The transmission of emotion through dance is a daunting task, especially when the artist has a bare stage, minimalist costumes, and no props to actualize his vision. Yet the visualization of the human soul through movement is the root of modern dance. It is an art whose realization demands nothing less than the seamless fusion of creative construction, flawless technical execution, and flashes of spontaneity in performance. The Boston Conservatory Dance Theater’s fall production, which featured Conservatory upperclassmen in three world premieres as well as an excerpt from Martha Graham’s classic “Chronicle,” masterfully communicated a lasting artistic message this past Friday.

“Braid,” the absorbing brainchild of Conservatory faculty member Daniel McCusker, opened the night. The curtain parted to reveal a dimly lit stage dotted with dancers in an array of form-fitting shades, from subdued violet to loud magenta hues. First swaying in unison to composer Guy Klucevsek’s quirky, contemporary take on Victorian parlor music, the dancers soon moved into standard dance formations that were enlivened by energetic jumps and elegant attitude turns that landed in generous lunges. McCusker’s choreography settled well into the nooks and crannies of Klucevsek’s music as dancers shifted their motions to match a longing waltz, a confident tango-based string passage, and a frenetic, animalistic segment reminiscent of a snapshot from Salvador Dali’s surrealist portfolio.

But the transitions between McCusker’s creative motifs seemed unsteady at times, as the dancers’ changes in character seemed to lag during these moments. The occasional shaky turns and a lighting scheme that sometimes masked the dancers’ facial expressions did little to detract from the overall performance, which ended with a rhapsodic chorus of movement.

The lingering radiant mood “Braid” created immediately dissipated as performers took their positions for “Von,” choreographed by faculty member Jim Viera. The dramatic lighting effects and neutral costume shades complemented slow, beseeching arm movements that developed into intricate floor work. Throughout the piece, the dancers’ frequent level changes, strategic exhaling sounds, and upward-reaching motions seemed to mimic a bird’s struggle to spread its wings and to escape the agonizing bondage of loneliness. As Sigur Ros’s music intensified and transitioned into a rolling rhythm, the entire cast moved in a series of enclosed turns suggestive of the inevitable continuation of time. The energy in the hall remained suspended for a moment after the final scene, as the dancers leaned backwards in simultaneous peace and determination against the auditory backdrop of lightly crashing waves.

While “Von” hinted at the endurance of the human spirit, “Echoes,” a creation of Boston Conservatory alumnus Thang Dao, adopted a markedly darker tone. Dancers in plain white tunics shook their bodies to create a disturbing rumble with the outline of two towers in the background. The dancers, who clumped together in interlacing formations with collectively supported individuals in various lifts, seemed to hint at the unity and grief that arose from the 9/11 tragedy. The performers’ masterful execution of Dao’s intricate choreography was especially noticeable in the partnering passages, where the pairs moved with both precision and remarkable emotional potency. The final image of the dancers covering their faces in quiet devastation was a simple visual statement that proved the communicative power of the cast and choreographer.

The final number of the evening was a heart-stopping performance of “Steps in the Street” from Martha Graham’s classic anti-war piece “Chronicle.” The dancers, dressed in full-length black garments designed by Graham herself in 1936, proceeded on-stage with rigid shuffles that were accented by the absence of music. An eerie, militaristic theme suddenly blared out, signaling the dancers to cover the stage with repeated, mechanical stag leaps that were almost inhuman in their unfeeling execution. A single woman (notably portrayed by Conservatory student Jessica Klein), stood center stage as the melee of jumping dancers milled around her, using twisted torso movements and jerking arm movements to convey her distress. The harsh, motorized choreography—which was directed by Yuriko, Graham’s former leading dancer who worked on the reconstruction of the piece with Graham in 1989—underlined the isolation and desperation of war and its aftermath. In the closing moments of the piece, the dancers formed a two-line “river” that stubbornly jerked Klein’s character backward as she struggled against the human current, evoking a gut-wrenching image that Graham detailed in the subtitle to the piece: “devastation—homelessness—exile.”

The Boston Conservatory Dance Theater’s performance was a reminder of what the synthesis of vision, artistry, and skill in dance really looks and feels like.