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Opening act performed by Dentye dance partnerand founder of Urban Groove JoelTan and his team
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Ms. Yee Pek Kuan, Group Brand Manager of Cadbury and grand prize winners Votion Force
Friday, August 20, 2010
Dentyne ConfiDance Movement Grand Finals
Opening act performed by Dentye dance partnerand founder of Urban Groove JoelTan and his team
Ms. Yee Pek Kuan, Group Brand Manager of Cadbury 
Sunday, August 15, 2010
(D) Balik Kampung - 8 August 2010
Exciting show by trio on brief balik kampung
Three Malaysian talents show exciting potential at a show designed to welcome their brief return.
BALIK KAMPUNG
Aug 4-5,
Experimental TheatreAkademi Seni Budaya dan Warisan Kebangsaan
ASWARA’s Faculty of Dance, supported by MyDance Alliance, recently produced a contemporary dance performance to celebrate the Balik Kampung of its diploma graduates. The three, now full scholarship holders for Bachelor of Arts programmes, are home for the summer holidays and what better way to let the public glimpse their potential than through a performance.
The works are not about “returning home” but a series of solos and group works created by the young artists about themselves.
On that note, it would seem that Liu Yong Sean’s works, Uncertain Love and A Million Kisses to Your Skin, implied that the young man faced a relationship problem, though I could be wrong.
The former is a male solo, and the better work of the two. Uncertain Love opened with an aura of mystery with traditional singing matched by Liu’s contorted movements and hand gestures that lent only a hint of Khon or traditional Malay dance.
It was not clear if a cross-cultural schema was intended as those gestures did not reappear. For most part, Liu maintained his position within a horizontal line backstage. And when he finally left his comfort zone, he motioned his hand as if opening a door into another world.
Exploring a whole new space, he included little details into the dance that filled up every moment and pleasantly engaged the eye. At the end, he even threw in bits of acting with a fearful expression and used his hands to ward off something unseen at face level.
In this piece, Liu proved the strongest dancer of the evening, having fulfilled the criteria required of a solo artist – technical competence, grace, strength and charisma.
Choreographically, the piece conveyed uncertainty in the new world of love and fear of commitment.
A Million Kisses to Your Skin mashed a million ideas into one dance.The piece attempted to explain “something that’s not meant to work”, ironically, through a choreography that didn’t quite work.
The performance featured snippets of Fame, High School Musical, J-Pop club dancing, Michael Jackson’s Thriller MTV and even Malay theatre. Liu used text to explain away the trouble with the world today, and further illustrated choreography with cooking – that one can’t cook something that pleases everyone. Although the piece was fun to watch, it was conceptually puzzling.
The best choreography of the evening was Jame Kan’s Utopia. The word was coined by Sir Thomas Moore for his 1516 book of the same title, to describe a fictional island with a perfect society. Of course, Moore was utilising the concept as allegory and did not consider such an ideal place/society to be realistically possible.
Kan’s Utopia was simply a ray of light barely squeezing itself into a miserly spotlight at the front of stage. Throughout the dance, one or two dancers, hungry for a dose of hope, would make their way towards the spotlight, only to return, whether by force or by self-persuasion, to the group or “society”.
The conformist and the rebel are evident in society, as can be clearly seen in formations where one dancer is always isolated from the group. Kan orchestrated the group work like a well-timed musical fountain, maintaining group musicality with the constant crouching and rising movements.
The dancers took the mid-height as a place of retreat after rising or stooping, either individually or in unison. The middle ground that they took relayed the strength of the conformist position. Holding their stomachs and gyrating in pain, the dancers moved backwards disappearing into the darkness, as they hush-hushed any dirty secrets into oblivion.
In Utopia, I was convinced of Kan’s maturity as a choreographer, the way he used dance as a social voice.
His second piece, She, was somewhat underdeveloped and overly prop-dependent. Supposedly “a story about her”, the choreography actually reveals very little about the supposed subject.
Kan got it right by using a strong red theme in both costume and prop. The red cloth is symbolic of celebration in Chinese culture and it decorates the home on auspicious occasions. I liked the idea that “she”, dressed in red, is a celebration of life. However, as the dance went on, the relationship between “her” and the red cloth failed to be autobiographical in any way.
Lee Wen Yan’s rather ambiguous -ing, was a female duet that mostly walked and jogged stiffly side-by-side in circles. The dancers, looking like cone-headed aliens in their red hoods, were emotionless and somewhat mechanical in their demeanour. The dance ponders where one is going and seems to be lost. Although it gets the message across, the lacklustre approach diminishes its entertainment value.
Besides the graduates, Aswara students Fione Chia Yan Wei and Denny Donius presented noteworthy choreographies.
In Shape, a solo performed by Kan, Chia questions whether we, as humans, shape events or is it the other way round. The answer is both.
Chia first choreographs movements defined by shapes (circle, square and rectangle) created by lighting. In the circle, Kan moves in graceful, circular motions, which are sometimes reminiscent of tai chi. His eyes are fixated on his hands, which lead his movements.
In the square, Kan drew straight lines by flexing his body and rolling about, outlining the shape of the box. In the rectangular box, he ran from one end to the other, while stretching out his hands and legs – attempts to reach both ends of the rectangle.
In the conclusion, all three shapes appear at once, but Kan dances outside them. Finally, we see deliberate movements that are not defined by shapes.
This was an enjoyable piece with thematic clarity, poetically performed by Kan and easily understood by the audience.
Denny Donius danced his own choreography, Hometown, a melancholic and nostalgic solo. He created the right mood and expressions and used his body entirely and wholeheartedly to speak of the love and memories of the place he calls home. As he disappeared backstage into the darkness, a sense of longing lingered in our minds long after this beautiful solo had ended.
I was very excited about our home-grown talents and the potential they showed. But will they balik kampung when they graduate, or will they find appeal and better prospects on the international stage?
Well, I have yet to hear of talent-drain prevention programmes here.
Three Malaysian talents show exciting potential at a show designed to welcome their brief return.
BALIK KAMPUNG
Aug 4-5,
Experimental TheatreAkademi Seni Budaya dan Warisan Kebangsaan
ASWARA’s Faculty of Dance, supported by MyDance Alliance, recently produced a contemporary dance performance to celebrate the Balik Kampung of its diploma graduates. The three, now full scholarship holders for Bachelor of Arts programmes, are home for the summer holidays and what better way to let the public glimpse their potential than through a performance.
The works are not about “returning home” but a series of solos and group works created by the young artists about themselves.
On that note, it would seem that Liu Yong Sean’s works, Uncertain Love and A Million Kisses to Your Skin, implied that the young man faced a relationship problem, though I could be wrong.
The former is a male solo, and the better work of the two. Uncertain Love opened with an aura of mystery with traditional singing matched by Liu’s contorted movements and hand gestures that lent only a hint of Khon or traditional Malay dance.
It was not clear if a cross-cultural schema was intended as those gestures did not reappear. For most part, Liu maintained his position within a horizontal line backstage. And when he finally left his comfort zone, he motioned his hand as if opening a door into another world.
Exploring a whole new space, he included little details into the dance that filled up every moment and pleasantly engaged the eye. At the end, he even threw in bits of acting with a fearful expression and used his hands to ward off something unseen at face level.
In this piece, Liu proved the strongest dancer of the evening, having fulfilled the criteria required of a solo artist – technical competence, grace, strength and charisma.
Choreographically, the piece conveyed uncertainty in the new world of love and fear of commitment.
A Million Kisses to Your Skin mashed a million ideas into one dance.The piece attempted to explain “something that’s not meant to work”, ironically, through a choreography that didn’t quite work.
The performance featured snippets of Fame, High School Musical, J-Pop club dancing, Michael Jackson’s Thriller MTV and even Malay theatre. Liu used text to explain away the trouble with the world today, and further illustrated choreography with cooking – that one can’t cook something that pleases everyone. Although the piece was fun to watch, it was conceptually puzzling.
The best choreography of the evening was Jame Kan’s Utopia. The word was coined by Sir Thomas Moore for his 1516 book of the same title, to describe a fictional island with a perfect society. Of course, Moore was utilising the concept as allegory and did not consider such an ideal place/society to be realistically possible.
Kan’s Utopia was simply a ray of light barely squeezing itself into a miserly spotlight at the front of stage. Throughout the dance, one or two dancers, hungry for a dose of hope, would make their way towards the spotlight, only to return, whether by force or by self-persuasion, to the group or “society”.
The conformist and the rebel are evident in society, as can be clearly seen in formations where one dancer is always isolated from the group. Kan orchestrated the group work like a well-timed musical fountain, maintaining group musicality with the constant crouching and rising movements.
The dancers took the mid-height as a place of retreat after rising or stooping, either individually or in unison. The middle ground that they took relayed the strength of the conformist position. Holding their stomachs and gyrating in pain, the dancers moved backwards disappearing into the darkness, as they hush-hushed any dirty secrets into oblivion.
In Utopia, I was convinced of Kan’s maturity as a choreographer, the way he used dance as a social voice.
His second piece, She, was somewhat underdeveloped and overly prop-dependent. Supposedly “a story about her”, the choreography actually reveals very little about the supposed subject.
Kan got it right by using a strong red theme in both costume and prop. The red cloth is symbolic of celebration in Chinese culture and it decorates the home on auspicious occasions. I liked the idea that “she”, dressed in red, is a celebration of life. However, as the dance went on, the relationship between “her” and the red cloth failed to be autobiographical in any way.
