Imagine a dance, 50 minutes long, during which every movement feels freshly invented.


That was my dazed and sustained impression of “Moon,” performed by Kathy Dunn Hamrick Dance Company at the Ground Floor Theatre.


Everything fit into the syntax of abstract modern dance, surely, but at the same time, it all seemed completely new.


Hamrick’s titular inspiration was our permanent natural satellite above. The movement of her six dancers — two males, four females — toyed with gravity and weightlessness as well as rapid shifts in velocity.


Line Upon Line Percussion — the award-winning musicians Adam Bedell, Cullen Faulk and Matthew Teodori — provided the trippy, insistently rhythmic score by manipulating what appeared to be several dozen instruments. It is paramount to note, however, that Hamrick choreographed “Moon” to silence. The music retroactively matched the movement without losing a single beat.


The dance ensemble — Jairus Carr, Cara Cook, Veronica DeWitt, Lisa Anne Kobdish, Clay Moore and Carissa Topham — performed the nonstop action with uniformly crisp brilliance.


Their outfits subtly suggested the 1960s of the Space Race, at first white Mod turtlenecks matched to sweats or jeans in gradations of gray, then loose purple tops over psychedelic orange flared pants.


The only sequences that lacked absolute clarity were the ones that lingered too close to the stage floor, and those moments were also partially obscured by other audience members — unless you sat on the front row.


The word “bravura” is not often applied to the chaste and often selfless world of modern dance. Yet here, one returns again and again to the mastery of mechanics. How do these musicians count at this rate and how is all this sound notated? How do the dancers sustain their incredible stamina and muscle memory for what must be thousands of singular movements?


No matter, this masterstroke of modern dance can and should survive its all too short stay at the Ground Floor.