[Via stellavista]

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.

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.

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 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.

The Barbican has launched a new freeB membership for young people between 16 and 25. It’s free. And it’s a membership with a lot of perks!

Hurry up. Go to:

http://www.barbican.org.uk/free_b/home

- I just joined and have already got tickets for Cloud Gate Dance Theatre of Taiwan, Michael Clark Company and Levantes Dance Theatre.

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?

We got the chance to meet “multipack” video and performance artist Barbara Kraus in her new performance and live in apartment here in Vienna. “Multipack” because of her many personas/characters all with different purposes and functionalities. We talked about a character named Johnny for almost an hour. She told us how she sometimes uses him publicly because, he can do things she can’t as Barbara, as a woman.

Here is also a picture of another of her alter egos, but I don’t know her name. Sorry.

Photo: Barbara Kraus

Barbara has collaborated with, among others, Nadia Lauro, Jennifer Lacey, Nadja b. Schefzig, fishy, Robert Steijn, Frans Poelstra, Fritz Ostermayer, and Lloyd Newson.

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).