BODY IN REVOLT is an online magazine curated by ICK Amsterdam, dance company and platform for contemporary dance under the direction of Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten, giving more in depth information about the performances and activities of ICK and about the body in dance, art, media, politics and science.
Performance on the edge of existence: Kris Verdonck's SOMETHING (out of nothing)
an essay by Kristof van Baarle
Recently, the British newspaper The Guardian changed its language policy with regard to the changing climate. Climate change, became ‘climate emergency’ and instead of global warming, it now says: global heating. The newspaper does this in order to make the urgency clear and to break familiarization – people get used to a catastrophe -.
And the urgency is real: scientists not only establish more and more tipping points and points of no return, they themselves are surprised by the speed with which glaciers and ice plains are melting, and perhaps most of all by the active denial by some of the most powerful world leaders. Part of the climate emergency is the alarming so-called 'sixth mass extinction' that is currently taking place. This means that in the 4.5 billion years of planet Earth's history, there have only been five other periods in which so many species have died out. The dubious protagonist in this story, we can see in the mirror: the human being. It is our lifestyle, our emissions, our eating habits, our urge for growth and expansion that push the planet on a certain path towards exhaustion and extinction. The solutions we come up with, usually with great hopes for technology, only make the situation worse. Whatever we do or invent, in the long run the only option is to do less, stop. We find ourselves in a kind of deadlock, in which we are already with one foot in the grave.
It is this situation, this state of being, that Kris Verdonck tries to shape in SOMETHING (out of nothing). A situation that we ourselves do not yet fully understand, that may be beyond understanding, and that we should explore more in terms of feeling, by touch.
Kris Verdonck's work is extremely consistent: time and again it examines the relationship between man and his environment, in installations, choreographies and performances that all gauge the zero degree of the theatre. Since the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century, this environment has increasingly begun to be filled with technology, to the point where it is almost entirely determined by it today. Thanks to the development of technologies, we have been able to fundamentally change the landscape, the air and the soil in and on which we live. This requires us to learn to deal with endings: the end of the existence of certain species and landscapes, of lifestyles, but also to deal with the increasingly clear horizon of the end of man, and by extension: the end of our own individuals' lives.
This shift in the world is also reflected in Kris Verdonck's oeuvre. Whereas in the earlier works human performers were often placed in constellations with machines - such as the dancers in I/II/III/IIII that was taken up by ICK in 2017 - the more recent performances focus on the relationship between 'free' bodies and the environment of the theatre apparatus. That seems simpler, but the opposite is true. Whereas in I/II/III/IIII the dancers hung in armour and were able to float up and down, and from left to right, telling something about the relationship between beauty, technology and catastrophe, the context for the dancers in SOMETHING (out of nothing) is more open. On a mostly empty stage, with an 'open' light, four figures appear. Their faces behind masks, their bodies dressed in black velvet bodysuits, it seems as if they are almost gone. There is no reason to do anything: there is no story, there is no machine that drives them. And yet they try to do something, simple movements, a jump, a turn, some crawl around, connect two movements, follow each other: do something not to do nothing, but to perform the nothingness in which they find themselves. To make the emptiness, the despair, the boredom, the pointlessness of the situation tangible, to make it 'happen' instead of showing it. SOMETHING is a search for how choreography can become a performance, rather than a written movement that has a beginning and an end. ‘Something’ has to happen, namely nothing. In SOMETHING (out of nothing), Kris Verdonck searches for the performance of the thin line between presence and absence, for that state of being in which you may still be physically there, but where your existence no longer has any impact because your role is already played out. How to perform, what to dance, after everything is over? What is a choreography, after the end?
This performance is the next step in what has become a series of performances that explore the imminent end of mankind on the (world) stage. What started with UNTITLED (2014), a performance for a performer in a mascot suit, in which we discovered 'nothing' as something that can be performed, was continued in 2017 in Conversations (at the end of the world). In this theatre performance based on the work of the Russian writer Daniil Charms, we found ourselves in a space after the end of theatre. Five people were on stage together and told each other a number of stories that led to nowhere. They tried with great imagination to understand the world and death, to finally disappear into the mountains of grey snow that had formed on stage. SOMETHING (out of nothing) is a search for a step further. After the drama, after the words, all that remains is the body, the physical presence. And in times of extinction and climate emergency, this presence also starts to diminish. What remains to be done after everything has been done and said? Which movements are still appropriate? This is really about a place and a time we don't know, can't know, because it goes beyond the limit of life - into death and the end. That's why we've consulted the Japanese Noh Theatre tradition, in which a ghost is always the main character. In order to perform the suffering of this character, to make it happen on stage, music, language, costume, light, scenography and dance are used. The story is told three times, and each time the perspective shifts to a more inner experience, each time it becomes more intense. The last scene is a dance to music and text, a ritual in which the memory of the suffering coincides with the reliving of it. We also follow this structure in SOMETHING (out of nothing), in order to penetrate as deeply as possible into the darkness of the ecological catastrophe.
Strangely enough, this sometimes leads to comic moments. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise, because besides Noh we also looked at the work of Samuel Beckett. The senselessness of existence and the resulting torments also had theatrical consequences for Beckett: actors and actresses were placed under a tight control, in which light and scenography play an important role, and of course the continuous repetition. Not only in Waiting for Godot, but also in shorter pieces such as Act Without Words I and II, this led to a kind of dark humour, an absurdity that reveals a deep existential crisis. It is perhaps this inspiration from Beckett that also leaves an opening for a small point of light in the darkness. No hope, but more a conclusion: they will continue, even if they cannot: I can't go on, I will go on. The question is how to fill in our existence towards the end. What keeps us from living to the fullest in times of destruction, to prevent people from living where they want to live? What is stopping us, in this state of emergency, from throwing away the mantra of growth and just doing 'less'? If we don't do it for ourselves, we will do it at least for the generations of people and other animals, plants - who knows machines - that come after us. The next generation bears the consequences of the actions of the current and previous generations. We must learn to die in these times, and ask ourselves how we can do this in a responsible way. A first step is to shape the darkness that characterizes these times.
Kristof van Baarle is a dramaturge and researcher. He received his PhD in art sciences at Ghent University in 2018, titled From the cyborg to the apparatus. Figures of posthumanism in the philosophy of Giorgio Agamben and the contemporary performing arts of Kris Verdonck . As a dramaturge Kristof is attached to Kris Verdonck / A Two Dogs Company, and he worked / works with Michiel Vandevelde, Heike Langsdorf, Thomas Ryckewaert and Alexander Vantournhout.
Pictures Alwin Poiana and Bas de Brouwer (portrait).
ICK’s overarching theme of the body in Revolt was this year more present than ever in everyday news… The Dutch newspaper NRC talks about ‘protest year 2019’. All over the world, young and old spoke out against climate change, corruption and violence, or in favour of autonomy and security. From The Hague to Hong Kong and from Chile to Indonesia, a lot of bodies came out on the street to reclaim their ownership and right to express themselves in any self-chosen way.
USA: American animal rights organisation PETA uses 'toxic' slime to draw attention to one of the most polluting sectors in the clothing industry: the leather industry. According to the organisation, leather workers, including children, are exposed to heavy, toxic chemicals. Waste materials are dumped in rivers. Photo: Johannes Eisele/AFP
Brasil: Some 3,000 indigenous women demonstrated in Brasilia against 'the genocidal policies' of President Jair Bolsonaro's government. He wants to open up natural areas to activities such as mining while scientists say this is rapidly leading to further deforestation. Photo Evaristo Sa / AFP
Haïti: A masked demonstrator during riots in the Haitian capital Port-au-Prince. The rage is aimed at the government of President Moïse, who is alleged to have embezzled money from the emergency fund to rebuild Haiti after the 2010 earthquake. Photo Hector Retamal/AFP
South Africa: Many young children take part in the climate protests to speak out against governments that "deprive them of their future". Photo Mike Hutchings/Reuters
Czech Republic: Tightrope walkers balance over a line (slackline) that is stretched over the Emmaus Monastery in Prague. This action was organised as part of a campaign calling for attention to mental care and well-being.Photo Martin Divisek / EPA
Indonesia: Political tension over disputed election results in Jakarta. The L gesture means support for Prabowo, he was the number 2 on the electoral list. Photo Willy Kurniawan/Reuters
The Netherlands: Angry Dutch farmers swarm The Hague to protest green rules. Photo Merlin Daleman
Hong Kong: For months, there have been demonstrations against China's growing influence. Clashes between police and activists have become increasingly violent. Photo Kim Kyung-Hoon/Reuters
Chile: A protest selfie during a mass protest in Santiago de Chile. Furious Chileans protest against President Sebastián Piñera's government and the system of privatization that has been implemented in virtually all sectors in this richest country of South America. Photo Javier Torres / AFP
Chile: Women perform during the demonstration 'Un violador en tu camino' organized by feminist group Lastesis. The widespread violence against Latinas, and women in general, and the almost absolute impunity for perpetrators make that the Chilean protest songhas become an international feminist anthem. Photo: Erik S. Lesser/EPA
This summer, ICK dancer Edward Lloyd took an online course at Node Center entitled ‘Theoretical Thinking in Art’. Here he shares his assignments which explore the use of language as a mode of choreography; and a search for embodied ways of writing. Work Travail Arbeid is written as a response to the piece by Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker| Rosas, and the other is a reflection from an evening at a jazz bar.
