Pisuwin, a Wolastoqiyik story-ballet, returned to Imperial Theatre, in Menahqesk/Saint John, on October 16, 2024. Born from the collaboration between multi-disciplinary artist Nipahtuwet Naka Wespahtuwet (Possesom) Paul and Igor Dobrovolskiy, Artistic Director and Choreographer of Atlantic Ballet, Pisuwin originally premiered in May of 2023 to full houses eager to support the innovative Indigenous production.

The performance’s remount this fall had no less fanfare. Prior to the show’s opening, the theatre buzzed. The performative solemnity that often precedes classical dance shows was absent and was not missed; the crowd socialized before taking their seats, familiar faces recognized one another from across the theatre and waved excitedly.

Paul, Pisuwin Co-Director and Atlantic Ballet’s Director of Indigenous Programming, affirmed the palpable enthusiasm in his opening statement by warmly encouraging audience interaction and engagement. His speech confirmed what was already felt in the theatre even before the dancers stepped on stage: despite the innumerable inhumane colonial measures to erase Indigeneity, it survives and thrives with the substance that is joy, and this is shared here with generosity. According to Paul, joy is what matters in Pisuwin; joy is also how Pisuwin came to be a celebratory platform for future Indigenous works.

Ahead of the performance, Elder Dr. Maggie Paul spoke at length in both Wolastoqey and English, her words flowing seamlessly from one language to another and setting the tone for the show. Her decision to speak first in Wolastoqey felt like a proclamation all on its own in the context of our setting, a theatre being one of many institutions that not too long ago would have refused to place an Indigenous dance production on its stage.

Elder Dr. Maggie Paul’s generosity is matched by her presence, standing grounded on the stage in front of a large, anticipatory crowd. Before singing “All My People,” she invites the crowd to participate, and then proceeds to gesture toward the imposing drawn curtains behind her. She knows there are stagehands milling about, dancers taking their last opportunity to warm up on stage before settling into the wings and waiting for their cues, and, with no trepidation, she breaks the illusion: “Everyone behind the curtains can come out and sing with me!” The audience laughs and relaxes into their seats.

The twelve-act performance begins with Sib, Water’s elemental personification, danced by Stéphanie Audet. She makes clear, intentional movements with ease. Her spine arches and extends through her arms, her balletic lines in harmony with the recurrence of the Wabanaki double curve motif. An emblem portrayed throughout the costume design, led by Emma Hassancahl-Perley, the double curve is aptly understood to symbolize relationships, community, and balance.

Next, the audience is introduced to Olomi, portrayed by guest principal dancer Jera Wolfe, who is the only non-company dancer included in the production. According to the show’s program notes, “Olomi” means ‘moving forward/reaching out,’ which is a fitting description of Wolfe’s dancing and interpretation of Olomi’s character. Wolfe’s reach expansive, his dancing boundless. His natural, sinewy movements set him apart from Sib, yet they are drawn to one another in a moment of recognition and acknowledgement. Their interaction feels reciprocal, each always giving to the other. Sib seamlessly folds into physical contact with Olomi, their dancing weightless and a balance of opposites.

Enter Macahant, the story’s villain, danced by company member Thomas Badrock. Clad in the costume of a historical plague doctor, Macahant sees Sib’s life force as a potential source for his own endless bounty and reservoir; he wishes to feed off her spirit. Macahant looms over her, both physically and emotionally, his dancing broad and sweeping. His flowing black robe casts layers of shadow onto his movements, lingering in the space where he danced and leaving impressions of his greed and insatiability. Aided by his attendants, Macahant overcomes Olomi and steals Sib.

Macahant incites fear; he is greed and consumption personified. He sees Sib as the cure for all ills but wants her all to himself, his plague doctor mask reads like a moral barrier, as though his very actions could poison even himself. Yet, he deceptively switches out his mask for a top hat, adopting a softer, more inviting appearance that makes way for the performative exploitation of Sib’s goodness, turning her offerings into a circus for profit.

Olomi finds himself alone. To be without Sib is to be without life. His spirit is transposed into our world, only to discover that her absence has also created a spiritual disconnect. This is reflected in the dancing: company members enter and manipulate the set pieces, bending the arches at their roots, exposing their inner workings. Their movements are automatic and mechanical. They do not see Olomi despite his attempts to intervene. He resolves to restore the connection between the spirit world and ours by freeing Sib. To accomplish this, Olomi must delve into the teachings of the remaining three elements: Earth, Wind, and Fire.

The first to offer teachings is Skitomiq (Earth), danced by Hiroto Yamaguchi. His energetic presence is immediately welcomed by the audience. His movements rebound and release with precision, simultaneously connected to the ground and to the space around him.

As the performance continues, the elements bring optimism to Olomi’s quest. Wocawson (Wind) is danced by Nozomi Nakabayashi, along with her attendants Laura Flydorf and Gabrielle Hagberg. The trio takes over the stage, their dancing accelerating with speed as they approach the finish, culminating in an impressive and cohesive choreography.

The final element is Skwot (Fire) danced by Samuel Pitman. His movements spiral in and around himself as he travels forcefully across the stage. Pitman, along with the other element dancers, impresses in exuding the characteristics of his element while maintaining a balanced pull from the opposite direction. This tension fills the dancing with honesty and integrity.

In his introductory remarks, Paul explained that Pisuwin cannot be directly translated, and reflected on ideas around medicine, and spoke to the spirit in how we engage with one another—our connection and kinship. We see this theme unfold through each encounter with the elements as they meet Olomi and hand him a piece of rope—a symbol of their knowledge, preparing him for his confrontation with Macahunt. With each teaching, the rope lengthens as it is wrapped around Olomi’s wrist.

There is an exchange of play and light in the scenes between Olomi and the elements, which speaks to the root of the production. As they set out to collaborate on Pisuwin, Paul and longtime friend, composer Jeremy Dutcher, agreed upon a singular word at the heart of their project: Celebration. This is evident both as an act and as an energy shared between Olomi and the elemental dancers.

Dutcher’s music for this ballet feels as natural as the dancing. His voice flows seamlessly from one scene to the next, carrying both audience and dancers through the narrative–sometimes propelling us forward, other times a whisper between movements. His composition stands as a cohesive piece all on its own, enriched by the movement of dancers along with the set and projections, designed by Andy Moro.

The set piece recalls the double curve motif: five curved pillars lean toward the center, grounded in place like trees, except in scenes of industrialization and human corruption, where their roots are manipulated. The projection undulates throughout tableaus, in contrast to the enduring structure of the set piece.

Despite ample permission from Paul to engage with the performance and support Olomi, the audience holds back until Macahant is defeated, at which point cheers erupt from various corners of the theatre. Some things take time.

Olomi celebrates with the elements; as contemporary gestures meld with classical vocabulary, the dancers, crew members, and directors finish on stage in song. The open arms of this production can be felt throughout the theatre, in balanced resonance with Paul’s words from the top of the show: “We welcome you in to see what our world looks like.” The audience accepts the warm embrace and projects their gratitude. It is clear they would like to stay just a little bit longer.