Dance by Neil Greenberg Press

What The Critics Say:

Neil Greenberg’s Partial View honored as one of the 10 High Points of the Year by Gia Kourlas in Time Out/NY:

“Partial View was layered with gorgeous live and projected video by John Jesurun, as well as Zeena Parkins’s score for acoustic and electric harp, but its sparse beauty was grounded in Greenberg’s quietly superb choreography.”

Gia Kourlas
Time Out/NY, 2005

About Really Queer Dance With Harps & Quartet With Three Gay Men –

"It's a mystery why sometimes a few people moving on a stage in apparently random patterns can look so right. In the first 10 seconds — maybe 5 — of Dance by Neil Greenberg's 'Quartet With Three Gay Men,' the oddly graceful, undulating movements of the four dancers, the jangly sounds of Zeena Parkins's score, and Michael Stiller's clear, bright light have the immediate effect of a poem. Meaning is compressed and harbored, to be released in thrilling fragments, inconclusive and richly layered… Mr. Greenberg's artistry [in 'Really Queer Dance With Harps'] resonates through its confluence of the random and the necessary; the continuous stream of motion in which no one moment is particularly important and each is beautiful; the almost magical quality of occasional formal symmetries. It's quite right that Mr. Greenberg includes the music in the dance's title, since Ms. Parkins's thrillingly varied score and the presence of the musicians are as vital to this work as the dancers - all excellent and exceedingly individual in presence… Bravo to Dance Theater Workshop for giving Mr. Greenberg a longer run than usual; you have another week to see this, and you should."

(Roslyn Sulcas, The New York Times)

"With music and movement layered just right, Greenberg achieves what seems to be his forte, deftly assembling the strata of a dance so that new meaning peaks through when we least expect it…?If you've never seen a dance by Neil Greenberg, picture a few individuals—maybe two, maybe eight—scattered through space, each in the midst of a unique, all-absorbing task. They rarely make physical contact, or eye contact, but somehow they remain parts of a coherent whole, a landscape continuously transforming, though it's hard to locate just where these transformations begin… Greenberg turns [his] style almost inside out loosening joints, liquefying the spine, letting knees buckle and eyes wander and limbs dangle, for dances that are, at times, deliberately messy, and always rich with peculiar detail. I call it peculiar; Greenberg calls it 'queer,' at least in the title of his latest creation, Really Queer Dance with Harps, which pries at the varied meanings, social and aesthetic, of the word… Throughout the work, eight down-to-earth dancers appear immersed in dialogue with their own bodies, by turns inquisitive, indifferent, and discouraged… In a recent interview with Time Out New York, Greenberg described his interest in un-censoring movement that's 'been repressed' in a culture where 'gender and sexuality are so inflated.' Really Queer Dance, blurring those boundaries, opens up unconventional avenues of physicality and sharpens our awareness of the fact, too often taken for granted, that there are boundaries to be blurred in the first place."

(Siobhan Burke, ballet.co)

"A smart, socially and politically charged investigation of the dancing body… Understated, nuanced, spatially intelligent dance."

(Claudia La Rocco, The New York Times)

"one responds to its openness, its wit, its joy, and its released danciness with pleasure that is also personal."

(Nancy Dalva, danceviewtimes)

"Greenberg's dancers tell only the stories that live in their bodies, and their movements—while difficult technically—twist and swing easily through space… They all inhabit the same complex, sunlit society, and give the impression of being on private forays through a fascinating world, their gestures responding imaginatively to variations in terrain and colored by Parkins's vivid score. The eight never touch or acknowledge one another until they reappear in a giddy coda that's more welcome than any happily-ever-after… Greenberg queries in poetic, unemphatic ways our habit of defining what's 'masculine' and what's 'feminine.'… three-dimensional and richly layered…"

(Deborah Jowitt, Village Voice)

"His subject is invariably an inner life that we can only approach via surfaces--an inner life that in fact is made up of surfaces, the detritus of the everyday… [The dancers’] bare galumphing feet--smacking the floor exactly as you're taught not to in ballet class—call to mind Frankenstein's monster (on a good day). They resound with social ineptitude and a rough flamboyance. Meanwhile, the arms are socially aware. They're grace notes of affect. So are the flowers in the hair of boys and girls alike. Fragility and delicacy, self-declaration and tribal identification, flitter on the body's periphery as if the soul and its accessories were butterflies."