Sweet like a chocolate: talk with Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten
Interview by Theater Bellevue
This Christmas holiday, for the first time in 30 years of history, there will be a dance performance at the Bellevue Lunchtheater. We invited the prestigious dance company ICK Amsterdam that is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. We spoke to the artistic director: Pieter C. Scholten and Emio Greco about their performance Sweet like a chocolate.
ICK presents the very first dance performance at the Bellevue Lunchtheater! What can we expect?
Emio: Our work is characterized by a specific dance language, the intuitively moving body is always central. We regard the body as intelligent and autonomous. We work with the power of the body and feed it from the senses instead of the brain. This is what we try to achieve with the audience: that you are physically touched, before you try to find out what the performance is about.
But that's exactly what we want to know!
Pieter: It is a solo for dancer Maria Ribas, accompanied by her shadow. Or rather, several shadows personified by one dancer. In the solo her fantasy gets a life of its own.
Emio: Sweet like a Chocolate is a reworking of Double Points: Hell, a research project we made at the invitation of the Festival d'Avignon in 2005. In our view, hell was the schizophrenic search for who you are, what your identity is. Maria goes through different phases and moods in the search for her own self. The figure around her can be real, but also something that arises from her imagination.
Pieter: It was the first time we made a gender codified piece, about being a woman. In general, we don't have men's and women's roles in our performances. It's about the personality of the dancer, apart from gender. Sweet like a chocolate, in this time of #metoo, also gets a different meaning. It's about seduction and power relations and how far you can go in this. Today, in dialogue with the public, this can be interpreted more politically.
In Sweet like a chocolate the Fifth of Beethoven is used, why did you choose this music?
Emio: That piece is cultural heritage. Everyone knows it. It almost feels like blasphemy to dance on it. But that, too, fitted in with the process of this performance: a study of the inappropriate, experimenting with things that wouldn't be appropriate in other circumstances. In addition, the music is very evocative, almost ecstatic, which fits well with the solo.
Pieter: We have also worked with Ravel's Boléro and Bach's Matthäus-Passion, among others. This is part of an ongoing research to shed new light on commonly known pieces of music from the perspective of dance. The dancers do not move on the tones or the rhythm but react intuitively, from a certain physical consciousness. This opens up a new perspective on - and new entrances to - historical thinking.
How do you create performances?
Emio: In general, I start working on the choreography by myself. I first have to understand where it comes from, so that I can work with it and fine-tune it. The moment it is handed over to the dancers, we enter a whole new phase of the creation process. The material is, as it were, re-created together with them.
Pieter: Sweet like a chocolate is a re-interpretation of older work with new dancers and will therefore have its own creation process. We are always looking for people who can surrender to the material and at the same time allow their own personality to show in the language we offer to them. Maria and Victor will enter into their own dialogue with the material.
What are your expectations for performing two weeks in a row at lunchtime?
Emio: In Avignon we also had a long series of performances in a row. It is enriching to have a daily appointment with your own performance. An enormous luxury, too, because the performance really gets the time to grow. When traveling, you have to adapt every day to the conditions of each theatre, which causes some things to get lost. And although there is of course a different audience every day, you still build up a sense of recognition and familiarity. You create an alliance with the theatre, and through the theatre with the city and the people who live there. Lunchtime opens a new window in the day. It is less ritualistic than performances in the evening. People are fresher; perhaps more open? I expect it to be liberating.
SWEET LIKE A CHOCOLATE
18/12 - 28/12 at 12h30 BELLEVUE LUNCHTHEATER Amsterdam
An intimate spectacle with Beethoven's Fifth Symphony as an open end.
In Sweet like a chocolate a woman dances with her shadows, alter ego, companion and voyeur. It follows her, accompanies her, dances and fights with her. It’s a double, dance partner, lover and opponent, it is familiar and dangerous. Balancing between love, trust, female sexuality and violence, Sweet like a chocolate reveals existential questions.
In TWO Greco is joined by a female dancer who closely resembles an androgynous twin. Here the notion of collaboration/opposition that is an undertow in the solo takes on the solidity of flesh and blood. Greco’s persona has to share the space. Has to share the language of his dance. And since that language has roots in his own experiences and memories, he is being called upon to share something of himself. Why should he? Perhaps because he understands the power of two… sees synchronicity as a means of emphasising the choreography, accepts that two bodies can open up new possibilities in terms of using the space. (Mary Brennan - programme book Edinburgh International Festival)
TWO premiered on 9 November, 1999 during Cadance Festival at Korzo, The Hague. Until then, Greco and Scholten, who had started their collaboration in 1995, had created two solos: Fra Cervello e Movimento: Bianco and Rosso. TWO was the first piece in which another dancer entered their universe. However, they do not talk about TWO as a duet but as a solo for two. Greco and Scholten created TWO with dancer Bertha Bermúdez. The piece delves into the consequences of two people sharing the same space. Leo Spreksel, artistic director of Korzo at that time, was one of the first to give trust and possibilities to the two choreographers and to program their work in The Netherlands. 20 years later, in September 2018, the piece returned to Korzo as part of an evening dedicated Leo Spreksel’s 30 years at Korzo – also his farewell party. That evening, TWO was performed by the latest generation of ICK dancers: Edward Lloyd and Sophia Dinkel.
Between these two events in The Hague, the company (until 2009 as Emio Greco | PC, later continuing as ICK Amsterdam) has performed TWO in many places around the globe and it is still part of ICK’s repertoire. Others outside of this inner circle, like Nederlands Dans Theater and Rosie Kay Company have embraced the piece and re-staged it, adding their own interpretations.
Over the years, many generations of EG | PC and ICK dancers were immersed in the complex and exhausting material, in its intensity, softness and power. For many of them it was one of their most intense experiences during their time at the company. Every dancer performing in the piece brings his or her own identity to it. Its choreographers Greco and Scholten always depart from the individuality of each dancer, and have embraced and supported this diversity. In that sense, consecutive casts have each created their own TWO: there are just as many TWO’s as couples that have danced it.
Three generations of TWO
I spoke to four dancers of different generations about their experiences with this piece: Barbara Meneses, who was the first dancer to take over from original dancer Bertha Bermúdez and who performed it with Emio Greco in the early 2000’s; Suzan Tunca and Vincent Colomes who danced it together in the decade after that, and Edward Lloyd – dancer of the present generation working at ICK. I wanted to find out how they experienced the piece and if this changed over time.
Barbara: ‘I was the first dancer, after Bertha, to learn the piece and to perform it with Emio. When I was learning TWO I had already seen Emio and Bertha perform it an infinite amount of times. I was an absolute fan of it. I always had the sensation that I was witnessing a little treasure, a wonder of artistic creation. Performing it next to Emio felt like stepping into my favorite movie. At the same time, when performing it, it did not feel like I was “taking over” from Bertha, rather it was Emio and me recreating it.’
Vincent Colomes wrote to me from Paris, where he currently lives. TWO accompanied him almost the entire time he danced for the company between 2006 and 2013: ‘My feeling at the beginning of the learning process was that I was working with a monument that had already a history and that it was a chance and a great challenge for a dancer to go through such an adventure. The piece embodies the essence of the work of Emio Greco | Pieter C Scholten on different levels, physical, mental, psychological, social, spiritual, musical……At first, I was very impressed and seduced by the virtuosity, the beauty and the intelligence of the material.’
‘I was particularly fascinated by the transformation of my physical and mental state that was at play and that seemed to me like an alchemic mystery. With all this fascination came also immediately the fear of not being able to live up to the challenge. This fear accompanied me during the first times that I performed it, but as I performed it more often it softened and became a more friendly stimulus. The fact that I often taught parts of the material in workshops helped me a lot to understand it more deeply.’
Edward Lloyd, still part of the ICK ensemble, is the last dancer to have performed the piece (up to now): ‘The period in which I performed TWO was one of great introspection. I discovered quite early in the process that I needed to develop a personal relationship to the piece in order to express its original intention. I felt it necessary to immerse myself in the language of EG | PC so I could meet their intention with my own motivations and my own desires. To not only execute their ideas, but meet their ideas and therefore embody their ideas.’
It was remarkable how they spoke with so much love and dedication about the piece, while also acknowledging its high demands.
Suzan: ‘TWO is the most challenging piece that I had the chance to perform so far. There is no strategy to make it easier, no escape from its superhuman speed. Dance naturally requires a sacrifice from the dancer, in different ways in different artistic expressions. TWO demands a very specific kind of sacrifice, rock steady endurance, complete mastery of the body in extremely fast motion. It requires being able to navigate between the extremes of every detail, a sense of supreme suspense and mastery of the body with a speed that lies beyond what we think that the body is able to achieve. The body can fly through the space (as one with the other) when it is almost being pulled - by some imaginative but real force – through a pre-destined path from beyond space and time that is remembered again by the skin that had marked this path already beforehand. It requires the ability to multiply one’s sense of self and the body in motion of the other.’
Edward: ‘The intense work required to perform the piece, both physically and mentally, demands of you to keep searching for an intention, a perspective, and an awareness of what you are creating on stage. Over time this shifts and transforms, and I found that I needed to continuously refresh my relationship to the piece so it could become more than a repetition of what happened before.’
