CINDY BRANDLE DANCE COMPANY Cindy Brandle says she often sits up at night holding her two-year-old child and thinking. Or, more accurately, worrying--about the state of the world and her daughter's future in it. Brandle's hour-long In the Eye of Stillness presents an abstracted view of what she sees as the chaos of contemporary existence. Divided into eight sections, it isn't nearly as chaotic as you might expect, often coming across as a sort of ritual: candles are lit and extinguished, and the seven dancers are dressed in flowing black like priestesses. The "chaotic" sections are actually quite exciting, set to electronic music that seems to include the buzzing of machines and the hissing of steam heat. Brandle--who was co artistic director of the Chicago Moving Company for five years but recently formed her own troupe--has a good feel for movement on or close to the floor, and she makes imaginative use of the proscenium stage at the rear of the Hamlin Park space. The song she sings in the seventh section, "Chaos Sleeps," about breath being restored, gives the piece additional structure and sets up the mysterious but hopeful ending. (December 2005)

CINDY BRANDLE DANCE COMPANY Cindy Brandle's new hour-long piece, When Water Falls, begins on a melancholy note: standing in the dark, seven dancers sing a dirge like variation on "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." But it ends buoyantly, with the performers leaping in and out of colorful kiddie-style life preservers. Brandle--who dances, wrote the work's two original songs, and does most of the singing, expertly shifting keys--says that though each section is devoted to a different body of water, she didn't aim to reproduce the movement of each type. The section called "The Falls," for instance, uses a short set of stairs, but the choreography is measured, not rushed, and ultimately conveys a sense of serene, cyclical renewal. Using repetitive electronic music in addition to live singing, When Water Falls has a meditative effect and emphasizes the continuity and interdependence within and between the natural and human worlds. (December 2006)

CINDY BRANDLE DANCE COMPANY Six dancers stand quietly, and then each brings a hand to her shoulder, the fingertips floating up as if beckoning us. Moving in unison, they slowly rotate from the waist to look behind themselves -- in effect retreating after inviting us in. This is one of several thoughtful motifs in Cindy Brandle's new hour-long The Numb Project, in which she asks, "How much can we absorb before we become numb?" Questioning our humanity and compassion in the face of horrendous global and local events, the dancing feels remarkably calm -- though Barry Bennett's score elicits plenty of anxiety with its traces of moaning wind, labored breathing, and urgent whispers. The most measured movement of all comes from the seventh dancer, Brandle herself, who's often physically distant from the others: at times she seems a magisterial presence, blessing or guiding the others. Yet she says that she "is the numb." The piece also features video by Greg Gerhard, photos by Peter Holderness, and elegantly raggedy costumes by Jamie Breeck. (January/February 2008)