▼ Sakuya Uemura

The End of the Comedy

　Is comedy possible now? KIDD PIVOT’s “The Reviser” (choreography and direction by Crystal Pite, script by Jonathan Young) was a clear symptom of the demise of comedy in our time.

　The first half of the piece is relatively faithful to the original “The Prosecutor” (by Gogol), but in the second half, the narrative becomes dislocated, with the narration referring to the dancers’ gestures and writing, and the unrestrained excesses of the body, which is exaggerated and distorted by the dancers’ words. Pite and Young refer to the first half as the “Laughter” part and the second half as the “Deconstruction” or “Unknown” part, and KIDD PIVOT’s originality in replacing the “Inspector” (prosecutor) with the “Reviewer” (reviewer) as the main character. However, the “reviewer” here is first of all a choreographer who revises gestures. The reviewer records, repeats, corrects, and falsifies …….

　The original story is about officials in a provincial Russian city who are engaged in a comical skullduggery, but Gogol’s comedy is not lighthearted: “Hey, what the hell are you laughing at? You’re laughing at yourself! and he never forgets to shoot the audience. But did the audience of “The Reviser” see any resemblance of “you yourself” on the stage?

　As indicated by the narration at the beginning, which counts the objects on the stage in a single, unaffected voice: “Person 1, chair, filing cabinet, person 2, desk phone (……),” and by the presence of a black woman who grabs a person’s head and carries it around, what is there is merely a body that is treated as equivalent to an object. It is only a body that is treated as an equivalent of an object. The digital texture of this manipulation of the human body cannot help but remind us of Forsythe’s software, which Pite studied under, and we may be allowed to see here a spatiality analogous to that of the computer. People usually have a flesh-and-blood body, which has gravity and its own contours. On this stage, however, the body becomes an object of manipulation free from those fetters, and it appears as a statistical quantity.

　The “Reviser” deconstructed and deconstructed the illusion of a “unique body,” and the horrifying, writhing volume that was presented at the end of the deconstruction was a deformity that transcended the human personality, character, and will. In other words, this is what I mean. In the first place, the actors in this comedy do not have human faces. If they are not human, there is no way to reveal the darkness of their hearts. It is not funny, and it is not horrifying. The Revisers” has reviewed our very image of human beings and rewritten Gogol’s comedy from the bottom up.

Main reference:

The Prosecutor/Reviser” Program

Gogol, The Nose / The Cloak / The Prosecutor (translated by Masaharu Ura, Kobunsha Classics New Translation Library)

Ayako Jitsukawa

March 2020. Kid Pivot of the The Reviser/Prosecutor.” in London in March 2020 was, in hindsight, a marvelously timed event that was meant to happen. There was a strange resonance, as if foreshadowing the unmasking of what was thought to be the “truth” and the spread of chaos that followed the lockdown that immediately followed.

Based on the play “The Prosecutor” by Gogol. Set in a small Russian city rife with political corruption, the play is a satirical comedy about a man who is mistaken for a high-ranking government official on an inspection mission, and uses this against him to take advantage of the corrupt officials. The original script by playwright Jonathon Young was pre-recorded and choreographed by Crystal Pite. Uniquely, the main character is mistaken for a “revisor,” a reviewer of legal documents who checks each and every sentence for “truth.

The stage is divided into two parts: the first half, called “Laughing Theater,” and the second half, called “Deconstruction. In the first half, the rhythmic dialogue is expressed with exaggerated body movements, like a funny yet sad puppet manipulated by words. In the second half, the physical movements of the first half are repeated, and the real prosecutor, who appears as a narrator from the beginning of the film, proceeds to “confirm the facts” by describing the movements as if they were live broadcasts. In contrast to the first half, which is filled with lies and vanity, the dancer’s description of the dancer’s body movements in front of her, the only words that tell the “certain truth,” now moves the body to an even more extreme form.

One of the essential functions of words is their ability to remain firmly in place as memory. In this respect, language is seemingly overwhelmingly superior to dance. This is why, since ancient times, human beings have repeatedly used language to edit the past, which is considered to be the “truth,” and recover it in a verbalized “truth” (dance criticism is another ambitious attempt to re-edit dance without words as language and extract the “truth” from it). The reason why a real prosecutor played the role of narrator in this work and tried to record the world unfolding on stage in words, was to expose the lies and dangers of the spoken words through this very act of revising, and at the same time to depict the very act of trying to read the “truth” from between the unknown lines of the physical expression. The purpose of this work was to depict the act of attempting to read the “truth” between the unknown lines of physical expression itself.

