Dressing Up

"Barry & Dwayne, Danville, VA. 1970" © Emmet Gowin

My husband's friend was a pizza table for Halloween once. My brother was George Michael. Complete with fake 5 o'clock shadow, he carried a boom box on his shoulder and sang "I've got to have faith."

As children, we delight in dressing up. We pretend to be anything, anyone. We try out ways of existing in the world.

Performers get to do this too. By embodying a full range of human experience in rehearsal or onstage, we sometimes find ourselves more present in the world.

Pretty Girls Devour Akira Kasai

Photo ©Hiroyuki Ito for The New York Times

The white screen lifts to reveal a big white bathtub on wheels. Three-quarters of the way through Butoh America, created by Akira Kasai and performed at Japan Society, five women move to surround this tub. They seem to gather, like the witches in Macbeth, around a cauldron. They dig into the tub and remove a white bundle of material. As they unroll the material, we finally see Akira Kasai. I feel like cheering. His thin, nearly naked, aging body is painted white. He begins to dance.

In the silence, he moves like an infant. Delicate folds of skin fall over his small briefs. He is breathtaking, filled with intention and nuance. Otherworldly choral music enters the space. He continues to explore new areas. He looks like a geisha, a cat, a rave-dancer. Techno sounds float in and out, disrupting the spell.

These moments exist in stark contrast with the rest of Butoh America. While Kasai's performing resonates with my archetypal image of butoh, most of the evening does not.

Yoko Shioya, Artistic Director of Japan Society’s Performing Arts Program, looks at this possible contradiction. (Listen to interview conducted by Eva Yaa Asantewaa) In program notes she writes that, in Japanese dictionaries, the word butoh has been defined as “Western-oriented dance.” Paradoxically, in the U.S., butoh has often meant a specific Japanese-style modern dance involving white-painted, naked dancers moving slowly. Shioya explains, “In fact, much of the contemporary butoh choreography, or butoh-influenced choreography requires dancers to straighten their knees, execute quick turns and jump around in elaborate costumes." She asks, "Then what is butoh? If it can still be considered a unique form of dance, then what makes it unique? Or is butoh now returning to its original Japanese definition of Western-oriented dance?”

Kasai plays with, and doesn't answer, these questions. The five American-based (and butoh-trained) women in Butoh America use elements that I have come to think of as butoh: strong focus, use of breath, and hints of the grotesque. They also perform lots of high leg kicks and things that look like arabesques and barrel turns. They change costumes (mostly made of sexy, girly American Apparel clothes) often. They look like cheerleaders, ballet dancers, original modern dancers, figures on ancient Greek vases, Puck-like characters. Kasai notes in the program that he hopes to "introduce new butoh and dance to New York that could not have been created in Japan and Europe.” Is this what he does? Sometimes it feels like he's invoking Martha Graham or a jazz-dance competition instead.

I'm confused about Kasai's intentions and those of the performers. Kasai seems to make a distinction between the new generation of Western performers and himself. I find myself disappointed that the women seem like caricatures. Their flirtatious clothes and movements sometimes seem not quite embodied. Is this a statement? Is this the dance that can only be made in New York? Is Kasai poking fun at American sensibilities? Or is the performance of this piece not yet fully realized?

Towards the end of Akira Kasai’s brief appearance, four women bring him back towards the tub. For a moment they look like golden figures from a renaissance painting. Then they begin to eat him, devour him, as they stuff him back into the tub. His hand tries to escape one last time. The women stuff it down while they lick their lips.

Is It Dance? (PART I)

I loved Map Me by Charlotte Vanden Eynde and Kurt Vandendriessche. (See recent post for review.) The piece moved me and made me think. I also feel militant in my need to love it and support it. In her New York Times review of Map Me , Roslyn Sulcas wondered if the piece is dance. I have a lot of thoughts on this subject.

The movement in Map Me did not come out of a ballet class or a modern dance class. It came out of life. It was sparse and imaginative and wacky and poignant. I cannot strongly enough state how much I believe in this approach to performance making.

Any human body that is alive is, however subtly or radically, moving. It follows, then, that a live human body moves even in “stillness.” The movement within stillness includes breath and the many subtle ways we communicate deep parts of ourselves.

Movement that is sparse or subtle requires the audience to meet it half way. It’s a question of imagination and personal responsibility. As an audience member, do I have the capacity and patience to look closely at what is onstage? Do I give myself the authority to find movement and meaning in any human being onstage?

Movement onstage helps me look closely at the movement, and impulses for movement, in my own life. Like Duchamp’s readymades or good photography, it can wake me up to something that already exists.

Recognizable “dance” vocabulary can awaken in me parts of my own embodiment. But often it feels general and clichéd. My experience of life is much too varied and nuanced to express it only within a particular vocabulary.

If dance is truly an art form, we have to move beyond this question of “Is it dance?” We have to expand our definition of dance. We are an art form of the body. The body is mysterious and wild and multi-faceted. Are we committed to the range and depth of human body experience?

To be continued…

Contained and Wild Truths: Map Me by Charlotte Vanden Eynde and Kurt Vandendriessche.



To be in relationship is to be changed. And Charlotte Vanden Eynde and Kurt Vandendriessche went through many transformations during Map Me, the performance they created and performed together. At the performance I saw at DTW on September 15, they touched on experiences of merging, differentiation, tenderness, aggression, activity, stillness, seeing and being seen. A quiet, deliberate quality ran through the evening creating a contained structure within which wild truths could be explored.

