Luisa Lynch X Elan Robinson + Sydney Goldston at The yellow Room

Elan Robinson + Sydney Goldston

The yellow Room

June 26, 2026

“What is the difference between a safe space and a hiding space?” a lined piece of paper gently ripped out from a journal asked me, alongside a drawing of two stick figures, a house and another question: “What builds your home?”

The two stick figures on the paper can presumably be identified as Sydney Goldston and Elan Robinson, a choreographic and dancing duo based in Washington, D.C. I found this paper hiding underneath a speckled lamp on a corner table when attending their show at The Yellow Room at the end of June. “My home is a little hiding place” is an in-process work that explores home as a refuge, a place to unmask, a space of enjoyment. I had the absolute pleasure of both seeing their show and sitting down for an Artist Talk with them all thanks to Blythe of The Yellow Room and David at Dancing in the District. 

“We were inspired by Blythe’s house [too]. Just being in the house…” Sydney trailed off.

“It’s so beautiful,” Elan said, finishing her sentence.

“Yeah,” Sydney continued. “We just showed up here to rehearse and was like ‘This is  just so…’ It just felt so peaceful. It felt so calm.”

Sydney and Elan only contributed to the peaceful atmosphere that The Yellow Room already exhibits, with ambient lighting, favorite music, and giggles shared between each other. I found their movement quality to be fluid and full of spirals, especially under blue lighting. This is the vibe I’ve experienced from their work, which has often featured peaceful sounds of rain and calm yet commanding travel through space, at other performances such as New Releases at Dance Place. Water is a common theme that they explore in their work, be it through movement quality, lighting or sound.

“When we would think about how to make a complete piece to put on stage for New Releases, we were like ‘Well why are we trying to force making all these steps for 12 minutes when that’s so far from who we are?’” Elan said, in response to my intrigue of the concept of bringing “rehearsal to the stage” that Sydney brought forward when speaking about their artistic process. They emphasized the importance of improvisation and music playlists in their process when creating work, which I noticed as soon as I walked through the door at their show. Where previous artists at The Yellow Room, including myself, had left open space for the audience to file into before the show, Sydney and Elan were warming up and playing music from their laptops. Already, The Yellow Room itself seemed like their home that they were inviting us into, that despite only having rehearsed in the space itself a couple of times, at the front of the space were their stories and friendship, illuminated by movement when invisible footsteps and distant music faded away. This is how I would best describe their work.

There was an ephemerality that existed as they ran between rooms, played hand puppets behind sheets, and changed music from the oldies to rap and trap on their laptops unpredictably by using their phones. They explored every crook, crevice and cranny of Blythe’s first floor that they possibly could. As I told them in the interview, I genuinely had no idea where they were going to go next. 

“Our videographer (Shannon Braine) said the same thing,” Sydney said, laughing. “We threw her in. We told her where we would… we’re using this room and this room, you don’t have to get the hallway. But because it was an improv score, we were also… we didn’t even know where we’re gonna go.” 

Improvisation in dance often works that way. Sydney and Elan didn’t even know exactly what music would be playing at any given time, they just went with what they felt was right in the moment. I likened them to “being their own tech booth” with the elements of lighting and sound being visible to the audience. Honestly, that sheds light on what dancers truly are: multifaceted. We are performers, choreographers, sound curators, lighting designers, facilitators and so much more. With Sydney and Elan both being as brilliant as they are, it’s no surprise that teaming up has afforded them opportunities such as commissions and performances.

“I think reflecting on it now, I don’t know what I would’ve done post-grad if we weren’t like… if we hadn’t met and started making work, because I had no plans,” Elan shared, Sydney agreeing alongside her. I can strongly relate to that feeling, because as mentioned multiple times in our chat, creating work alongside my collaborator, Jadyn Brick, has been the biggest part of my artistic career thus far. And, the whole reason why Sydney and Elan met was because of DC artist, arts administrator and educator Shanice Mason, who is in a choreographic and collaborative duo with DC interdisciplinary artist and community curator, Jamison Curcio. Shanice was teaching the class that Sydney and Elan met at back in 2024, introducing each other as fresh 2024 grads… and now they’re making work together. Maybe the best things come in twos.

Despite being a duet, Sydney and Elan rarely touched while dancing together at The Yellow Room. In fact, they were often on opposite sides of the house, living in different worlds of sound and lighting, or only as close to each other through a hanging silhouetted bed sheet, mirroring each other’s movement. Yet despite this distance, no matter how big or small, they were still in communication. To me, that’s what most feels like a home, be it in a house or in a person: even when there’s distance, there’s still meaningful connection. Even when there’s distance, that love, trust and respect is still there. Those are often the best friendships. I can project that this is how Sydney and Elan’s friendship will be in the years to come. To be able to find refuge in another person, especially a friend, is truly a gift.

“What do you feel like you’re hiding from?” I asked, leaving them both pondering for a moment. 

“I feel like when I’m going out places, interacting with people, there is some sort of perception of just like, how I’m being seen, how I’m presenting myself, how I’m interacting with other people. And being able to just go home at the end of the day and not have to worry about any of that, feels nice and relieving,” Sydney responded thoughtfully. 

Living next to the aforementioned paper of questions, a house drawing and two stick figures, was also a page of notes, seemingly from their artistic process. One of those notes was: “Hide behind different walls/furniture pieces – which parts of ourselves do we show the audience/others?” This note, paired with their shared secret of how the show was going to go, not only shows that one of their favorite hiding places is each other, but also that they are in constant exploration together. As artists, this unknown is where their comfort seems to lay right now. Sydney mentioned sometimes feeling stuck as a dance professional, thinking to herself, “Oh, what do I have to say? Who am I? What am I trying to get across? What’s important?” What has helped both her and Elan get unstuck from moments like this, are to instead change their thought processes to redirect from feeling the need to pose answers, when what currently comes more naturally to them, is posing questions. We could all probably take a lesson from their book in that way.

Now, because I’m me, I had to ask them when they told me they had been friends for nearly two years in early July: How were they going to celebrate their two-year friendaversary?! At the moment, that is still yet to be determined. But I have a feeling it’s going to be with music, dancing, and a whole lot of giggles.

You can view the full Artist Talk between myself, Sydney and Elan in the above video!

Luisa Lynch (she/they) (@luisalynch) is a queer, mixed-race dance artist and educator based in Washington, D.C. In her work, practice, and life, Luisa reimagines dance through reclamation of the body, and aims to highlight intersectionalities of all identities and selves! You can read more about Luisa on our STAFF page!