Lee Wen Yan’s rather ambiguous -ing, was a female duet that mostly walked and jogged stiffly side-by-side in circles. The dancers, looking like cone-headed aliens in their red hoods, were emotionless and somewhat mechanical in their demeanour. The dance ponders where one is going and seems to be lost. Although it gets the message across, the lacklustre approach diminishes its entertainment value.
Besides the graduates, Aswara students Fione Chia Yan Wei and Denny Donius presented noteworthy choreographies.
In Shape, a solo performed by Kan, Chia questions whether we, as humans, shape events or is it the other way round. The answer is both.
Chia first choreographs movements defined by shapes (circle, square and rectangle) created by lighting. In the circle, Kan moves in graceful, circular motions, which are sometimes reminiscent of tai chi. His eyes are fixated on his hands, which lead his movements.
In the square, Kan drew straight lines by flexing his body and rolling about, outlining the shape of the box. In the rectangular box, he ran from one end to the other, while stretching out his hands and legs – attempts to reach both ends of the rectangle.
In the conclusion, all three shapes appear at once, but Kan dances outside them. Finally, we see deliberate movements that are not defined by shapes.
This was an enjoyable piece with thematic clarity, poetically performed by Kan and easily understood by the audience.
Denny Donius danced his own choreography, Hometown, a melancholic and nostalgic solo. He created the right mood and expressions and used his body entirely and wholeheartedly to speak of the love and memories of the place he calls home. As he disappeared backstage into the darkness, a sense of longing lingered in our minds long after this beautiful solo had ended.
I was very excited about our home-grown talents and the potential they showed. But will they balik kampung when they graduate, or will they find appeal and better prospects on the international stage?
Well, I have yet to hear of talent-drain prevention programmes here.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
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Saturday, January 16, 2010
AsiaDanceChannel Magazine, 1st Issue!
Finally, the first regional dance magazine for Asia - one that would truly give more exposure for Asian dance and dancers!
Now available in major bookstores and newstands in Malaysia nationwide or purchase online at www.asiadancestore.com.
Now available in major bookstores and newstands in Malaysia nationwide or purchase online at www.asiadancestore.com.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
(D) Re- Parts I, II and III (da:ns Festival 2009)
Re- Parts I, II and III
Shen Wei Dance Arts
da:ns Festival 2009
Esplanade, Theatres on the Bay
31 October 2009
By Choy Su-Ling
Shen Wei Dance Arts
da:ns Festival 2009
Esplanade, Theatres on the Bay
31 October 2009
By Choy Su-Ling
Photographs: Courtesy of Esplanade Ltd Co.
It is exciting times for performing arts in Southeast Asia when such an acclaimed name as Shen Wei premiers. Re- Parts I, II and III, a festival highlight, was created in response to Shen Wei’s journeys in Tibet, Cambodia, and China between 2005 and 2008.
China-born and New York-based Shen Wei studied Chinese Opera from the age of nine. In 1991, he became a founding member of the Guangdong Modern Dance Company, the first modern dance company in China. In 1995, he moved to New York to study, and later (2000) he formed Shen Wei Dance Arts (SWDA). The choreographer- director-dancer-painter-designer is widely recognised for his defining vision of an intercultural, interdisciplinary, and original mode of movement-based performance. And, he has received too numerous recognitions, awards and commissions (the latest being the Opening Ceremony of the 2008 Beijing Olympics) to mention.
On the large Esplanade proscenium, Shen already sketched a larger-than-life Tibetan mandala as audiences began to trickle in for Part I. The geometric shape becomes more defined as dancers, some sitting and some kneeling, and those walking about slowly, continuously sprinkled white confetti on the floor. This tedious construction was soon undone by the very same creators in hushed gliding and sweeping movements to the rhythm of their own breathing; and in the process, raising a storm of “snow”. The travelling across the “snow” has a floating quality, not unlike those in traditional Chinese dance. When the whole backdrop became a video wall of clouds, the stage was instantly “elevated” and the dancers seemed to be dancing on snow-capped mountains. Set to music of exiled Tibetan nun, Ani Choying Drolma, the dancers immerses in a meditative mood. As if dancing the breathing technique of qigong, the dance is very much like quiet breathing. The secret to the fluidity lies not only in the graceful restrain, but most critically, in finding the right and precise moment of release; the relief, the exhale. The second soloist in this piece was exceptional in doing so. While some made best efforts, a few dancers were too stiff for this temperament. These actions of weightless dropping and rising, and turning at mid-height, were no doubt mesmerizing; but it went on and on, leaving a conclusion wanting.
In contrast, Part III chugs along like a train charging across industrial and urban landscapes. Everything in this piece projects a progressive China; almost like watching a propaganda video for aggressive growth. Those who do not keep up or oppose to this development are “tossed about” within an impenetrable forward-moving phalanx formed by dancers, dressed in green, and marching militaristic-style, advancing resolutely with building momentum towards gains of economic power. But then, Shen sneaks in an element of caution, warning of the dangers of moving ahead too fast. Those who buy the propaganda soon find themselves like mechanical robots as depicted by the stiff marionette-like and staccato movements to the artificial tinkling sounds of music box music and the tick tock of Fayolism. In the partnering sections, we see pairs leaning against each other as they pushed themselves upwards like high-rise buildings. It’s a fragile dependency and the dancers soon fall like crumbling buildings. To reflect the darker side of progress, dancers change into black costumes and the silhouette skyscrapers in the background stretches gradually into indistinguishable vertical charcoal strokes. Shen’s warning is not headed. In the end, dancers stood in a file to cartwheel two dancers flipping them like wheels of a brakeless train.
It is exciting times for performing arts in Southeast Asia when such an acclaimed name as Shen Wei premiers. Re- Parts I, II and III, a festival highlight, was created in response to Shen Wei’s journeys in Tibet, Cambodia, and China between 2005 and 2008.
China-born and New York-based Shen Wei studied Chinese Opera from the age of nine. In 1991, he became a founding member of the Guangdong Modern Dance Company, the first modern dance company in China. In 1995, he moved to New York to study, and later (2000) he formed Shen Wei Dance Arts (SWDA). The choreographer- director-dancer-painter-designer is widely recognised for his defining vision of an intercultural, interdisciplinary, and original mode of movement-based performance. And, he has received too numerous recognitions, awards and commissions (the latest being the Opening Ceremony of the 2008 Beijing Olympics) to mention.
On the large Esplanade proscenium, Shen already sketched a larger-than-life Tibetan mandala as audiences began to trickle in for Part I. The geometric shape becomes more defined as dancers, some sitting and some kneeling, and those walking about slowly, continuously sprinkled white confetti on the floor. This tedious construction was soon undone by the very same creators in hushed gliding and sweeping movements to the rhythm of their own breathing; and in the process, raising a storm of “snow”. The travelling across the “snow” has a floating quality, not unlike those in traditional Chinese dance. When the whole backdrop became a video wall of clouds, the stage was instantly “elevated” and the dancers seemed to be dancing on snow-capped mountains. Set to music of exiled Tibetan nun, Ani Choying Drolma, the dancers immerses in a meditative mood. As if dancing the breathing technique of qigong, the dance is very much like quiet breathing. The secret to the fluidity lies not only in the graceful restrain, but most critically, in finding the right and precise moment of release; the relief, the exhale. The second soloist in this piece was exceptional in doing so. While some made best efforts, a few dancers were too stiff for this temperament. These actions of weightless dropping and rising, and turning at mid-height, were no doubt mesmerizing; but it went on and on, leaving a conclusion wanting.
In contrast, Part III chugs along like a train charging across industrial and urban landscapes. Everything in this piece projects a progressive China; almost like watching a propaganda video for aggressive growth. Those who do not keep up or oppose to this development are “tossed about” within an impenetrable forward-moving phalanx formed by dancers, dressed in green, and marching militaristic-style, advancing resolutely with building momentum towards gains of economic power. But then, Shen sneaks in an element of caution, warning of the dangers of moving ahead too fast. Those who buy the propaganda soon find themselves like mechanical robots as depicted by the stiff marionette-like and staccato movements to the artificial tinkling sounds of music box music and the tick tock of Fayolism. In the partnering sections, we see pairs leaning against each other as they pushed themselves upwards like high-rise buildings. It’s a fragile dependency and the dancers soon fall like crumbling buildings. To reflect the darker side of progress, dancers change into black costumes and the silhouette skyscrapers in the background stretches gradually into indistinguishable vertical charcoal strokes. Shen’s warning is not headed. In the end, dancers stood in a file to cartwheel two dancers flipping them like wheels of a brakeless train.
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Aesthetically, Part II is sculpturesque, visually showing Shen’s awe of Angkor Wat’s ancient splendour and timelessness. Light-footed dancers dressed in royal blue and purple flit like little birds against the backdrop of a blown-up image of the temple surrounded by thick foliage. They travel horizontally across the stage in a perpetual link, each dancer always using some part of their body to “catch” one another; all this to the peaceful soundscape of birds chirping and the distinctive rings of the nattuvanar’s cymbals, a reference to Hinduism. As they did so, a belt of traditional motif and temple engravings run across the backdrop. The first half of this piece has an endearing crispness in the well-coordinated group work, which is interspersed with movements that has a melting quality. On the other hand, the concluding scene was simply a vision to behold. Although this part of the world is less comfortable with nudity, there was nothing lewd about Shen’s human sculptures. He laid out a sensual display of dancers with painted bodies luxuriously outstretched and with their heads dropped way back in hiding. The dancers basked under the spotlights in a pose that reminds of the thick tree roots that protrude proudly on the temple grounds.
