THE PUNK
ELIZABETH STREB
If modern dance world has a William Blake—an artist unbound by physics, untainted by reason, unabashed in the audacity of vision—it’s Streb. From her Williamsburg warehouse studio, she has concocted a new grammar of movement, one in which dancers fall from great heights and pop up, one in which gravity is only a suggestion and swinging cement bricks beg a sadistic game of Frogger. With leaps and bounds and high impact, Streb has redefined—as much as Alvin Ailey, Fokine, and Merce Cunningham before her—the limits of human movement.