(Apollinaire Scherr, artsJournal.com)

"Everybody's thrilled by and writing about Neil Greenberg's new Really Queer Dance with Harps, and you should really queerly or otherwise see it--especially for the radiant trio of harpists, led by composer Zeena Parkins, at the golden heart of the piece. But my own really queer heart has gone and continues to go out to Quartet with Three Gay Men, the 2006 work danced by Greenberg, Luke Miller, Antonio Ramos and Colin Stillwell. It's just--hooray!--11 minutes, and some of that time is spent dancing to RuPaul's "Supermodel (You Better Work)." Can't go wrong, in my book, with RuPaul. And it's a fantastic dance, too, like a prism breaking Greenberg into four avatars who render his spacious movement with luscious, queerforward simplicity. Oh, did I mention it's only 11 minutes? Brevity, the soul of wit."

(Eva Yaa Asantewaa, infinitebody.blogspot.com)

About Partial View –

“Partial View is stunning. Neil Greenberg's perspective on the human body and movement looks sublime at every whip, turn and angle… Microcosmic worlds of ever-shifting moves, including twisting torsos, ardent foot-slapping and breathtaking backward bends, seemed to orbit through space on their own trajectories…. A regal Luke Miller, his elongated limbs often a kinetic tangle, stomped the floor like a caged bull in a foreground scene; the women, receding in the distance, executed primal lunges… As a unit, the four marched in an unknown quest as this ceremony of sometimes apocalyptic affect bled into darkness. Lives finally spent, no matter the view.”

Victoria Looseleaf
Los Angeles Times, 2005

“With Partial View, Neil Greenberg transcends the limitations of the proscenium stage and stationary seating. By projecting live footage of the dancers, Greenberg lets the audience see the dance in dozens of different ways. It's an intimate and disarming experience… His approach in Partial View asks the audience to choose what to look at -- a dancer's back or a close-up of his torso, with every breath magnified; a dancer's giant hand on the screen or her quiet gestures on stage; the shadows beneath a dancer's feet or the movement of his hips and shoulders. The addition of multiple perspectives creates a richer, yet somehow more mysterious whole… Greenberg's choreography reads like an exploration of both surrounding space and inner sensation. Deliberate and idiosyncratic, it's never concerned with looking pretty, but it makes its own kind of beautiful sense. Articulated wrists and elbows, off-kilter balances, stiff-legged walks, pinwheeling arms -- this is dancing that rarely goes in the direction you expect it to.”

Tresca Weinstein
Times Union (Albany), 2005

“Most of the recent dance-video projects have resulted in little more than sound-and-light shows, but Neil Greenberg’s Partial View constitutes a substantive employment of mixed media. The production tools of Greenberg’s spectacle are elaborate, but the effect of the work is distilled and calm in its controlled expansiveness… The ordinary dance “step” has almost disappeared from Greenberg’s dance textures. He now works with units of dance movement that show the ebb and flow of energy, including energies that turn in on themselves or erupt suddenly, breaking forth and disappearing in odd, unpredictable rhythms. I took the anthologized video images that accompany sections of the live dance performance in Partial View as metaphors for this ebb and flow, outbreak and intake, shock and awe… The ending of Partial View is a return of calm after a storm of detailed ferocity. In its cool way, the dance has been unsparing. Greenberg has chosen a primal subject—the relation of the individual to impersonal energies both natural and psychic—and then he has arranged an immense exposé of our adjustments and struggles before such powers. What is fascinating is the objective passion of the report.”

Don Daniels
Ballet Review, 2006

“Neil Greenberg has said he is constantly exploring meaning in dance and in life—not Romeo-loves-Juliet-and-they-die meaning but how we interpret what we see. The pieces he's made since the early '90s tweak our perceptions and invite us to consider how we process them. In his wonderful new Partial View live-feed video cameras intermittently project alternative views of what's on stage. The enigmas are compounded by Zeena Parkins' wonderfully apt, silence-studded score; Michael Stiller's lighting effects; and video images by John Jesurun that alternate with the live feed. The perspectives become deliciously complex, foregrounding this movement, dwindling that one, creating tensions that we don't notice between the live performers; it's enough to set our minds jangling. … Greenberg is presenting us with a whole creation about partial views, while reminding us that we never have more than partial views of our lives.”