Re- Parts I, II and III was successful in demonstrating Shen Wei’s artistic originality and each “part” fully justifies his talent for creating unique movement language. However, as a whole, the piece fails to deliver the “re-“, which was supposed to “…invoke concepts of return, reconsideration and renewal.” With this point sorely missing, I left the theatre feeling a tad disappointed. But then again, it could just be my inflated expectations.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
(D) Jamu 2009
Jamu 2009
ASWARA, Kuala Lumpur
22 – 25 October 2009
This year’s JAMU was a four-day affair with a long list of contemporary line-ups simply split into ‘Program A’ and ‘Program B.’ JAMU is an annual contemporary dance production of the National Arts, Culture and Heritage Academy (ASWARA) featuring choreographies by the school’s dance lecturers and tutors.
Having followed almost all of the schools’ earlier productions including AWAS (2003) and the earlier JAMUs since 2005, JAMU 2009 finally displayed a crystallized Malay identity that melds smoothly into the contemporary dance form.
Wayang Orang by Mohd Seth Hamzah drew inspiration from our Wayang Kulit art form, creating dance emulating stiff puppet movements. Instead of the puppet ‘dancing’ behind the white screen, we see the shadow of a man dressed as a puppet acting the part of the real puppet. This concept revealed a unique reversal of characterization – puppets are usually created after human characters, but now, man reinvents himself as a puppet. This reinvention comes with the emancipation from the dalang as the man is free to move as he pleases. The stage was also decorated with white curtain strips from which dancers emerge to form two clearly delineated group works. The female group were gentle and graceful in their movements and seemed not to be in a hurry at all, while the male group provided the contrast with strong dynamics, befitting the Silat warrior.
When the film Perempuan, Isteri dan … featured the practice of nasi kangkang, a control spell cast on an unfaithful husband with the aid of a bomoh (witch doctor), it caused quite a stir. In this practice, the woman squats over a steaming pot of rice during the time of her menstruation, and then feeds her husband. Whether the spell works or not is debatable. Perhaps it is precisely this controversy that intrigued Aris Kadir enough to explore this topic in his dance Nasi Putih. The sarong- clad cast was predictable, featuring the long-suffering wife, the adulterous husband, and the temptress. Despite its also predictable storyline, the choreography, especially in its duets, explored quite thoroughly the various innuendos lurking in a triangular relationship including sexual tensions, sexual intimacy, male (gender) domination, domestic disputes, and rivalry amongst women.
Visiting Professor from the University of California, Wendy Rogers presented KL/CA Mix, a piece that is visibly different from her earlier Duet En Plein Air in which she performed with Jennifer Twilley at Lepas, Tetap Menari earlier this year. This piece explores chaos and order. We see how human structures ‘break from the line,’ and then, like karmic destiny, falls back into place/in line in a fluid, continuous momentum. KL/CA Mix displayed Rogers’ ability to create structures while giving dancers a free hand to develop their own movements.
Wong Kit Yaw takes more artistic liberties than he could in the still running Chinese musical I Have a Date with Spring by Dama Orchestra in Revisited. Wong’s tendency towards Chinese sensibilities in his works is apparent. Set against the 60s backdrop, he celebrates the female ethos of that era in a reminisce mood. A video plays in the background featuring a dim, smoky, collage of scenes taken from In the Mood for Love, a 2000 Hong Kong film set in the same era, directed by Wong Kar-wai; while at front of stage, the dancers distinguished themselves donning bright red or blue cheongsam and holding a pretty, dainty fan. The choreography was primarily group work sprouting effeminate gestures and small, subtle movements. A voice-over repeating the words ‘yesterday’s yesterday…’ in Mandarin became a constant reminder of the glorious years of past. In this piece, Wong did not focus on technique but on dramatic expression; and combined these with brilliant artistic direction that transports us into the past.
Of all Vincent Tan’s works I’ve watched, Autumn is the piece I enjoyed most. Light-hearted, playful, funny and colourful, the piece evoked the mood of a carefree, happy Sunday. Tan works with an all-male team to reflect on his cheerful youth. Each dancer had a unique character and the male-bonding did not miss boys’ disgusting traits and doses of cheeky nastiness in their interaction with each other.
Joseph Gonzales had preferred a more theatrical form in his recent works and I was pleasantly surprised when Touched featured a stronger dance element in it. To his credit, Gonzales’ Touched was the only piece that ‘touched’ on current issues; in particular, the recent deaths of several creative talents around the world. Current issues can be used as a powerful tool to engage the audience and thus, making it easy for them to understand dance – and this was the only piece that was largely understood. The tribute incorporated multimedia and projections of the deceased were screened larger-than-life, on the background and on the entire stage floor. Gonzales refers the deceased by first name – Michael (Jackson), Patrick (Swayze), Yasmin (Yusof), Merce (Cunningham), etc – as if he knew them intimately. However, the star of the show was not the dancers, but the multimedia projection. I found myself watching the video more than the dancers, who were relegated into a supporting role.
Suhaili Micheline Ahmad Kamil’s Nerds Gone Nuts was a delightfully entertaining piece. The choreography recently won first prize in Short + Sweet 2009’s dance category. With two teams of nerds, lots of toys and wacky demeanour, the lively piece certainly left the audience in stitches.
Gan Chih Pei’s Before 40 is my favourite piece in JAMU 2009. Not because I fit into this age group, but because of Gan’s artistic intelligence in conveying very clearly, the difficult task of describing what she feels, turning forty. If the title and synopsis did not suggest her age, I would have thought that a twenty-something in her physical prime was performing on stage. Gan’s technical mastery was clearly above the other dancers in this JAMU. Walking back and forth at the back very quickly across the stage, she re-enters, carrying a bundle of clothes - the bundle grows bigger each time she re-enters, and finally, she throws them on the bright, red, modern sofa. The bundle represents clothes that she wore over the years ranging from a pink baby tutu to baggy t-shirts. As we identify the age of a tree by counting its rings, so do we, of Gan’s age, as she charts every ten years of her life by putting on a top throughout the dance; and she had on four layers of clothes at the end of it. The circular hand and legs movements that dominate her choreography nicely complemented the ‘tree rings,’ nature’s way of telling age. A musician in plain sight played the di zhi (Chinese flute) underlining the reflective piece with melancholic notes. Before 40 was a simple, honest, and moving piece.
There were many items featured over the two programs. Suffice to mention, these are my top picks. And for RM10 per show, JAMU 2009 certainly outshines many costlier productions.
Monday, October 05, 2009
(D) It's Just Me Coughing...Literally
It Is Just Me Coughing
Directed, Visualized and Performed by: Zan Yamashita
Visual Operator: Fumi Yokobori
13 August 2009Annexe Gallery, Central Market
When Zan Yamashita first set foot on stage, I almost expected Scooby-doo to follow suit. Dressed in a washed-out-of-shape t-shirt and comfortable sweat pants, he certainly looked the Japanese version of the lanky lead Shaggy with shaggy hair and rough goatee to boot. However, there were no monsters or ghosts giving chase – just Yamashita justifying his mere existence with the simple act of coughing, a reflex triggered by a consciousness towards mortality.
In 2002, Yamashita created a trilogy that explores the relationship between language and body. The first piece, “It is Written There” was presented at the Itami Ai Hall (Hyogo). In this piece, the audience were constantly invited to turn the page of the book given at the entrance, as the stage host called the page number backwards, and to enjoy switching their gaze between the action on stage and the literature on the page. Two years later, Yamashita created “Invisible Man,” with the expression of dance through words, which was presented at the Tokyo International Art Festival; and in the same year, he received the Kyoto Art Center Theatre Awards for “It Is Just Me Coughing,” the last piece of the trilogy.
In his final piece, Yamashita invites us to enjoy a linear journey of Ozaki Hōsai’s haiku, translated from Japanese to English, ushered by the change of screen projection with every punch of the ‘next’ button. We shift our gaze from the text typed out on the digital media, a minimalist projection, to the stage where Yamashita realizes text into movement. Over time, we learn to anticipate his movements by just reading the text first, because he would do exactly what the text read, over and over again.
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In the programme, Yamashita says that the projection will change each time he has taken 10 breaths. It is not the detailed account that we should be interested in, but more so, the fact that we take breathing for granted.
Text cannot be read continuously without pauses for breath. Likewise, the body cannot move incessantly without inhaling and exhaling air. And, a genuine cough is involuntary, very much like breathing.
However, I found myself reacting to such literal expression with suspicion. Throughout the performance I kept expecting a break from the format, a surprise entry of something that would keep me guessing. I have been so conditioned to expect nothing more than ‘self-interpretation’ when it comes to contemporary works that I found it difficult, with my self-afflicted prejudice, to ‘just embrace’ the work as it is, when the meaning is generously served in both written and movement languages.
Yes, I’ve become a part of the cynical society that has adopted the convoluted notion that, if it is too good to be true, it probably isn’t. And so, I was left in a state of constant impatience, anticipating how the piece would end.
