Photo: Herman Sorgeloos

Zeitung was a bit of a puzzle to me. Repeatedly during the piece I found myself willing for the dancing to end – for the lights to go off and the audience to surge towards the doors – but when the applause eventually came I desperately wanted it to stop and for the piece to continue. I’m not sure why. Maybe the act of finishing is an endearing one. The bows could have been just another fragment of the piece. Another combination of light, sound and movement. Another little whole with its own triumphant beginning and end.

I write ‘another’ because there were many – many beginnings, endings and combinations. Again and again the audience was called to attention, transported and gently deposited to be revved up and again called to attention. And, rightly, we attended – captivated by the music and the dancers’ gaze and bodies. Their shudders, leaps, grasps and quiet walks. They found their home in the choreography and had command over the constant shifting and juxtaposition of movement which (weeks later) still manages to awaken amazement in me – rendering useless every perception of cliché or categorisation that I have ever held.

Yet, despite the many beginnings and endings, somehow repetition did not find its place. And I wanted it to. Each section was too polished and complete for the audience to be able to find what might be reaching into or out of it in order for it to be bound to the rest of the piece. The whole work seemed to lack a spine or engine which could have been found if the structure had been allowed to be recognised as a repetitive one. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was presented as a running tap. A tap which, of course, could produce both chocolate and champagne but was sadly still running due to negligence rather than need.

Photo: Liu Yang

Bahok, meaning carrier in Bengali, is a contemporary dance piece which sets out to explore physical representations of cultural exchange. Choreographed by Akram Khan and scored by Nitin Sawney, the title reflects the message that we are all products of cultural codification with different stories to show and tell.

Using eight dancers from a mix of cultures, Khan places them as characters in transit, waiting for their flights in an airport terminal. During their wait, the dancers play out lost in translation moments; seemingly to highlight the connect/disconnect moments of intercultural exchange.
I saw:
A contact improvised sex dream between a spitting Eastern European man and a narcoleptic Chinese woman.
A photo clicking Chinese duet turned threesome when China tought India the correct hold for a pas de deux turn.
A striking ensemble piece which resembled the Dance of the Airport Traffic Signaller (heavy use of arm rotation) set within an industrial rave (Nitin Sawney’s atmospheric score).

Perhaps I missed the nuances within Khan’s storytelling, but all the gobbledy-gook between cultures failed to resonate with me. Still something imprinted itself indelibly within my memory. Two words. Three syllables. Zhang Zhenxin. This young Chinese man danced furiously and gorgeously; a moving monument to fluidity and expression. He managed to pull off the contemporary/kathak choreography and make it look better than it possibly should. Just to see him perform, I would go see Bahok again. Enough said.

Sri Louise and Juliana Coles, coaching project: Dance Journal – The fusing of Yoga, Visual Journaling and Performance.

My last week at ImPulsTanz.
I couldn’t have been happier than with this workshop being my last at the ImPulsTanz Festival. The Coles sisters (yes, they are sisters, but Louise has renamed herself Sri) were amazing. And professional – and that’s not always a given when talking about ImPulsTanz teachers. Juliana Coles is literally the pioneer of Extreme Journaling, and Sri Louise is just such a guru. What we did:
In the morning we practiced yoga for a couple of hours before moving into the visual journal making, and at the end of the day we would “take it into the space” (ah, dance expressions!). It was one of the most engrossing courses I attended at the festival and I can not imagine a better finale.

Above is one of the journal pages I made. But you can see Juliana’s much more impressive work here or at her flickr account.

That was it for my danceWEB residency at ImPulsTanz 2009. Looking back at the good times, hard times, intense times, naked times – it all kind of felt like stepping into a parallel universe for five weeks. Definitely a recommendable experience.

Xavier Le Roy, Self-Unfinished

Photo: Katrin Schoof

Xavier was unfinished alright, or at least he made himself look like it. I had to look at him really hard at times, to figure out how the hell he did it. Basically, the piece is Xavier twisting and turning himself into forms and shapes – and we see him doing this with/without clothes on. He alters the image. And the image is his body. And his body becomes an optical illusion. Xavier is toying with our perception, and he does it well. As he left the stage to the tune Upside Down by Diana Ross, I still couldn’t tell if what I had just seen was an enormous headless chicken with four tiny, skinny limbs, or Xavier Le Roy himself.

Pieter Ampe and Guilherme Garrido, Still Difficult Duet

Photo: Bart Grietens

It’s difficult to watch, that’s what it is: starting off with light synchronised jumps, the two barbarians suddenly begin smacking and spanking each other leaving red and burning imprints of hands around their naked bodies. Despite the anarchistic nature of the piece, stamina, timing, and trust were still crucial elements – and this is the reason, this sado-masochistic galore was so funny.