The more eloquently the language tries to speak, the more it becomes a comical farce far from the truth. The more the dance, a taciturn language, dances with a poetic blank space, the more it reveals the truth that we have been turning away from. This work, which vividly juxtaposes the power relationship between language and dance by constantly revising it, may have been a disturbing warning letter delivered to us today, who are learning firsthand that what appeared to be “truth” can easily come crashing down.

▼ Shota Sugimoto

　Crystal Pite, who has attracted worldwide attention for her unique fusion of physical vocabulary and theatrical techniques, came to Japan for the first time to perform “REVISOR/Prosecutor”. She teamed up with Canadian playwright and actor Jonathon Young, and eight dancers, including Reina Narumi, danced in the piece.

　Based on Nikolai Gogol’s play “The Prosecutor” (1838). The officials of a corruption-ridden Russian provincial city plan to bribe a prosecutor by any means necessary, but in fact they have the wrong man. …… Based on an episode in which Gogol wrote a play as a criticism of the regime but, contrary to his intention, it was performed in the form of a farce, “REVISOR/Prosecutor” also “revises” the play within the work, thereby bitterly exposing the human folly hidden in the comedy.

　In the first half, the story is narrated by a woman, and the dancers lip-synch to a recorded commentary in Young’s text. The dancers, dressed in gorgeous costumes, open their eyes and mouths wide as if they were about to burst open, dancing intermittently and wildly, their exaggerated body language reminiscent of puppets, and their comical and lovable movements bring joy to the audience. The characters’ deceptions and betrayals accumulate. For example, the search for the traitor who leaked the inside information to the prosecutor by the director (Doug Letheren) and the postmaster (Rakeem Hardy) unfolds, or the plotting of self-preservation and selling out one’s friends is masked by the exaggerated movements of the characters.

　In the second half, however, the meta-narrator reveals himself and begins to “revise” the story from the beginning. The dancers shed their luxurious garments and seem to be freed from their puppet strings, their exaggerated movements are abandoned, and Young’s words become music that resonates with the dancers. The narrator’s description of the characters’ emotions reveals the dark side hidden by the comedy. In the aforementioned scene between the director and the postmaster, the postmaster’s suspicion that he is the traitor becomes clear, and the scene develops into a duo. They reach out and make contact with each other’s arms, their legs sliding smoothly together as they writhe in the darkness. The way they want to separate but cannot, visualize the depressing nature of human relationships.

　And the narrator himself discovers that the human darkness he has uncovered is within himself. And then it is “revised” and Her entity emerges onstage as the dancers’ bodies merge and the dancers lip-synch to the narrator’s科白. When the meta-entity is thus also incorporated into the story, the barrier between the audience and the story disappears, and the audience’s bodies are also swallowed up, invading the world. There we will find ourselves in them too. It is we ourselves who will be revised next.

▼ Takuaki Tagami

　Danced by Canada’s KIDD PIVOT, led by world-renowned choreographer Crystal Pite. The production is directed and choreographed by Pite. The script is by Pite and co-creator Jonathon Young.
　Based on the masterpiece by Russian literary giant Gogol. In a small Russian city corrupted by corruption, the mayor and other officials mistake a petty official who happens to be staying with them for a “prosecutor” who is investigating the administration. This comedy depicts such “farce.

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　First, in the first half, Pate also choreographed the face. The narrator speaks the lines, but the dancers are mouths. The dancers’ mouths danced to the melody of the lines. On the other hand, the body emphasizes the meaning of the lines with exaggerated gestures, converting them into “bold” words, so to speak. The dialogue proceeds in accordance with the original story, but before the climax, a voice calls out, “The play is over and it is time to get down to business,” and the story returns to its initial page.
　In the second half of the play, the heat and density of the creative process increases a gear.
　The dancers change from costume to rehearsal wear. The words spoken are also transformed. The dancers are told to move to the right with one head raised, “In 2-1, the image I put in should speak for itself,” and “No, no, no.” The dancers are told to move to the right with one head raised. The choreographic procedures and creative conflicts are revealed, rather than the words themselves. The rough-hewn “assembly method” worked in a fascinating way, as when the ceiling of an old house was stripped to make way for a beam, which in turn was utilized as an interior decoration.
　On the other hand, the dances became more abstract, with more dynamic and primitive movements. The lighting, which follows the trajectory of the limbs like the brushstrokes of an ink painting, brings out the contours of the movements. Softly drifting group dances and macho solos. Rakeem Hardy’s dynamic dance, reminiscent of a puma, was particularly vivid.
　The first half of the piece was a dense dialogue, while the second half depicted a movement. Pite seemed to be playing back and forth between words and body.
　There was a lone dancer who was a bit of a snarly dancer. She held antlers in both hands and her dorsal fin looked like a stegosaurus. He crossed the stage slowly and erotically. Was it a metaphor for the disastrous desire that spilled out from the original work, or a holy being that watched over the ridiculous human world? Like the trompe l’oeil scene of the daughter and the old woman, it may change depending on the viewer.

