RWDNY - Pearl Sea Project (3)

I have about two minutes on stage that I really like:

I kneel, holding the space. Then, slowly, the weight of my head takes over, and I bow to the floor. From kneeling, I unfold the right knee, and caress the air with my arms in a circle, and roll the air out – the way does with a carpet. I contract into what I think of as “sheltering under the rain” gesture, which my head hidden under my hands. But I peek out: and look. It’s like a bird looking. I take care to take in the space with my looking.

Then, cautiously, I step forth. The space expands before me, and I venture into this new space. My hands part the mists before me. I look down, my hand falls, like a pebble down a deep well, and my weight sinks with it; until suddenly, I find my weight supported by my right hand. Weight shift – I flip: over to left hand, up on left leg, and I’m flying. My body is suspended, parallel to the floor, my arms supported by the air beneath.

I shift back to vertical on my left leg; it’s a tiny lift up, and then off-balance, I scuttle back. My pelvis twists: left, right, and I push the space backwards, extending my left hand behind me. Cautiously, I come en point, fragile steps into the space – and then, with an undulation, my head gets thrown up and down: I see a spot. I reach for it, sinking down. I touch the earth, and remain there in this point of contact until the lights go out.

Ling Fen taught me and Katie in the first class, and by the second class, I’d figured enough of it to make it mine. I keep thinking that Robert will develop it (and he even said he wanted to outright), but he never does. Instead, he makes us do it every other rehearsal.

It’s good practice to be able to consistently deliver; and it’s a matter of staying present, and receiving feedback from the sensation. And of course, it felt different again on the stage. I was so near the front, all the suspensions in the air feel more risky.

Isabel said, “It felt like your stuff.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “It was meditative… slow, and detailed.”

I always find it amusing when people are able to tell me what “my stuff” is. I suppose it’s good to develop a recognizable aesthetic.

RWDNY - Pearl Sea Project (2)

12th July, 2008

A little further on into the project.
I’ve discovered that I hate learning movement from video.

Movement is a transmission of energy – not a series of arms and legs in certain positions.
That choreography was created in a certain moment in time; it had meaning then.
Now if one of those dancers came to teach me (the way Ling Fen does), then it makes sense. It is a transmission of meaning. I receive the quality of movement from what I am able to sense from the human being in front of me.

But video tape is a moment frozen in time. Meaning is not mediated by live, organic energy.
So we are learning dead structures; okay, sure, why not. It’s a matter of going in the front door or back. If the choreography is strong enough then as we do, we will discover (create) the meaning that arising from it. But there’s part of me that resists this Frankenstein work. Why do this when there are throbbing, living dancers in front of you? Why not create something that’s relevant to here and now and this particular group of movers?

Ok, I’m just tired, and this particular sequence makes no sense to me. What is this “Cambodian trio” – why are we being Cambodian sculptures?

19 July, 2008

One of those long RWDNY rehearsals where I seem to be waiting around, just soaking things in. I’m exhausted today – mainly from my morning tai chi with Victor. Did we really do so much? Or is it the accumulated weariness of the week? Seriously – this afternoon I was wiped out. I took a nap and when I woke up, my body felt so heavy, I just wanted to roll over and sleep again.

Working with big groups is tricky. It’s taxing to be hanging around. I feel a bit out of it. I like watching the dancers; but at the same time, I wonder: what am I doing here?

當一位演員覺得來與不來，確時與遲到都好像沒有大分別那麼，我會問:為什麼要花時間縯?我走有什麼意思? And so there exists an unspoken contract between actor and director: I’ll respect your rehearsal time if you respect the mine…

Still, it’s always valuable to watch. I particularly enjoy watching their main dancer, Ling Fen. I could watch her all day. Her movement is like clear water, so effortless and transparent. And the quality of attention, so lightly held; even when she is tired, even when she has a hurt back. She’s always present. They say in tai chi that your grasp should be like holding a bird: too tightly, and you’ll squash the bird; too loose, and the bird will fly away. Ling Fen’s movement etches the air, leaving an afterglow. Seriously, I could watch her all day.

RWDNY - Pearl Sea Project (1)

5 July, 2008

On top of my summer teaching load, this month I’ve taken on a dance project with New York choreographer Robert Wood (who used to be in Merce Cunningham’s dance company.) It’s a nice change for me to be performing instead of directing. and for the first time in three years, be dancing in performance (instead of acting in physical theatre)!