Vincent: ‘Suzan and I had the chance to premiere and perform it together for two weeks in Sydney, and to experience the evolution of our relation with it and with each other in this continuum of time. I experienced - even in my flesh - that there is no such thing as certainty in this piece, because everything that is at play is sharp and fragile. The moment you are performing it, you have the responsibility to allow the beauty of the piece to exist by your action and to create this existence. You have no choice but to offer yourself fully - body, mind and soul, both to the piece and to the one you partner with. By doing it I experienced that this offering is also an immense source of joy and trust. I can say it is a spiritual experience and this reality exists also because you share it with your partner, and with the audiences.’
Barbara: ‘You need to absolutely believe in the piece and in your own capacity to live up to it. This requires dedication to the work, a surrendering to the movement and trust in your partner.’
A timeless piece of art
This brings me to the last question: Why is this piece still relevant to (and loved by) audiences today?
Barbara: ‘Every good piece of art is timeless. And I dare say TWO is a masterpiece. But if you want to be more analytical… one could say that it is because it addresses very abstract and timeless ideas, it is about two bodies in search of synchronicity, it is about the curiosity of the body discovering the space around it. It is also totally gender neutral, the relationship between the two dancers is extremely abstract. Furthermore, it is a virtuoso piece, it's short and compact and it has an ingenious dramaturgical build-up which carries the audience through to an ending which is even more ingenious.‘
Suzan: ‘The relevance also lies in that the language of the movement can be read both on a personal and on an abstract level. Personal, by regarding the movement in terms of clearly recognizable movement intentions and abstract, by looking at the movement in terms of lines, curves, spirals and sheer speed.’
Edward: ‘In my view, what makes TWO so timeless and still critically relevant today is its simplicity. Of course, the movement is incredibly rich and complex, but the essence of the piece lies in how the performers deal with themselves and each other; how, with exhausted bodies, the pursuit of speed and precision of movement reveals something in the characters of those performing it. TWO demands a certain consciousness and concentration from both the performers and the audience that can only be experienced in the present moment. I think it’s interesting to see how this energy is manifested through the bodies of new performers every time the piece is re-staged.’
For Barbara and Suzan, who are both still working for ICK (as Coordinator of the academy and researcher) it is clear that is early piece by Greco and Scholten condenses the essence of their work.
Barbara: ‘For me it has all the ingredients which are part of their work and which you can find in different proportions and amounts in their other creations. In TWO they are presented in a purer and more naked form, which funny enough doesn't make the piece more simple but just more authentic.’
And Suzan agrees: ‘From the perspective of a dancer, it is a kind of initiation into Emio Greco|PC repertoire. A threshold to be passed before being able to proceed further. In terms of the evolution of the work of Emio and Pieter, it was the first time that Emio transmitted his way to another dancer: Bertha. All ingredients that will have been developed from then onwards are there, condensed, intensified, amplified.’
Also in the sense of archiving and the perseverance of dance history, it is relevant to keep a piece like TWO alive. To let it enter in dialogue with a younger generation of dancers, who keep its essence but gives it a new individual energy and meaning to it. Give visibility to the development of an oeuvre and build a contemporary dance repertoire.
Drops of sweat glide down my forehead to the tip of my nose.
Our two bodies vibrate with a palpable energy
as the voice of Nina Simone billows through the hall
Edward Lloyd
Sidenote
This is not the full list of dancers that have performed it, this also include Victor Callens, Neda Hadji-Mizraei, Helena Volkov, Arnaud Macquet, Quentin Dehaye, amongst others.
_Two _has been performed in the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, France, Italy, Spain, Slovenia, Croatia, Hungary, Israel, United Kingdom, Switzerland, South-Africa, USA, Korea, Hong Kong, Finland, Czech Republic, Greece, Austria, China, Australia, Lebanon and Turkey
**Photocredits **(in order of appearance)
1: Emio Greco & Bertha Bermudez by Robert Dijan
2: Emio Greco & Barbara Meneses by unknown
3: Emio Greco & Bertha Bermudez by Ben van Duin
4: Suzan Tunca & Vincent Colomes by unknown
5: Edward Lloyd & Sophia Dinkel by Alwin Poiana
ALL OVER - ACTS OF LOVE: interview with director Marcus Azzini
text: Haroon Ali
“In All Over – Acts of Love I simply want to tell a beautiful love story.”
It’s as if the activist has awoken in theatre director Marcus Azzini (47), as we discover on the roof terrace of the International Theatre Amsterdam (ITA). Azzini made the performance Small Town Boy, based on the eponymous gay anthem (Smalltown Boy) by Bronski Beat, together with ITA especially for the Amsterdam Pride this summer. Like the famous Eighties song, the piece is about a gay boy escaping the countryside to seek happiness in the big city. ‘It’s my first performance specifically made for the LGBTI community’, Azzini confides.
‘It’s important that we keep telling these stories’, so the Brazilian-Dutch artistic director of Toneelgroep Oostpool tells us. ‘Until we’re no longer regarded as minorities. That term alone: “minorities”. We’re clearly in search of a new vocabulary for the discussions that are playing out now. Why should it be “extraordinary” that I, a homosexual man, have a 12-year-old son? Indeed, I advocate that no one should need to “come out of the closet”. Because it implies that some shame must be overcome before the real life can begin.’
After Small Town Boy, the rehearsals for All Over – Acts of Love, a unique collaboration between Arnhem based Toneelgroep Oostpool and contemporary dance platform ICK Amsterdam got underway. This performance is about two people who fall for each other – and who happen to be men. ‘In other words, another pink theme. I’m not intent on jumping onto the barricades, but after talks with choreographers Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten and writer Hannah van Wieringen I realized that this has to become a positive piece that, for once, does not problematize gay love. It wears me out to be regarded as “different”, just for sharing a bed with men. In All Over – Acts of Love I simply want to tell a beautiful love story.
What distinguishes this romance from other love stories?
‘Superficially these are just two men in their early thirties who live in a metropolis. Soon, however, it becomes clear that they’re living in our time in which climate change is constantly breathing down our spines. How do you live with that? How does it affect them? In other words: love in a time of climate change.’
What does the title All Over – Acts of Love stand for?
‘The first bit means to say: what if it’s all over and the world is really done for? But then it also means something like being all over each other. Acts of Love refers to love as a string of actions. Love is something you do, maybe even more than something you feel. That may also touch upon the psychology of a couple who have been together for long. What does it do to you to spend a whole life with one person; what does it do to your body to lie in bed beside the same person for fifty years? It’s something we can hardly imagine anymore. I’ve been with my man for nine years now --and I find even that something special.’
Will you be staying together for the rest of your lives?
‘The wish is there, at least. Matthijs (van Bergen, fashion designer – ed.) spent nine months in London last year. I found out then, that I sleep and recharge better if he’s in bed beside me. So, he’s a sort of power pack; my love charger. Isn’t it strange that my body needs his body that much? Not just for romantic reasons, but truly for the physical aspect of love.’
Are you someone who’s always in relationships?
‘As it happens, I’ve had several long-lasting relationships. The first one eleven years; then single for five years; now nine years at a stretch. Since I regard love as something you can do or make, it also becomes possible to create love in the theatre. If I play that I love you and you experience that as love even though you know I’m acting, then that’s love. You must keep seeing it as a play. If you are so merged together after all those years, then it’s nice to keep surprising each other and to ask yourself again and again: who do I want to be now? That merging and playing at love are the focus of this performance.’
How did you get involved in this project?
‘ICK approached me. I made the performance LIstEn & See (LIES) together with Ann van den Broek, in which we also brought together actors and dancers. I generally focus on the physical aspect of acting and I want to connect the brain and the body. So, I do understand why ICK came to me – and I immediately wanted to accept the challenge. That’s what set the ball rolling
I called in Theun Mosk, a scenographer I enjoy working with, and Hannah van Wieringen, who is writing the text. She always comes up with strong dialogues that are very up to date. She knows how to capture beautifully how real people talk, while rendering it just a bit more poetic.’
How did you put together the cast?
‘The piece follows the four seasons, performed by Ludwig Bindervoet and Kendrick Etmon. I chose them because they’re both powerful and inspiring actors who are fully engaged with the world and keep an open mind. There’s also a good chemistry between them. They’re two fiery men who project love, vulnerability and sex, even. The cast of dancers consists of Beatrice Cardone, Denis Bruno, Arad Inbar, Edward Lloyd, Isaiah Wilsson and Siva Canbazoglu, and others.’
Wouldn’t a cross-over of the two disciplines be more exciting?
‘Dance and drama are not separate for nothing, since you need to be so damn good in either discipline. So, there’s little point in drawing them out of their comfort zones. There are actors who can move well, but they will never dance at the level of ICK. And a dancer who has to speak becomes less of a dancer because he cannot focus on his specific talent. Therefore, I don’t use the term cross-over, but see it as a meeting. I want to look at what happens when actors and dancers practise their own disciplines alongside and betwixt each other. I had this wild idea, initially, to keep the actors out of sight altogether and just let them be heard, rather like an audio play. But it’s much more exciting after all to see the bodies of the actors move in between the dancers.’
So, what role does dance play in this performance?
‘I had long discussions with Emio and Pieter about the choreography. I asked them if I could use their entire body of work to create a new dance language. Like directors often use a play by Shakespeare to do with it what they want. Well, they were a little hesitant at first, because a choreography is a work of art that has been perfected to the finest detail. Once you begin to toss around with it, it doesn’t do well. When we talked about it some more, they came up with the idea of creating a choreography together with the dancers especially for me, like a gift tied in a bow. It’s up to me to decide if I use the whole choreography or just a little piece of it. It’s still a dialogue, of course. Everything comes together in the rehearsals and then I see what works best.’