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　The world premiere will be 2019 year. In the U.S., the transmission of lies became an election strategy. 23 In Russia, a key domestic figure who defied the president died a mysterious death. In Japan, a major entertainment company has been covering up the sexual assault of young boys for almost half a century.
　Farce beyond “mistaken identity” is real, in 2021, and everywhere.
　The beauty of the sophisticated stage design and dance world soothed the eyes and scolded the heart. What about you, who are watching?

Aiya Hayashi

Revizor, the first Japan tour of the Canadian-based company KIDD PIVOT. The story is a farce about the corruption of power, based on the story of “The Prosecutor,” a Russian-language play written by Nikolai Gogol. On the other hand, an abstract part with dance as the main element is inserted in between, and the work goes back and forth between the two parts of the story and the dance. When I paid attention to the changing spatiality that followed the composition, I could see a new aspect latent in the work.

The dialogue in the story is delivered by dancers lip-syncing to a pre-recorded voice. The text, written by playwright Jonathan Young, is delivered to the ear with a rhythmic and lively quality, but the movements of the dancers seen here are basically based on gestures. This is because it is necessary for the dancers to adapt their entire bodies to the enormous speed of the words that are spun from their lips. The words have such a strong control over the dancers that they limit their physical capabilities and define their movements. The costumes worn by the dancers as the characters and the heavy furniture placed on the stage also create barriers for the dancers to dance, giving the stage a cramped impression.

The fast-paced dialogue suddenly stalls and words begin to repeat themselves like a broken cassette tape, and the piece turns into a dance section. The dancers’ movements, which had been mime-like until then, switch to isolation, slowed down to the utmost limit. The duet between Ella Hochschild and Gregory Lau, who were responsible for the transition from the story, was a masterpiece. The furniture was removed from the stage and the costumes were replaced with practice uniforms. The text, which was spoken smoothly again, played a supporting role in the dancers’ movements. In a space stripped of its elements, the dancers began to dance more dynamically. The body filled with the tension of staying in a state of off-balance, and then releasing from it. In the darkness where the lights were dimmed, light effects emerged like organic smoke. The space expands into an infinite expanse as they stretch their limbs farther and farther out to seek the other side of the darkness where the boundaries are lost.

Crystal Pite, the choreographer of this work, described this scene in an interview as “deconstructive. It is reminiscent of the approach taken by her mentor, Forsythe, in his various works, in which he eliminated superfluous elements from a space and revealed the essence of its existence through dance. Unlike Forsythe, however, who thoroughly eliminated spatial elements, Pite attempted to include richer phenomena in her works by skillfully incorporating lighting effects and text as catalysts. The deconstructed scenes reveal not only the reverse side of the comedic story. The deconstructed scenes reveal not only the reverse side of the comedic storyline, but also evoke a physical sense of space that lies dormant within us.

▼ Sakuya Uemura

Why is the inheritance of postmodern dance being questioned?