Liquid Loft / Chris Haring & Jin Xing Dance Theatre, Lovely Liquid Lounge

Photo: Liquid Loft

It was a long evening of different works, taking place in what they had turned into a comfy lounge. The overall theme, which seemed to be gender, was extremely evident in most of the pieces, although in some much less. Maybe the inconsistency of this was confusing to begin with. The main production of the evening, Das China Projekt, raised questions about gender in relation to society, although the way it dealt with these questions was somewhat disappointing. Or so it seemed. It was impossible to make out whether Jin Xing, who played a role in the piece herself, was pretending to be the stereotype of an ignorant, orthodox, middle aged woman – or if she actually is one in real life? One or the other, it makes a huge difference to the work. Even as a transgender person, she fits surprisingly well into the female role traditionally held by society, which to me neglects everything the piece could be trying to argue. Were they, or were they not spokesmen of these conservative traditions?

Par B.L.eux / Benoît Lachambre & Louise Lecavalier & Hahn Rowe & Laurent Golding, Is You Me

Photo: André Cornelier

A collaboration between dance, music and digital art.
Visual, incredibly visual, but very two-dimensional. Something was missing, perhaps the fact that Louise Lecavalier wasn’t performing due to personal affairs, could have had an impact – but I’m not sure because I don’t know what the piece is like normally. What I know is that Benoît Lachambre had to perform an adapted version of the piece, so all the dance was in fact improvised. As was the live digital art on the screen behind it. Unfortunately, it just all seemed so flat, although some people liked the meditativeness of it. I think I failed to appreciate that.

Mark Tompkins, kings & queens

Photo: Gilles Toutevoix

A gig/performance starring Mark Tompkins as a drag (hence the queen). Or at least to begin with, because for every song he sang he added a piece of clothes, which in the end made him look like.. a sheriff (hence the king). The music, which was mainly rock’n'roll, was performed with capacity and spirit, and Mark Tompkins’ voice was old and rough, which made me believe in his words even more.

Mark Tompkins, Empty Holes

Photo: Anne Nordmann

A physical-theatre/puppet/shadow show starring Mark Tompkins (& dolls) as storyteller(s). Empty Holes. He could be referring to the holes in the love dolls, with who he was acting out the love life between a very sad woman and a very sad man called Doris and John Dreem. But maybe not, since the piece was considering heavy duty subjects such as life, love, and death.
It was indeed a tragic, but amusing piece of work.

Dance Classes

My third week at the ImPulsTanz festival – and I was depressed. For reasons that I cannot currently comprehend, I had chosen to do just classes this week, rather than another coaching project or a pro-series. This was a bad choice. A really bad choice. You can always do classes, you know, they are everywhere. You walk down the street and there’s a class, you walk down another one and there’s one more. Here at ImPulsTanz there are so many opportunities, how often do you get the chance to work with so many choreographers again? And here I was, learning somebody’s steps, one by one. Also, my mind and body had so far been challenged almost 50/50, and now suddenly it was only going to be about the body. Yuck! I need more than that. A little advice for all you future ImPulsTanz’ers: book a good mix of projects and classes – unless you prefer kicking those legs in the air while giving yourself a good look in the mirror.

One good thing happened though; I learned some of Glacial Decoy, Trisha Brown repertoire, in the weekend intensive. If you got to learn some steps – why not learn something iconic?

Cie. Maguy Marin / CCN Rillieux-la-Pape, Description d’un combat

Photo: Benoît Fauchet

A piece about a war. A slow piece about war. A super slow piece about war. A super slow piece about war that consisted of 1% movement and 99% speech. A super slow piece about war that consisted of 1% movement and 99% speech in French. The audience was not happy – they booed and hissed when they realised they weren’t going to get any dancing for their money. I just didn’t understand, first of all the French, who actually were able to understand what was been said on stage, second, why Maguy neglected to translate it into English. Was that really a conscious choice? I kind of doubt it, since I last week learned that Maguy Marin is a woman who always tries to make everyone understand, even if she has to say things in four different languages. The irony of this whole escapade was that the piece, with the theme being war and all, created an unbelievably loud, hostile and aggressive reaction in the crowd.

