Preston Chamblee and Emily Kikta performed the duet in George Balanchine’s "Episodes."  (Photo by Erin Baiano)

Choreographer George Balanchine never made it a secret: he loved his adopted home in America.

One can see it in his delightful "Western Symphony," dance with gusto at Saturday's matinee at Lincoln Center. And there is still a whiff of that sentiment in the bright "Square Dance," an obtuse nod to American folk dance, set to the sparkling music by Arcangelo Corelli and Antonio Vivaldi.

That too was on the program on Saturday, and both took me aback — mainly for the dancing that was outstanding.

First, in “Square Dance,” Taylor Stanley was incredible in the mournful solo. He’s imbued every gentlemanly gesture – a sweep of his arms, his determined walk, and slow turns – sent chills as if he was called to embark on a somber task.

Emma Von Enck was his terrific partner whose presence gave a light touch to those amazing pas de chats with a little extra shake and her bouncy petit allegro. She was invigorating to watch.

So too where the “Western Symphony” cast of mainly soloist and Victor Abreu, a corps de ballet dancer, who took on the role of the diamond studded cowboy who has an encounter with the ethereal dance-hall lady as danced by Olivia MacKinnon. Together, these two gave the audience a good laugh as their cat-and-mouse antics never got stale.

Ryan Tomash and Isabella LaFreniere were teamed for the Rondo which they played cowboy and his sophisticated partner who even as he tried to shoot at her feet, she kept spinning in a dizzying round of fouettes. And of course, all this is to an amazing orchestration of American folksong classics like “Red River Valley” and “Oh Dem Golden Slippers.”

While I thoroughly enjoyed both dances, the third piece on the program Balanchine’s four-part “Episodes” always baffles. I think it’s the music, Anton von Webern’s atonal orchestral score, that can be difficult to mentally unravel and more difficult to enjoy. I can’t imagine how the dancers do it.

However, this work has astounding innovative moments. For example, the dark duet, as danced by Emily Kikta and Preston Chamblee, was memorable for its sense of too isolated figures whose individual worlds collide. They come together and entwine in the most unusual way – particularly when he carried Kikta on his back upside down.

The finale with Miriam Miller and Aaron Sanz was also intriguing to watch the clean intersection of the 14 corps de ballet dancers expressing the atmosphere that this ominous music portrayed.
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“Episodes” is one of those dances that requires deeper study. Though not an audience favorite, I hope it will not be placed on the lost repertory shelf for years to come.

Ellen Sinopoli Dance Company is on its 35th anniversary tour of free shows this fall. (Photo by Gary Gold)

The scenario was not ideal for a dance concert. People were milling around, sipping cocktails, chatting and waiting for theater doors to open on The Great American SOULBook.
 
But Ellen Sinopoli knew that; and the choreographer took a chance. If her one of her six vivacious dancers in her Ellen Sinopoli Dance Company caught the eye of one concert goer, then maybe a new audience member would be born.
 
While a long shot, especially near the bar at Universal Preservation Hall on a Friday night, it is worth the risk. And it is one that she will be taking 35 times this fall to mark the company’s 35th anniversary in arenas, like at UPH, where the audience, and probably the dancers, could barely hear the music.
 
In “Putting Out the Welcome Mat,” Sinopoli and her band of modern dancers are performing four short pieces that reflect a sliver the dancer maker’s output of more than 100 works. Aside from their full-out take no prisoners effort, what connects them all is the mat.
 
The dancers, as seen in the first run of 35, entered to jaunty music to create a stage with interlocking foam squares. Their methodical process creating the stage, in this instance cordoned off by four pillars, is a dance in itself. Fleet and efficient they create the center square and on and off pathways as invisible wings that lead back to the revelers.
 
And then, in a flash, they start to dance. The 30-minute show begins with the lively “Brink” to music by jazz trumpeter Dave Douglas. Five dancers hit Douglas’ high notes and noodling with a flashy kicks and torso swirls that kept, for those paying attention, watching.
 
The evening also featured the spirited tango excerpt from “Sandungera,” a duet, “Slipping Through,” with music by Don Byron for dancers Emily Gunter and Kyra Paulsen; and a trio “To Sing, Laugh, Play,” with music from John Adams’ John’s Book of Alleged Dances.” It was all animated, just like the people who surrounded the stage.
 
As a serious devotee of dance, I was not thrilled with the format. But I definitely see the value in taking dance where the people are. The art form has always suffered as the Cinderella – the ignored workhorse -- and bringing its sparkle to the ball might just be the trick to pull it out of its dusty obscurity.
 
I applaud the effort – even if the music was hard to hear. 

The Isadora Duncan International Institute Dancers premiered reconstructed Duncan works at the Woodstock Playhouse on Saturday.

There is no more authentic vessel for Isadora Duncan’s aesthetic than Jeanne Bresciani. The international artist, who over decades has graced the Hudson Valley and Capital District with her artistry and tutelage, is one of the world’s most precious dance resources.
 
That is because Bresciani carries the torch for Duncan who is the mother of all modern dance. Without Bresciana, Isadora Duncan, who cast off the restrictive costumes, shoes and theatrical trappings of ballet, may have been lost to the ages. Instead, with Bresciani’s devotion, one can see how Duncan freely and joyously embodied humanity in the loftiest way, in the form of dance and music in nature.
 
Most recently, Bresciani and her Isadora Duncan International Institute Dancers, have spent years in Europe – recreating pieces and dancing them in the same ancient and bucolic sites that Duncan did. Yet Bresciani and dancers, along with Canadian dancer Kathleen Hiley, came back to the area on Saturday night for “Isadora Duncan in the Theater of Love and War.” Premiering at the Woodstock Playhouse, the showcase offered up 19 dances that reflected Duncan’s output during World War I. During that difficult time, she and her six adopted daughters, known as the Isadorables, fled European carnage, and found refuge in Woodstock’s own Brydcliffe, now an artist’s colony.
 
Saturday’s production recreated Duncan’s output with her dancers there. And though the program wasn’t staged outdoors, the video backdrops of Grecian columns, Italian sculpture, seashores and riverbanks suggested it. But more importantly, the program demonstrated how Duncan, in her trademark silk tunic, embodied full authority in pronouncements about love, war, youth and aging.
 
Bresciani started the night off. In shadow with her silks billowing, this graceful and ethereal dancer summons her followers. A total of 14 dancers, two men among them, swirled across the stage. It set up the evening of frolicking, formidable nymphs who became the through line of the program.
 
There were many fascinating dances that have laid hidden for decades. Among them was “Allegretto” to Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony, as danced by Bresciani was divine and a find for Duncan devotees.
 
Rosemary Cooper, a long-time student of Bresciani, was the central figure in much of the production, appearing in several works. Tall and powerful, she commanded in “La Marseillaise,” and “Marche Heroique” to Tchaikovsky. Draped in red, her potency was unflagging. Eyes couldn’t be drawn away from her.
 
Other memorable pieces included “The Crossing,” to Vangelis, that recreated the trip from one’s wrecked European home to New York’s Harbor during the Great War, as well as “Streams of Life” to Rosetti that illustrated the passages of life one which all humanity flows. The duet, “Not Path to Love Everlasting” to Chopin was also touching, for its depiction of the often fleeting nature of romantic love.
 
Most moving to me was Bresciani in “Touchstones.” Set to Ravel, it expressed Duncan’s deep affection for her Isadorables. It was particularly moving as one those Isadorables, Maria-Theresa Duncan, is the artist who shared her knowledge with Bresciani – and thus is responsible for Duncan’s art living on.
 
Needless to say, the art world is forever grateful to both.