　The “Lucinda Childs Early Works from the 1970s” project during KYOTO EXPERIMENT 2023 was a performance of Lucinda Childs’ dances by her niece, Ruth Childs. However, the intended question of the project was “Is it possible to transmit the origins of postmodern dance from the legendary generation to the present? The question “Can the origins of postmodern dance be passed on from the legendary generation to the present day?
　Postmodern dance is known for democratizing dance by eliminating superb technique and reducing dance to the fulfillment of simple rules, or tasks, so it would seem that choreographic succession would not be a problem if it follows these rules. In the light of common sense, postmodern dance should have realized the democracy of time, and to make its succession a problem is to dance on the ground where this common sense is betrayed.
　In fact, the appeal of dance is inseparable from the unique expressiveness of the dancer’s body and the history of experience, and its individual, one-time nature cannot be reduced to a score or task. Still, it seems to me that the tension that arises in reducing this is the focal issue of postmodern dance. For myself and the other dancers, the best way to understand is to dance what happened. For the audience, the best way to understand is to see and hear what happened.” As Ruth says, scores and tasks are only a means to “dance what happened” and cannot immediately guarantee the succession of the dance.
　So what happened?
　For example, the following description of the gestures performed in Ruth’s 12-minute PARTICULAR REEL solo in the program is almost sufficient: “A solo that covers the entire space using spatial patterns, the dancers move from one end of the space to the parallel end on the opposite side. The dancers move from one end of the space to a parallel end on the opposite side, using a spatial pattern to cover the entire space. The pattern is completed by three repetitions of a four-minute movement sequence in which the dancers extend their arms and move continuously in horizontal and vertical arcs with respect to the floor.” But of course this is not “what happened.”
　The location of the Kyocera Museum of Art Hall, a space not intended for a stage performance, and the choice of costumes, such as pants and tops in colors similar to the floor and walls, suggest that Ruth is interested in reweaving space-time with her body. The linearity of Ruth’s steps is due to her sure footsteps, which proceed straight and unwavering step by step. The space through which the body passes is created by Ruth’s walk, which reminds us of artisanal sewing work, not the other way around. In fact, the arc-shaped swinging arms evoke the impression of a sewing machine that gently stitches space-time. The rhythm of the footsteps that continues in the silence also acts to create this space-time through movement. The space-time spun by Ruth’s body coincidentally coincides with the square in the center of the hall. This coincidence with the square in the center of the hall makes us realize that space and time are not just arbitrary ideas, but can be experienced in different ways.
(*All quotations in brackets are from the program of the day.)

Ayako Jitsukawa

Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons” is a romantic comedy by young British playwright Sam Stainer about a pair of men and women struggling to communicate in a world where they are forbidden by law to speak more than 140 words a day. It premiered at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe to critical acclaim in 2015, and was performed again in London’s West End in February of this year.

Performing in “The Limit,” a dance adaptation of the play, are Royal Ballet principals Alexander Campbell and Francesca Hayward. The project, conceived by Campbell during the lockdown three years ago, has come to fruition as a fusion of theater and dance, with Kristen McNerney, a dancer with the company, as choreographer and Ed Warren, who directed the theater version, as director.

What was unique about this dance piece was that the dancers themselves were asked to speak the lines taken from the play, and the scenes were clearly set in their own language. Hayward, who starred in the film “Cats,” and Campbell, who hosts World Ballet Day every year, are both skilled dancers who can “speak” in front of an audience, and in this production they delivered their lines as naturally as actors (they even sang Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark ) and danced at the same time. No matter how talented the dancers are, this is not an easy task, and it is an effective technique because it is an intimate duet in a small theater space.

After meeting and soon moving in together, they struggle with a limited number of words to come to terms with the complications in their relationship over an uneasy relationship with an ex-lover, income disparity, and incompatible political views between different classes, but it is not easy. Eventually, he wastes words by calling out “lemon” repeatedly.

McNerney, who has made her presence felt as an actor-dancer in recent Crystal Pite productions, is in a hunched posture throughout the piece, which is at once realistic and quirky, reminiscent of Beckett’s plays of the absurd. The change in distance between the two dancers is interesting, as they lean in close, move apart, or stand next to each other and perform separate movements at high speed as if they were trying to vent their pent-up frustrations.

This scheme itself is interesting and a “kind” work that is easy for the audience to understand. However, the question remains as to whether it was necessary for the dancers, who are excellent at expressing “I love you” in all its nuances using only their body movements, to actually say “lovou,” an abbreviation they came up with to save words in the play, or to use Morse code while explaining the meaning word by word, just as in the play. It is questionable whether it was necessary to use Morse code while explaining the meaning verbatim, as in the play. The clearer and more impactful the verbal explanation is, the less necessity there is for dance to enter the scene, and the superior physical expressionist is there, making it seem both wasteful and conducive at the same time. It is a stylish piece by a rare dancer who can dance, speak, and even sing, but at the same time, it is a contradictory piece that reveals the danger of the balance between dance and words.

