Circus or Art?

A woman spinning head-down, her feet in a sling. A man climbing a pole toward a high ceiling. A boy dropping, tumbling, and winding in the folds of a large looped net. This is Xelias. Welcome to the circus.

Southern Theater’s Electric Eyes: New Music and Media Festival teams  Xelias with modern jazz group Electropolis. Electropolis has been performing a stunning live soundtrack to the silent film-classic Metropolis for several years, but the festival has given Electropolis a chance to do what they’ve always wanted and add dance to the mix. Saxophonist Michael Ferrier, who saw Xelias perform at last year’s Fringe Festival, describes Xelias’s work as “a fusion of surrealism and emotionalism”—a fusion he also finds in Electropolis’s work.

Anne Elias, who is one of the masterminds behind the collaboration, envisions aerialists hanging from the Southern’s catwalk and ceiling, dancers on the ground, and dance and music surrounding the audience. “It’ll be like an installation or walking through a garden,” says Elias, who’s working with sister and Xelias director Meg Emery-Elias and hip-hop–inspired choreographer Leah Nelson.

But wait. Is aerial—the high-flying realm of trapeze and silks—the circus? Or is it art? Either, say the Elias sisters. It depends on how you do it. Circus means pulling out the traditional tricks and giving people what they want, while art means taking the equipment and techniques and putting them to new uses. “[All the performers] have this openness to expand their repertoire, to expand their experience and really push the limits,” says Elias.

Returning to the rehearsal. Emery-Elias, Elias, and Nelson are all directing, trying out ideas, looking for images. Ferrier watches, clearly in awe at the possibilities. The phrase “run away to join the circus” describes the excitement of everyone in the room. There is something about watching a person fly—some elemental uplift. As Xelias performer Dakota Rooney says of aerial moves, “I just saw it when I was a kid at the circus, and I never got over it.” May 19–20. 1420 Washington Ave. S., Mpls., 612-340-1725

Reach Lightsey Darst at lightseyd@msn.com.