Audience members walked into the theater to find two naked people lying on their sides, facing one another in stillness. Eventually the man moved to balance his body side to side on top of the woman’s. A video projector illuminated their bodies with a test screen of multi-colored rectangles like a Mondrian painting.

The geometric video images softened and deepened. They metamorphosed from views of one body part to another. The difference between video and human flesh became unclear. Video, man, and woman merged. This invited hazier views of body and connection, images of desert and caves, reflections on beginnings and endings. Slowly, the two people unfolded and stood up.

They shifted positions so that they were face to face with his back to the audience. Video images were projected onto his back. They were of her hands sculpting, massaging, penetrating clay. The experience of wanting to open someone up and get inside.

And after getting inside, there is the mess. Hand held storyboards called the next vignette “Mess Me.” The woman stood facing front while superimposed images of sock drawers opened and closed. In “Fix Me,“ the video played in rewind. A dismantled piece of wood was sawed and hammered back together while we heard grating sounds.

Subsequent vignettes moved away from video and further into the crazy depths of this partnership. In a twisted version of cat’s cradle, the two tied string from her nipples to his hands and then from his scrotum and penis to her hands. The glint of light hitting metal scissors as they eventually cut the cords.

A fusion dance ensued with masking tape entirely covering and binding their two heads together. Suffocation. The only music of the evening played. Passionate sounds while the two, stuck together, blind and unable to see, went nowhere.

Themes of developmental progression (of the earth, of a human, of a relationship) became more explicit when the two crawled to center stage and milked themselves with contraptions evoking turkey-basters. This theme continued as they began to use lipstick to draw on one another. They drew a standing person, then a baby, then a fetus. These were drawn so that one half of each drawing was on the woman and one half on the man. The images could only be known when the two connected their bodies just so.

These games and scenes were often playful and sometimes outlandish. Despite this, or probably because of this, there was a rare and tender intimacy between these two people. Performances and relationships inevitably end. At the end of this one, I left the theater a little bit changed.

Full Biography of Aynsley Vandenbroucke

(Photo © Mathew Pokoik)
Aynsley Vandenbroucke grew up in Chicago and currently divides her time between New York City and the Catskill Mountains. She started dancing in ballet class and living-room-improvisations when she was very young. Her formal dance training included ballet and modern at the Ruth Page Foundation and Lou Conte Dance Studio (home of Hubbard Street) in Chicago. She spent summers studying on grants and scholarships at the Cunningham Studio, The Alvin Ailey American Dance Center, the American Dance Festival, and ImpulsTanz in Vienna. In 1999, she received her BFA from North Carolina School of the Arts where she studied on scholarship and was nominated for the Princess Grace Award.

When she was young, dance teachers told Aynsley that she liked to think too much to be a dancer. She thought about it and disagreed. But the supposed tension between being a thinking, creating human and being a dancer has continually inspired her to find her own way within the dance world.

While at North Carolina School of the Arts, she co-founded the Pluck Project, now an annual New York performance of graduating seniors. After NCSA, she quit dance for a while in order to get back in touch with her own reasons for dancing. She wanted to focus less on technique and success, whatever that meant. She realized the best way to find her own place within dance was to create her own company.

Her company, Aynsley Vandenbroucke Movement Group, works collaboratively using improvisation, drawing, writing, and discussion. They also do a lot of thinking. In New York City, the company has performed at Baryshnikov Arts Center, Dixon Place,Joyce SoHo, The Flea, The Brooklyn Museum, and Lincoln Center Institute’s Clark Studio Theater, among others. They also recently went on their first tours to Brazil and San Francisco.

Aynsley has created homes within the dance world in two other primary ways. She and her husband, photographer Mathew Pokoik, founded and direct Mount Tremper Arts, an arts center in the Catskill Mountains. Located near Woodstock and Phoenicia, MTA hosts an annual summer festival and serves as a center for exploration within the fields of performance and the visual arts. On wooded grounds with streams, gardens, and hiking trails, it is also a place in which to connect with the natural world.

Aynsley is also a Certified Movement Analyst on the faculty at the Laban/Bartenieff Institute of Movement Studies. Here, she gets to question, describe, write about, and dig into all experiences of movement. She is surrounded by people from all fields and walks of life who believe in the power of movement. In Fall of 2009, she will begin teaching dance history and somatics at Lehman College in the Bronx.
Aynsley's approaches to dance and dance-viewing are influenced by her current practices of Zen Buddhism and Gabrielle Roth's 5Rhythms.

Introduction to Reflections on Dance

I have always danced. And I have written since the time I could hold a crayon. I am a choreographer, a Laban Movement Analyst, and a founder and director of a budding arts center. I am particularly passionate about the places where deep body experience intersects with observation and reflection.

As I clarify my own ways of working within dance, I am finding that I have a lot to say. I end up shaking in the middle of conversations, sometimes writing in the middle of the night to get it out. I love and believe in dance and at the same time aspects of the dance world trouble me. I have many questions.

This blog will serve as a forum for engaging these questions and passions. I will add new posts approximately once a week.

Some of my current writing interests include:
    Reflections on performances
    The value of all movement rather than narrowly defined “dance”
    The creative process
    Dancers and dance-makers as true artists and thinkers
    The qualities of presence within performing, dancing, and living
    Authenticity and integrity within dance
    Ways of seeing based on Laban Movement Analysis