The Weis Center Atrium had never felt so alive. Before the performance even began, the space pulsed with an energy that was warm and contagious. Conversations intertwined, laughter filled the air, and a gentle hum moved through the crowd like the sound of anticipation itself. It was not noise but life, a kind of harmony that emerges when people gather for something they love. Children weaved through clusters of adults, friends called out to one another across the room, and strangers exchanged smiles that needed no introduction. Under that roof, the evening became a celebration of togetherness and of the simple joy of being present.
The pre-show conversation, moderated by Kelly Knox, deepened that feeling. Her ease and attentiveness turned the discussion into a moment of shared discovery rather than formality. The dancers of Ailey II spoke with sincerity about their craft, about carrying forward a legacy that was not only artistic but profoundly human. They described movement as language, as lineage, as memory that continues to grow through each generation of artists. Listening to them, it became clear that Ailey II is not just a company. It is a living story, a chorus of bodies and spirits keeping alive Alvin Ailey’s belief that dance can speak to the soul of humanity itself.
When the conversation ended, the Atrium once again filled with motion. The crowd flowed naturally toward the main theater, a collective current drawn by curiosity and excitement. As the lights dimmed, a hush settled over the audience, and the world outside seemed to fall away.
The first performance, Berry Dreamin’ by Chalvar Monteiro, opened with color and playfulness. It carried the sweetness of memory, the rhythm of childhood laughter, and the feeling of running through sunlight. The choreography moved like joy made visible, as though the stage itself had turned into a playground of imagination. Watching it felt like revisiting the earliest version of ourselves, the part that still believes in wonder.
Next came Down the Rabbit Hole by Houston Thomas, a work that moved between order and chaos, control and release. It was both a descent and a discovery. The dancers carried us through moments that felt like dreams, filled with movement that was at once strange and familiar. The piece reminded us that curiosity often leads us into the unknown, but it is in that uncertainty that transformation begins.
And then, Revelations by Alvin Ailey. It was more than dance; it was devotion. Each motion carried the history of those who came before, each stillness carried the ache of endurance. The dancers did not perform for us; they invited us into something larger, something sacred. Through every rise and fall, every turn of the body, they told a story of resilience, hope, and faith. It was not only a reflection of struggle but a celebration of spirit, of what it means to lift each other through movement.
When the final notes faded, the applause rose like a wave. It was not the sound of conclusion but of gratitude, for the art, for the connection, for the beauty of having witnessed something that transcends words. The Atrium filled once more with laughter, conversation, and the joy of those who had shared an unforgettable moment. Some lingered, reluctant to leave; others walked slowly, carrying with them the lingering pulse of what they had felt.
Ailey II left more than a memory. It left a reminder of what it means to move, to gather, to grow. Of how art, like life, is not about standing still but about reaching upward, together, toward the light.
~Shaheryar Asghar, Class of ’28