The incorporation of chance procedures into finished choreography is fascinating. In classical ballet, virtually nothing is left to chance and dancers are typically discouraged from making choreographic decisions or contributions. Coming from that world, it is hard for me to imagine dances composed of both set material and the unplanned. But like most things unfamiliar, it only takes seeing it done well once to realize that it is possible and it can work. Merce Cunningham Dance Company’s performance of eyeSpace (2007) confirmed that chance can be an integral tool in the construction of a piece. I think this was the first time that I could actually identify the unintended elements in the finished work.
eyeSpace (2007) was constructed like the theme and variation form in music. Cunningham had numerous set choreographic motifs (the themes) and then altered them in several different ways (the variations). It was in these variations where his commitment to chance shone through. One of the first alterations was a simple directional shift. Several sections of the piece were performed by trios of dancers who executed the same steps, but at different facings: directly front, towards the back or on a diagonal. This created a visual perspective that would not have been present if all the dancers had been facing one direction. Cunningham also experimented with accent, number and tempo. In the same choreographic sequence, one dancer accented the position of an arm, while another emphasized a leg movement. With number, one might perform three leg lifts before moving on, while the next dancer might only do one prior to his/her next movement. There were also differences in tempo. One performer went through a sequence as slow as they possibly could at the same time as a second moved through the same section at moderate speed while a third, at a brisk allegro. The central idea of the motif was the stabilizing factor while the chance options provided the variations.
Observations, like those above, may not seem like analysis, but in this case they are. Much of what was recognized was likely a result of chance procedures in choreography. Perhaps Cunningham gave his company some set movements and then had them try these movements at different intervals, different speeds, and different directions. The fact that this was visible in the finished work is important. It means that the use of chance procedure can be noticed even outside of the studio. It is not only a process, but also a result.
Although I recognize the effectiveness of Cunningham’s chance procedures in eyeSpace (2007), the piece also provoked a question that I think will affect how I view choreography. Does the origin of movement really matter? Would it have been possible for Cunningham to set this work from beginning to end without the use of chance? What if he reached the same result, but used an entirely different process? Does it really make a difference? This is an enormous question in dance and I don’t know if there is an answer. But, it is interesting to consider.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Merce Cunningham Dance Company-The Craneway Event
Merce Cunningham is a conceptual genius. Concepts are his thing; his talent and intellect in this arena unrivalled. He summons ideas and is able to develop them choreographically, offering a complex consciousness to the audience. The result is ripe with intensity and honesty, having been diligently examined and investigated through his process. In his recent site-specific work, The Craneway Event in Richmond, California, Cunningham took a single idea and instilled it into every aspect of the performance. The focus this time was transitional space, and the depth of his vision was transcendent.
Positions are crucial to dance. From the moment you walk into any dance class, you are bombarded with positions: positions of the arms, positions of the feet, placement of the head, facing of the body. But so often what is missing from your education is the crucial focus on the space between positions. The ‘in between’ provides the true thrill of dance. The final pose is nothing when compared with how the dancer got there.
Cunningham understands this better than any other modern choreographer right now. In The Craneway Event, the dancers were constantly going somewhere; their bodies never stopping. The movement was always alive with continuous transitional energy. One of the best examples of this was Cunningham’s use of rélévé long. The rélévé long is like a slow grand battement, where a straight leg is lifted up directly from the floor, to the front, side or back. When performed with proper attention to the movement’s transitive nature, you can see the foot guiding the whole leg through a slow, careful arc in space, and the energy moving outward beyond the point of the toes. The movement appears elastic and infinite. Cunningham’s choreography was full of these melty, stretchy, sinuous motifs that achieved the unusual condition of clarity in shape combined with clarity in transition.
His fascination with the transitive did not end with the choreography; it was present in every aspect of the piece. The performance space itself was transitional with 3 connected stages spread across the enormous warehouse. This placed the dancers in transition. They would perform in one section of the work and then move on to be a part of another segment in another space. The audience too was transitioning because of these three attached yet spread out stages. They walked around the performance space as the dance proceeded, and hopefully made some discoveries about their viewing habits. I noticed that when I see a piece on a traditional proscenium stage, I tend to focus in on one or two individuals and watch them the entire time. I found that this piece forced me to watch more of the dancers because I was moving and they were moving.
