where you’ve never seen so many angry children at a Christmas party.) Ivan is nonetheless attracted to them—or at least to one. I suppose there’s no accounting for taste in fairytales or in real life. He thinks she may be his lost love; one can only assume it’s his intuition telling him this. Scene from Firebird. Photo: Gene Schiavone Then in comes the evil magician Kaschei, played by Cory Stearns (who is sadly retiring this June), first revealed to us as an enormous, ominous shadow. It’s always enjoyable when story ballets fully sweep you into their larger-than-life worlds, and the technology in this production does just that. With ample use of projected visuals, it creates Kaschei’s foreboding presence, expands and contracts our sense of depth, and signals the passage of time. Kaschei matches his maidens: his hair is green, his face painted white, and he has the dark humor that makes so many villains fun to play. As if Batman’s Joker auditioned for the ballet and was immediately cast. The main maiden was played by rising soloist Sunmi Park. Park has beautiful lines and a supreme delicacy similar to that of longtime American Ballet Theater principal Hee Seo; the two also share the same early training at Sunhwa Arts Middle School in Seoul, Korea. The bizarre slapstick comedy required for this role made Park appear somewhat self-conscious. I was always aware that I was watching Sunmi Park pretending to be funny. This is not a comment on her overall talent, many of the world’s greatest actresses could not inhabit Lucille Ball’s roles, which is just as well. The maidens under the magician’s spell, are at once afraid of him and attracted to him. This is another note that sets this Firebird apart from the original: here the captive maidens have a more overtly complex relationship with their keeper, something like a case of mass Stockholm syndrome. Ratmansky’s version, even more than the original, makes Kaschei a figure who is both an individual dictator and a representative of a broader, more insidious patriarchy. Society is sickened and distorted under his rule. Women in particular are proprietary objects. In the original they retain their beauty, but are merely trapped. In Ratmansky’s, their identities are warped in service of the master—or the system. Cory Stearns in Firebird. Photo: Rosalie O’Connor Photography This Kaschei also reminds us that many myths and fairytales are fundamentally about dominance and sexual predation. Why does this evil male figure have so many maidens in his charge? A similar dynamic appears in Swan Lake. In the prelude, the maiden is captured, and she (along with the other “swan maidens,” all owned by a single sinister male figure) is cursed to be a swan by day and a woman by night. The world-weary among us understand why they are permitted to regain their female forms after dark. Daniel Camargo & Sunmi Park The sorcerer begins casting his malevolent spell on Ivan when the hero takes out and waves his magic feather, and—as promised—the Firebird appears (though I still cannot work out why she owes her former captor a rescue; it still seems to me like a classic fawning response). It’s a relief to have her back onstage, for the maidens and for us, the audience. The Firebird’s choreography returns to musical sense, and I feel compelled to reiterate how thrilling Hurlin is in this role. One could interpret the musical disregard as a comment on Kaschei’s controlling nature, or on the group madness that sets in when the hive mind is agitated. Either way, the dissonance aggravates the eye (and the ear) of the beholder. Kaschei is a character who appears throughout Russian folklore, known as Kaschei the Deathless. His immortality comes from the fact that his soul is kept outside his body: in the eye of a needle, inside an egg, within a hare, inside of a duck, locked in a box, buried beneath an oak tree on an island far, far away. In The Firebird, it is simply inside an egg hidden within one of the metallic trees. The all-knowing Firebird (eventually) leads Ivan to the egg, and he smashes it, releasing Kaschei’s soul and breaking all of his spells. The maidens return to their true beauty, and to their loves—who have been trapped inside the trees all along. American Ballet Theater’s Firebird is one of three Firebird productions in New York alone, the others being staged at Dance Theatre of Harlem in April and New York City Ballet in late April into May. And additional productions being performed in Seattle at Pacific Northwest Ballet and in California at San Diego City Ballet. Artists and the arts institutions are frequently— intentionally or unconsciously—commenting on their times. Firebird is a fairytale, but is also archetypal folklore. It’s characters live within our psyches and our histories and it seems like no accident that it is being staged all at once all across the country. Misty Copeland 2026 “Sinners” Oscars Performance in Dance Theatre of Harlem Firebird Costume Speaking of our times, if you caught Misty Copeland’s performance at the Oscars last Sunday, then you saw her in Dance Theatre of Harlem’s Firebird costume. The appearance of Misty Copeland in the Sinners Oscars performance draws directly from the film itself, which features a surreal “red ballerina” figure moving through one of its musical sequences. That image, already evocative of myth and transformation, was brought to life onstage by casting Copeland, whose own career is closely tied to roles like the Firebird. In this way, the performance translated a cinematic metaphor into a live one, using ballet as part of the storytelling. At the same time, her presence carried a broader cultural resonance, positioning ballet within a mainstream, highly visible space and quietly asserting its continued relevance. We’ll take a deeper look at DTH’s Firebird (playing in NYC April 16-19) in another episode but it is a historic and beloved production. Its vibrant, Caribbean inspired sets and fantastical costumes were designed by multi hyphenate artist Geoffrey Holder and choreographed by John Taras. Premiering in 1982 its first firebird was the gorgeous DTH star Stephanie Dabney. FIREBIRD DRAWING R METCALF COLLECTION. Courtesy of Dance Theatre of Harlem Get full access to The Dance Lens with Cynthia Dragoni at thedancelens.substack.com/subscribe