Do Pieter and Emio still have an influence on the performance, or do you keep them out?
Laughing: ‘I try to ban them as much as possible. No, not that, but they won’t meddle with it much. I do have a rehearsal director overseeing the technique of the dance movements, so that each toe is placed the way it should. It will take all parties some getting used to, but Emio, Pieter and I have fortunately known each other for years, so there’s full trust between us. And we’ve put together such a good team, so it feels like a creative playground.’
Is this cross-over – sorry: meeting – of dance and drama a new trend?
‘I don’t know. Some people are wary of cross-overs, because they think that it dilutes the arts disciplines. The performing arts are continuing to innovate, but it can be confusing to the audience sometimes. That is why I tell everyone explicitly that All Over – Acts of Love is a dance performance, so as to keep things clear.’
ALL OVER – ACTS OF LOVE
DANCE AND LANGUAGE FIND EACH OTHER IN THE SEARCH FOR LOVE
In All Over – Acts of Love, a collaboration with Toneelgroep Oostpool, dancers and actors present movements of love. Hannah van Wieringen has written dialogues in which there is exploring, thinking and feeling. Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten have created a choreography. Theatre director Marcus Azzini has brought everything together in a space designed by Theun Mosk in which bodies and language find each other without one yielding to another. Both go to great lengths in their urge for complete abandon.
For credits and tour dates please visit
www.ickamsterdam.nl
Publicity image: Henri Verhoef
Portrait Marcus Azzini: Bas de Brouwer
Stage photography: Alwin Poiana
Het identiteitsloos lichaam #11: briefwisseling met Karel Tuytschaever
Dag Karel,
Bij het afsluiten van je laatste brief, liet je me achter om het bos in te gaan. Even op adem komen na een intensieve repetitieperiode, eerst in Tilburg, dan in Amsterdam. Het voelde inderdaad erg vertrouwd om met je te werken in de studio. Een naadloze verderzetting van deze correspondentie. Nu het gesprek zich verplaatst heeft van papier naar studio, schrijf ik je nog een laatste keer na de première van STRANGER afgelopen week.
STRANGER voelde als bladeren door een koffietafelboek. Een selectie beelden heel zorgvuldig uitgekozen en na elkaar geplaatst in een bepaalde esthetiek en over een bepaald thema. Een collectie aan lichamen, indrukken, beelden, associaties,…
Was dit dan het identiteitsloos lichaam? Het lichaam dat niet geïnterpreteerd kan worden in een bepaalde context maar enkel zichzelf uitdrukt? Vanuit de performer gezien, het perspectief dat jij altijd gebruikt om het hierover te hebben, wellicht wel. Er zit iets van zelfloosheid in het spel van danser Laurent Delom de Mézerac. Hij heeft zijn lichaam beschikbaar gemaakt om verschillende intenties en uitgangspunten van de maker op uit te proberen.
Vanuit het publiek gezien, stond er alles behalve een identiteitsloos lichaam. Het lichaam creëerde van binnenuit verschillende contexten en speelde met de frictie tussen ‘wat er is’ (een lichaam) en ‘wat we zien’ (een man). Dit wordt vanaf het allereerste moment heel helder ingezet. De man richt zich tot het publiek en zegt zachtjes: this is my own voice. Terwijl hij langzaam naar achteren loopt, wordt dit subtiel overgenomen door een stem op band, het duurt even voor het publiek dit merkt, waarna hij zelf zwijgt en we enkel nog de band horen: this is my own voice. Zo verschuift onze perceptie van de performer naar zijn omgeving. Wat hij is, wat hij zegt, his own voice, wordt mede bepaald door wat hem omringt. Ook dat geeft identiteit.
Op podium bewoog het lichaam in een kale ruimte, naakt, om elke input die de interpretatie van buitenaf zou kunnen sturen, te dempen. De filmbeelden werkten daarentegen met (sociale) omkadering: zowel door de ruimtes waarin het lichaam geplaatst werd als door manipulaties op het lichaam zelf, tattoos, beharing, wonden,… Opvallend was ook de tegenstelling actief – passief tussen het lichaam op het podium en in de film. Op podium, in al zijn naaktheid, moest het lichaam aan de slag om betekenis te genereren. Springen, rennen, kijken, spelen, het op –en ontspannen van spieren, dansen,… het lichaam was druk in beweging. Op beeld deed hij juist niets. Een zittende man. De omkadering deed het werk. Ook hiermee duid je volgens mij de impact van beeldcultuur en sociale lagen die over het lichaam heen worden gelegd. We moeten zelf geen moeite meer doen om ons te presenteren. Nog voor we iets gezegd of gedaan hebben, is er al een interpretatie van wie we zijn, wat onze identiteit is, gewoon door de omgeving waarin we ons bevinden en de manier waarop we ons lichaam bedekken, of simpelweg ‘is’.
Ik blijf het dan ook een lastige term vinden, het identiteitsloze lichaam. Want hoewel het mij na een paar keer over en weer schrijven duidelijk is geworden welke invulling jij er aan geeft, vind ik het moeilijk om hier voorbij het talige te denken en interpreteren: identiteits – loos. Zonder identiteit… En dat is het namelijk nooit. We hadden het eerder ook over het transparante lichaam, het gevolg van een actieve houding om de ‘ego- belangen te transformeren naar iets groters dan jezelf. Het transparante lichaam vat zowel het lichaam dat zich openstelt voor intenties van de maker als dat het zich kan verhouden tot een publiek door middel van fysieke empathie. Het publiek kan hier ook zelf, vanuit eigen achtergrond en fantasie, associaties maken. Wellicht is dit een beter term? En over dat transparante lichaam zit onvermijdelijke een sociale laag. The social body.
Lieve Karel, ons schrijven is voor mij erg betekenisvol geweest. Nadenken, iemand laten meelezen, ruimte om dingen ook niet te begrijpen, open te breken, te bevragen, rond te dwalen in de mist,… laten we hier verder over hebben. In de studio, in de kroeg, in het leven.
Veel liefs,
Jesse
Jesse Vanhoeck is dramaturg en artistiek assistent bij ICK.
Karel Tuytschaever is performer, docent en bezielt daarnaast als maker het platform voor eigen werk BARRY.
Connections, catharsis, and dance as an inclusive ritual; Moreno Perna brings to the stage AURA: A Shamanistic Techno Ritual of Dance
Text by Greta Melli
Published on 31MAG
Not just dance: Moreno's performance is the result of inner research, listening and (re)connection with the other
A return to the origins, spirituality, and primordial elements. AURA is dance, because it’s pure movement. But also a ritual, staged at the theater. Theatre is the only thing today that is truly magical, where the audience experiences sensations thanks to something that can be felt live. And any piece of theatre or dance is already a catharsis itself.
Moreno Perna is a dancer, choreographer and performer based in Amsterdam. He studied Humanities at the State University of Milan, before accomplishing a second degree at the Amsterdam University of Arts. After that, he studied with Jan Fabre, while today he collaborates with ICK Amsterdam and Dansmakers Amsterdam companies. This year, he created a new project, AURA: A Shamanistic Techno Ritual of Dance, which will be staged for the first time on Thursday, the 5th of September.
“I’ve been working on this performance for a year: it’s a research of movement that starts from a work of introspection on a very personal level. The connection between energy work and dance is what the show is based on. When I had the courage to move here and study dance, it was like starting from the bottom, because dance, much more than theatre in my opinion, is a form of art where the body/mind system changes completely. You learn again to connect with yourself, with others, with the world, through your senses and movement. That’s why I find it a shamanistic process, which includes magic and spirituality.
This for me is the most beautiful part of dance, the way you can connect with the audience on an energetic level. You don’t just come to the theatre to see a monologue with a message, but you go to see dance to connect emotionally.”
For Moreno, the relationship with the audience is fundamental; without its viewers, the performance would totally lose its meaning: “These days I’m working with Evgenia Rubanova, my dancer, and we could see that working alone is not the same as doing that with the audience.”
In the show, the public can choose their place. It’s not just a matter of comfort, it’s a symbolic choice, aimed at making them feel at ease: “I want viewers to have their own space in the theatre, and to choose where to sit based on what they feel at the moment. It’s their decision, completely intuitive. Based on this, they will have a different experience. We dance in a circle; around it there’s a first row where you can sit and stay very close to us. Alternatively, you can sit elsewhere, or stand and dance. It’s our audience decision. We dance on the floor, all together, without a stage.”
Connecting with the audience through improvisation, they go beyond a simple show to watch passively: “We work a lot on the energy level, so we listen to the energy of the audience. We are sensitive and influenced by it as we move, and we perceive a different aura depending on the person (hence the title AURA). There are people with whom we are better off and others who are not, they all have this sixth sense.
We use a technique, The Auratic Practice, and we’re still working on it. From this practice of listening and connecting with the others, we create a new energy all together, in total communion. Obviously we respect a basic choreography. But I prefer to work with body language rather than fixed steps”.
Theatre and pure movement are the key terms of Moreno’s debut performance. This new production comes mainly from an introspective work: “I wondered why I dance, why I am a dancer and choreographer. I’ve always had a lot of energy that I have to throw out, and if I don’t, I become depressed and also nervous. It’s liberating and increases my level of well-being. And it is also very poetic because dance doesn’t have a fixed and verbal language: my audience is not just listening, but they can relax and share feelings. They must have time to familiarize with us, step by step; we don’t want to be aggressive at all, in fact ours is a gradual approach”.