While the work follows a direction that dictates the audiences’ imagination, clearly, I myself refused to be dictated. I was not a lonely cynic though. The disbelieving audience, during the post performance discussion, found it difficult to accept that the haiku was chosen simply because it was the shortest; and that he was just breathing, and not exhaling and inhaling in tandem with the score.
At the end of the trilogy, Yamashita finds that the relationship between language and body is a literal one. Why bother with such grand complexity when we can just appreciate simplicity? The lesson that we learn is that, if we stumble upon something that is too good to be true, it is, literally.
Directed, Visualized and Performed by: Zan Yamashita
Visual Operator: Fumi Yokobori
13 August 2009Annexe Gallery, Central Market
When Zan Yamashita first set foot on stage, I almost expected Scooby-doo to follow suit. Dressed in a washed-out-of-shape t-shirt and comfortable sweat pants, he certainly looked the Japanese version of the lanky lead Shaggy with shaggy hair and rough goatee to boot. However, there were no monsters or ghosts giving chase – just Yamashita justifying his mere existence with the simple act of coughing, a reflex triggered by a consciousness towards mortality.
In 2002, Yamashita created a trilogy that explores the relationship between language and body. The first piece, “It is Written There” was presented at the Itami Ai Hall (Hyogo). In this piece, the audience were constantly invited to turn the page of the book given at the entrance, as the stage host called the page number backwards, and to enjoy switching their gaze between the action on stage and the literature on the page. Two years later, Yamashita created “Invisible Man,” with the expression of dance through words, which was presented at the Tokyo International Art Festival; and in the same year, he received the Kyoto Art Center Theatre Awards for “It Is Just Me Coughing,” the last piece of the trilogy.
In his final piece, Yamashita invites us to enjoy a linear journey of Ozaki Hōsai’s haiku, translated from Japanese to English, ushered by the change of screen projection with every punch of the ‘next’ button. We shift our gaze from the text typed out on the digital media, a minimalist projection, to the stage where Yamashita realizes text into movement. Over time, we learn to anticipate his movements by just reading the text first, because he would do exactly what the text read, over and over again.
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In the programme, Yamashita says that the projection will change each time he has taken 10 breaths. It is not the detailed account that we should be interested in, but more so, the fact that we take breathing for granted.
Text cannot be read continuously without pauses for breath. Likewise, the body cannot move incessantly without inhaling and exhaling air. And, a genuine cough is involuntary, very much like breathing.
However, I found myself reacting to such literal expression with suspicion. Throughout the performance I kept expecting a break from the format, a surprise entry of something that would keep me guessing. I have been so conditioned to expect nothing more than ‘self-interpretation’ when it comes to contemporary works that I found it difficult, with my self-afflicted prejudice, to ‘just embrace’ the work as it is, when the meaning is generously served in both written and movement languages.
Yes, I’ve become a part of the cynical society that has adopted the convoluted notion that, if it is too good to be true, it probably isn’t. And so, I was left in a state of constant impatience, anticipating how the piece would end.
While the work follows a direction that dictates the audiences’ imagination, clearly, I myself refused to be dictated. I was not a lonely cynic though. The disbelieving audience, during the post performance discussion, found it difficult to accept that the haiku was chosen simply because it was the shortest; and that he was just breathing, and not exhaling and inhaling in tandem with the score.
At the end of the trilogy, Yamashita finds that the relationship between language and body is a literal one. Why bother with such grand complexity when we can just appreciate simplicity? The lesson that we learn is that, if we stumble upon something that is too good to be true, it is, literally.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
(D) Kaadambari
Kaadambari
Kuala Lumpur Arts Festival
Temple of Fine Arts
11 & 12 July 2009
Auditorium DBKL
At every performance, the Temple of Fine Arts (TFA) would allocate a VIP seat for the late founder, His Holiness Swami Shantanand Saraswathi, or fondly referred to as Swamiji. They would cover the seat with a beautiful cloth and garland it with flowers.
My new friend, Shanti, whom I got to know just minutes ago, was seated next to ‘him,’ and she asked if I knew Swamiji. Regrettably, I did not. Not in person, at least. But I was one of the privileged few who saw him alive blessing Butterfly Lovers in 2003, the first of TFA’s many large-scale productions to raise funds for their now, near-completed performing arts building. While waiting for the show to start, I discovered from Shanti, that he was not only a kind and wise man, but a beautiful Bajan singer. No sooner did I express my desire to hear him sing, TFA played Swamiji’s Bajans to commence the programme – it was as if the ‘man’ in the garlanded seat heard my request. As we listened to the beautiful singing, Shanti was moved to tears, as his voice brought back a flood of fond memories for her.
Kaadambari simply means a garland of flowers. Just as the qualities and talents that make Swamiji a beautiful person, each item in the programme represents a flower strung together to make the beautiful garland that was presented to the audience.
The performance took us first to the southern part of India’s dance geography with Premanjali, a Bharatanatyam fare with throes of young dancers, each holding a small light in both hands. Against the deep purple backdrop, the dancers remind of delightful little fireflies decorating the night with random sparkles of light. Their movements were far from random though. ‘V’ and ‘X’- shaped formations dominate its structure and the dancers moved in ordered pairs. However, there was a kind of grandeur in the new-age like music that did not blend very well with a typical invocatory item. The battery-operated light that the dancers held introduced no danger and thrill into the performance, which perhaps, reflects on the rather safe choreography, having included very young dancers.
The second Bharatanatyam item, Dashavataram, was performed by seven talented young men, including Hariraam Tingyuan Lam, who made his debut with an Arangetram in May this year. Having followed their progress for years, I felt a sense of pride seeing the third generation of TFA coming of age. At the same time, I was absolutely delighted because male dancers are so difficult to come by – and there, on stage, were seven of them in their kinetic best. This piece featured the ten incarnations of Lord Vishnu. The young men with their youthful looks and playful demeanour projected Lord Vishnu as a young God getting acquainted with the characters, the roles and the divine responsibilities to be undertaken. The dancers satisfied the essence of the incarnations with convincing nritya and near-seamless transitions of transformations; and ending with each posing a manifestation of Lord Vishnu.
Andhra Pradesh, another state in South India, is home to Kuchipudi, an ancient dance form, whose genre is likened as the older cousin of Bharatanatyam. An artwork with a dusty aura featuring grand columns and shaded corridors of a nameless ruin became a looming backdrop for the dancers, who used their bodies to reveal the nine sentiments or navarasa of human emotions in Marakatha Mani Maya Chela/Tarangam. The dancers displayed a strong sense of musicality, and this was evident from the coordinated jangle of the bells strapped at the ankles, augmenting the intricate footwork, which they managed almost flawlessly. For the finale, the lead dancer stepped onto a brass plate, to execute the “dancing on the plate” effortlessly, much to the audiences’ delight. As the Nattuvanar led the dancers into the more complicated jathis, the lead dancer, with her feet still bound to the brass plate, displayed body and hand movements that were as eloquent as those whose feet were free.
Compared to the earlier piece, Vajrakanti Pallavi, an Odissi piece, was more low-key. Odissi is a temple dance with origins in Orissa, west India. It was a subdued interpretation of Guru Durga Charan Ranbir’s original choreography, to display the sport of indolent maidens. The darker and smeared sketches of buildings served as the backdrop for the dancers’ casual and laid-back movements.
Contrary to the temperament of the Odissi piece, Theen Taal, a Kathak dance from north Indian, featured vibrant and energetic movements. The dancer made sharp head movements turning to the left and right, and sometimes diving down in both directions. Her footwork was swift, just as her hand movements were, deftly slicing the space about her with cutting motions. A key feature of this dance is the crescendo of pirouettes. Anchored at an axis, the dancer spins and spins with increasing speed until her yellow skirt and scarf blurs into a soft yellow trail. We held our breath anticipating a possible fall from the dizzying spin; but she did not. Just as quickly as she moved, she came to a quick stop and concluded with a triumphant pose.
The Bhill Dance of the Bhill tribe who are forest dwellers and hunters, and Call of the Desert, a contemporary folk piece about a journey across the desert, are works based on folk traditions. While each was delightful with their colourful costumes, lively music, and beautiful set, the choreographies befit a segment of a musical rather than a stand-alone item.
And finally, One Malaysia, a contemporary dance presentation that included several dances representing the multiplicity of our racial make-up was presented to celebrate the colourful cultural diversity of Malaysia, much like the variety of flowers that make up the beautiful Kaadambari.
Kuala Lumpur Arts Festival
Temple of Fine Arts
11 & 12 July 2009
Auditorium DBKL
At every performance, the Temple of Fine Arts (TFA) would allocate a VIP seat for the late founder, His Holiness Swami Shantanand Saraswathi, or fondly referred to as Swamiji. They would cover the seat with a beautiful cloth and garland it with flowers.
My new friend, Shanti, whom I got to know just minutes ago, was seated next to ‘him,’ and she asked if I knew Swamiji. Regrettably, I did not. Not in person, at least. But I was one of the privileged few who saw him alive blessing Butterfly Lovers in 2003, the first of TFA’s many large-scale productions to raise funds for their now, near-completed performing arts building. While waiting for the show to start, I discovered from Shanti, that he was not only a kind and wise man, but a beautiful Bajan singer. No sooner did I express my desire to hear him sing, TFA played Swamiji’s Bajans to commence the programme – it was as if the ‘man’ in the garlanded seat heard my request. As we listened to the beautiful singing, Shanti was moved to tears, as his voice brought back a flood of fond memories for her.