Deborah Jowitt
Village Voice, 2005

“Neil Greenberg’s Partial View is an experimental laboratory rich with movement, patterning, and perceptual games… Suddenly we saw the same phrase prismatically—live and from two sides. A dancer stared at us from the screen, but she was actually glaring away from us, toward the camera. Perceptions scrambled rapidly and engagingly with the addition of a bird’s-eye shot… The sound and lighting provided exceptionally strong foundations. Zeena Parkins’ score set an ambiance that shifted from celestial to skittery, couched in a plinking xylophone, plucked harp, vibraphone, and other exotic instruments. Michael Stiller’s noninvasive lighting bathed the dancers in an aura; “blue-outs” smartly marked scene shifts; and the closing pewter-toned light seemed to have actual weight… Greenberg’s intellectual approach to dancemaking made for a rewarding evening resulting in rich visual and kinetic crescendos. He and his collaborators posed many rhetorical questions, answered them, and then asked more, engaging the audience in a wordless but rousing dialogue.”

Susan Yung
Dance Magazine, 2005

“For Neil Greenberg, art's relation to life is an urgent concern. The tremendous Partial View points simultaneously inward and beyond itself… Zeena Parkins' propulsive score of African-style drumming, scale- traversing marimba, lyrical flute and sudden patches of silence complements without mirroring the dancers' highly specific ruminations…. What makes one linger especially over the dancers’ pauses is the multidisciplinary artist John Jesurun's live video. He has placed cameras at the corners of the stage and overhead, and live sequences of the dancers appear intermittently on the two back-wall screens. We see them as if at the end of a long corridor, through a keyhole or from far overhead. Their helpless rescaling eventually makes a deep sense of their moments of stillness, when they take in the distance. Everywhere they turn becomes their destiny.”

Apollinaire Scherr
New York Newsday, 2005

About Two –

—honored as one of the 10 High Points of the Year by Jennifer Dunning in The New York Times:
“‘TWO’: Video imagery has been a largely extraneous ingredient in dance. But Neil Greenberg used video (by Greenberg and Charles Dennis) to expand and revitalize the stage space, making it an exhilarating element in "Two," performed in March at Dance Theater Workshop."

Jennifer Dunning
The New York Times, 2003

“Dance was once a matter of steps and storytelling. Now it is often an integral part of a larger composition. Neil Greenberg's Two brings a new sophistication to that mix.… Video imagery has replaced projections of words and phrases in the elegantly designed new piece. Designed and edited by Mr. Greenberg and Charles Dennis, the imagery extends the dance and opens up the stage. Lighted subtly by Michael Stiller, the space seems suddenly vast and full of possibilities. Two blessedly discreet cameras capture elements of the fragmented solos that keep the flow going. Above and behind, on an unframed rectangle within a back screen, a big billowy exalted Mr. Greenberg is seen close up in movement performed, simultaneously, by one of the four live dancers who slip deftly in and out of the crannies of Two. Mr. Greenberg's presence, his sudden ungimmicky vanishings and his connection to the dancers all work to expand the space and choreography exhilaratingly. ”

Jennifer Dunning
The New York Times, 2003

“Neil Greenberg likes to make our eyes work. We focus tightly on a rotating wrist, then widen our gaze to take in a dancer's whole body as the movement lashes through it. In many ways, he asks us to shift between details and the whole altering stage picture, and to assemble elements on the fly. In his elegant new Two, he increases our options. “

Deborah Jowitt
Village Voice, 2003

“The work becomes a fascinating study of two modes of reality: that created by the dancers and that created by the camera’s selective eye.”

Don Daniels
Ballet Review, 2003

About Construction With Varied Materials –

“…what makes Construction With Varied Materials so exhilarating is that the stage space is even more alive than the dancers who inhabit it. Space becomes an almost tactile, lightly viscous property here, unpredictably shaped and reshaped as if the dancers were points in a shifting, sprawling polygon whose permutations are endlessly fascinating.”

Jennifer Dunning
The New York Times, 2001

“The ‘materials’ in Greenberg’s 2001 Construction With Varied Materials are primarily dancers, although a few projected words divert us to thoughts of provenance; ‘wrist material’ and ‘hopscotch material’ appear as Ramos solos (the wrist we can identify; hopscotch is utterly transformed). The lavish dancing of Flomin, Greenberg, Ramos, Caitlin Cook and Paige Martin (with the help of lighting designer Michael Stiller) makes the space open up and shrink around them, divide into islands, form a fertile garden plot.”

