And then there is Memoli’s material, which takes the dance back to a time when Tharp was in her 50s and improvising to explore classical technique, experimenting with movement — spatially, rhythmically and sequentially. She was reinventing: stripping out preparations, pairing a loose top of the body with a classically held center, and using torque as a way to allow for more suspension.

When Memoli, who left the Graham company in 2024 to join Tharp’s tour, first watched the videos, she said her first thought was, “Wow, how can she move like this?”

Memoli and Tharp worked together to turn steps from those improvisations into phrase material. Memoli said it was — and remains — a challenge for her to move with more weight, to drop the pelvis instead of lift it. Graham is modern and grounded, but Tharp’s approach is different. One day, Tharp told Memoli to feel like a sponge full of water. “She was like, ‘Feel heavy,’” Memoli said. “When I dance Graham, I never feel heavy. Never. She worked a lot on my ankles and my feet.”

She added, “I learned that sometimes my impulse needs to start from my imagination and not from my body.”

Instead of going for everything 100 percent, she has learned to pull her focus inward. “Something that she always tell me is: ‘Don’t perform. Let the audience come to you. They will come. Trust it.’”

Dreamier than “Diabelli,” “Slacktide” takes place in an in-between world that emphasizes fluidity. “Slacktide,” also set to Glass, doesn’t have the punch of “In the Upper Room”; instead it embraces the idea of flow and, again, transformation. It’s named after the time when the tide seems to stand still before reversing, the moment when, as Tharp said, the out becomes the in.