And gradual was also the confidence that Moreno has learned to have with his viewers over the years. It is not easy to control, on an emotional level, the energies of those in front of you, especially because they are difficult to predict. Also, the peculiarity of AURA and this openness to the others is the result of years of experience: “I have been practicing Kundalini for 7 years now, a practice of meditation that influenced the research on The Auratic Practice during my first residence. From there I started to practice. At that time I had more distance with the public. There’s always a chance that you’ll find someone who doesn’t have a good energy in front of you, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle everyone’s energy. Even just dancing on stage means exposing yourself, and you have to know how to do it. Now I’m completely comfortable. The relationship with the audience is actually a real relationship, but there must be balance, or else it is exploitation or abuse”.
We are not, however, dealing with a simple theatrical play, nor a ritual, but with dance, in the most genuine sense of the word. A dance made of pure movement, free of tinsels or masks, which relies on anything but body language and the primordial rhythm of techno. This is how Moreno allows you to identify with a cathartic experience, always in a protected space.
And not just that: “The spirituality of the individual comes up, each one of us has his own, which is connected to religion or created by combining several elements, like a puzzle. And, after all, why not?”
The choice of the musical genre is completely unexpected for a dance show: the techno that accompanies AURA is composed by an Italian artist living in Amsterdam, Alessio Ciborio, which is part of the music label Immaterial Archives. However, it is perfect for a performance that wants to reconnect to the most primordial and genuine sensations: “After all, techno is just the simple evolution of drums, almost a ritual. You feel the music vibrate inside your body, and it’s the music that makes you move your body.”
Photos: Alwin Poiana
Moreno Perna is supported artist at ICK. Aura is part of the Amsterdam Fringe Festival and can be seen 15/9 at 19h30 at De Brakke Grond
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Text: Lidwien Berkhout, Barbara Meneses, Jesse Vanhoeck
Dance Connects organizes modern dance classes for seniors (60+). In four weeks, Barbara Meneses gave them an introduction to the Double Skin/ Double mind method. ICK is interested to investigate how the DS/DM method can work or be adapted for ageing bodies. After an initial introduction, a series of more in-depth workshops followed where also the Sensorium – Toolkit for dance came into play. ICK wants to think further about how the method can be adapted even better to this target group and what kind of benefits this can bring to them. After the first experience, Dance Connects member Lidwien Berkhout shared her experiences:
"When I heard that we were going to attend several Double Skin/ Double Mind workshops at ICK, I had no idea what that meant. In the first lesson Barbara explained how the method was developed and what the basic principles are: breathing, jumping, expanding, reducing. Then we went to work to experience what it's like to do these exercises one after the other. It took me some time getting used to it. Especially because the exercises are repeated quite a lot and done for a longer period of time.
Ageing means being confronted with constraints that are different for everyone. However, everyone could follow this workshop. In our group we participated as much as possible according to our own abilities. The experience also differs from person to person. I thought the workshop was easy to follow. It also stimulated me to go a step further than I thought would be possible. During the jumping part, I suddenly got in a flow and could go on for a long time.
Breathing is important for your (dance) movements. It facilitates/strengthens your movements. Even though I am aware of its importance, I sometimes forget to use it properly in daily live activities. Doing the exercises draws your attention to the fact that you can use breathing to strengthen your movements.
Jumping was a very nice thing to do. Let your arms hang loose and let them move with you. The gaze is, unlike in yoga, directed outwards and during jumping you meet the other dancers, you share the energy and you see what happens with the movements. It is very playful.
Expanding and reducing is about moving bigger and smaller. I found the barely perceptible movements in reducing very special. Making movements larger, I think, is more in my nature while making them smaller requires more awareness of yourself. It stimulates you to subtly show the power of your movements. The reducing evoked the image of a tamed force or energy.
I really enjoyed doing it. The workshops were both strenuous and relaxing at the same time. After the workshop I always felt supple, loose, clear, relaxed. “
Also for teacher Barbara Meneses it was a whole new experience to work with this target group. She was pleasantly surprised by the openness of the group, their enthusiasm: 'I thought they were very fit and they had no trouble at all to improvise'.
“Ageing comes with all kinds of consequences. For some, their bodies and minds start to encounter bigger and new limitations, others are not yet there, they are even more fit than most of younger amateurs. The process of ageing and, more importantly, the way their bodies and minds are accepting it and adapting to it, is different for everyone and therefore there are big differences in the group.
But all of them have, obviously, a larger life experience. And that is so rich. More memories, more references, more knowledge. This is mainly visible when it comes to improvisation or to more creative exercises. Give them elements from the Sensorium toolkit like the smells, which make a direct link in your brain with memories, and they will come up with a richer pallet of possibilities than any other age group.
From the experience of working with this group I have grown a lot of respect for them.Dancing, moving, being social and staying creative is surely very beneficial and positive for them but it is also a sign of vitality and inner strength. Dance is a very confronting art form, for anyone. You encounter your limits over and over again, it is the only way to grow. In the case of elderly dancers, the limits and borders of what they can do, physically and mentally, can have another layer of meaning. Sometimes they experience limits and through working on them, they are able to move them a bit further away and create more room for themselves. But sometimes new limits appear, they are unmovable and have come to stay. The challenge is to learn how to deal with them, accepting the new situation and adapting to it. I think to put yourself in that position requires a lot of inner strength. It’s admirable.
The idea to collaborate with Dance Connects Company came from their director Floortje Rous and it was immediately very attractive to me. The soul of the ICK Academy projects is directly linked with the DS/DM workshop and we continue to investigate how the method can be widely used and maintains its relevance in different contexts. The purpose of the collaboration with Floortje and the Dance Connects Company was to see if the DS/DM method and the Sensorium Toolkit could be used as tools to help Floortje (re)discover her dancers and their individual and unique qualities, to get more out of each of them. Given the heterogeneity of the group our goal was simple: the workshop had to be inclusive, it was a must to provide a DS/DM which was accessible for everyone in the room, no one could feel excluded. I tried to create a DSDM which could be done entirely while walking or constantly shifting weight, chairs were always in the room to be used as support whenever they wanted to.
The Jumping part of the DS/DM is one of the toughest physically so we tried to recreate the essence of the jumping (rebound, rhythm, shapeless body, awareness of your skin) with a much gentler form, and I think it worked. And I didn’t do this just by myself, the collaboration with Floortje, her knowledge about her dancers and her input and ideas were very important.
We learn about the method by confronting it with different target groups, because for each specific target group the DS/DM needs to be adapted in order to be, first, welcomed by the participants and then, have a significant impact on them. In order to adapt the method, we need to question it over and over again. What are the essential elements of the DS/DM, which of those elements are of value for the target group, what are the elements that on the contrary might produce a resistance in the participants and what happens if we remove/transform those? How far can we go from the original and still call it DS/DM?
It was a very inspiring process for everyone and as a conclusion we have decided to continue the collaboration further. After the summer we will continue working with the group of dancers using the Sensorium Toolkit, this time to create a 20 minute piece based on their improvisations, the result will be presented in the coming ICKfest in October 2019.
Photos: Alwin Poiana, Bas de Brouwer, Floortje Rous
Is a living body ever immobile? Asks Frederica Dauri, a young experimental artist with a strong focus on the body as a multifunctional tool. Together with visual artist Kiril Bikov she made the performance installation Corpus Mobile.
In Corpus Mobile, Dauri’s body is laid bare and exposed under 50 razor-sharp knives hanging only a few millimetres above her. In this condition of immobility and constriction the performer can experience the physical and mental limitation that is forced upon her.
This performance installation was part of ICK’s event THE BODY IN REVOLT x ADE where photographer Alwin Poiana took these strong pictures. Starting from the idea that the body is our tool and instrument with which we experience the outside world, and also that the same body has have power to shape and influence society, ICK dancer Arad Inbar curated together with artist Bogomir Doringer an event around Club Culture as an initiator of changes, as a form of activism.
For Dauri and Bikov Corpus Mobile is a search of the oppressed body to find alternatives to given limitations. How do you move?
ICK dancers Edward Lloyd and Sophia Dinkel started rehearsing with Kris Verdonck for SOMETHING (out of nothing). Edward shares his experiences after a workshop to prepare them for this process.
Performing ‘nothing’ can be incredibly challenging, as we discovered during our first meeting with Belgian theatre maker and visual artist Kris Verdonck.
During our three day workshop we looked to Samuel Beckett, David Lynch and Japanese Noh Theatre for inspiration, while ideas of tragedy, comedy and absurdism began to materialize. Using Verdonck’s existing piece Untitled (2014) as a starting point, we found ourselves inside mascot-esque Mickey Mouse heads in which we had to perform through a new - and at first rather amusing - dehumanized identity.
In Untitled (2014) Verdonck presents us with a mascot who is thrown on to the stage with no real purpose, other than to entertain his audience. He must entertain, not through will, but through circumstance. It is simply what is expected of him. Described by one critic as “a play where hardly anything happens”, the piece is meticulously choreographed down to the second (literally), where even a shrug of the shoulder or an uncomfortably long -but not too uncomfortably long- silence bears great significance.
