New York — THE list of projects on Mark Morris' bursting schedule as his company celebrates its 25th anniversary might sound exhausting. But for this ever-surprising, robustly creative choreographer, the frenzy of activity seems to inspire joy rather than fatigue.
The Mark Morris Dance Group's official celebration of its milestone, in March at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, featured triumphant revivals of major works as well as his two newest dances, with hot-ticket studio performances of early solos, duets and trios as a bonus. That same month, the Boston Ballet offered the world premiere of his "Up and Down," set to Glazunov's Saxophone Quartet. The latest of Morris' ventures into the world of opera, a radical rethinking of Henry Purcell's 1691 "King Arthur," opened at the English National Opera in late June.
Things will continue on a grand scale this week, when "Mozart Dances," a three-part, full-evening program presented by Lincoln Center's Mostly Mozart Festival, will receive its premiere Thursday at the New York State Theater. Even after that, Morris' exemplary troupe of dancers will not rest on their laurels but instead head up to the venerable Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival in Massachusetts' Berkshires for a week of performances that, although not billed as a retrospective, will offer a panoply of smaller-scaled dances spanning all 25 years of the troupe's existence, rounded out by "Gloria," one of his earliest major works. And two days after that run ends, Morris will mark his 50th birthday.
Nothing official is on the schedule for that, perhaps because all the overlapping rehearsals and travel precluded any planning. Morris, sitting in his midtown Manhattan apartment on a recent day off from rehearsing the Mozart program, mentions one irreverent possibility: "I was thinking of holding a potlatch and giving away all of my possessions."
One hopes not, as there are quite a few fascinating ones on view in the apartment, which features an entryway with bright red walls and a sitting area painted pale green. An eye-catching demon-bird from Bali hangs near the doorway; a life-sized rooster, which has no special provenance but appealed to Morris, rests behind where he sits. Many shelves, including one low to the floor, are filled with neatly arrayed miniatures and art pieces, and there are books and CDs in abundance. Near the window is a row of oddly shaped mugs. It all feels wonderfully busy yet artfully designed.
