BWW Review: SATELLITE COLLECTIVE Whirls at BAM

BWW Review: SATELLITE COLLECTIVE Whirls at BAM

She is the young woman counting rhythms silently, whispering mysteriously and distantly on the metro ride home after work. He is the young man moving to a different rhythm behind the cashier, his head bobbing like a life raft on the high seas, far from land. They are the emerging artists, the millennial, contemporary, twenty-something generation of up-and-coming thinkers, movers, shakers, dreamers, drifters and lovers.

They are known as the Satellite Collective. Like the name, they encompass the globe and shine a light. While the young, recently launched presence above and throughout the arts world may be faint amid so many countless fixtures of essentially eternal stars, it is so bright and close to home.

The Collective is a stellar amalgam of thirty impeccably creative minds, as ingenious as diverse, covering everything from architecture to choreography, film to poetry. Recently, the project Telephone skyrocketed the Collective to a sprawling global movement spanning forty-two countries.

Since 2010, the Collective has mounted ballets, music, film, dance, song, spoken word, and even a literary magazine, Transmission. "Song by song / I scatter my birds / away from the fogs of smoke / They say these are ordinary clouds in the sky" reads the poem Baghdad in Detroit published in Transmission by Iraqi poet Dunya Mikhail, now living in the United States.

For the opening of the Collective's evening at BAM Fisher, a most delicate, and quietly inspired solo instrumental for cello titled "Water" released the crowd of the daily neologism into a universe more nebulous and free, holding a strength and balance, like water coursing through a life-giving stream.

Barefoot poet Stelth Ulvang, bespectacled and unshaven, mused from a firmly clasped, well-worn notebook, and drew the audience in to hear a voice wondering, lifted and gaining on the racing mind of today's youth, with lightly poignant wisdom and fine poetic taste. He then sauntered upstairs, a true poet and intellect of sound, to sit in on orchestral percussion.


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Matt Hanson Matt Alexander Hanson lives and writes in New York City and Istanbul, where he is a regular contributor to the Turkish newspaper Daily Sabah and freelancer for international magazines such as 212, The Carton, Yes! among many others in his twelve years publishing criticism, journalism, fiction, poetry, art, photography and research as a former resident of Egypt, Canada, Mexico and Peru. He is currently publishing a travelogue, anthology and novel based on his work in the northwestern Greek city of Ioannina.