The leap is high and it leads with the chest, arms and legs splayed wide. If you capture it in a photograph, you could mistake it for someone jumping out of an airplane, the wind resistance curving the limbs behind.

It’s one of the central gestures of Elizabeth Johnson’s “Impulsive Minors,” which her company, Your Mother Dances, premiered this weekend. Never one to shy from bringing life experience into her work (as the name of her troupe suggests), Johnson has turned everyday youthful angst and energy into a funny and ultimately touching portrait of life in the teen set.

So that leap seems to capture the polar opposites of a certain age: a bold hissy fit of self-dramatization, or a joyful and fearless leap into the future.

Built around seven Chopin Nocturnes (all in minor keys), “Impulsive Minors” starts with an ideal of order and balance. Phrases are on the beat, and coolness prevails. It might be the family ideal. Or just a vision of life before hormones. But it soon gives way to a less ordered world. There is some loose-kneed dramatics in “Lazy (or Drunk),” and internecine feuding erupts in “I’m not touching you.” As the piece unfolds, limbs become increasingly tangled in ways that suggest both car-back-seat spats and the tangles of emerging egos and personalities. But there are also moments of great tenderness and intimacy, suggesting all the trials and tribulations of shared genes, history and living quarters.

Part of a program called Stripped Roundly, “Minors” was presented “in-the-round” in a small studio in UWM’s Mitchell Hall. Lighting and costumes are minimal. But it's the intimate quarters that make it a provocatively different viewing experience: performers are often only an arms-length away, and choreographic arrangements are environments that surround you, rather than stage pictures that you can take in all at once. And there’s something stirringly visceral to feeling the floor under you quiver a bit when a dancer lands a jump or stomps a foot.

There was a good deal of that quiver in Luc Vanier’s “Deflating Debussy,” which uses Tim Russell’s deconstruction of “Claire de Lune” to spin variations for three dancers. There’s ample signs of Vanier’s history in ballet here, but also his fondness for experimental push, taking positions and gestures to extremes in inventive ways. While the program notes declare it an exploration ballet technique around the shoulders, I was most struck by the pretzel-logic of the dancers’ legs, sometimes crossed and recrossed in ways that created striking new body positions.

In Johnson’s “The Grey Side,” dedicated to the memory of Ed Burgess and others who have recently died, Johnson uses spoken text and music to get right to the big questions. There is again complex partnering, signs of sometimes effortless and sometimes uneasy human interaction. But the final moments move most of the nine dancers (including Johnson) into isolation, a collection of individual souls and memories that lingered even after the lights faded.