Just as an appetizer gives a foreshadowing of the success or failure of the meal to follow, so the Ringling’s “Micro-WIP@TheHat” (micro works-in-progress at the Historic Asolo Theater) gives audiences just enough of a taste of a new idea by an emerging artist to suggest whether that creative kernel deserves expansion into a full course or an off-load into the recycling bin.

Happily, the 10-minute glimpses into the nascent works of this year’s four MicroWIP artists – choreographers Rita duClos and Tania Vergara Perez, magician and mentalist Star Newman and storyteller Terrance Jackson – appeared to leave the audience curious and hungry for more.

Now in its fourth year, the curated program provides four working artists who live in either Sarasota or Manatee counties with a small stipend, rehearsal space and the technical and moral support to explore a new idea and then present it to a live audience, an essential step in the creative cycle. The hope of the artists, of course, is that the works may eventually be developed into full-evening length productions, but, according to The Ringling’s Curator of Performance, Elizabeth Doud, that’s not the goal of the program. The impetus is to allow these artists the opportunity to experiment and find out what works, and what doesn’t.

The May 8 showcase began with Star Newman in a rhinestone-covered dress so dazzling it seemed to personify her name. (By the way, it is not a stage name. As she explained in her comedic banter, “My parents were hippies.”) Newman is a magician, but not the kind that pulls rabbits out of a hat. Rather she’s devoted to exploring wonder as an experience that serves as a catalyst for human connection.

In “Given the Room,” a title that perfectly captures the piece and her intention, she invites the audience to play an integral role in the “how’d she do that?” She begins by tossing a star-shaped pillow into the orchestra seats and asking whomever catches it to choose where the image cards she holds up should go – to a stand on one side of the stage labeled “Here” or on the other side labeled “There.” Then that person tosses the pillow to another observer to do the same until all the cards are distributed.

I won’t say how – because, in fact, I have no idea how – but by the end of the process, she not only reveals that she’s correctly predicted where each card would go, but she’s also placed them in an order that, when they’re flipped over, reveals a message relevant to the time, place and theme. This left me not only impressed, but wishing she could go on with the show.

Rita du Clos, a classically trained ballerina who danced with The Sarasota Ballet before spending more than a decade performing edgy, contemporary ballet in Germany, showcased “Single Exposure,” a solo performed by her friend and colleague Bridgett Zehr. (She met Zehr, a product of The Sarasota Ballet’s Dance the Next Generation school program, when they danced in the same company in Germany and they both returned to Sarasota about the same time. Which just goes to show, it’s a small world.)

To an electronic score written by du Clos’ friend Paul Calderon that also included the sound of recorded familial voices from Zehr’s childhood, the work drew from a traditional ballet vocabulary in a way that was anything but classical.

Zehr is intoxicating to watch, with legs that seem to start at her neck even before she rises up on pointe. Dressed in a metallic leotard, she shifts fom standing to kneeling to laying prone; walks aimlessly around on pointe like a long-legged stork; watches some intangible substance fall through her fingers; or collapses on her stomach and forearms appearing to sob. When you least expect it, she abruptly flexes a foot, turns out her feet, heels together, in a first position, or drops into a deep plie.

These sometimes fleeting images made me think of a series of photographs, single frames that held the elusive possibility of some intangible connection. While this seemed the least evolved of the four pieces on the program, it suggested the enticing possibilities of a more expanded work, perhaps with video projections and ensemble sections.

Terrance Jackson is a storyteller and his “Fly Chicken, Fly!” was a delightful tale about a young chicken who dreams of being able to fly – a dream he inherited from his late father, who met his demise trying to do just that. Dressed in black and seated on a stool center stage, Jackson is a charming and engaging presence, especially when he takes on the voices and mannerisms of the characters he’s portraying. You could just imagine this as a bedtime story that would hold a child rapt. In fact, Jackson revealed in a talk-back that his own "dream” would be to see the story become a children’s book or a kids’ TV show.

The final presentation was an excerpt from what Cuban choreographer Tania Vergara Perez, of Tania Vergara Dance-Theater, intends to build into a full-length work. The inspiration for “Echoes of My Barrio” comes from a recording she made of the sounds of street life in her native Camaguey when she visited the island last year. The musical and rhythmic calls of the pregoneros (street vendors) – sometimes replicated by her three dancers (Isabella Serrano, Anais Pilarte and Aiden Bjorklund) – provide the audio backdrop, along with salsa music and an original computer-created song with dialogue that conveys the persecutions and restrictions of life in her native land.

Within this brief excerpt, the dancers move from joyous playfulness to onerous exertion, lifting heavy sacks and making their way with a plodding determination. Vergara Perez’s choreography is deeply organic and at the same time unlike anything you may have ever seen a human do. But having been to Cuba myself, I can attest to how authentically this piece captures both the vibrancy and the poignancy of a place where life is hard in almost every way, but the people remain unbowed.

In a talkback following the presentations, moderated by Sydney Lemelin, the former assistant of performance curation, the artists shared insights into their creative processes; thoughts about the experience of being in the MicroWIP program and their aspirations for the continuation of their work. All of it, to my mind, is deserving of the opportunity for further elaboration.

As Lemelin said, “This just goes to show what can be done in 10 minutes.” Now, bring on the entree.