The tension between classical ballet and expression in unbridled movement serves as the central throughline in Robert Sher-Machherndl’s work. His performances are a loving nod to the classical (sometimes even including a ballet barre on stage), yet ultimately, the articulation of each gesture communicated by the dancers gives something richer and more human – a celebration of the body moving through space and time.
In traditional ballet, hard work is meant to be hidden from the audience to give the illusion of effortlessness. When one part of the body moves it doesn’t impact the rest of the body. In the works of Sher-Machherndl’s Lemon Sponge Cake Contemporary Ballet, there is a sense of the body moving according to physics – it gives the actions an intuitive, raw characteristic that is so compelling because it feels so free. In some duetted moments the dancers highlight the beauty of weight-bearing, wherein each lift of one dancer balanced on the other speaks to trust, strength, and human connection.
I see Sher-Machherndl’s work akin to an abstract painting (perhaps because I am an Art History professor). While classical ballet stories are told through an adherence to rules (much like a realistic painting), Robert’s movements lay bare the sublimity of the elements of a work of art similarly to the way an abstract painting can deliver a viscerally emotional punch through color and gestural brushwork. The conventional palette of ballet repertoire in performance highlights “tricks” for the audience to applaud – how many revolutions in a turn, how high a leg is kicked or sustained, or what seems to be presented as the ultimate difficulty of jumping en pointe. Breaking free from this palette, Robert reveals the virtue of the in-between, often overlooked moments that hold just as much difficulty and grace as those stunts (impressive as they are).
In this performance of Rush, Sher-Machherndl, Makaila Wallace, and Sadie Brown danced as if they were moving through water – extensions of arms and legs emanated from athletically undulating torsos, and you could almost imagine rippling waves of energy flowing outward and filling the space. The most powerful scene from the performance was a series of rotating solos where the three dancers walked in and out of the spotlight. When it was each dancer’s turn to be bathed in the limelight, they moved in what I can only describe as a controlled fervor, rhapsodically reaching and retracting limbs in what looked so natural to the human form it gave the illusion of being improvised in the moment.
What I love most about Sher-Machherndl’s performances is how he breaks expectations. In a solo-production put on at Newman Center for the Performing Arts at Denver University in 2023, a segment of Robert’s performance was set to John Cage’s 4’33” – a piece which consists almost entirely of silence. The performance led me to ponder: what is a dance without the accompaniment of music and sound? Our dancer, clad in tennis shoes and jeans, posed the additional question: what is dance without traditional costume? This stripped-down aesthetic evoked the same response as presenting an all-white abstract painting to my students – uncertainly about where to focus or what emotions to feel. In a culture where entertainment is often the sole criterion of value, this performance challenged the notion that all art must merely entertain. It invited the audience to confront discomfort of uncertainty and find rapture in the unexpected landscape of an art of movement which focuses on the conceptual ideas of the choreographer rather than the escapism of mere amusement.
Lemon Sponge Cake’s offerings are a refreshing antidote to a culture that only serves us what we already know and find comfortable. The term “curation” has been diluted by brands like Spotify, feeding us what their algorithms already know we like. Even most ballet companies present us with dependable story ballets. The panacea for this predictability lies in opening our minds and hearts to the beauty of a new vocabulary of movement. In abstract art, what is truly impressive is when an artist develops their own visual language, and as Charles Baudelaire would say, they sign their canvas with their soul (call to mind how one can always identify a painting by Pollock – even without glancing at the signature, we know it’s his by virtue of his gestural expression). Robert Sher-Machherndl has developed a dance language that always is stamped with his unique creativity, and yes, even his soul.
Kristen Winkler
Kristen Winkler has been an Art History professor for over a decade, bringing a wealth of knowledge and passion to her field. Originally from Oxford, OH, she pursued her graduate studies in Nottingham, England, before settling in Denver, CO where she lives with her husband, son, and two dogs. Kristen’s academic journey, marked by a focus on interdisciplinary studies, visual culture, and art history, is enriched by her early training in ballet and modern dance. Although her professional path led her to academia, she continues to cherish dancing as a beloved hobby.area.