Cunningham’s dancers, artistic collaborators and administrative staff are blessed. They have been given the rare gift to bear witness to the process of an incredible artist. They get to see his initial idea explored and refined through choreography; they are truly watching something grow from its origin into what it will eventually become. I envy them.
Positions are crucial to dance. From the moment you walk into any dance class, you are bombarded with positions: positions of the arms, positions of the feet, placement of the head, facing of the body. But so often what is missing from your education is the crucial focus on the space between positions. The ‘in between’ provides the true thrill of dance. The final pose is nothing when compared with how the dancer got there.
Cunningham understands this better than any other modern choreographer right now. In The Craneway Event, the dancers were constantly going somewhere; their bodies never stopping. The movement was always alive with continuous transitional energy. One of the best examples of this was Cunningham’s use of rélévé long. The rélévé long is like a slow grand battement, where a straight leg is lifted up directly from the floor, to the front, side or back. When performed with proper attention to the movement’s transitive nature, you can see the foot guiding the whole leg through a slow, careful arc in space, and the energy moving outward beyond the point of the toes. The movement appears elastic and infinite. Cunningham’s choreography was full of these melty, stretchy, sinuous motifs that achieved the unusual condition of clarity in shape combined with clarity in transition.
His fascination with the transitive did not end with the choreography; it was present in every aspect of the piece. The performance space itself was transitional with 3 connected stages spread across the enormous warehouse. This placed the dancers in transition. They would perform in one section of the work and then move on to be a part of another segment in another space. The audience too was transitioning because of these three attached yet spread out stages. They walked around the performance space as the dance proceeded, and hopefully made some discoveries about their viewing habits. I noticed that when I see a piece on a traditional proscenium stage, I tend to focus in on one or two individuals and watch them the entire time. I found that this piece forced me to watch more of the dancers because I was moving and they were moving.
Cunningham’s dancers, artistic collaborators and administrative staff are blessed. They have been given the rare gift to bear witness to the process of an incredible artist. They get to see his initial idea explored and refined through choreography; they are truly watching something grow from its origin into what it will eventually become. I envy them.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Rosanna Gamson/World Wide-Project Artaud Theater
Whenever I see dance theater, I leave feeling confused. I find myself annoyed by the whole idea and phenomenon of ‘dance theater’ itself. This is exactly what happened with Rosanna Gamson’s Ravish, part of “Off Book: Stories That Move”, presented by ODC Theater. After seeing it, I can state with confidence that I don’t know what she was trying to say. The piece was based on the Brontë sisters and the environment that shaped their literary creations. I have little experience with these writers and therefore, limited framework for this particular dance. Prior knowledge of the story should not be a requirement; there is no way that every audience member will be familiar with your subject matter. The performance must be able to stand on its own in order for it to be accessible. Otherwise, choreographers are limiting an already diminishing audience.
Besides the lack of context, I was completely preoccupied with Gamson’s random mixing of dance and theater elements in the piece. So much so that I lost sight of her amazing choreography and the dancer’s passionate interpretation of her movement. Unfortunately, the disjointed dance theater elements completely overpowered and overshadowed the positive aspects of the piece.
Dance theater is everywhere in today’s modern dance scene. It is the “it” choice of present-day choreographers. But the trendy and fashionable is also incredibly difficult to do well. Dance theater is movement combined with media, text, video, visual art and/or vocalization in an effort to create an integrated performance art piece. All these components should work together to produce the artist’s vision on the stage. The problem is that many choreographers treat dance theater as a mathematical equation: movement + alternate media = dance theater. Dance is not math. In math, you may be able to add two numbers together and reach an absolute sum. In dance, we expect more from the combining of terms, and with dance theater, we usually get less. Parts of a performance piece have to be carefully integrated and mutually interdependent or the piece looks haphazard, disorganized and choppy.
Gamson made an attempt to use text, mostly at the beginning of the piece. The dancers were speaking, but you couldn’t hear them. It was unclear whether the audience was supposed to hear them. Was the mumbling meant to be part of the musical score or were they actually saying something that would help the viewer to make sense of the work? The intent was unclear and it distracted from the movement. And I can’t say enough about how beautiful the movement was. Long spirals all the way through the spine to the floor; tombé/relévé turns in attitude and arabesque where the rise and fall of the body was palpable. Gamson’s movement should have been unencumbered; it was good enough to stand on its own.
