The floor of West Village Theatre was softer than expected. As I lay among strangers on yoga mats and blankets, I wondered if Eric Rose, the Artistic Director, had lost his mind. But by the end of the Echoes of the Land performance, it became clear that Rose had taken a bold risk that paid off.
The performance ran from January 17 to January 25. Part of this year’s High Performance Rodeo, the production was not theatre in any conventional sense. There was no plot to follow or characters to keep track of—just bodies in a room experiencing sound. The production stripped away theatrical pretences to explore something more fundamental: our relationship with vibration, rhythm and land.
At the heart of the experience were two grandfather drums, powerful instruments traditionally used in powwow settings. Skip Wolfleg, a knowledge keeper from the Siksika Nation with over 30 years of drumming experience, and Cedric Lightning commanded these rhythmic vessels. Lightning, from the Stoney Nakoda and Samson Cree Nation, approached singing as more than performance—it was a form of healing, expressing energy and processing grief and joy.
For Lightning, singing has always been a lifeline. Throughout his childhood, music provided him with stability, reminding him of home during the difficult times he faced in group homes. “Singing to me is a form of expression,” he shared. “It’s Energy.”
Alanna Bluebird was a personal standout. A multimedia specialist and spoken word artist from the Tsuut’ina Nation, her words carried the weight of Indigenous resilience. Deep personal truth powered each line, striking home without theatrics. Drawing from her Indigenous roots, Bluebird wove ancient storytelling traditions into a modern tapestry of healing and cultural memory. The words themselves carried all the power they needed – simple, clear and unforgettable.
Musicians Kris Demeanor and Kenna Burima added remarkable depth. Born and raised in Calgary, Demeanour approached the collaboration as a celebration of nature and human connection. Burima, known for her genre-defying musical approach, found the experience transformative. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, toured the world, been in studios and this is absolutely, a singular experience for me” she remarked.
The semi-circular arrangement dissolved typical theatrical boundaries. No raised stage. No separation. We weren’t an audience being performed at—we were part of a vibrational field, our very presence changing the room’s acoustics.
The West Village Theatre was the ideal venue for this kind of experimental work. The industrial qualities of the space complemented the production’s stripped-down aesthetic. This was less a performance than a controlled listening experiment. Drums became a shared pulse. Breaths synchronized. Time itself seemed to stretch and compress.
Not everyone would embrace this approach. Those seeking narrative would leave confused. But for audiences willing to abandon expectations, Echoes of the Land offered something extraordinary—an experience unlike anything else.
Rose has proven himself a true artistic innovator. As the Artistic Director of Ghost River Theatre, he continues to redefine theatrical possibilities. Recognized with awards like Avenue Magazine’s Top 40 Under 40 and the Lieutenant Governor of Alberta Artist Award, Rose is creating a legacy in Calgary that will inspire future generations.
Echoes of the Land was a creative earthquake. Ghost River Theatre isn’t just pushing boundaries—they’re demolishing them. Other theatre companies should take note. This is the future of performance: bold, uncompromising and raw. I left with a head full of questions about what theatre can be when it stops trying to be theatre.