Kaadambari simply means a garland of flowers. Just as the qualities and talents that make Swamiji a beautiful person, each item in the programme represents a flower strung together to make the beautiful garland that was presented to the audience.
The performance took us first to the southern part of India’s dance geography with Premanjali, a Bharatanatyam fare with throes of young dancers, each holding a small light in both hands. Against the deep purple backdrop, the dancers remind of delightful little fireflies decorating the night with random sparkles of light. Their movements were far from random though. ‘V’ and ‘X’- shaped formations dominate its structure and the dancers moved in ordered pairs. However, there was a kind of grandeur in the new-age like music that did not blend very well with a typical invocatory item. The battery-operated light that the dancers held introduced no danger and thrill into the performance, which perhaps, reflects on the rather safe choreography, having included very young dancers.
The second Bharatanatyam item, Dashavataram, was performed by seven talented young men, including Hariraam Tingyuan Lam, who made his debut with an Arangetram in May this year. Having followed their progress for years, I felt a sense of pride seeing the third generation of TFA coming of age. At the same time, I was absolutely delighted because male dancers are so difficult to come by – and there, on stage, were seven of them in their kinetic best. This piece featured the ten incarnations of Lord Vishnu. The young men with their youthful looks and playful demeanour projected Lord Vishnu as a young God getting acquainted with the characters, the roles and the divine responsibilities to be undertaken. The dancers satisfied the essence of the incarnations with convincing nritya and near-seamless transitions of transformations; and ending with each posing a manifestation of Lord Vishnu.
Andhra Pradesh, another state in South India, is home to Kuchipudi, an ancient dance form, whose genre is likened as the older cousin of Bharatanatyam. An artwork with a dusty aura featuring grand columns and shaded corridors of a nameless ruin became a looming backdrop for the dancers, who used their bodies to reveal the nine sentiments or navarasa of human emotions in Marakatha Mani Maya Chela/Tarangam. The dancers displayed a strong sense of musicality, and this was evident from the coordinated jangle of the bells strapped at the ankles, augmenting the intricate footwork, which they managed almost flawlessly. For the finale, the lead dancer stepped onto a brass plate, to execute the “dancing on the plate” effortlessly, much to the audiences’ delight. As the Nattuvanar led the dancers into the more complicated jathis, the lead dancer, with her feet still bound to the brass plate, displayed body and hand movements that were as eloquent as those whose feet were free.
Compared to the earlier piece, Vajrakanti Pallavi, an Odissi piece, was more low-key. Odissi is a temple dance with origins in Orissa, west India. It was a subdued interpretation of Guru Durga Charan Ranbir’s original choreography, to display the sport of indolent maidens. The darker and smeared sketches of buildings served as the backdrop for the dancers’ casual and laid-back movements.
Contrary to the temperament of the Odissi piece, Theen Taal, a Kathak dance from north Indian, featured vibrant and energetic movements. The dancer made sharp head movements turning to the left and right, and sometimes diving down in both directions. Her footwork was swift, just as her hand movements were, deftly slicing the space about her with cutting motions. A key feature of this dance is the crescendo of pirouettes. Anchored at an axis, the dancer spins and spins with increasing speed until her yellow skirt and scarf blurs into a soft yellow trail. We held our breath anticipating a possible fall from the dizzying spin; but she did not. Just as quickly as she moved, she came to a quick stop and concluded with a triumphant pose.
The Bhill Dance of the Bhill tribe who are forest dwellers and hunters, and Call of the Desert, a contemporary folk piece about a journey across the desert, are works based on folk traditions. While each was delightful with their colourful costumes, lively music, and beautiful set, the choreographies befit a segment of a musical rather than a stand-alone item.
And finally, One Malaysia, a contemporary dance presentation that included several dances representing the multiplicity of our racial make-up was presented to celebrate the colourful cultural diversity of Malaysia, much like the variety of flowers that make up the beautiful Kaadambari.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
(D) Lepas: Tetap Menari
Lepas: Tetap Menari
17-19 July 2009
ASWARA
Lepas: Tetap Menari can be loosely translated to mean ‘Over: But Still Dancing.” It is an expression of disappointment towards the indefinite postponement of TARI ’09, the much-anticipated international dance gathering and performance offerings originally scheduled for 14 to 18 July 2009. TARI is a contemporary dance performance held every two years and is organized by the Dance Department of the National Arts, Culture and Heritage Academy (ASWARA). The festival was expected to bring in nearly 160 international participants.
Joseph Gonzales, Dean of the Dance Department expressed his disappointment following the school’s decision recently amidst pressures from authorities ‘higher up’ to curb the H1N1 disease.
“However, such are the challenges in life and we must carry on. We are still going to stage a simple show from 17 to 19 July for us here in Kuala Lumpur and the best medicine is to put our best foot forward and dance! The show will be free to the public as we just want to celebrate the talents and the gifts that we have received”
And put their best foot forward they did with eight pieces of work from both local and international performers and choreographers.
James Kan, who left to further his degree on a scholarship with the Taipei National University of Arts in September last year returned on his summer break and presented Dreams, the most stylish and an engaging group choreography of the evening. The work displayed seamless and superb transitions with dancers, moving from frame to inter-frame structured by large grey tables propped up like tiles; rolling in and out of stage swapping roles and positions; and using the colours of costumes, from white to black, depicting the change of thematic moods, from a pleasant dream to a nightmare.
The five dancers in white, magnetised to the table, tossed and wriggled, grappling with the attraction. They finally submitted and displayed shameless affection towards the prop with hugs and stylish poses. The tables converged into a wall to hide all the dancers save one (played by Jessica Ho, one of Aswara’s best students). Left alone, the sole dancer backed up towards the wall and inched slowly from one end to the other shivering with fear and confusion. Two mysterious, fluttering hands that dropped over the wall, trailed her as she moved. As she reached the end of the wall, the two hands strangled her and pulled her body behind the tables, symbolizing the ‘death’ of the first scene. As soon as she ‘disappeared,’ dancers dressed in black appeared taking on darker personalities.
The staged blacked out and all attention was diverted to the right where a small stage was constructed. A sketch of thick barb wires on the wall seems to encase the dancer as he tries to escape the uncomfortable entanglement. When the stage lit up, we see visually neat lines where the dancers sat upright at the edge of the tables. The exploration of space above and below the tables was brief and as the dancers ditched the tables and move backwards, they continued till fade, exploring the space around them, some with angular, and some with circular arm motions. The brilliance in Dreams is in the tight choreography displaying random images resembling those that fleet in our minds.
Other group choreographies include Tapak 4 (Shafirul Azmi Suhaimi Magi), After Duet (Vincent Tan, Batu Dance Theatre), and Line (Mohd Naim Syah Razad Mohd Zin).
The Red Rose, choreographed by Kim Jungyeon (South Korea) is an intermedia piece combining dance and video projections. The piece intends to re-interpret a classical ballet Le Spectre de la Rose, based on a poem by Théophile Gautier, and choreographed by Michel Fokine. The classic first premiered on 19 April 1999 by the Ballets Russes and the dancers at the original performance were Vaslav Nijinsky as the Rose and Tamara Karsavina as the Girl. The story is about a debutante who falls asleep after her first ball. She dreams that she is dancing with the rose that she had been holding in her hand. Her dream ends when the rose escapes through the window.
17-19 July 2009
ASWARA
Lepas: Tetap Menari can be loosely translated to mean ‘Over: But Still Dancing.” It is an expression of disappointment towards the indefinite postponement of TARI ’09, the much-anticipated international dance gathering and performance offerings originally scheduled for 14 to 18 July 2009. TARI is a contemporary dance performance held every two years and is organized by the Dance Department of the National Arts, Culture and Heritage Academy (ASWARA). The festival was expected to bring in nearly 160 international participants.
Joseph Gonzales, Dean of the Dance Department expressed his disappointment following the school’s decision recently amidst pressures from authorities ‘higher up’ to curb the H1N1 disease.
“However, such are the challenges in life and we must carry on. We are still going to stage a simple show from 17 to 19 July for us here in Kuala Lumpur and the best medicine is to put our best foot forward and dance! The show will be free to the public as we just want to celebrate the talents and the gifts that we have received”
And put their best foot forward they did with eight pieces of work from both local and international performers and choreographers.
James Kan, who left to further his degree on a scholarship with the Taipei National University of Arts in September last year returned on his summer break and presented Dreams, the most stylish and an engaging group choreography of the evening. The work displayed seamless and superb transitions with dancers, moving from frame to inter-frame structured by large grey tables propped up like tiles; rolling in and out of stage swapping roles and positions; and using the colours of costumes, from white to black, depicting the change of thematic moods, from a pleasant dream to a nightmare.
The five dancers in white, magnetised to the table, tossed and wriggled, grappling with the attraction. They finally submitted and displayed shameless affection towards the prop with hugs and stylish poses. The tables converged into a wall to hide all the dancers save one (played by Jessica Ho, one of Aswara’s best students). Left alone, the sole dancer backed up towards the wall and inched slowly from one end to the other shivering with fear and confusion. Two mysterious, fluttering hands that dropped over the wall, trailed her as she moved. As she reached the end of the wall, the two hands strangled her and pulled her body behind the tables, symbolizing the ‘death’ of the first scene. As soon as she ‘disappeared,’ dancers dressed in black appeared taking on darker personalities.
