"Chamber Works I - Intimate Dances for a Small Space" - NYTimes.com There is something to be said for the excitement of grand stages and sweeping spectacles. But there is a particular, more visceral thrill that comes from being in a tiny space. This thrill is heightened when these dancers are first-rate artists - the anticipation alone of close encounters creates its own buzz. Chamber Works I: Intimate Dances for a Small Space Robert Swinston and Vicky Shick at La MaMa, part of the La MaMa Moves! festival. And so, the preshow enthusiasm Friday of Nicky Paraiso, the curator of the La MaMa Moves! dance festival, was understandable and charming. "This has already become one of my favorite programs in the whole festival," he declared at a curtain speech at the Club at La MaMa. "Curtain speech" here is a figure of speech. There is no curtain in the diminutive Club, the setting for "Chamber Works I: Intimate Dances for a Small Space." New York is full of tiny theaters, but there is something distinctively charming about the Club, with its exposed brick walls and creaky floors. It has character, and history. La MaMa is celebrating its 50th season this year. On Friday there was a lot of history onstage, too. Does it get any better than watching Robert Swinston dance with Vicky Shick, in Ms. Shick's "So Be It - Not a Piece - Miniatures for Five"? They were joined by Jon Kinzel, Marilyn Maywald and Cathy Weis, all distinctive performers. Still, it was hard to look away from Mr. Swinston and Ms. Shick. I found my eyes continually traveling to their feet; between his decades with the Merce Cunningham Dance Company and her years with Trisha Brown and a host of other artists, just imagine how many steps those two have taken. Marvelous. True to its title, "So Be It," created in collaboration among these five, gave more than enough room for individual moments. There was lots of waiting around - Mr. Kinzel and Mr. Swinston shared M&M's, looking almost interested in their colleagues" actions - and high silliness as well, as when Ms. Maywald sped along the brick wall, flapping her arms melodramatically. And, of course, there were delicious moments of pure movement invention. While this "not a piece" doesn't exactly hang together, the sense of five artists having a conversation in languages shared and distinct was a pleasure to take in. In Maura Nguyen Donohue's "present.tense (progressive)," the conversation was less freewheeling. Speaking into a megaphone, Aretha Aoki gave often inaudible directions. Ms. Donohue responded in movement while the composer Adam Cuthbert attended to two tables of electronic equipment, building a layered, thrumming soundscape. All three wore silver-and-red athletic gear. The movement, composed by Ms. Aoki following Ms. Donohue's score, at times existed in too narrow a register, or perhaps needed more articulation in its delivery. But Ms. Donohue is a compelling presence, and a fierce one. "I just can't remember what I love until I'm at the end of it," Ms. Aoki said. She ordered Ms. Donohue to shake. Strands of hair plastered to her face, she kept going, and going. Simply watching felt like something of a communal endurance test. Juliette Mapp presented the night's only solo, "Dark Matter." Like its score, John Cage's "Two for Violin and Piano or Sho," "Dark Matter" is spare and pensive. But Ms. Mapp is an expansive and rich performer, and her every step is considered. When she hinged at the waist over one bent knee, so that her fingertips floated just above the floorboards, next to her raised foot, much more seemed to hang in the balance than her body. All of these works had the feel of sketches. This at times felt dissatisfying. And yet what fine company these artists are; it was good to peer inside their notebooks - good to share a small amount of time and space with them.