Alain Buffard, Les Inconsolés

Photo: Marc Domage

They were sometimes identical, sometimes naked men torturing each other, playing with each other, or fighting each other like angry dogs. Their behaviour was surreal, fragmented. It was hard to follow. Inside a white box their bodies projected shadows in different sizes, shapes, images and perspectives, which were easier to take in, although less interesting in comparison to the rest, which was stimulating at times. I wasn’t referring to the nudity just then.

Superamas, factory2 – “Youdream” in process comedy

Photo: Gainnina Urmeta Oetiker

Weird experience. Nothing happened. They were just filming. I thought I was there for a performance – you know, the kind where people go on stage and entertain you. But no, it was apparently just an open work situation. Hence the end of the title: …in process comedy. Duh! But if they were really filming this means we, the audience, also might go on screen as this piece will become both a television and theatre show, if I got it right. Isn’t that exploitation? Hey, Superamas, pay me.

Fumiyo Ikeda / Tim Etchells, in pieces

Photo: Hermann Sorgeloos

I felt so impatient. Totally agitated. I wonder what got into me. Maybe the fact that the piece dealt with time in a choreographic structure, which seemed somewhat conventional and predictable. Anyway, I kept shifting around in my seat, and when Fumiyo towards the end of the piece shouted at us: “Get up! Get up. Go away” – or something, I was so ready. But that was actually pretty weird. Why did she approach the audience like that without meaning it? She didn’t really want us to respond to what she was asking, but then what’s that about?

It was a dance piece, and Fumiyo moving solo on stage was delicate. Her movements seemed genuine, but as soon as she would open her mouth and speak, it suddenly didn’t stay so real. It sort of seemed imposed. She would count a lot – as in, say a number out loud and then dance or speak. The piece was the most interesting, when she was still counting without telling us what she was counting. At this point, the numbers represented anything. The very little joy I found in this was soon in pieces (yes, I was bored).

Alice Chauchat and others: The Love Piece

Photo: Damir Žižić

Overwhelmed by a combination of cheesy love songs and the look of his brown sincere eyes, I am swept of my feet for a second – fortunately I am sitting. I am in the Kunsthalle watching The Love Piece, exclusively for ten audience members and ten performers. The focus is to give love and the tall, brown-eyed man that has taken me by the hand is being really honest. If I am sincere so is he, when the situation makes me laugh he seems amused. He understands me, he really does. He likes me, he really does. I am troubled by the thought of involuntarily consuming prostitution – can you buy someone’s love even if you don’t intend to? And at the same time I am imagining how it will be when I leave and he comes after me.

I feel pathetic in an enjoyable way, just like when I cry during ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’.

Maguy Marin, coaching project: “entrer en scene” / “entering the stage”

Maguy Marin: The Pina Bausch of France, as a friend phrased it so well. Working with her was fun, hard, challenging, demanding, testing, difficult, tough, weird – in other words: not easy. Especially, not, if you were one of the unlucky ones that couldn’t follow where Maguy was getting at, which some people just couldn’t or didn’t want to, as this made her very tired. Although every day she’d return with new energy. So, not only did I learn about ‘entering the stage’ and the internal event of this, but also communication – or lack of. Interesting mix.

Maguy introduced us to the way she works with her company, which she apparently does in a very particular manner: most of the tasks, we would carry out one by one in front of every one else. And since we were 22 people in the class, one task would take maybe 2 days in the studio. It could have been a very unpleasant experience (I’m sure it was for some), but actually it was fascinating how we would grow with the task, and the task with us – it was a journey, and even though we only spent 10 min. on stage each, every attempt to contribute well to this research was part of a mutual development and understanding of the task as an issue. Digging so deep into one specific thing was sometimes tiresome, but it’s a great ability to posses. I think this is evident in Maguy’s work, as well.

This picture is from an exercise where we had to dress up and then… wait. Wait. Just wait for the character to arrive and the transformation to take place without force or anticipation. A piece of cake for Maguy during her demonstration – not quite as easy for the rest of us. But as she said: we were there to fail. (Which we did)

Rosas and Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker, Rosas danst Rosas

Photo: Hermann Sorgeloos

Refreshing to see women dance on stage, although Anne Teresa had difficulties catching up with the others sometimes – but let’s cut her some slack, she’s nearly 50. The movement material, which is a true discovery in relation to time/timing, was performed with such resoluteness that it kept me on the edge of my seat most of the time. These women were powerful and sexy. Apparently, what kind of inspired this minimalist, coquettish work back in the 80ies, was the aftereffects of the wild phases of drunken parties. Teresa didn’t say that, but someone else did.