As we attempted to embody the sentiment of the aimless mascot, an instinctive sense of timing was at play. With our field of vision and perception of space distorted by the mouse head, we needed to have an elevated awareness of what we were creating from the perspective of the audience. A simultaneous visualization of the body (including its costume) both from inside and outside of the mouse head. As a dancer, lifting a finger may feel seemingly unsatisfying, but in this case, it could be all that is necessary to communicate with an audience. That is, if it is done within the correct context.
So, as it happens, performing ‘nothing’, is very much performing ‘something’. Developing this dual perception of the body, and differentiating between how a movement feels and how a movement is perceived, I imagine, will be one of the concepts to further explore during the creation of Verdonck’s latest piece Something (out of nothing).
In SOMETHING (out of nothing) the performers will share the space with robots, as the distinction between living and non-living bodies becomes increasingly obscure, and the idea of ‘the living object’ becomes a reality.
Verdonck continues to challenge his audience. An ever expanding commentary on the vulnerability of the human, in an age where the commodification of everything and everyone saturates our society.
For more information about the performance and tour dates, click here
Het identiteitsloos lichaam #10: briefwisseling met Karel Tuytschaever
Lieve Jesse,
Nog leuker dan een brief van jou te ontvangen, was het uitkijken naar ons samenwerken in de repetitiestudio. Door onze correspondentiegeschiedenis voelde het vertrouwd met elkaar in repetitiecontext te werken als maker en dramaturg voor STRANGER, mijn nieuwe voorstelling.
Ik schrijf deze brief uit het Belgische Limburg, waar ik tien weken van onderzoek en creatie afsluit. Dan neem ik even afstand, vooraleer de voorstelling in september te gaan afmonteren en in première zal gaan. Omgeven door naaldbomen, vogels, eenden en een beekje, ben ik vandaag alleen met mijn gedachten. Voor mij een uitgelezen moment om je terug te schrijven.
Het was erg bijzonder om samen naar hetzelfde lichaam te kunnen kijken tijdens de repetities. Zien we hetzelfde? Lezen we hetzelfde? Voelen we hetzelfde? Praten we erover op dezelfde manier? Want dat zijn volgens mij allemaal verschillende aspecten waar wij het tot op heden in onze briefwisseling al over hebben gehad: kijken – interpreteren – verbeelden – jargon.
Op dit moment dringt het pas tot me door hoe ons onderzoek naar het kijken naar het performerslichaam (vanuit mijn rol als maker) en het sociale lichaam (vanuit jouw rol als dramaturg) eigenlijk erg vervat zit in de creatie zelf, net zichtbaar doordat deze twee ‘soorten’ lichamen in dit proces slechts door één lichaam wordt belichaamd. Onze twee perspectieven om naar het performerslichaam te kijken worden gewoonweg als voorstellingsconstructie gehanteerd: de danssolo (die we tot nu creëerden) gaat uiteindelijk in dialoog met een film (die momenteel in post-productie is). De intieme lichamelijkheid van de danser die sensorieel voelbaar is voor de toeschouwer, in relatie tot datzelfde lichaam dat gevangen zit in een beeldconstructie. Het performerslichaam aan de ene kant, het sociale lichaam ernaast geplaatst. Het lichaam versus het lichaamsbeeld.
Het is de ruimte ertussen (de dialoog met of het schuren ten opzichte van elkaar) dat me erg interesseert. Het mannelijk lichaam in de voorstelling dient zijn plek te zoeken en zich te verhouden tussen zijn spiegelbeeld en het beeld dat iemand anders van en over hem heeft. Welke verschillende soorten lichamen belichaamt hij? Welke lichamen dient hij vorm te geven? Wat is hij voor anderen? Wie is hij écht als hij alleen is? Wat is hij voor zichzelf? Wie vindt hij dat hij is?
Hoe de man omgaat met de ruimte tussen zijn spiegelbeeld en een denkbeeld van hem, wordt in mijn ogen de voorstelling. Helder en leesbaar maken hoe hij zoekt, transformeert of de grenzen ervan oprekt, is wat ons nog rest tot september.
Voor mezelf vind ik het erg belangrijk dat het het lichaam zélf is dat alles met elkaar verbindt in de uiteindelijke voorstelling. Het lichaam en zijn lichamelijkheid staat voor mij centraal.
Inzoomen op lichamelijkheid is voor mij stilstaan bij de fysicaliteit en articulaties die voorbij genderexpressies of sociale constructies gaan. Mijn sleutel daarvoor is het zintuig huid. Een zintuig dat in tijden van stortvloeden aan beelden en geluiden op de achtergrond is geraakt. Tussen de binnen en de buitenwereld zit letterlijk de huid. Een canvas dat eerstegraads doorgeeft en zichtbaar maakt wat er binnen in dat lichaam huist en zich afspeelt, maar evengoed de sporen draagt van de omgeving waar het lichaam zich in bevindt, of eerder mee in contact kwam. De huid vertelt als geen ander wat er werkelijk ís. De huid houdt geen rekening met verleden en toekomst. De huid reageert louter in het hier en nu. De huid is nu. De huid is het dichtste bij jezelf en het dichtste bij de ander.
Ik sluit graag af met het delen van drie bedenkingen van mezelf uit de afgelopen weken, als opzet om wat dieper op nieuwe bevindingen in te kunnen gaan in onze komende uitwisseling. Ik vind het zelf zo verrijkend om niet alleen het praktijkwerk in de studio te delen, maar ook via geschreven woorden nieuwe ingangen en interesses te laten bestaan en kernachtiger te maken. Erg belangrijk vind ik het dat mijn mentale ruimte - naast mijn creërende praktijk – mee evolueert zodat zich nieuwe, mogelijke krijtlijnen voor de toekomst destilleren.
EEN
Naast het intieme, natuurlijke lichaam van de performer en zijn sociale lichaam, introduceer ik nog een derde lichaam in STRANGER: het digitale lichaam.
Als één uit de laatste generatie geboren voor het internet, weet ik wat het is om zonder internet op te groeien. In die tijd kon ik mijn private intiem en openbaar sociaal lichaam leren kennen en uiten. Nu liggen we in de knoop door de komst van een derde lichaam, namelijk een lichaam op social media en in de virtuele (game) realiteiten (jawel, ze benoemen dat als een realiteit!). Een jonge generatie die in de knoop ligt met zijn eigen lichaam en beeld aangezien deze ook nog de tijd moeten vinden om een derde lichaam te construeren, te voeden en te onderhouden. Oudere generaties moeten herzien, herdefiniëren, hervormen.
De komst van technologie maakt veel mogelijk, maar binnen deze onderzoekcontext kan ik best stellen dat technologie een grote impact heeft op lichamelijkheid en de representatiemogelijkheden ervan. Het werkt de kwetsbaarheid van een lichaam erg in de hand.
TWEE
Volgens mij kan ik als maker het lichaam van een performer op drie verschillende manieren inzetten en leesbaar maken:
Allereerst als het ‘hij/zij/hen’, het lichaam als individu. Dat lichaam kan je als kijker interpreteren als de aanwezigheid van de performer die zichzelf verbeeldt.
Ten tweede kan je het lichaam ook lezen als ‘het’, het lichaam als object. Dan interpreteer je als kijker de performer als levende sculptuur.
En als derde manier kan je het lichaam ook nog lezen als ‘wij’, het lichaam als sociaal lichaam. Dan zet je als kijker de performer in een context van in relatie staan met anderen.
Naar gelang op welke manier je het lichaam leest, zal je het lichaam ook anders interpreteren, en zal je er andere zaken in zien of op projecteren. Als je kijkt met ‘andere’ ogen naar hetzelfde lichaam dat op exact dezelfde manier is in tijd en ruimte, leveren de drie bovenstaande oogpunten volgende leesmogelijkheden op: (1) hij is verdrietig, ik herken zijn verdriet, (2) ik zie tranen of (3) we leven in droevige tijden. Dat zorgt je je als kijker op een andere manier verbindt met de performer: (1) betrokken, (2) afstandelijk betrokken of (3) beschouwend.
Ik vind het interessant om als maker het bewustzijn te hebben over deze drie mogelijke aanwezigheden. Mijn spel met en het interpreteren van de kijker wordt bijzonder hard gestuurd door mijn gekozen opzet van kijken. Ik denk dan aan keuzes als het letterlijke kader inzake kijkperspectief en zaal, de vormgeving binnen dat kijkkader; maar ook zaken zoals juiste formuleringen van communicatie- en persteksten, inleidingen of nagesprekken, voorstellingsprogrammatie of curatie, enz.
DRIE
Een laatste gedachte ent verder op waarover we het al eens hadden in vorige brieven, namelijk intentie en beweegreden. Maar dan iets breder, over oorspronkelijkheid van het bewegingsmateriaal. Deze sluit ergens ook aan op je Plato-passage in je laatste brief.
Ik vraag me soms af in hoeverre dansmateriaal écht vertelt wat je als maker denkt dat het vertelt. (En is het niet hier dat de dramaturg zo van belang is en wordt voor een creatieproces?)
Als een danser materiaal genereert binnen het creatie- en denkkader van een maker, zijn allereerst de dansers’ keuzes, pauzeringen, intenties, kleuren zichtbaar. De danser zoekt en vertrekt vanuit zijn persoonlijke beweegreden, en doet op die manier een voorstel aan de maker. Er wordt op dat moment een verbinding gelegd tussen de wereld van de danser met de intentie van de maker.