The staged blacked out and all attention was diverted to the right where a small stage was constructed. A sketch of thick barb wires on the wall seems to encase the dancer as he tries to escape the uncomfortable entanglement. When the stage lit up, we see visually neat lines where the dancers sat upright at the edge of the tables. The exploration of space above and below the tables was brief and as the dancers ditched the tables and move backwards, they continued till fade, exploring the space around them, some with angular, and some with circular arm motions. The brilliance in Dreams is in the tight choreography displaying random images resembling those that fleet in our minds.
Other group choreographies include Tapak 4 (Shafirul Azmi Suhaimi Magi), After Duet (Vincent Tan, Batu Dance Theatre), and Line (Mohd Naim Syah Razad Mohd Zin).
The Red Rose, choreographed by Kim Jungyeon (South Korea) is an intermedia piece combining dance and video projections. The piece intends to re-interpret a classical ballet Le Spectre de la Rose, based on a poem by Théophile Gautier, and choreographed by Michel Fokine. The classic first premiered on 19 April 1999 by the Ballets Russes and the dancers at the original performance were Vaslav Nijinsky as the Rose and Tamara Karsavina as the Girl. The story is about a debutante who falls asleep after her first ball. She dreams that she is dancing with the rose that she had been holding in her hand. Her dream ends when the rose escapes through the window.
Red Rose
The video projection toys with the idea of rose petals, stalks and leaves represented by orange colored paper shredded, rolled, spiraled, and folded. At the top right corner of the screen, a hand stirs the ‘petals’ in poetic fashion. Then, we watched the steady fall of ‘autumn leaves’ as it carpets the ground softly. A black and white projection that hints of Asian origami followed. The rigid nature-symbolic shapes of paper blown by a strong wind tumbles violently. The scene was played in slow motion as if to romanticize the severity of a tragedy. In contrast to the rusty, filmic qualities of these visions, another set of projections take on a futuristic feel with shades of aurora colors, repeated designs and an almost impressionist trajectory.
The Girl (Kim) moves in gentle swaying and rocking motion to the melodic and peaceful sound of a clanging bell. The feel was rather monastic especially with Kim wearing her head bald. The movement expression was also poetic, mimicking the image of the ‘petals’ stirred by the hand in the video. Liu Yong Sean, who is also back for summer break from the Korea National University of Arts, plays the Asian Rose making movements from Indonesian dance and Shadow Puppet Theathre (Wayang Kulit). Kim and Liu have wonderful stage chemistry; when the Girl glided down the body of the Rose, we could almost feel the passion and tenderness in the very convincing pas de deux (duet). This interpretation of the 18th century Romanticism maintains the Romantic ideals while integrating the zeitgeist of contemporary aesthetic experience using picturesque visions with a unique Asian taste. What impressed me was Kim’s research into dance literature and history and the thought she put into the reinterpretation, showing us that choreographers are indeed society’s thinkers.
Rasa, choreographed by Sharip Zainal, a multitalented lecturer of ASWARA, combines the music (heavy metal and blues), vocal, dance and theatre disciplines, putting his skills in the four areas to good use. The storyline was so simple yet entertaining, telling us how we all feel (or rasa) the effects of ageing, putting on weight, and decreasing libido. Despite these signs of mid-life crisis, he’s ever the optimist and has a solution for every problem and shows everyone that ‘he’s still got it.’ This piece was absolutely hilarious and effectively conveyed the messages it intended.
Rasa
Wendy Rogers from the University of California performed Duet En Plein Air with Jennifer Twilley. Rogers premieres her new duet that continues her exploration of dance as an ‘architecture’ of action; and investigation of the ways people shape place, and the ways place shapes human movement and interaction. However, what I saw, rather, was an exploration of how humans, through movements, emulate the shapes of abstract objects in the environment. The hypnotic strumming of the two strings in The Sonata for Harp and Guitar OP.374, Parts I and II playing in the background helped conjure up an image of a gentle drizzle, where the two dancers ‘became’ the shape-shifting droplets of water suspended in mid-air.
Duet En Plein Air
Shakti, another duet, was a site-specific work, which drew inspiration from the story of Adam and Eve, with apples included. The audience was ushered to the floors above the site so when we lean over the edge to watch the performance, there were several moments when our eyes were tricked into believing that the floor was actually the wall. The direction in which the bench was placed, and the dancers’ movements around it, created the intentionally confusing perspective that served visual suspense and excitement. Dancers Shafirul Azmi Suhaimi Magi (and choreographer) and Mahani Izzati Suleiman, clad in sarong, splashed about the wet gravel in the confines of a small rectangular space. The non-stop action and to-the-point choreography exudes a sense of tribalism and a kind of rawness that befits the story of man’s Beginning.
Shakti
Mohd Fairul proved to be a powerful dancer reveling in jumps and turns, running in sprints traversing the stage and even showing off a burst of floor gymnastics concluding with a full split. Strong spotlights marks the floor in a vertical line and Fairul enters each, basking. Plainly, this narcissist piece had ‘only me’ written all over it.
Goh’s piece was quite the opposite in its treatment. It featured very soft dynamics and gradual disclosures of her body and the dance. The lighting design shaped an empty glass on the floor that was gradually being ‘filled’ with light inching its way from ground up. The dainty, uncertain footwork graduated to confident arm and body movements. Though the ‘filled’ aspect of her work was obvious, the ‘spilled’ portion is still underdeveloped in this work-in-progress performance.
This production may be small but the people that made it happen were big in spirit, motivated by the drive to continue dancing, regardless.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
(D) Unleash!
June 4-5
Experimental Theatre, Aswara, KL
Experimental Theatre, Aswara, KL
Last week, the 2009 dance graduates of Aswara (the Malay acronym for the National Arts, Culture and Heritage Academy) performed their last show, Unleash!, before they were, well, "unleashed" from school, having completed three years of training.
As part of their finals, the 22 graduates were graded over two nights of performances, featuring Living Traditions (traditional dances), then New Directions (contemporary dances).
Aswara has expanded the range of traditional dance genres taught and graded as compulsory subjects. They include Bharatanatyam (Indian dance), Tari Inai, Tari Piring, Zapin Pekajang, Tarian Gamelan Ayak Ayak, Terinai, Ngajat, Zapin Lenga, Zapin Putar Alam, Tari Piring and Mongolian Dance (Chinese dance). This is good for the students, as they get to learn more. But it also means that the exams are tougher!
As they dashed in and out of the stage tackling one dance after another in Living Traditions, I was impressed that they did not mix up the dances and that they exhibited good mental and muscular prowess.
My favourites were the graceful and hypnotic Tarian Gamelan Ayak Ayak (a court dance from Trengganu) and the Terinai (a dance from Perlis, performed at weddings), and the action-packed Tari Piring, which reminded me of Chinese acrobatic shows that had tricks with porcelain plates. The trick to keeping grasp of the plates in both hands is to move fast enough to defy gravity. One student found this difficult and had to use her thumbs to steady them.
Prior to each dance, we got to see candid video clips of the students goofing around, rehearsing and sharing what they know and understand about the dance they are introducing. These are shown on the spanking new projector screens hoisted on either side of the experimental theatre.
Over the years, Aswara has invested in traditional costumes and accessories tailor-made for each genre. Every piece of songket, necklace, or hairpin that completes the attire and the way it is worn also forms part of our rich traditions.
More wonderful than the resplendent costumes on the graduates was their inter-cultural connection. A Chinese student performing the Terinai spoke earnestly about her love for this dance and trying to feel the Malay ethos as she embraces it. A Malay student marvelled at the Mongolian dance while attempting to visualise the expanse of Mongolia, with wild horses racing across its landscape in abandon. There was genuine interest and respect for each other’s cultures.
I enjoyed the contemporary showcase of New Directions. There are so few choreographers in Malaysia that one looks forward to new blood, with its promise of new ideas and unique personal styles. But at the start of the evening, I wondered if the works presented by the three graduates, who had the same foundation in dance and were being graded as choreographers, might be similar in one way or another. My fears were unfounded.
Chia Yan Wei’s Another Me explored the part of ourself that we want to hide. A cupboard without doors on the centre of the stage served to compartmentalise and box up the different facets of our lives. In contrast to the dark theme, Chia dressed her dancers in bold, bright colours. Two girls in baggy purple tops addressed some weighty issues. Two guys in striking red shorts and green, striped long-sleeved T-shirts seemed to be inseparable, displaying obvious affection in a captivating duet that addressed homosexuality.
A guy sprinted onto the stage for a brief solo and was out before we could catch anything meaningful.
The final segment clearly reflected female competitiveness as the dancers tried to get ahead by pulling back those in front of them. Echoes of the thump of machines signalled the entry of each group and their movements were edgy as if nervous about being found out.
Raymond Liew Jin Pin showcased Speak Out, a whole new way of venting. The dancers, wearing their favourite pyjamas, had their heads fully wrapped in off-white cloth and they performed with their heads covered throughout. The covered heads represented muffling. Frustrated, the dancers released their tensions through erratic, bird-like movements.
Liew fully utilised the space by having activities in dispersed clusters. These clusters gradually converged into a clump that looked like a large breathing organism as one by one, the bodies heaved up, then fell back into place.
It was also fascinating to watch how the dancers related to each other in the absence of sight, with their eyes covered. (NOT CLEAR!) Their movements were coordinated, as if they only needed to feel what the others were doing. One memorable scene was when two dancers locked elbows to execute a lift. The girl, facing forward with legs bent, looked as if she was seated as she hung from her partner’s arms.