    10 min
  3. Feb 10

    INTERVIEW: Choreography As Language With Serge Laurent

    IN THIS EDITION: -Interview with Serge Laurent, Director of Dance & Cultural Programs at Van Cleef & Arpels on the role of curation in dance’s development. -Upcoming LIVE TALK Seeing Dance: The Sleeping Beauty Then & Now Tues Feb 24. As the Dance Reflections Festival returns to New York City (February 19–March 21, 2026), I spoke with Serge Laurent, Director of Dance & Cultural Programs at Van Cleef & Arpels, about how studying art history—rather than choreography—shaped the way he learned to see dance. For Laurent, dance is not only the art of movement but the art of space. He reads bodies the way others read sculpture or architecture, attending to structure, detail, and lineage. Choreographers, he argues, are researchers: artists who invent new languages while working in conversation with history. We discuss why contemporary dance cannot be separated from what came before, why curating is an act of support rather than direction, and why a festival should offer experience rather than consensus. Below are *lightly edited* excerpts from the interview, full conversation in the podcast above. EXITABOVE NYU Skirball March 5-7 Photo: Anne Van Aerschot Cynthia: You come to dance through a background in contemporary art and institutional programming rather than choreography itself. How did your background shape the way you first learned to read dance? Serge: In fact, I studied art history. My major at École du Louvre was ancient art and archaeology. When you study visual art and ancient art, you learn to look at things in detail. By focusing on details, you understand the work. So when I started attending dance performances, I was really struck by these moving bodies. The body is everywhere in art history—painting, sculpture, monuments—and suddenly seeing bodies in motion was fascinating. I remember looking at every single movement like a sculpture in motion. I didn’t have any background in dance, so it was a real discovery. Dance is a visual art, but in motion. One of the first shows I attended was Goldberg Variations by Steve Paxton. I was amazed by the precision, the fluidity. It’s probably because of this performer and a few others that I really fell in love with dance. When you look at a painting, you have a frame and a notion of space. Painters and sculptors deal with space all the time. Dance is, of course, the art of movement, but it’s also the art of space. On stage, choreographers and dancers invent new ways of using that space. They’re researchers, inventing new languages—just like contemporary artists. Artists are researchers. They invent new languages. —Serge Laurent EXITABOVE NYU Skirball March 5-7 Photo: Anne Van Aerschot Cynthia: And we think of dance as being the art of movement, but so much of it is about geometry and poses. It reads almost as beautifully in a photograph as it does in movement. So that translation makes a lot of sense. Serge: I had the chance to work after my studies in contexts combining different art disciplines—trans-disciplinary institutions—with Fondation Cartier. I created this program called Nomadic Nights, and it was the wish of the director at that time to bring inside the gallery other art disciplines: theater, music, dance, fashion, et cetera. And I was dealing with that for four years at Fondation Cartier. When I discovered dance a bit later, what interested me the most—is dance can be an art form in itself. I mean, no music, no stage, nothing. Just pure movement. And at the same time, it’s a discipline that can bring together all the other ones: visual arts, music, fashion, text, lights, video art, everything. Also, choreographers—they’re also into philosophy, literature. So I think it’s a very complete art form. And also it uses, I think, the most beautiful medium you can create your art with: the body. Since we share the same thing together, our bodies—it creates a direct empathy with the audience. The first time I approached dance, I was really touched. I’m not an artist, I’m on the other side, but we have something in common above words, above everything. Cynthia: Yes, and when we watch the dancer’s body we empathize not as a concept, but immediately. It’s the mirror neurons in the brain. When we see someone else doing something, we merge and have that experience. It works on the other side too. If you see someone in pain—like if you see someone injured on their shoulder—you’ll instinctively hold your shoulder. And the same with dance. It shows us who we could be. Like if you take a stone from the ground, a precious stone, and it’s covered in dirt and whatever, and you take all of that off—the stone was not transformed. You’re showing what it truly was. And that’s what dance is. It’s what we really are. The Dance Lens with Cynthia Dragoni is a reader-supported publication. Join me for subscriber ONLY live talks & classes (next one is Tues Feb 24) Cynthia: When you select artists for Dance Reflections, what are the non-negotiables? What must be present in the work or the artist? Serge: My curatorial practice started 25 years ago, so it’s a long time