WITHERS LOOKS UP FOR INSPIRATION.

MAIDA WITHERS DANCE CONSTRUCTION COMPANY WITH THE GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY DANCERS LISNER AUDITORIUM WASHINGTON, D.C. FEBRUARY 15-16, 2001

One reason Maida Withers just won a "Pola" (D.C.'s dance award, named after the late Pola Nirenska) for outstanding contribution to dance is that Withers has a Weltanschauung. The German term for "world view" seems apt, because hers is not just a point of view but a weighty world perspective. She believes that the mechanical and the natural belong to each other and must be a part of art. Over the years, Withers's dance works have involved lasers and computers, deserts and skies, and dozens of other inventions and environments. She celebrates them, uses them, and sometimes reuses them in new ways: This choreographer is committed to being on the forefront.

Withers also loves working on a big scale. Her latest production, Aurora/2001: Dance of the Auroras--Fire in the Sky, is about the northern lights, the aurora borealis. This phenomenon was recreated onstage by an international set of collaborators. Brazilian cyber-artist Tania Fraga created computer-generated auroras with video editor David Liban; the piece also featured set and light design by Michael Stepowany, photos and graphics by Adam Peiperl, and hand-painted costuming by Claudette Lopez. The music--which imitates the solar wind, magnetic storms, and melancholy earth sounds--came from Norwegian composer Oystein Sevag and was played by that country's Global House Band 2001. Dance soloists Iwona Olszowska and Sasha Kukin came from Poland and Russia, respectively. Rehearsals for Aurora were held partly in Norway and partly in Washington, D.C. As it turned out, there weren't too many cooks. All components functioned smoothly and their effects merged as intended. Withers is a wizard at making opera-house concepts happen on an academic budget.

In the first part of Aurora, which is about the sun, a modest curtain hung alone at stage center. It served as screen for the visuals and as portal for a dancer's entrances and exits. The dancer, Joseph Mills, wore a bodysuit that caught the computer-projected images--he essentially merged into the design. His shadow, though, was distinct as it hovered, bent, and shuttled to and fro on the curtain. Ingenious as the patterns and images were, they disappointed because of the limited visual field. In the second part of Aurora, which concerns the solar wind and the magnetosphere, the projections encompassed the entire stage, an awesome effect.

Aurora continued on a mega-scale as it focused on a magnetic storm viewed first from space and then from the ground up. The dancing throughout most of the work had a remarkable slow-motion glider quality, even when the choreography was actually fast-paced and grounded, not off the floor. That Withers's invention was uneven seemed a matter of tight deadlines rather than insufficient ingenuity. The shadow dance would have benefited from more movement diversity. Withers's appearance late in the piece introduced strong contrast to the continuous movement, but should have happened earlier. The penultimate passage, with many dancers rotating with one leg extended, needed another few moments to come off as a climax.

Yet, in this ninety-minute, intermissionless work there is rich dance material. The duos and trios, complex but clearly designed, are especially effective. The principals--stately Olszowska, pliant Adrienne Clancy, mercurial Lyndsey Karr and lyrical Kukin (even in combat with Mills)--were impressive. As the shaman, Withers looked like an old but not-yet ancient Merce Cunningham, dancing with fussy hands, obstinate hips, a halo of white hair, and sly humor. Her final intent, to create a contemporary ritual, remained unrealized, but the lasting message left by Aurora is not negligible: Exploring nature and art helps make us human.