Red apples suspended in space and spread about the floor, plus a rectangle of rich green grass are the backdrop to “A Story About Apples,” a subversive duet that opened Gabriel Masson Dance’s impressive evening at San Diego State last weekend.

The gorgeous spatial design of apples and grass serve as a fine analogy for Masson’s delicious work, which digs deep into the layers of the human condition and cultural norms.

In “A Story About Apples,” (2005) Masson rewrites the ancient narrative of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, and rejects the idea that women are subordinate.

Dressed in brilliant sheer red shirts and pants, designed by Bonnie Pasguarelli, Masson and Sarah Ebert moved as equals in a courtship of circles and intertwined arms. They happily plucked the forbidden apples from the suspended tree of life, and carefully moved the precious fruit from hand to hand. It was the new and improved Eden, but it wasn’t utopia either. A mysterious mix of modal melodies by Giovanni Sollima and poetry by Christopher Knowles soon whipped the couple into sharp and jagged encounters. When the battle was over, they respectfully renewed their love with hip-to-hip wiggles and planted their apples like seeds in the garden of grass.

Masson moved to San Diego after disbanding his New York-based company a few years ago, and has lured some of the best dancers in the area to join his new company here. A former dancer with the legendary minimalist Lucinda Childs and Doug Varone, his movement is based on the style of Jose Limon and can be intensely physical, but it’s also clean and subtle. As a performer, Masson is mesmerizing.

In his solo, “The Day Before Tomorrow,” (2001) he coiled his fingers and grabbed at the air, as if trying to hold onto days long gone. He twitched and reached up, then faltered, but rose again and again but with a slight grin, choosing life every time. This Spartan piece worked because Masson controlled his internal focus to reveal an imaginary world. Even with his eyes closed, he commanded the space.

The chilling solo “Inevitable” (1999) with Ebert contained a similar movement vocabulary, but it was far more ominous and filled with angst. Dressed in drab olive green and brown, Ebert moved in tormented rebounding bends and head propelled circles to a screeching violin concerto by Phil Glass. Near the end, Masson’s company of dancers weaved past her in near-miss walks. They moved like zombies, oblivious to her pain. Ebert ignored them too, and continued her eternal struggle into silence and a light fade.

Some of the most challenging choreography and technically impressive dancing came in “Love: Story” (2000)(Part II of the Human Series), a bawdy loose narrative about four misfits who can’t decide on a life partner. Victor Alonso was a two-timing bastard, Eric Geiger was a quiet wallflower, Jillian Chu was a sweet gal in denial, and Elizabeth Buffy Swallow was a glittering teaser, who stirred the steamy love-pot.

Musical clips from crooner Dean Martin to big band swing provided the momentum for endless vignettes filled with energized tangles, tangos and daring lifts, and all were performed with zeal. Swallow was especially sizzling throughout the 27-minute piece. Yes it was long piece, and some sections didn’t quite connect, but this gem just needs a few tweaks and some editing to make it move faster.

“Power: Play” (2001) (Part IV of the Human Series) was also a restaged portion of Masson’s collaboration with composers, designers and his New York City-based company. To a pounding Graham Fitkin piano score, dancers Veronica Martin-Lamm, grace shinhae jun, Victor Alonso, and Bradley Lundberg ran through the space like projectiles, clustered then scattered, like negative and positively charged particles. Fists and feet were swinging as they circled and created marvelous spatial designs on the floor. (These floor patterns could not be seen when they performed at the Celebrate Dance Festival in August in a theater with no rake.) Dressed in yellow, green, red, and blue, the dancers moved as separate entities, each with a personal vocabulary revealed in mini-solos. But they were also a connected body, as shown when Alonso threw himself backward into the arms of his friends, trusting that they would catch him. It was a fitting end to the program. Masson is a dynamic choreographer with a vibrant new company, and with this compelling show, he made many more new friends.