Maguy Marin / CCN Rillieux-la-Pape, May B

Photo: Claude Bricage

A theatrical, almost mimetic piece of work about human beings being and behaving (or not behaving), if that makes any sense whatsoever. The characters, each so different in every little detail, were striking and somehow unusual, although referring to all kinds of recognisable stereotypes. The rhythm of the piece was (both physically and metaphorically) monotonous yet not unchanging or colourless at all.

Delgado Fuchs, Manteau Long En Laine Marine Porte Sur Un Pull A Encolure Detendre Avec Un Pantalon Peau De Peche Et Des Chaussures Pointues En Nubuk Rouge

Photo: Sophie Ballmer

A crazy title for the sake of being crazy. I put it in Google Translate and what I got was: Long Wool Coat In On A Marine Gate Pull A relax with a neck Peau De Peche pants and shoes pointed Nubuk Rouge. Still doesn’t make sense. Not supposed to, I guess.

The piece: sort of a pastiche. A few people in the crowd were laughing almost hysterically – quite probably because they knew the performers. These kinds of insubstantial jokes, parodies, light comments on dance clichés etc. etc. have the opposite effect on me, unless precise enough to really hit the spot, otherwise it becomes a banality. In the end they proposed ‘that we all now go for a drink’ (which we then did). I’m sure the whole thing was just a cheap trick to get people to spend money in the bar. Damn capitalists.

Maguy Marin / CCN Rillieux-la-Pape, Umwelt

Photo: Christian Ganet

The dense soundscape, which was produced by a single string slowly dragged over three electric guitars, went hand in hand with the windy and sometimes cloudy set design, which surrounded the performers who again and again appeared in between standing mirrors. To begin with the characters and their choreographed movements in unison represented stereotypes, just stereotypes. Initially very unsatisfying – obviously. But further in, it became clear that they were representing more than that: they were representing the general routines of life, they were repeating themselves like we are repeating ourselves, they were putting life as it is on display – for us to see, for us to face. The changes were subtle, but they were there – exact and poignantly executed. Sounds like an annoying cliché of a reminder of the passing of time. But it wasn’t. It was too dry and unpretentious. Instead it seemed like a fact of life. Of course, half of the audience left the building. It was the last time this piece was to be performed.

Jennifer Lacey & Antonija Livingstone, Culture and Administration

Photo: Daniel Davidson

Disappointingly short – I wanted more, much more from them. Can’t really explain what it was about or what it had to do with culture and administration, because I’m not sure I understood anything at all. But it made me really happy. The constantly changing set seemed to suggest some sort of savanna with flamingos dancing around (Jennifer and Antonija), until Antonija told a dirty joke and they made “organs” out of green pieces of cloth, followed by some beautiful bell-ringing and then they transformed into a centaur, before, finally, they sat down at a table and sang a catchy tune… while making bombs? Uh, really not sure about this piece. But it was very special.

Ultima Vez, nieuwZwart (new black)

Photo: Pieter-Jan De Pue

Supreme dancing, so so dance, and mediocre choreography. Yes, there is a difference between the three. The piece, which was clearly driven by the existentialist and evolutionary themes that you often detect in Vandekeybus’ work, was comprised of live music, set design, theatre and dance – kind of like a musical, yet not quite. The first scene, in which the dancers appeared naked on a dark stage, was definitely the most sensational – the mood was creepy-crawly and very exciting, but then this mysterious vibe disappeared and the rest of the piece seemed a bit like a run-of-the-mill. Although, one dancer, a blond Icelandic girl, managed to keep me intrigued the whole way through by her incredible stage presence.

Random Scream & Davis Freeman, What You Need To Know

Photo: Davis Freeman

Short, but handy. We learned how to gun someone down – Davis F. thought it might save our lives one day, so he practically gave a demonstration of how a pistol, semi-automatic, revolver, rifle, shotgun functions. Then came the funny bit: we got to shoot the dancers on stage. Was he trying to tell us something?

Ann Liv Young, The Bagwell In Me

Photo: Scott Newman

This is the most outlandish shit I’ve ever seen. It was freaky. But it had to be: the piece was about slavery and how the first American president, George Washington, allegedly fell in love with his own slave maid. As an unfortunate byproduct of his hyperactive presidential loins, she became pregnant, a fact that he consequently kept secret like any good politician. Ann Liv dealt with it in such a kinky, but also surprisingly serious, way. It was frightening, shocking, disgusting, and Ann Liv, the most eccentric performer I’ve ever seen, made the performance so intense that it is haunting – The Bagwell In Me was the last thing I thought about before falling asleep last night, and the first thing I thought about when I woke up this morning. It must be good.