(October 19, 2023, Limberley Theatre, London)

▼ Shota Sugimoto

　The river flows on and on, but the water is never the same. Tired of the fierce power struggle, Kamo Chomei moved to the small Hojo-an hermitage and continued to face himself, trying to let go of his attachments.
　1(Oblivious) LDK,” staged by Junes White of the art unit of Akiko Katsura and Yoei Noda, and director and representative of Antigen Theater, Kyle Yamada, was inspired by Kamo Chōmei’s Hojojoki.
　Before the performance, the audience is given instructions written by Kyle Yamada and asked to read them. Based on these instructions, the performers choreograph and create a solo piece. Yamada’s text is very poetic. Abstract phrases such as “Invite the universe in and put it in space” are a great hindrance to the choreography, but they also leave room for a variety of interpretations. The performance toured Kyoto and Tokyo, and I attended the Kyoto performance by Yoei Noda. Noda, who was born and raised in Japan but went to Taiwan to study when he was 20 years old because his father was from Taiwan and he was exposed to his father’s native language for the first time, presented a piece that was a part of his own existence.
　The setting was the rooftop terrace of the Spanish bar Hablamos. Under a sunny afternoon sky, the dancers had only a 3m x 3m space to move around in, in contrast to the open space surrounded by low-rise buildings but with a view of Kyoto Tower and the five-story pagoda. There Noda appeared, dressed in white sweatshirt with top and bottom and holding a radio cassette and microphone in his hand, reading Yamada’s text and translating it into Chinese. Along the way, memories that seem to be from Noda’s childhood, such as a memory of talking about ducks with her grandfather at the river and “I learned that ducks were delicious 17 years later in the summer,” are inserted and recorded on a cassette tape. Yamada’s text intermingles with her memories and connects them to issues related to Noda’s identity as a half Japanese and half Taiwanese.
　Next, she writes a series of cute duck pictures and kanji characters with a black magic marker on several layers of light-colored, generative paper to match her earlier recording. She writes on the paper so as not to drive her memory into oblivion, but each time she turns the paper over, the backside letters and drawings gradually fade away. The paper itself is fragile and fragile, and the strong winds cause it to tear little by little, but Noda nonchalantly crawls on all fours, undulates his upper body and thighs to hold down the raging paper, and then tapes the paper together. He wrapped the blanket of memories thus created around his head, and after a slight tremor, it eventually settled, and he stood there. It is as if Noda’s memories are seeping into her body. It is as if she accepts herself and affirms her ambiguous existence by tracing her own memories. At that moment, the sun went down with the passage of time, and the sunset illuminated Noda. Her body, which lives “in between” Japan and Taiwan, fused with the pale light that exists “in between” day and night in the form of twilight, creating an elegant scene.
　Noda’s figure, who was solemnly confronting herself in a small space by piling up delicate motifs such as half Japanese and half Taiwanese, vague memories, and fragile paper, seemed to overlap with that of Kamo Chōmei.

▼ Takuaki Tagami

Min Tanaka and Kyotaro Yanagiya: “Place Odori and Place Rakugo” (October 21, Kan-eiji Kaisando, Ueno)

　Min Tanaka, world-renowned for his scene dancing, dances at a temple in Ueno. His partner is Kyotaro Yanagiya, a talented rakugo storyteller. Tanaka does not know the story to be told, and Kyotaro chooses a story to suit the water on the spot. The stage is the entire temple. Where does it all begin? The audience is waiting for the show to start in their own places.
　As if cutting through the autumn sun, a guitar melody began to flow. It was “Manjushaka,” a love song by Momoe Yamaguchi. I noticed that Tanaka, dressed in a gray kimono, was standing simply and cleanly at the main gate of the temple. Her limbs are fragile and seem to be about to fall off, and her expression is feminine, as if she is about to burn out. She paces slowly, crouches, plunges to the ground, and then stands up.
　I notice that KYOTARO is sitting on the steps of the hall, facing me. He was sitting on the steps of the hall, and I noticed that KYOTARO was sitting on the steps of the hall opposite him. It is as if he is teasing the now venerable “place dance” and challenging the audience to a battle with the folklore of rakugo.
　Tanaka may or may not be listening. He continues dancing and enters the hall. And then, as if a specter was going to become a Buddha, he shuffled under the dais and disappeared from sight.

