Hands float, sneak, snake, dowse, elongate, coil, swirl and fuss, always leading the way through space bristling with energy. Encircled by watchers, Lance Gries and his fellow dancers come and go. An austere, sometimes billowing Jimena Paz; a deific, stately Diane Madden; and Juliette Mapp, alternately ethereal and wry, they infuse the space with a visualized music.