Deborah Jowitt
Village Voice, 2003

“Even more impressive was the performance of his 2001 dance Construction With Varied Materials. Here, he creates a sense of simultaneity of dance actions, as though the large sections of the work all take place at the same time and share a common psychological moment, and this without the use of cameras or on-site questioning of illusion and reality: dance as multilocality experience.”

Don Daniels
Ballet Review, 2003

About Sequel –

“…The expansive silences of Neil Greenberg proved how incredibly sublime textural and communicative movement, all by itself, can be. It was a delight to spend an evening with the finely honed wit and movement sensibility of Greenberg, whose trio This Is What Happened and quartet Sequel employed, parodied and subverted the suspenseful and melodramatic trappings of Hitchcock movies. Greenberg finely hones his material, shaving off anything and everything extraneous until we’re left with spare, tightly organized phrases that at first have the rhythmic evenness of a declarative sentence (one can almost hear the dancers trying to explain and defend themselves)…. The movement winds around and doubles back upon itself (it is a mystery, after all), allowing us the space to marvel at its imagistic power, and the dancers’ ability to imbue even the vaguest gesture with multiple textures and meanings.”

Sara Wolf
LA Weekly, 2000

“…A small unfolding of one dancer’s fingers, for instance, set off a wrist and arm rotation that could remain isolated and observed, or could carry momentum throughout the whole body and beyond to the other dancers. Thus the focus and the stage space could appear to expand and contract in wondrous fluidity… (This technique) took flight, adding a new element of lyricism- even romanticism- to the choreographer’s palette.”

Chris Pasles
Los Angeles Times, 2000

“What makes Sequel such a beauty is the integration of sound and silence, movement and, particularly, color and light. The four bodies are glowing elements in clear, shifting formal patterns saturated with warm red and yellow light, without at all losing the look of ramshackle ordinariness that Mr. Greenberg delights in. In both pieces he plays with that ordinariness and the cheesy grandeur of the movie music, continuously juxtaposing the two. The four dancers are remarkably faithful to that difficult strategy. Each has a pleasing, understated individuality that gives the movement texture. Mr. Greenberg is softly dreamy, as if in another world. Ori Flomin moves with a terrier’s tenacity and a fine sense of detail. Justine Lynch has a finicky sensuality straight out of a bodice-ripper romance novel. Best of all is Paige Martin, in whom the choreography seems to well up as naturally and expansively as breathing.”

Jennifer Dunning
The New York Times, 2000

“Greenberg has never employed traditional dance partnering in his work, perhaps to make a political point about gender role-playing, and in Sequel the resultant sense of individual and group isolation adds to the evocation of devastating solitude, longing made all the more unbearable by its singularity. Greenberg, like Hitchcock, deals seriously with the inevitable sense of loss that reality can inflict upon the Romantic dreamer.”

Don Daniels
Ballet Review, 2000

About This Is What Happened –

“Everything conspires to produce the semblance of a story we are not to know. Watching the leggy, attenuated, sometimes brusque or splatty dancing that springs from and deranges a classical base (imagine Merce Cunningham’s style put on a diet of beef and red wine), we sense mysteries even in formal events... When Lynch performs an assertive solo, we’re advised, “Don’t believe her, she’s lying.” The sentence not only ignites narrative, it raises questions about how we perceive meaning in dance... But of course what’s ‘happening’ to all three, separately or together but never touching, is dancing. Dancing in all its ability to evoke states of feeling through suddenly flung-up arms, a gaze toward the corner, the pulling down of a shoulder strap. The formality of Greenberg’s construction intersects ironically with life, or with the Hitchcockian filmic abstractions supported by the music. ‘Flashback’ refers simply to a phrase of movement seen earlier and now repeated. But can we know for sure what that phrase does, or does not, mean?”

Deborah Jowitt
Village Voice, 1999

About Part Three –

“I had a sudden vision of the dances as incantations to life and to performing as a potentially life-stimulating exchange between dancers and audience... The dancing has a kind of physical extravagance, and Greenberg all evening projects a joy that says ‘In the moment of performing, I am truly alive.’... His dancers may not touch often, but his text reaches out and strokes them. The words, cooled by print, heat up in your head. Performance ignites as the embodiment of life force- just as fierce, just as fragile. ”