There was one place in the piece where I felt like I got it. But, it was during a section of pure movement without any of the peripheral dance theater ‘stuff’. One dancer kept trying over and over again to create a beautiful balance in attitude en pointe. She would slowly attempt to bring her entire body into this stunning position and right before that moment of repose, when the balance was almost there, she would crumble to the ground and then start all over again. In this segment, I could see the idea of balance as precarious. It was so obviously being communicated through the movement and only the movement, nothing else.
Throughout the piece, there were interludes of video projection on the floor that were like miniature vignettes-scenes of eating, sleeping, and painting. They were filmed from above which gave an unusual perspective to each of these activities. Before each of these video projections, the dancers would conclude what they were doing and leave the stage. Then, the video imagery would proceed and finish alone, and the dancers would re-emerge. It was destabilizing. Not only did the performers leave and return to the stage with no connection to the media, but also, the videos had nothing to do with what the dancers had been doing or were about to do. These scenes, although visually fascinating were unrelated stimuli.
I think when it comes to dance theater that choreographers try to do too much all at once. In this piece, there was movement, video projection, text and vocalization (one of the dancers had a long, loud screaming sequence at the end). With all of these elements, the main idea was lost. Maybe it’s better to just look at movement and one additional dance theater component. Maybe the choreography should be more integrated into the media choices. I don’t know how but I have faith that dance theater can work; I just haven’t seen it yet.
Besides the lack of context, I was completely preoccupied with Gamson’s random mixing of dance and theater elements in the piece. So much so that I lost sight of her amazing choreography and the dancer’s passionate interpretation of her movement. Unfortunately, the disjointed dance theater elements completely overpowered and overshadowed the positive aspects of the piece.
Dance theater is everywhere in today’s modern dance scene. It is the “it” choice of present-day choreographers. But the trendy and fashionable is also incredibly difficult to do well. Dance theater is movement combined with media, text, video, visual art and/or vocalization in an effort to create an integrated performance art piece. All these components should work together to produce the artist’s vision on the stage. The problem is that many choreographers treat dance theater as a mathematical equation: movement + alternate media = dance theater. Dance is not math. In math, you may be able to add two numbers together and reach an absolute sum. In dance, we expect more from the combining of terms, and with dance theater, we usually get less. Parts of a performance piece have to be carefully integrated and mutually interdependent or the piece looks haphazard, disorganized and choppy.
Gamson made an attempt to use text, mostly at the beginning of the piece. The dancers were speaking, but you couldn’t hear them. It was unclear whether the audience was supposed to hear them. Was the mumbling meant to be part of the musical score or were they actually saying something that would help the viewer to make sense of the work? The intent was unclear and it distracted from the movement. And I can’t say enough about how beautiful the movement was. Long spirals all the way through the spine to the floor; tombé/relévé turns in attitude and arabesque where the rise and fall of the body was palpable. Gamson’s movement should have been unencumbered; it was good enough to stand on its own.
There was one place in the piece where I felt like I got it. But, it was during a section of pure movement without any of the peripheral dance theater ‘stuff’. One dancer kept trying over and over again to create a beautiful balance in attitude en pointe. She would slowly attempt to bring her entire body into this stunning position and right before that moment of repose, when the balance was almost there, she would crumble to the ground and then start all over again. In this segment, I could see the idea of balance as precarious. It was so obviously being communicated through the movement and only the movement, nothing else.
Throughout the piece, there were interludes of video projection on the floor that were like miniature vignettes-scenes of eating, sleeping, and painting. They were filmed from above which gave an unusual perspective to each of these activities. Before each of these video projections, the dancers would conclude what they were doing and leave the stage. Then, the video imagery would proceed and finish alone, and the dancers would re-emerge. It was destabilizing. Not only did the performers leave and return to the stage with no connection to the media, but also, the videos had nothing to do with what the dancers had been doing or were about to do. These scenes, although visually fascinating were unrelated stimuli.
I think when it comes to dance theater that choreographers try to do too much all at once. In this piece, there was movement, video projection, text and vocalization (one of the dancers had a long, loud screaming sequence at the end). With all of these elements, the main idea was lost. Maybe it’s better to just look at movement and one additional dance theater component. Maybe the choreography should be more integrated into the media choices. I don’t know how but I have faith that dance theater can work; I just haven’t seen it yet.
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