Last night at the Harris Theater, Twyla Tharp Dance proved once again why she remains an unstoppable force in modern dance. Celebrating six decades of groundbreaking work, the program was a perfect blend of nostalgia and fresh energy—proof that Tharp’s genius isn’t just preserved in history books but alive, kicking, and still evolving.
The evening opened with *The Fugue* (1970), a minimalist masterpiece that strips dance down to its rawest form—rhythm, precision, and the human body as pure percussion. Watching it today, it’s wild to think this piece is over 50 years old. The staccato footwork, the almost mathematical interplay between dancers—it still feels revolutionary. Tharp’s early work reminds us that innovation isn’t always about spectacle; sometimes, it’s about stripping everything away to reveal something brutally honest.
Then came *Sweet Fields* (1996), a softer, more lyrical contrast to *The Fugue*. Set to haunting Shaker hymns, the piece floated between reverence and rebellion, with dancers moving like whispers and exclamations in the same breath. There’s a spiritual weight to this work, but Tharp never lets it get heavy—her choreography keeps it airborne, almost weightless.
But the real knockout? The world premiere of *How Long Blues*. Set to a bluesy, soulful score, this piece was pure Tharp—playful, unpredictable, and packed with wit. The dancers slithered, stomped, and slid with a looseness that felt improvised (though we know every step was meticulously crafted). It’s thrilling to see Tharp still pushing boundaries, still making work that feels urgent and fresh.
What’s most striking about Tharp’s legacy isn’t just the dances themselves but the way her company performs them. The current ensemble moves with a mix of athleticism and artistry that’s rare—sharp when it needs to be, fluid when it wants to be. They don’t just execute steps; they *inhabit* them.
Sixty years in, Twyla Tharp isn’t just looking back—she’s charging forward. Last night wasn’t a retrospective; it was a reminder that great art doesn’t age. It reinvents. And so does she.
If you missed it? Pray for an encore. This is dance history in motion.