Mohd Hafiz Untong’s Tadah ambitiously incorporated theatre and live music into the choreography. The dance started with a husband-and-wife duet featuring movements from various Malay dance vocabularies and silat. These combined effectively to tell the tragic tale of a faithful wife who waited for her man’s return until the day she died. The act of snuffing out the candles signalled her demise.
There was interaction between movements and props as the dancers dug their hands and inserted one leg into bins, and then moved about as if dragged by the weight of the bin. Hafiz certainly showed that he has the potential to move on to musicals.
So what’s next after graduation?
ASWARA is recommending Chia for a four-month choreography workshop in Taiwan. Fifteen of the graduates plan to pursue degrees - one at Universiti Malaysia Sabah; two at the Korea National University of Arts, and the rest at ASWARA.
Six graduates are awaiting replies from Petronas, Istana Budaya and Dewan Bandaraya Kuala Lumpur on full-time jobs as dancers. Liew hopes to go to Germany to pursue a dance career.
About 15 of the grads are involved in two shows scheduled for August - Noordin Hassan’s Intan Yang Tercanai, choreographed by Sharip Zainal and produced by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, and Tun Razak the Musical, to staged by ASWARA at Istana Budaya.
Five others will perform in Jakarta from Aug 6 to 9 in a repertoire of contemporary dance.Well, nothing beats performing for a dance graduate. As Oscar Wilde put it, "Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing worth knowing can be taught."
As part of their finals, the 22 graduates were graded over two nights of performances, featuring Living Traditions (traditional dances), then New Directions (contemporary dances).
Aswara has expanded the range of traditional dance genres taught and graded as compulsory subjects. They include Bharatanatyam (Indian dance), Tari Inai, Tari Piring, Zapin Pekajang, Tarian Gamelan Ayak Ayak, Terinai, Ngajat, Zapin Lenga, Zapin Putar Alam, Tari Piring and Mongolian Dance (Chinese dance). This is good for the students, as they get to learn more. But it also means that the exams are tougher!
As they dashed in and out of the stage tackling one dance after another in Living Traditions, I was impressed that they did not mix up the dances and that they exhibited good mental and muscular prowess.
My favourites were the graceful and hypnotic Tarian Gamelan Ayak Ayak (a court dance from Trengganu) and the Terinai (a dance from Perlis, performed at weddings), and the action-packed Tari Piring, which reminded me of Chinese acrobatic shows that had tricks with porcelain plates. The trick to keeping grasp of the plates in both hands is to move fast enough to defy gravity. One student found this difficult and had to use her thumbs to steady them.
Prior to each dance, we got to see candid video clips of the students goofing around, rehearsing and sharing what they know and understand about the dance they are introducing. These are shown on the spanking new projector screens hoisted on either side of the experimental theatre.
Over the years, Aswara has invested in traditional costumes and accessories tailor-made for each genre. Every piece of songket, necklace, or hairpin that completes the attire and the way it is worn also forms part of our rich traditions.
More wonderful than the resplendent costumes on the graduates was their inter-cultural connection. A Chinese student performing the Terinai spoke earnestly about her love for this dance and trying to feel the Malay ethos as she embraces it. A Malay student marvelled at the Mongolian dance while attempting to visualise the expanse of Mongolia, with wild horses racing across its landscape in abandon. There was genuine interest and respect for each other’s cultures.
I enjoyed the contemporary showcase of New Directions. There are so few choreographers in Malaysia that one looks forward to new blood, with its promise of new ideas and unique personal styles. But at the start of the evening, I wondered if the works presented by the three graduates, who had the same foundation in dance and were being graded as choreographers, might be similar in one way or another. My fears were unfounded.
Chia Yan Wei’s Another Me explored the part of ourself that we want to hide. A cupboard without doors on the centre of the stage served to compartmentalise and box up the different facets of our lives. In contrast to the dark theme, Chia dressed her dancers in bold, bright colours. Two girls in baggy purple tops addressed some weighty issues. Two guys in striking red shorts and green, striped long-sleeved T-shirts seemed to be inseparable, displaying obvious affection in a captivating duet that addressed homosexuality.
A guy sprinted onto the stage for a brief solo and was out before we could catch anything meaningful.
The final segment clearly reflected female competitiveness as the dancers tried to get ahead by pulling back those in front of them. Echoes of the thump of machines signalled the entry of each group and their movements were edgy as if nervous about being found out.
Raymond Liew Jin Pin showcased Speak Out, a whole new way of venting. The dancers, wearing their favourite pyjamas, had their heads fully wrapped in off-white cloth and they performed with their heads covered throughout. The covered heads represented muffling. Frustrated, the dancers released their tensions through erratic, bird-like movements.
Liew fully utilised the space by having activities in dispersed clusters. These clusters gradually converged into a clump that looked like a large breathing organism as one by one, the bodies heaved up, then fell back into place.
It was also fascinating to watch how the dancers related to each other in the absence of sight, with their eyes covered. (NOT CLEAR!) Their movements were coordinated, as if they only needed to feel what the others were doing. One memorable scene was when two dancers locked elbows to execute a lift. The girl, facing forward with legs bent, looked as if she was seated as she hung from her partner’s arms.
Mohd Hafiz Untong’s Tadah ambitiously incorporated theatre and live music into the choreography. The dance started with a husband-and-wife duet featuring movements from various Malay dance vocabularies and silat. These combined effectively to tell the tragic tale of a faithful wife who waited for her man’s return until the day she died. The act of snuffing out the candles signalled her demise.
There was interaction between movements and props as the dancers dug their hands and inserted one leg into bins, and then moved about as if dragged by the weight of the bin. Hafiz certainly showed that he has the potential to move on to musicals.
So what’s next after graduation?
ASWARA is recommending Chia for a four-month choreography workshop in Taiwan. Fifteen of the graduates plan to pursue degrees - one at Universiti Malaysia Sabah; two at the Korea National University of Arts, and the rest at ASWARA.
Six graduates are awaiting replies from Petronas, Istana Budaya and Dewan Bandaraya Kuala Lumpur on full-time jobs as dancers. Liew hopes to go to Germany to pursue a dance career.
About 15 of the grads are involved in two shows scheduled for August - Noordin Hassan’s Intan Yang Tercanai, choreographed by Sharip Zainal and produced by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, and Tun Razak the Musical, to staged by ASWARA at Istana Budaya.
Five others will perform in Jakarta from Aug 6 to 9 in a repertoire of contemporary dance.Well, nothing beats performing for a dance graduate. As Oscar Wilde put it, "Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing worth knowing can be taught."
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
(D) Sutra – A ‘Monk-trous’ Feat
Sutra – A ‘Monk-trous’ Feat
by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, Antony Gormley, Szymon Brzoska and Monks from the Shaolin Temple
Singapore Arts Festival 2009
22-23 May 2009
When it comes to performances that involve monks and Kung Fu, I’m always wary that it would turn out to be just another Kung Fu demonstration. I refuse to watch those touring performances that claim to be Shaolin this and Shaolin that because, in principal, I do not agree that spiritual men should join the circus and that their sacred duty is not to entertain.
The very act of perfecting the martial art is to use the body as a measure of discipline, endurance and perseverance for the development of mental strength to cultivate the spiritual mind. In a similar vein, disciples of western dance forms also share the same religious fervour going by the practice-makes-perfect mantra to arrive at technical perfection. The challenge for Flemish-Moroccan choreographer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui (Larbi) is to manage the delicate matter of examining intercultural similarities and differences underlined with the philosophy of Buddhism and to conceptualize a vision that marries all these elements.
Ultimately, Sutra turned out to be quite a vision – a ‘monk-trous’ feat that converged choreography with architecture, in a collision of movement, structure, space and illusion.
Structure, space and illusion have always been the domains of architecture. And because of its constant presence and the frequent interplay of these elements throughout the work, I’m inclined to put British sculptor and collaborator Antony Gromley as Larbi’s choreographic equal. In many ways, the lidless, man-size wooden box, embodying the Buddhist concept of the body as delimited space, conceived by Gromley inspired many parts of the choreography. The various structural formations necessitated and dictated a number of movements.
On its own, the box served Larbi’s imagination. It becomes what he wants it to be – life boat, coffin, swimming pool, tight cave, and even stairs! Perhaps the inclusion of the child monk represents this child-like versatility towards imagination. Give an object to a child and he will turn it into a toy or anything he fancies in a wonderful world of make-belief.
Collectively, the boxes, like oversized Lego blocks, formed larger-than-life structures –maze, pillars, pedestals, walls, arches, stacked coffins, stage, eroding cliff, waves, snail shells, and lotus. At times, Larbi is the voodoo witch constructing the formation of the miniature version of the wooden boxes while the monks obediently move the man-size boxes about following suit. It is possible that the ‘invisible hand’ that motions the monks is meant to indicate the presence of a higher being in control. At other times, Larbi meandered amongst the monks as an observer attempting to emulate them but always unsuccessful as the clumsy outsider. Even Larbi’s box is painted silver, designed to stand out from the other unvarnished boxes, and to differentiate him.
The hollow, lidless box allowed room for illusion. The monks disappear and reappear on stage by simply immersing themselves in the box and then emerging again on cue, like a monk-in-a-box. Depth and gravity, or the lack of it, within the box is created at a whim. Depth and dimension too was created on the stage itself by virtue of the organized configurations.
