MorDance Trees Review
March 30, 2025 | New York Live Arts – New York, NY, USA
In a world that is disconnected now more than ever, MorDance’s Trees is a profound opportunity for people to gather and reflect on how to find more common ground.
Inspired by Dr. Suzanne Simard’s book Finding the Mother Tree, the two-day-only performance run at New York Live Arts is an epic physical research on interconnected beings through the lens of trees.
The most intriguing part - a tree will pass off their own nutrients onto surrounding trees during their death.
Morgan McEwen, the choreographer of Trees, a former professional ballerina turned artistic director, founded MorDance in 2014. Based in Yonkers, New York, the small company’s repertoire is themed in environmental and social change, aiming to use ballet as a catalyst for societal progress.
Prioritizing community is also at their core. But despite its clear vision and resilience, MorDance has been negatively impacted by the recent cuts in federal funding. On top of that, they face the rising cost of studio rentals, and work without a stable home.
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MorDance Trees Review
McEwen, wearing a spiffy evergreen blazer, sprouts into the evening by graciously thanking the audience for coming to the show.
During the post-show Q & A, McEwen also warm heartedly articulated ways for the audience to chip in, building engagement by conducting eloquent conversations alongside her well-trained dancers and musical collaborator Polina Nazaykinskya.
Curtain opens, displaying a lush landscape; the mood is foggy and surreal. Underneath a giant translucent veil, dancers perform supple and creamy floor maneuvers with some fasciculation of a leg or an arm, resembling seeds germinating below ground.
They grow into a variety of movement sequences that represent the intricate network under our feet, folding their bodies upward like tents, arching their backs to stretch and continuing to break free from dense soil.
The contractions and expansions on the floor transform the stage into an awe inspiring grove.
Beige and brownish drapery decorate the wings imparting elegant embellishments to a spectacular sight. A small orchestra accompanies the earthly movers from stage left. The audible breaths of the dancers enhance the liveness in the space, and the violins serve as soothing contentment for the saplings.
Slowly the dancers vanish, and the veil magically vortexes off into the proscenium all on its own. Trees mingles dance with music while sustaining the audience’s wonder about botany and poses the question:
How can we deepen our own interconnectedness as people?
The tight-knit group of eight timbers their way back on stage wearing ballet slippers and mulch-colored cloth around their waists. They skate, reach and wing their arms across the floor in splendid grandeur.
As the dancers motion more port de bras, the brown fabric starts to swirl into a choreography of its own! The pirouetting of the costumes reminds me of the white skirt in Jessica Lang’s The Calling.
The lanky Joe LaLuzerne is swallowed by the ensemble’s brown textile and reappears later from his drowning. Lauren Treat is held up by her colleagues, mimicking the fluid growth of a willow, creating another beautiful moment. The group then flocks into a cluster as the lights slowly dim.
The enchanting dance transitions to a desert-toned scene, now the eight dancers are wearing nude colored neck-dresses. A duet performs branch-like extensions, followed by some inside attitude turns. Dancers kiss their wrists together to make circles with their hands with their fingers spiking out, suggesting they are tree appendages.
More partnering includes some exhilarating lifts when the men catch their women cartwheeling in the air.
I waited for something green to appear, but turns out, there is no greenery of any kind during the entire show. This artistic choice was definitely surprising. I thought to myself: give me a green leaf or forest hue, a grassy confetti or something…
The dance continues with more sequential spine rolls, some fall and recoveries, and circular developments in space echoing the circular life cycle of trees.
Next, the ladies hold out their arms like cacti while being dragged by their partners hovering on their toes. A windy noise emanates in, and everyone falls to the floor facing their diagonal with one arm extended to the sky. This is one of the most visually stunning moments of the evening.
A trio remains on stage. They twist into stillness, and roll their backs while facing the orchestra, concluding the first section in lingering applause.
After intermission, the scene reopens exactly where it left off, except the women mysteriously regenerate themselves into pointe shoes.
Men enter in quartet making picturesque shapes, one of them falling back to catch a woman just in time for her split. More sophisticated partnering work takes over, including penchés and ronds de jambe en l’air, resembling the flowy rebirth of new roots.
At this point, although I know growth requires patience, the dance did become a little long and I can tell the dancers were getting tired too. I saw them outgrowing the dance, a missed hand grab during a pas de deux, or the toes retired from sur la pointe.
The bank of trees descends into a dark-lit clump while trembling their bodies to the vibratory pitches of the violins. Then the dance revives for more repeats of additional lifts, catches and turns.
Criag Wasserman sweeps in with his smooth-sailing chaînés, a solo moment I remembered. And finally the piece winds down with the ongoing rain of granulated cork (I thought they were sawdust or dirt at first). I was nervous for the magnificent dancers performing bourrée en pointe, hoping they wouldn’t slip.
The company ends their dance in a stunning dormant finale by deteriorating onto the floor.
Trees has room for growth, but the overall experience brought out my inner tree-hugger, leaving me feeling more connected to the world (and for a city dweller like me, to admit this is pretty major).
One serious concern is the lack of audience etiquette from the folks sitting around me. A proud White Claw sipper sat near me, stewing in alcohol. Beer cans were popping open throughout the performance and one of the clumsy drinkers cursed when his drink toppled over on the floor. On my way out, I’ve never seen so much litter at a theatre either (hope New York Live Arts is kindly taking note here).
To end brightly, like how trees always extend towards sunlight, the experience at MorDance reminds us to get outside, embrace nature, connect with people, and show MorE support for dancers today.
Featured Photo of MorDance in Morgan McEwen’s Trees. Photo by Kelsey Campbell.
