When Trey McIntyre Project was going strong, the synergy between Trey as choreographer and John-Michael Schert as dancer-cum-executive-director was the juice that stoked this company’s success. Whatever creative projects McIntyre came up with, Schert figured out how to implement them in a way that strengthened their role in a community—both local and international. Trey was the dreamy, dreaming one and John-Michael was the practical one. Together they created a juggernaut that turned Boise into a city of dance lovers.

Mercury Half-Life, which will be performed at the Pillow, photo by Trey McIntyre

Three years ago, when Dance Magazine did a cover story on the company , it seemed the TMP would last forever. The company had found an ideal home in Boise and was continuing its dense schedule of touring. Audiences all over the world responded to their snappy, fun, witty, complex choreography. As I wrote in 2009, McIntyre really knows how to use music that brings big pleasure to a broad audience.

Chanel daSilva and John-Michael Schert, photo by Lois Greenfield

Trey McIntyre

So when it was announced in January that this week’s run at Jacob’s Pillow will be its last, many speculated on the cause of TMPs demise. Marina Harss quotes McIntyre in her story in yesterday’s New York Times as saying he doesn’t want to undergo the “creative sacrifice” any more. Fair enough. Running a dance company can be a burden, especially when a choreographer is still getting lots of freelance work or wants to pick up a camera instead of walk into a dance studio.

But I am also guessing that the chemistry, once Schert left, just wasn’t there any more. And that must have changed the balance of responsibilities drastically.

By the way, I don’t think the loss of TMP is a tragedy, at least for dance lovers outside of Boise. Yes, he is one of the best American choreographers, and in the old social order, he should have his own company. But things are changing. We can see McIntyre’s work in many other companies—Cincinnati Ballet’s wildly fun rendition of his madcap Chasing Squirrel at the Joyce was a recent example. And Schert has gone on to become visiting artist, mentor, and social entrepreneur for the University of Chicago Booth School of Business and UChicago Arts.

Just remember, even the Beatles only stayed together a few years.

Watching Gina Gibney whack away at a wall dividing two small studios to create a large one was thrilling. Using a gold-painted mallet, she was strong and persistent even though the wall was harder to get through than she expected. It was a perfect metaphor for what she has already accomplished at 280 Broadway, her new space on Chambers Street. The official opening in October will unveil five studios, two theaters and Lab outfitted with the latest technology, these last three to be programmed by a curator. Meanwhile, her space at 890 Broadway, near Union Square, continues going strong with eight studios, buzzing with classes or rentals most of the day. One could call this double massive center an empire—except that Gibney is the last person to be imperial.

Gina Gibney taking the first bash

At the bash/brunch gathering on Tuesday, Gina talked about breaking down barriers, namely, the barriers of negative thinking. Before taking up the mallet, she described the former situation as succumbing to a downward spiral. She aims to build up, bit by bit, with positive energy. If anyone can do it, Gina can. Spending a few minutes with her is all you need to witness her loving care for the space, respect for her staff, and willingness to listen to all options. During her talk, she said something like, “When you work on solving a problem, you can find a solution that’s not just for yourself but for the whole community.”

Margaret Morton of DCA taking a whack

That is such a generous, forward-looking philosophy that I (as somebody on Twitter noticed) called her a visionary. But the Department of Cultural Affairs saw her vision—and powerhouse competence—way before I did. Margaret Morton, former deputy commissioner of the Department of Cultural Affairs, talked about the love and brains that Gina invests in her projects. She also praised Gina’s ability to work closely with her own board through thick and thin. The DCA had been watching how Gibney operated her fifth-floor space at 890 Broadway (the same building as American Ballet Theatre); they were impressed with how steadily Gibney expanded that space from one studio to eight since 2000. The lease on 280 is for 20 years so the DCA needed a solid tenant.

The space at 280 Broadway (entrance on Chambers Street) had been designated for dance by the City in hopes of developing the cultural life in Lower Manhattan post-9/11. When DNA went under, they were in jeopardy of losing the space for dance. Last January, Morton told Pia Catton of the Wall Street Journal that the DCA “didn’t want to lose it. We put money into developing the space, and we wanted to preserve it for the dance community.”

Morton also mentioned Gibney Dance’s history of activism as bring a plus in the eyes of the DCA. The Gibney Dance Company’s mission since 1991 has been to work with survivors of domestic violence in all parts of the world. The company, which just returned from an activist stint in South Africa, has garnered support to continue giving hundreds of workshops. And Gibney has designated a room for community action training at 280—how many dance centers have that?

Thomas Scott, head of the board of, and his two sons, all photos by Whitney Browne (you might recognize a certain dance writer in the crowd)

The six organizational partners in this new enterprise, named last January include the Trisha Brown Dance Company, The Playground, and Movement Research.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ll say that I’ll be teaching dance writing at Gibney Dance in October. But in the spirit of a New Yorker for Dance, I’ll say I’m just very happy about this. Click here for more information.

For 34 years hordes of people have gathered every spring to run, walk, and dance with a purpose. The brainchild of the Bay Area’s living treasure, Anna Halprin, the Planetary Dance is performed on the side of Mt. Tamalpais in Marin County. As the story goes, the murders of six women had turned the mountain into a place of fear. Halprin’s group decided to create a ritual to purify and reclaim the mountain. After the ceremony, which lasted several days, the killer was apprehended. (More about the history of the Planetary Dance here.)

Just one of the miracles of Anna Halprin. Another was her ability to heal her own cancer through dance and imagery. Yet another is the sheer vitality of her physical and mental self as she nears age 94. She is still a leader, and where she goes, all kinds of people follow—dancers, drummers, authors.

Last week I got to experience the Planetary Dance at Mt. Tamalpais. (I had once participated in it at Judson Memorial Church where Halprin had given workshops in 2010.)

The outdoor, relaxed ambience reminded me of a family-style Woodstock, with people of all ages responding to the drumbeat. Instead of drugs, delicious and healthy homemade food was set out on tables.

Anna Halprin demonstrating how to announce our purpose

As a warm-up, Anna led us through simple shakes and reaches. She told us to “Put your mind into your body and ground yourself. If you really connect to the ground, you’ll be as solid as a rock.” As we walked out to the field in two lines, the slow beat of the drummers echoed in the surrounding mountains. When the two lines split and created a huge circle, we then started running in three concentric circles. You changed your path depending on how fast or slow your body felt like going at that moment.  But before you ran, you had to raise your arms and yell out what you were running for.

With the designated theme of protecting our children, the first person ran for the children of Fukushima. The second person, from a group of Malaysian students, ran for the Malaysian child victims of the recent flight lost and never found. Another person ran for all homeless children, may they find love and shelter. I ran for children to be free of gun violence.

The drummers pounded and chanted at the center of the circle—the eye of the storm—where Anna was quietly orchestrating their changes in pace. The drummers got carried away; we got carried away.

With the drumbeat accelerating, the uneven earth commanding one’s attention so as not to fall, and the exhilaration of being among other runners (and walkers), it was easy to forget the purpose of the run. But at the end Anna brought us back to our purpose. She asked us to sit back-to-back with a neighbor for a few minutes, then face that person and tell her or him of our plans to bring our stated goal closer to reality.

One could call the Planetary Dance a feel-good ritual. But built into the structure (or score, as Halprin calls it) is connection to your body, to nature, and to the challenges of a cause. Ideally, the Planetary Dance, which last Sunday involved about 400 people, takes you from ritual to activism.