De maker projecteert op dat materiaal zijn voorbereidend denkwerk en concept, namelijk de informatie die hij verzamelde over mogelijke inhouden bij wat hij wil gaan maken. Het is die informatie die hij al dan niet gespiegeld ziet in het materiaal van de danser, de maker zijn associaties bij het materiaal.
Bij wie ligt de intentie? Bij wie ligt de beweegreden? Waar ligt de oorspronkelijkheid van de belichaming?
Dat is het even voor nu. Het deed me deugd dit alles uit mijn hoofd te schrijven. Ik ga het bos in.
Alle goeds van Karel.
Karel Tuytschaever is performer, docent en bezielt daarnaast als maker het platform voor eigen werk BARRY.
Jesse Vanhoeck is dramaturg en artistiek assistent bij ICK.
Foto 1: Repetitiebeeld door Joery Erna
Foto 2: presentatie Work in progress door Alwin Poiana
Foto 3: Repetitiebeeld door Joery Erna
An interview with dance researcher Suzan Tunca by Desiree Hoving
How beautiful it would be if choreographies could be danced again even after a hundred years. ICK is therefore working on a way to 'archive' contemporary dance. Not just in order to pass it on to future generations, but also to build bridges with the world outside dance.
When you wish to write music, you describe what must be played on a staff as best as possible. If you give that to any musician on any kind of instrument anywhere in the world, he or she will play exactly the music that's on the paper. That's because there are international agreements in place for putting notes on paper.
There is such an international notation system for dance, too, one in which a dance notator writes down all the movements in time and space on a kind of staff. Instead of notes, the notator uses symbols to represent steps, positions and transitions between movements. That way it is clear when a dancer must move his left arm to the right and his right foot forward. The system is called Labanotation in English and it was devised in 1928 by Rudolf Laban, a pioneer of modern dance."But it doesn't suffice for all forms of contemporary dance", Suzan Tunca explains.
She used to be a dancer with ICK and today she leads the research into the notation, documentation and transfer of dance. "It isn't just about the body that moves from one position to the next. A choreography is much more than that. It's about the interplay between body and mind. What you feel, what you're thinking about, what music you hear, who you're dancing with and what kind of lighting is present in the space, these are all important factors. She gives an example: "If, as a dancer, you have an image in your head of a sea shell opening, then you execute that step sideways quite differently than if you took that step for the sake of that step."
But how do you notate dance if you wish to record more than just the steps? And what do you do if the steps are of no importance? ICK has researched this for more than a decade. In 2007 the dance company published the book (Capturing Intention), which translates as recording the intention. The title is written in parentheses on purpose, because dance cannot really be captured. "It's immaterial and exists only in the moment. Whereas art that's material, like a photograph of a painting, can be captured more easily," Tunca says.
The book deals with the role of intention in the dance itself, but also in other art forms, science and philosophy. "We wish to build a bridge to the society outside the dance. Dance can create a specific form of consciousness and stimulate reflection and discourse," Tunca explains. "Together with architects, musicians, psychologists and philosophers we want to investigate creative processes further, because intellect, instinct, emotion and physical intuition play a part, not just in dance, but beyond it as well."
Since 2015 the focus of the dance research has shifted from 'notation' to 'annotation'. With notation it's all about finding notation systems, which often involve symbols the whole world knows, as with music notation. Furthermore, notation is intended to describe the choreography as meticulously as possible. Annotation, by contrast, operates without symbols and uses language as a complement to images. The purpose is to add more depth to a recorded choreography.
Annotation appears to be more suitable for contemporary dance, but it's still in its infancy. ICK is currently investigating an instrument for annotation that was developed by Motionbank, in which language is used in combination with video images in order to document creative processes in the dance. This puts a greater emphasis on the explicit spoken language that occurs alongside the implicit physical language of the dance during the creation of new choreographies.
In her annotation research Tunca employs the ABCdaire, a kind of glossary of 176 alphabetically arranged terms that derive from the choreographies of Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten. "Contemporary dance has almost no common vocabulary, which is something that Classical Ballet does have. Therefore we wish to give movements deriving from physical origins a verbal dimension. The verbal dimension can be regarded as a kind of basic ingredient of the dance which will persist over time," Tunca says. She offers an example straightaway:
She moves her right hand up slowly and when her arm is stretched, she drops the hand quickly. "For instance, consider the term 'echo'. That refers to what takes place inside the body after a movement. You don't see it, but you can feel it all the same." Other examples of terms included in the ABCdaire are breathing, jumping, expanding and reducing. Those terms are being used in the dance method Double Skin/Double Mind, once again developed by Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten. This method is implemented both in dance and outside of it in preparation of creative processes.
Another element of the ABCdaire are the pre-choreographic elements. This refers to a phase within the creative process in which all kinds of movements emerge before they begin to constitute a choreography. Tunca shows a video: It's called Around Ball. We see various dancers who draw inspiration from the notion of a ball; now because they're holding one in their hands, now because they themselves appear to imitate the movement of a ball. "The dancers are investigating here in the studio how they can translate and embody a movement concept like Around Ball via motion experiments," Tunca explains. Twenty of those concepts have now been recorded, but the aim is to expand the movement vocabulary even further. This isn't just intended to describe the origins of existing choreographies, but also to be used in the conceptualisation of new movements.
The audience doesn't have to wait before they can see another performance by ICK. There are video registrations, available on request, of performances to watch, there are reviews for perusal and you can browse through the extensive photographic record of the repertoire of choreographers Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten. This can be done in the multimedia library of ICK that offers free admission to anyone who wants to learn more about dance.
Photo 1: Suzan Tunca by Alwin Poiana
Photo 2: Screenshot Annotation system by Motionbank
Photo 3: Arad Inbar in research project HARMONIC DISSONANCE– SYNCHRON(ICIT)Y by Nikki Schuurmans
Some thoughts on CHOREOPOP by Jesus de Vega and Chai Blaq
Text: Annet Huizing
In the course of last year I had the opportunity to talk with choreographer Jesús de Vega. He was busy creating the project CHOREOPOP together with musician Chai Blaq (percussionist Michelle Samba) in the framework of a residency at Dansmakers. CHOREOPOP has since gone on tour and will soon be shown in Frascati, Amsterdam on 14 February with Loulou Elisabettie joining Jesús on stage. Time to revisit my notes, and to zoom in on two aspects that Jesús felt underlie the performance, and that joined Michelle’s and his work together: things broken and things Japanese.
CHOREOPOP is a choreographed music album, a hybrid between a dance performance, a pop music concert and live video-clips. Where body and voice become inseparable. Musician Chai Blaq and choreographer Jesús de Vega collaborate in this multidisciplinary project with the aim of merging two disciplines and their creative processes. They both find inspiration in things that seem broken: society, relationships, climate, bodies etc
When Michelle and Jesús first started the creative process together, in these explorative dialogues of getting to know each other's focus, a shared interest in Japanese aesthetics and philosophy came to the fore. They agreed that for the piece: the choreography, the poetry and the visuals of it, they wanted to depart from the fragile, the delicate aspect and gradually arrived at things that are actually broken. They discovered a mutual interest, which was to become an inspiration for CHOREOPOP: the Japanese art of kintsugi.
Kintsugi is the ancient art of repairing what has been broken. Fragments of a shattered ceramic object are re-aligned and glued back together. The object is mended by using lacquer mixed with powdered gold that, importantly, leaves the repair visible. The repaired object, scarred with golden lines, becomes a symbol of fragility on the one hand, strength and beauty on the other. The mending process itself is never a ‘quick fix’. It is a meditative process that requires patience , a careful choosing of tools, and a mental engaging with the fragments and the patterns that arise when re-aligning them. All of this before the gold lacquer is even touched.
To find beauty in the imperfect is, Jesús told me, also related to the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi: "Wabi-sabi nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.” (1) It is specifically related to things natural: it is (amongst other things) the ability and mindset to find in imperfect objects something fascinating and beautiful. Fading autumn leaves and oxidized copper plate are examples from nature. Materials that age, in this philosophy, become more interesting as they change over time. This also applies to created objects: wabi-sabi gives a different perception of beauty, for instance when unevenness in an object, or in the alignment of a garden, makes it more interesting than perfect symmetry.
For Jesús both philosophies touched acutely upon his personal relationship with his body, which after some severe injuries (literally: broken joints, not put back together with gold lacquer but with metal pins) was no longer able to perform the way it was trained to, or the way Jesús’ mind had believed it always would work. Restoring faith in a body that has become wayward proved a long journey. Healing the body’s fractures was one thing; finding, and then acknowledging, a new beauty in its changed aesthetics and capacity for expression another.
Just as with kintsugi Jesús had to find his own materials and own tools, and take his own time to get to that point. The current production CHOREOPOP, to him, now is a “celebration of the healing power of unity as a way to repair social and emotional fractures”. But, to me, it also very much relates to the healing power of his own body and soul.