ago. And I would say that I always had the same approach with artists. They are free. I select them because of what they do. I will not ask them to do something. And today I work in a private institution, like a public one, managing this program on a curatorial basis. The idea is to support artists, but in fact, there is no limit. For example, sometimes people ask me, “When you approach a dance company and you support them in production, do you ask them this or that?” No. But I know who they are. What I want through this program is to invite people to experience something, it’s more than attending a new show for me. A festival is like an invitation to a journey. A journey where you discover something. Sometimes you appreciate this and that, sometimes there are things you appreciate less, but you experienced something—and that’s what is most important for me. Cynthia: That’s a beautiful analogy. When you’re on long journeys, actually a lot of the time you’re uncomfortable, and then you have these beautiful experiences, and it’s all part of the experience. Serge: What I like also is the way you enlarge your vision of the world. Because these languages—even if you attend the full season in the same city—you see different ways of re-transcribing the world, with different vocabularies, different approaches. It’s a way to enlarge your vision of the world, because when you travel, most of the time you don’t understand the local languages. And of course, English is very practical, but sometimes it’s difficult to communicate in certain countries. So you have to accept to communicate differently—through your eyes, your body, whatever. And I think when you approach a new language in contemporary art—we’re talking about dance, but we could say that for other artistic approaches—you have to receive things differently. What I appreciate is that when you get in a theater, hopefully people applaud at the end, and sometimes it’s very enthusiastic reactions. But if you look, no one receives the same thing. We are together attending something together, part of a community, and at the same time we keep our individuality and we can share opinions about the work with no crucial issues. The same show is presented in New York, in London, in Tokyo, in Shanghai, in Saudi Arabia recently, and I’m so moved by how different people from different cultures can receive something. Probably they receive something different, but they get something. We have something in common, and it’s something very essential to me. Mycelium New York City Center Feb 19-21 Photo: Agathe Poupeney Cynthia: Does location affect your curatorial choices? Serge: I would say yes and no. Because I have a curatorial vision, so I want to share it with all the different audiences we approach. But at the same time, when I’m in New York, I’m inspired by the history of New York. This city has such a strong history with dance. When I’m in London, it’s different. For example, recently I was in Sydney, Australia, and they were very keen to welcome us. And I met with Aboriginal dancers and traditional dance, and I said to myself, if one day I do a festival over there, I will probably include something local. We’re going to have a festival in Shanghai next year, and it’s such an exciting exercise for me too—to add in the programming two Chinese dance companies, one from Beijing, one from Shanghai. So the curatorial approach is the same. I say yes and no, because for me, even if I include a Chinese dance company from Beijing or a local dance company from Australia, it’s the same intellectual approach. For example, in London I decided to close the festival with pieces by George Balanchine from the twenties, and everybody said to me, “Wow, how come in the context of a contemporary dance festival you put works dating from such a long time ago?” And I said, because it’s a reference. It’s a reference we cannot miss. If contemporary dance is here now, it’s because of them, of what came before. There is an anchorage for this art discipline, and I think it’s essential to talk about it. Cynthia: The former dance critic from The New York Times, Alastair Macaulay, talks about how he mostly covered ballet and traditional modern dance. It sounds funny to say “traditional,” but Martha Graham’s company is turning 100 years old. And he was talking about how he would try to go see hip-hop battles, because he said you can find so much about an immediate culture from their folk dances, and it’s such an important part of the conversation that’s easy to overlook. Serge: Yes, it’s true. I remember when I was a young curator, I was focusing on a certain range of dance and I thought what happened before was not interesting. And there are these wars

    25 min

Ratings & Reviews

5
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5 Ratings

About

Dance exists at the intersection of fashion, history, art, politics, fashion, ritual and social evolutions. Through interviews, reviews, story times and behind the scenes we'll take a deeper look at the art form's history, industry and artists. thedancelens.substack.com

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