When the monks appeared looking rather smart in their handsome suits, I wondered if Larbi was poking fun at Stephen’s Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle, where the axe-wielding Chinese triad wore similar attire.
Inevitably, the monks did do some Kung Fu demonstration. Thankfully this did not make up the bulk of the performance. At the very least, these demonstrations of various fighting styles mimicking animals such tiger, toad, praying mantis, scorpion, and the mythical monkey god, and some weapon play, served to show us the martial art in its original form so that we can later appreciate the comparison when the martial art crosses dance. And, at the very least, we could also marvel at the strength, agility, balance, and precision displayed by these warrior monks honed through years of practice.
Larbi’s direction, together with the music composed by Szyman Brzoska, brought the two (martial art and dance) disciplines closer. In effect, we saw the monks ‘dance.’
Like fingers running through a scale, in which one note follows the other, the monks, lined up in a row, each echoed the movement of the monk in front creating what looked like a visual sound wave resounding with increasing velocity. This was accompanied by sounds from movement – body slaps and involuntary shouts that comes with the use of force. The Strings become more intense the more the force. Even the pause is important in the score. In the silence we hear the whoosh of the wind interrupted by blows, and the ruffle of the monk’s uniform when they kick and jump.
When the monks sat atop the pedestals, soft musical phrases accommodate the tempo of graceful hand movements like sign language spoken in chorus. On the ground, the monks seem to be practicing Tai Chi amidst a serene, quiet atmosphere. The naturally slow and graceful Tai Chi movements have a subconscious connection to music, which culminates beautifully into an elegant Eastern waltz.
All in, Sutra offers a compelling perspective that places the essence of the philosophy and faith behind the Shaolin tradition into the contemporary context using the vectors of movement, space and music.
Sponsorship Acknowledgements
Special thanks to:
National Arts Council, Singapore
Singapore Tourism Board
by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, Antony Gormley, Szymon Brzoska and Monks from the Shaolin Temple
Singapore Arts Festival 2009
22-23 May 2009
When it comes to performances that involve monks and Kung Fu, I’m always wary that it would turn out to be just another Kung Fu demonstration. I refuse to watch those touring performances that claim to be Shaolin this and Shaolin that because, in principal, I do not agree that spiritual men should join the circus and that their sacred duty is not to entertain.
The very act of perfecting the martial art is to use the body as a measure of discipline, endurance and perseverance for the development of mental strength to cultivate the spiritual mind. In a similar vein, disciples of western dance forms also share the same religious fervour going by the practice-makes-perfect mantra to arrive at technical perfection. The challenge for Flemish-Moroccan choreographer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui (Larbi) is to manage the delicate matter of examining intercultural similarities and differences underlined with the philosophy of Buddhism and to conceptualize a vision that marries all these elements.
Ultimately, Sutra turned out to be quite a vision – a ‘monk-trous’ feat that converged choreography with architecture, in a collision of movement, structure, space and illusion.
Structure, space and illusion have always been the domains of architecture. And because of its constant presence and the frequent interplay of these elements throughout the work, I’m inclined to put British sculptor and collaborator Antony Gromley as Larbi’s choreographic equal. In many ways, the lidless, man-size wooden box, embodying the Buddhist concept of the body as delimited space, conceived by Gromley inspired many parts of the choreography. The various structural formations necessitated and dictated a number of movements.
On its own, the box served Larbi’s imagination. It becomes what he wants it to be – life boat, coffin, swimming pool, tight cave, and even stairs! Perhaps the inclusion of the child monk represents this child-like versatility towards imagination. Give an object to a child and he will turn it into a toy or anything he fancies in a wonderful world of make-belief.
Collectively, the boxes, like oversized Lego blocks, formed larger-than-life structures –maze, pillars, pedestals, walls, arches, stacked coffins, stage, eroding cliff, waves, snail shells, and lotus. At times, Larbi is the voodoo witch constructing the formation of the miniature version of the wooden boxes while the monks obediently move the man-size boxes about following suit. It is possible that the ‘invisible hand’ that motions the monks is meant to indicate the presence of a higher being in control. At other times, Larbi meandered amongst the monks as an observer attempting to emulate them but always unsuccessful as the clumsy outsider. Even Larbi’s box is painted silver, designed to stand out from the other unvarnished boxes, and to differentiate him.
The hollow, lidless box allowed room for illusion. The monks disappear and reappear on stage by simply immersing themselves in the box and then emerging again on cue, like a monk-in-a-box. Depth and gravity, or the lack of it, within the box is created at a whim. Depth and dimension too was created on the stage itself by virtue of the organized configurations.
When the monks appeared looking rather smart in their handsome suits, I wondered if Larbi was poking fun at Stephen’s Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle, where the axe-wielding Chinese triad wore similar attire.
Inevitably, the monks did do some Kung Fu demonstration. Thankfully this did not make up the bulk of the performance. At the very least, these demonstrations of various fighting styles mimicking animals such tiger, toad, praying mantis, scorpion, and the mythical monkey god, and some weapon play, served to show us the martial art in its original form so that we can later appreciate the comparison when the martial art crosses dance. And, at the very least, we could also marvel at the strength, agility, balance, and precision displayed by these warrior monks honed through years of practice.
Larbi’s direction, together with the music composed by Szyman Brzoska, brought the two (martial art and dance) disciplines closer. In effect, we saw the monks ‘dance.’
Like fingers running through a scale, in which one note follows the other, the monks, lined up in a row, each echoed the movement of the monk in front creating what looked like a visual sound wave resounding with increasing velocity. This was accompanied by sounds from movement – body slaps and involuntary shouts that comes with the use of force. The Strings become more intense the more the force. Even the pause is important in the score. In the silence we hear the whoosh of the wind interrupted by blows, and the ruffle of the monk’s uniform when they kick and jump.
When the monks sat atop the pedestals, soft musical phrases accommodate the tempo of graceful hand movements like sign language spoken in chorus. On the ground, the monks seem to be practicing Tai Chi amidst a serene, quiet atmosphere. The naturally slow and graceful Tai Chi movements have a subconscious connection to music, which culminates beautifully into an elegant Eastern waltz.
All in, Sutra offers a compelling perspective that places the essence of the philosophy and faith behind the Shaolin tradition into the contemporary context using the vectors of movement, space and music.
Sponsorship Acknowledgements
Special thanks to:
National Arts Council, Singapore
Singapore Tourism Board
Sunday, May 31, 2009
(M) Rhythm In Bronze (RiB)
Rhythm In Bronze (RiB)
22 to 24 May 2009
Flipside
Esplanade, Singapore
22 to 24 May 2009
Flipside
Esplanade, Singapore
I really love sitting by the bay at the Esplanade in the evening. The scorching sun gone, I embraced the gentle bay breeze that caressed me as I let myself relax. Sitting alone at the open air theatre, I relished the moments of solitude accompanied only by my packed dinner and Evian. Time stood still for me while the rest of Singapore’s financial district packed the MRTs rushing home from work.
After shopping for four hours, I was a proud contributor to Singapore's economy! Give me another four hours and I would have lifted the republic from its recession. I chose a seat with a pillar behind me because I was feeling rather tired and spineless (by then). I wanted a good break and was looking forward to Flipside, the daily free performance at the open air theatre in conjunction with the Singapore Arts Festival. And lo behold! It was Rhythm in Bronze, our home-grown gamelan troupe performing that evening.
In the crowd, there was a good mixture of locals and foreigners. An Indonesian man sat right in front wearing a batik headscarf on his head tied to look like a hat (what do you call this?), and wearing a t-shirt that had “Visit Indonesia 2008” boldly written on its back. And because he was sitting on the front-most bench, everyone behind him could read it. I loved the irony…hah! What also caught my attention was the number of young Singaporean Malays - dressed as if they’re going for Avril Lavigne’s concert – making this an outing with friends. What this proves is that RiB, despite its obvious traditional genre, has managed to find its appeal, through its innovation and use of some Western instruments, amongst the young seeking an identity they can relate to.
After shopping for four hours, I was a proud contributor to Singapore's economy! Give me another four hours and I would have lifted the republic from its recession. I chose a seat with a pillar behind me because I was feeling rather tired and spineless (by then). I wanted a good break and was looking forward to Flipside, the daily free performance at the open air theatre in conjunction with the Singapore Arts Festival. And lo behold! It was Rhythm in Bronze, our home-grown gamelan troupe performing that evening.
In the crowd, there was a good mixture of locals and foreigners. An Indonesian man sat right in front wearing a batik headscarf on his head tied to look like a hat (what do you call this?), and wearing a t-shirt that had “Visit Indonesia 2008” boldly written on its back. And because he was sitting on the front-most bench, everyone behind him could read it. I loved the irony…hah! What also caught my attention was the number of young Singaporean Malays - dressed as if they’re going for Avril Lavigne’s concert – making this an outing with friends. What this proves is that RiB, despite its obvious traditional genre, has managed to find its appeal, through its innovation and use of some Western instruments, amongst the young seeking an identity they can relate to.
And when they played, the traditional ensemble rocked the crowd with infectious melodies, and catchy beats. I almost wanted to shout out ‘Malaysia Boleh’ and let it echo amidst the stunned audience; but then I refrained. No need for a side show, especially since I was croaking that day. But, wow, the performance totally rocks!
Photos courtesy of RIB.
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