And it feels good! We are rehearing in this huge, beautiful gym in the Australian International School. The floor is a warm wooden colour, and the ceiling is really high. Higher even than Troy Dance Lab. The height and breadth of the whole place inspires huge expansive movement. It’s truly gorgeous to work in such a space.

Having been away from technique class for 2 years, I am pleasantly surprised to find that my technique has not only not rusted away, but I actually seem to have improved in my absence. Hard core tai chi has given me a strong center, and relaxed many of those shoulder and neck muscles that I used to tense up to compensate. Robert also teaches a softer version of the Cunningham technique – which, like tai chi, seems to aim for energy and extension with minimal muscular strength. It’s still as tiring as hell, as Robert likes to push the young bodies he has in front of him, but there seem to be many places where I can transfer my existing knowledge of the body over.

It’s odd though, to be surrounded by young, freshly graduated APA dancers. I discovered that I learn movement in a different way. After we were taught a fairly long sequence and retired to a corner of the hall to work through it ourselves, the first thing the APA dancers wanted to do was to chunk it down mentally. “Ok, so it’s three of these foot-things, sashay-turn on right foot…” As they did they would sketch through the movement minimally.

Meanwhile, what I wanted to do was to actually do the sequence a couple of times really slowly to understand the mechanics and anchor the sensation. By doing it full-out, I taste the continuity, and begin to understand “what this movement is about.” I mean, it’s not about “three foot-things” .. the third foot-thing should feel different from the first one, by virtue of repetition.

Here I’m beginning to sense how my understanding of movement is being shaped by the structure of my tai chi practice. Because that’s how things are done in tai chi. The 帥傅 gives you a single phrase a week to mull over like a koan, and when you learn the sequence – well, guess what? That’s a sequence that you’ll probably do every day for the rest of your life. The emphasis is on the quality of the movement, rather than the ability to memorise sequences.

Having directed a show recently, it’s interesting for me to experience the trajectory of a project from the performer’s side. I’m realizing how, as a performer, what I’m really asking for is for some to guide me. I want to be a tool in someone’s creation; I want to be well-used. And so my interest in the project , and how much time and effort I’m willing to plunge in is directly related to how much I believe in the choreographer’s overarching vision, and how much I feel that I am able to give in this structure.

I sense that Robert and I are quite similar in terms of spirit and intention. The way we might go about it may be a bit different, but as I am still very much trying to figure out my path, it is extremely useful to have someone with a wealth of experience as a reference point. There are still several choices being made in this project that I haven’t quite figured out yet, and I’m trusting that I might come to understand them better in the coming 2 weeks.

Getting the Contact culture moving...

One thought that keeps humming in my head (not necessarily related to the choral dance piece in December) is about the development of Contact improv in HK. Basically I went to a body-voice workshop a couple of weeks ago and heard a lot of interest in Contact; but the thing is in HK there is not really enough leadership or expertise to really keep it humming. There's a group that meets twice every month (which I went to on Sunday), but the group is really inexperienced and the form cannot grow just by jams at their level.

So I think one of the things I am interested in doing is to devote some time get Contact moving in HK; we basically need a critical mass of people with enough expertise and interest to keep it going; which means that I will have to get enough expertise to teach it and train this group.

Part of this journey will be to find a improv movement form that makes sense for HK; through the movement awareness classes I teach / jams I have been to here I suspect that there is a great potential for HK to develop its own contact vocabulary/flavour; one that comes from tai chi's "pushing hands"... (it is a sort of combat-testing form)...

This may mean going to the States (good excuse to visit my friends on the West coast) and getting back in touch with a community of good Contact dancers; take some intensives and then figure out a way to teach Contact... I know how to play/jam but I need to figure out how to teach it. The last time I took a Contact class was, um, way back in Swarthmore with Leah Stein

Something also culturally specific here is the hesitancy the average person has in physical contact. We're not a very touchy culture, particularly towards the opposite sex. Most of our dance forms are visual more than kinaesthetic (think fan dance, ribbon dance, etc). Put in another way, this hesitancy can be articulated as a sacredness of touch- that the moment of first touch is much more significant. So I would like to explore a form that respects the importance of contact... and at the same time is able to access the universal exhilaration of falling and tumbling in movement.


> regular jams in HK are organised by Kongtact Square