A most ingenious setting had a curtain dividing the stage, as well as the audience, into two sections, with each side viewing a distinct performance. The white floor painted with a simple circular design in gold complemented the simple, see-through costumes of flimsy white netting whose elasticity would later play an integral part in the dancing.
Constantly changing groupings, dance and spatial patterns – in myriad movements of infinite variety – were evanescent, as though seen through a rapidly rotating kaleidoscope, thus conveying inexhaustible choreographic inventiveness.
If, as Kelemenis asserts in print, "meaning is revealed by movement", the dancers, in pairs, threes, fours, in solos or all together, expressed in alternately violent or gentle manner, isolation, defiance, revulsion and affection by turns, annoyance, alienation or exuberant joy. This called to mind the definition of the American choreographer Merce Cunningham that dance is a "series of movement events, often layered with several meanings going on at the same time". For that matter, Martha Graham, the high priestess of modern dance, said, "Every dance is a kind of fever chart, a graph of the heart."
Bodies slithered, crawled, crouched and rolled on the floor, modern dance being earthbound, but in the third poem, after the curtain was drawn to leave just one performance area, there were leaps and balletic lifts, with movement turning more powerful, vigorous, zestful, fiery and propulsive, the dancers prancing and criss-crossing toward the edges of the improvised stage. Near the end, the dancers frenziedly pulled at each other’s gauze-like shirts and pants, leaving the costumes utterly out of shape. Then, in dramatic contrast to the whirling dervishes they seemed to be, the dancers lay perfectly still on the floor for an "eternity" (while also catching their breath!).
The program opened with the Oriental pair dancing to absolute silence; later, a steady beat quietly surfaced, gradually evolving into electronic sounds and weird noises. The strumming of a Japanese guitar (samisen) and the plucking of its strings followed to produce a slow, rhythmic beat, thus melding Eastern sounds with Western movement.
But throughout, focus was on movement, enthralling and fascinating in a visceral way, leaving the impression of spontaneity and improvisation, or occasionally, of meticulously conceived choreography.
Throughout, likewise, spatial and rhythmic patterns predominated, with every dancer enjoying the same importance as another. Inevitably, differences were to be perceived only in the distinct personality, panache and ability of each to project himself/herself.
Nearly every modern choreographer shies away from traditional ballet vocabulary – although vestiges of it always remain – in an attempt to arrive at his own system and style after discovering the natural capacities and limitations of the human body.
Although advancing way ahead of pioneering icons – from Isadora Duncan, Mary Wigman, Doris Humphrey, Charles Weidman, Denishawn to Martha Graham, Agnes de Mille, et al – present-day modern dance choreographers still can’t get away from Balanchine’s dictum: "The basic thing in dance is movement." What matters then is innovation.
Europe is now bustling with brilliant avantgardists – German, French, Dutch, Swedish, Belgian – some of whose dazzling creations have been shown here. Presumably, Kelemenis has joined their ranks with his own startling innovations.