When reading more about kintsugi I learnt that the thought behind it is indeed often applied in psychology and mindfulness, where the beauty of repair is seen as a metaphor for life. “Like an object, life can break apart into a thousand pieces, but not for that reason should we stop living intensely […]. Emotional strength can be learned”, says psychologist Tomás Navarro, “Adversity is a collateral element of living, and everyone has a different way of coping. By being prepared for the inevitable, when challenging times happen, we can apply kintsugi. Instead of sweeping our problems under the metaphorical carpet, we can put ourselves back together in a way that embraces the challenges we have faced as part of our life’s journey, while acknowledging that it is our scars that make us strong and interesting people.”(2)
This view ties in with the perceptions I read in the introduction to a publication that came out last December: Phenomenology of the Broken Body: “Brokenness suggests a state in which the body is, in passing or permanently, hindered from what was perceived to be its normal functioning, being incapacitated or otherwise debarred from practical or social activities [...]. Attending to the broken body [...] can shed critical light back on what we otherwise take to be the normal body [...] As we concentrate upon our tasks – riding a bicycle, typing an essay, digging a ditch [or, in Jesús’ case: dancing – AH] – the body on which we depend recedes into the background. But when the body breaks down, say by acute pain or a sudden onset of disease, the background converts into the foreground. Such fundamental interruptions have the power to disclose to us what tends to escape the familiar and habitual body; the breakdown [...] not only opens up the broken state as such, but also opens up otherwise neglected dimensions of our bodily constitution[...]. (3) New limitations are often transformed into the conditions for new engagements.
For Jesús, personally, what he has come to expect from his body, has opened up new perceptions and possibilities as well and has changed the conditions for his choreographies: whereas formerly he would focus more on movement quality, he has now shifted the weight to what exactly he wants to tell. Tough stories sometimes, like in his earlier piece Glittergods/STIGMA which tackles the LGBTQ+ struggle, but strong and with a unique beauty.
(1) Quote from: Wabi-Sabi Simple: Create beauty. Value imperfection. Live deeply , Richard Powell
(2) Kintsugi: why you should embrace your imperfections the Japanese way, article in the Telegraph by Boudicca Fox-Leonard, published 11-4-2018
(3) Phenomenology of the Broken Body, Espen Dahl, Cassandra Falke, Thor Eirik Eriksen, Routledge, December 2018
The rainbows of Jan Andriesse: inspiration for Disappearance
text: Marieke Buytenhuijs
“All hues are colored shadows”
- Goethe (1810)
“How to paint light, space and silence?” this is the most important question that the Amsterdam painter Jan Andriesse (Jakarta, 1950) asks himself every day. His famous rainbow paintings, with colours disappearing into each other, try to catch the intangible daylight. An ostensibly impossible ambition.
The passion for rainbows all begun when Andriesse, and five other artists, were asked in 1994 to make a painting for the hall of the Council of State, an advisory body in The Netherlands led by the king (but at the time by the queen). Andriesse: “I wondered what was the most beautiful thing I could give to the queen. After months of thinking I decided it would be a rainbow. What is more beautiful than a rainbow?” In the end, Andriesse’s painting was not chosen, the queen did not like it… But this did not discourage him. In total he created five rainbow paintings which, nowadays, are part of the collection of the museum De Pont in Tilburg.
In an interview with Janneke Wesseling, for the newspaper NRC, in 1998, Andriesse tells about his struggles while painting his first rainbow: “I didn’t know where to start, how to use the paint […] Acrylic paint dries very fast, you cannot doubt, you have to put the strips of colour immediately on the canvas. This is why I prepared the colours in advance […] when painting, you start with the lightest colour, yellow. From yellow you make it darker, to orange and to green. But then the biggest problem: how to get the same light intensity in all different colours? In a rainbow, violet is as bright as yellow or red. I couldn’t find the answer.”[1]
In order to catch this light intensity, Andriesse only works at daytime. During the passing of the day, the light changes and his paintings come to life. His favorite part of the day is twilight, when colors fade away, red becomes darker, blue becomes lighter, until they disappear and only the distinction between light and dark stays.From his houseboat at the Amstel river Andriesse looks through the window and studies the change of light and its reflections on the water; “Light is alive” claims Andriesse.
The work of Andriesse was an important source of inspiration in the dramaturgical research for the new performance by Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten: Disappearance. In this second part of the diptych Appearance I Disappearance, the dancers come together in an abstract in-between space. How can the light in this space move from appearance to disappearance? And how can the different colours of light take us from darkness, end of Appearance, to the ultimate white of Disappearance?
Disappearance will premier February 15 in the Grand Théâtre de la ville de Luxembourg
[1] Wesseling, Janneke. (26-06-1998) “De bogen van schilder Jan Andriesse.” NRC.
Karima El Fillali: Singer of Andalusian repertoire in ZIEL | ROUH
Text: Haroon Ali
First you don't see her, but the moment when singer Karima el Fillali (31) steps out of the darkness and moves among the dancers, you can't take your eyes off her anymore. The performance ZIEL | ROUH by ICK is a combination of El Fillali's compelling song, the intense sounds of the Amsterdams Andalusisch Orkest and a swirling group of dancers. Some melodies are fixed, but there's also abundant improvisation, El Fillali says. 'I encourage the dancers with certain tones or a breath, but I also try to recognize myself in their movements and translate that again into song. There is constant communication between the instruments and the bodies.'
The singer is just as impressive outside her performances as she is on the stage. She's tall but elegant and has piercing, catlike eyes but a serene charisma – like a sphinx. El Fillali likes to take a pause to think and then philosophizes unrestrainedly. 'The word soul is almost incomprehensible', she says referring to the performance. 'The soul is an intangible landscape, where all isn't just beautiful – there's something of everything there in the murky waters.' That is what you see returning in the three parts of ZIEL | ROUH. First, the dancers form a beating heart, moved by song and music. In the second part they surrender to it and lose themselves in repetitive, dervish-like turns. In the final part the dancers share their passion and challenge each other.
El Fillali grew up between different cultures, religions and influences. Her Dutch mother gave her Christianity, her Moroccan father introduced her to Islam. Music and spirituality are to her inextricably interlinked – singing is her calling. 'If I sing for something that is larger than myself, it reaches much deeper. Music can lay bare what lives deep inside a person, the masks are cast off. And it can be healing, too, like food. A chef gives people enjoyment through tastes, I try to do that through song. I see it as a gift that I have received from above – from God, the universe, whatever you wish to call it.' So never just ask her to sing something. 'It's all about the energy between me and the audience, and if they're receptive at that moment.
She found her musical soul in Morocco, her unfamiliar fatherland. Her parents divorced when El Fillali was still young, she had only been there on holidays a couple of times. 'I didn't know the language and customs. Morocco was scary to me' After obtaining her bachelor diploma art studies, she wanted to gain more life experience and left for Fez for nine months. El Fillali already sang, but had no experience of Arabian music. The was curious for the shamanistic Gnawa music, but due to a miscommunication with her local singing teacher El Fillali was presented with an evening full of Islamic songs of praise and Koran recitation. 'I saw all those men in white djellabas. But then I discovered their capacity to entrance the audience just using their voices. Modern singers need a band or an orchestra, but for these singers their voices were enough.'
El Fillali experimented with all kinds of singing techniques in Fez, without a perspective for the future. 'I thought that no-one in the Netherlands would be waiting for this, but after I came home I kept getting more requests for performances in that traditional style.' Arabian music is rich and melodious in her opinion. 'Pieces are made up of a series of scales, so-called maqᾱm. Each scale has a different atmosphere and emotional charge – its own universe. To a vocalist that is something really interesting, because you can do so much with your voice. But the silence in between is just as important, which makes it a play with the void. That's why Arabian music often has a mystical charge.'
Her broad interests take El Fillali to unusual places. For instance, she was asked out of the blue to perform with the famous Malinese singer Oumou Sangaré and had only a day to memorize the texts. 'The African musicians I work with often jump in at the deep end and see how it turns out. That uncertainty beforehand can be tense sometimes, but it does allow magic to happen on stage.' That performance was then filmed by the BBC, National Geographic and Al Jazeera. Once, after she had jammed with jazz drummer Jaimeo Brown, he was amazed that she was so relaxed. 'Then I answered: if you only knew who I'm performing with – and in what circumstances.'
By delving deeper into her Moroccan roots, El Fillali gained a better understanding of herself, but thereby saw her limitations, too. 'If you choose traditional music, there are countless singers who performed things earlier and better. The more I learned, the more I realized what I was doing wrong. A layman doesn't hear the difference, but someone who knows the taste of his granny's couscous knows what he misses when he eats couscous elsewhere. Someone unfamiliar with those delicate flavours may think: Hm.. tastes good.' She now accepts those lacunae in her knowledge, such as her limited Arabian vocabulary. 'It used to be like: am I able to do it now? Now I ask myself: do I wish to be able to?
El Fillali no longer tries to rival the icons from North and West Africa 'I found much of myself in the Arabian traditions, but I also have a Western filter, which gives everything I sing its own flavour.' She now embraces that special jumble of influences. 'So the question is: what is my story, what do I have to offer? I think that my voice can bring a certain warmth to Western music and can play with different styles and techniques.' With her ensemble Shakuar, for example, she makes electronic flavoured music, which to her sounds just as rich. El Fillali is just like her mother in that respect, who also has a wide-ranging taste in music from Bach to Stevie Wonder.
People with mixed roots often have the problem that they're a little bit of everything, but never feel complete. Does El Fillali feel like a more complete person after all her adventures and wanderings? 'It used to bother me that I'm not enough of one thing, or too much of the other. Now I try to live with all those contradictions. Some things are incompatible, but to me it doesn't all need to fit perfectly. I'm done with feeling guilty about any shortcomings I may have, I leave that sentiment for others to worry about. I just try to be the best version of myself.'
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