Disparate works mesh in a satisfying, moving show

Ana Isabel Keilson evokes seabirds in her solo, "Tidal/Perch." (Lisa Poole for the boston globe)

CAMBRIDGE - A tiny crocodile perches like a butterfly on an outstretched finger. A frog's long tongue snags a helicopter the size of a bumblebee. A dragonfly carries a turtle aloft on an adventure through the air. Rick Fox's video "Beautylife . . . and other stories" was probably the most memorable work on the dance-oriented mixed bill "THISTHAT" at Green Street Studios this past weekend. That it had nothing to do with dance but still managed to fit beautifully is a testament to the vision and aesthetic of the concert's curator and producer, Daniel McCusker. The veteran dancer/choreographer believes all the program's works share a common concern for "structure combined with the intuitive," and hopes "THISTHAT" inaugurates a series of showcases bringing together kindred artistic spirits. I hope so, too.

McCusker included Fox's work because of the dance-like pacing and rhythm, and the play between details and panorama. Accompanied by the music of Tom Waits, slides of paintings/drawings made with spray paint and chalk on black paper unfurled, like a smudged nighttime fairytale, visually beautiful and emotionally poignant.

Ana Isabel Keilson's video, "Monitor 2," was almost static in comparison, a slow motion, fractured exploration of the dancer's body in extreme close-up. Her live solo, "Tidal/Perch," was a lovely evocation of seabirds. Arms out for flight or bent back like folded wings, she gingerly walked with legs lifting high, like a sandpiper along the water's edge. Periodically, avian gestures gave way to bursts of almost feral energy, with runs, jumps and rolls on the floor recalling the surge of the sea itself.

Brian Crabtree contributed two works featuring movement of lyrical, long-lined sweep with a palpable sense of slowly shifting weight. It was especially nice to see him with Marjorie Morgan, connecting and disconnecting with the emotional comfort of longtime associates and the physical ease of breathing in and out.

Kate Nies's disquieting, enigmatic "how to stop time" seemed to portray three women in the throes of madness. Long moments of stillness or slow motion poses of utter exhaustion and defeat were juxtaposed with mania, legs and arms slicing the air, hands flinging outward or frantically shivering as if casting out demons.

Caitlin Corbett's excerpts from the work-in-progress "Tom's Wealth: A Dance for the Masses" featured an excellent professional quintet in fluid, lyrical shifts of weight, legs curving in and out at the hips. "The masses" were a mixed group of 25 dancers of all ages and body types in a lovely series of leans and lifts, carries and supports, and oh-so-gentle collapses to the floor.

One of the evening's most eloquent works was also the simplest. In Melody Ruffin Ward's "City of Heaven," she stood shoulder to shoulder with baritone Frank Ward. As he sang about "startin' to make heaven my home," Ward repeatedly stretched high and sank to the floor, her muscular arms reaching out and in, up and down in great curves, as if trying to connect heaven and earth.