Four Is Enough

 What holds this diverse practice together? The Set’s ability to convey emotion through movement. People remember Live Action Set performances the way they remember favorite personal moments. Even critics have responded to the Set with warm, almost uncritical approval. At Please Don’t Blow Up Mr. Boban, the Set’s most widely seen work, Odell recalls, “[audience members] had tears in their eyes and hands clamped over their mouths.” Bremer tells of a woman who seemed unhappy at the end of the performance, but wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I realized she was avoiding my eye contact because she was holding back tears,” he says.

Creating moving work together isn’t an easy process. “The hardest thing?” asks Odell. “Working around all of our busy schedules—work, other rehearsals and performances and tours, personal lives.” Odell’s in the midst of buying a house and finishing a degree in Chinese medicine so she can start her own practice. Treuer, also wrestling with his nondance career, would like to go back to school. Voskuil juggles many performance commitments and her own creative work. Bremer’s day job—working at Pillsbury House Theatre—leaves him tired. All agree it’s hard to find the time and energy to be creative.

It also isn’t easy for four strong personalities, all artists in their own right, to create work together. All four need to feel involved in an idea for it to work. “I think it’s a fairly angst-ridden process,” says Bither. But, there’s no shouting or screaming. They’re too invested in the Set for that. “We’re sort of like an intimate relationship times two,” Odell says. “[We’re] still in the beginnings of working out how to work together artistically and administratively,” says Voskuil. Quick-witted Treuer inspires the others; Voskuil is alternately visionary and practical, the group’s philosopher and, for The Percussionist, choreographer; and Odell, calm and open-minded, connects everyone’s ideas. Bremer, often the quietest of the four, seems an odd choice as leader until you see them working together. Bremer structures rehearsals, orders discussion, and gives suggestions that galvanize the others. Bremer’s the linchpin: If he’s excited by what the Set is doing, the others will follow him.

In fact, Bremer’s so devoted to the Set that he’s stenciled the group’s name on his fifteen-year-old white Lincoln Town Car, which sometimes appears in the Set’s performances. “It takes a lot of time and energy to continue the momentum we have going,” he says. “[It’s hard to fight] through the exhaustion to create the work, to propel the organization. But I am so proud of the work we’ve created and that [it] has such a profound effect on the audiences.”

For the future, the Set has as many plans as it has fingers. They’d like to ensure their survival by creating a long-term strategy for the company. They’re also interested in conducting residencies and in touring. And then there’s a trip to South America to study with the clowning company Lume. But, in the meantime, there’s The Percussionist.

Back to rehearsal. “So the vision was,” begins Bremer, setting up an exercise for Odell and Treuer. Odell is instructed to mime building a sand castle at the beach—digging the moat, molding towers, dribbling wet sand on top of walls. Treuer is doing push-ups and yoga. “Whatever really works, works,” Bremer says as they improvise. “These are my favorite moments,” says Voskuil, “because you never know what you are going to get.” 

Lightsey Darst is dance columnist for Mpls.St.Paul Magazine.