Deborah Jowitt
Village Voice, 1998

“Neil Greenberg is the real thing: a thoughtful, playful, skilled, imaginative choreographer who loves to move and who has followed his own path. The result is plenty convincing... The effect of the dances depends upon spaciousness, in every sense of the word. Each one spreads out in time and around the stage (dancers even come and sit at the edge of the stage, their legs dangling). A complex layering of anticipation, loss, and grief accumulates as the music drops in and out in unpredictable intervals, as blackouts further protract the sense of time, and as the self-referential texts introduce a specificity of emotional narrative that shrinks the distance between me and the performers... Greenberg throws himself into the music with an irresistible abandon bordering on camp, his head tossed back like Duncan and Dionysus. His is an ecstatic body, outside itself, reaching beyond its own mortality... What Greenberg gave us was depth of experience and complexity of experience. Pathos infused with irony, the intellect’s sense of humour.”

Ann Daly
Dance Theater Journal (London), 1997

About The Disco Project –

“Neil Greenberg makes choreography seem like juggling. He devises both brisk and languid movements, evokes deep emotions and creates dances that resemble diary entries laced with comments on art, life and time… His latest piece of legerdemain, The Disco Project, more than just madcap gyrations and esthetic speculations, is a drama of defiance in the face of adversity... For Mr. Greenberg, living well and dancing well may be compatible accomplishments... A complex and poignant new work.”

Jack Anderson
The New York Times, 1996

“During Neil Greenberg’s The Disco Project blunt sentences about love, friendship, death, work, and hope form on the back wall. The sentences assert that life goes on. But the movement rips the dancers this way and that. Deliberate awkwardness sabotages dancerly polish. Every strenuous step or kick seems to thrash at the air, every gesture to slice and slash. Arms and legs seem at cross-purposes.... The hopefulness accompanying the not-so-hidden rage comes not from any improvements in the world or Greenberg’s life, but from the work itself - the care with which it’s made, the serene ferocity with which it’s danced - and the revelation that rich solo and group variations can spring from such a stony base and flourish in such a climate. The dancers transcend the discomfort their bodies telegraph. The dancing does speak for itself.”

Deborah Jowitt
Village Voice, 1996

“The Disco Project is dazzling in its conception, construction, and execution. The first fourteen minutes are in pure Modern Dance silence, one of this dance’s many ironies. By the time we hear Sylvester’s Do You Wanna Funk?, it is both a relief and an agony, because the relief it offers is insufficient for lifting the emotional mist that the dance by then has already cast - in fact it thickens it... It is the success of The Disco Project as spectacle that makes it so important as art. Greenberg is so in love with the sensuality and organization of dance that he sees everything in its abstractions and expressions. His work - because he is a craftsman and an inventor - is commensurate with his feeling; and his feeling - because he is a survivor - is extreme.”

Rick Whitaker
Ballet Review, 1996

“...and then comes Greenberg’s wonderful solo to Jimmy Sommerville’s “Never Can Say Goodbye." It’s a punchy, freeze-framed one-man show, exquisite in its details and consuming in its portrait of clubland agonies and dancefloor ecstasies. Greenberg has given himself many challenges in his solo, and he negotiates them avoiding no risk and evoking an heroic, unique exhilaration... The Disco Project does not seem caught in the past, although accompanying words and music refer to it. The issues raised are present ones, not to be ignored. Here, released, is the master statement that Greenberg’s 1994 work, the memorial Not-About-AIDS-Dance, sequestered in its moonlight-on-alabaster vaults. “Too much has been exacted,” throbs this Project, “but our work has only begun.”

Don Daniels
Ballet Review, 1996

About Not-About-AIDS-Dance -

“A profoundly truthful, unsentimental masterwork about illness and life... By integrating dance, snatches of music and sentences projected on the back wall of the stage, he has simply created a spare replication of a life. In the process, he has also created an important, moving and very beautiful work about the experience of living in the age of AIDS... Not-About-AIDS Dance manages to convey, without sentimentality, not only the horror of death, illness and disappointment, but also the meaningful ways in which life does doggedly continue... The piece also suggests that to be human is to be more than the sum of one’s sadness.”

Jennifer Dunning
The New York Times, 1994

“Greenberg presents a nose to the grindstone work of unrelenting, interlocking, deep-lunged dance. The piece is wintry, isolated, yet heated with concentration, hurtling forward. ...The only backward glance occurs when Greenberg arranges himself into a careful picture, behind him the words ‘This is how my brother Jon looked in his coma.’ The intimacy of the moment is stabbing, an ache moated by the abstraction around it, ennobled by Greenberg’s classical stance, its echo through centuries of premature deaths. Two months later, this spare dance stands clearer and taller in memory, like white marble columns, an ode to stoicism.”

Laura Jacobs
The New Criterion, 1995

“The dancing is poised and seemingly autonomous in its relation to the written text- so much so that the juxtaposition alters the viewer’s sense of mental space within which the events of the evening and their precursors take place. Utterly unsentimental, Not-About-AIDS-Dance is a mature work that moves its audience in new ways. The lighting by Michael Stiller is masterly.”

Don Daniels
Ballet Review, 1994

“Neil Greenberg’s astringency is a good thing. His absolute refusal to fall victim to wet grief, self-pity or polemics creates a distancing effect that broadens the emotional spectrum of Not-About-AIDS-Dance. This work also exhibits his self-deprecating humor, tenderness, and goosey gravity. N-A-A-D is an “immortality project” about a dance in progress- about the haphazard ways the evolution of a piece is disrupted by cruel facts in the universe, about how the road to creation is rife with bumps, digressions, flashbacks, and stark signposts, of which AIDS is one of the most horrifying... The turning point in N-A-A-D is the public admission of his HIV-positive status. Amid all his dislocation, the dance continues to be a steadying factor. A slide projects his musing: ‘I wonder if it will work.’ It does.”

Randy Gener
Village Voice, 1994

“The text, composed by Greenberg, has a beautiful simplicity. Each thought is given time and space to resonate. Occasionally there is even quiet humor. The dancing is more complicated, intricate. It seems to operate, ironically, almost as a subtext for the words. It is abstract but more in the sense of pure physicality than cool formalism... A deeply affecting work... ”

Susan Kraft
Staten Island Advance, 1994

“To note that Greenberg is one of the season’s more exciting discoveries is to underrate the cumulative power of this piece... Highly intelligent, emotionally infused dancemaking is rare today. Respect for the sheer craft of linking steps into charged statements is even rarer. And Greenberg offers us all of them in ravishingly expressive and controlled sequences. He has fashioned from autobiography the uncommonly affecting Not-About-AIDS-Dance... In his own manner he mourns; but he subsumes his grief in a tapestry of recalled experiences. He does not cloak himself in the conventional pieties. This, granted, is not the easy way. But it is the heroic way and, ultimately, it is the way of the genuine artist...”

Allan Ulrich
San Francisco Examiner, 1996

I gave it one of the three spontaneous standing ovations of my life. It was profound and funny and moving and intensely personal in such a way as to be earth-shatteringly political... But what is most striking and truly extraordinary is Neil’s generosity and sense of inclusion with respect to us, the audience... I am, as viewer, left free to construct the intersection between the intimate information I’m being told and the balletically elegant movement being done in front of me... Although loss and death and even the trauma of everyday life constantly threaten to crush, Neil and company continue to find the energy to push it off just enough to find room to breathe, to create, to love, to make this wonderfully abstract and ridiculous thing called dance... In doing so he locates hope in a landscape of loss.”

Lucy Sexton
Juice / a dance and performance journal, 1994

“... the most important and moving choreographic response to AIDS anyone seems to know of... What makes the dance as poignant as it is (rather than pathetic, or just sad) is the dancing. Greenberg danced in Merce Cunningham’s company and learned well how to build a coherence out of movement. The company of five dancers are modern virtuosos and the choreography is serious and beautiful. There is a striving for independence from the unlovely world - but in vain. This tension between carrying on the work of making art and the imposition of apocalyptic events constitutes the shattering center of Greenberg’s Not-About-AIDS-Dance... Greenberg is so in love with the sensuality and organization of dance that he sees everything in its abstractions and expressions. His work - because he is a craftsman and an inventor - is commensurate with his feeling; and his feeling - because he is a survivor - is extreme.”

Rick Whitaker
Our Town, 1994

“Yes, of course, this work for five people was indeed about AIDS. Flinty and witty as well as poignant, it proclaimed that dance and life itself can be arts of time... The vigorousness of most of the choreography suggested that, for all its melancholy, this dance ultimately affirmed life.”

Jack Anderson and George Dorris
The Dancing Times (London), 1994

“I wonder what Arlene Croce would have made of Neil Greenberg’s Not-About-AIDS-Dance. This is not a work that demands pity for the choreographer. It’s about the process of artistic creation set parallel to the life that’s being lived. ... it’s like a rebirth.”

Deborah Jowitt
Village Voice, 1995