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　From there it was Kyotaro’s turn. He came up to the stage with a drum and the sound of a musician’s drum. The audience naturally applauded. I had a strange feeling as if I was an audience member of a play within a play.
　Takataro chose “Osetsu Tokusaburo” for his first performance and “Shinkan” for his second. Otsetsu Tokusaburo” is a great humanistic tale. It dynamically tells the story of two people of different statuses who fall in love with each other. In “Shinkan,” a handsome blind anma (bean-paste) maker tries to abandon his gentle wife, who he says is “of bad character,” as soon as his eyesight returns. Human karma and marital love are carefully spun.
　When the storytelling begins, Tanaka comes to life. He moves around the stage in a circle and touches the Buddhist altar with the proviso, “Do not touch. When you transcend the taboos of reality, it looks so divine, or rather, so evil. It is hard to believe that it is out of this world. It moves slowly, and although visually it may appear to stop, you can feel the internal energy that is constantly flowing into the pillar it is leaning against or the ground on which it has fallen.
　Kyotaro continued to fluently blow the winds of Edo. Tanaka seemed to be in a world of his own, sometimes anticipating the plot of his stories. (When I asked Min Tanaka after the performance, he said he had never heard any of his stories before. (When I asked Min Tanaka about it after the performance, he said he had never heard any of the stories before. It seemed as if the missing pieces were compensating for each other, or like a fistfight between sense and taste.

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　When the story ends, Tanaka lends a hand to Kyotaro as he gets off the stage. The tension eased at once, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had been too absorbed in the story to notice it.
　Ah, what the heck. These representative men from various fields gathered at a temple in Ueno in the warm autumn weather, and with all their talents, they were singing the praises of “love” as hard as they could. Fresh love. I felt a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Aiya Hayashi

Mariko Kakizaki New work “Can’t-Sleeper

Falling asleep is a solitary act. It is like a ritual to let go of consciousness and end the day. We do it every night, and on nights when it doesn’t work, we repeat it over and over again. In the midst of what feels like an eternity, the gentle breathing of sleep from next door pierces my chest coldly. It is in these late nights that one painfully realizes that one is truly alone. Can’t-Sleeper,” a new work by Mariko Kakizaki and choreographed by Alice Godfrey, began with an irregular drum rhythm that evoked just such a ritual. Performed by Kakizaki himself and Akeon Kuris, a DaBY resident dancer. Two bodies floated vaguely on the stage with the lights dimmed to the limit. Amidst a disturbing rhythm that stops and then reappears, the bodies wriggle as if checking the movement of each joint. The two walk on tiptoe as if exploring the space enveloped in darkness, drawing the audience into the labyrinth that unfolds in the silent night.

Chika Kisada, a fashion designer who has a career as a ballet dancer, is in charge of the costumes for this work, and the simple bodysuit is layered with the texture of lightly tinted lace, giving it a fantastic impression. The moving visuals by Yuichiro Noda seem to capture the very atmosphere of the work itself, and the gentle music by Kouki Nakano blends into the space. Kakizaki’s compositional skills shine through in the direction that enhances immersion in the work.

This duo work is interesting for the contrast in physicality that stands out in each of the two artists. Kakizaki’s specialty is the minute movements of his body, which seem to break down from surface to line and sometimes even to point, and the diverse expressions that emerge by freely connecting them together. For example, in his solo scene, he looks like a wild animal as he powerfully contorts his back while emitting inarticulate grunts. On the other hand, in the part of the work called “sleeping gymnastics,” where the floor work continues, the spine draws rich curves, and the movements are lustrous.

In contrast, Chestnut approaches space by treating the outline of his own body as a single entity. In the last scene of the work, Kakizaki recited the answers he had collected from the audience in response to the questionnaire “What do you do on nights when you cannot sleep? Kakizaki recited the answers he had collected from the audience in response to a questionnaire he had asked in advance, while Kurisaki continued to dance with ease. She repeatedly made bold movements as if she were throwing a part of her body into the air, and then precisely controlled the convergence of her movements. The dance seemed to pulsate and push out the mass of air contained in the space, which in architecture is called “air product.

Today, one in five Japanese people suffer from insomnia. While many people know the anxiety of not being able to sleep, the nature of the experience, which is always experienced alone, does not allow for sharing. Still, there is a dark area that certainly exists between consciousness and unconsciousness, sleep and wakefulness. Throughout the work, this is depicted by the very existence of the two people who are paired with each other. Finally, as if to reveal this darkness, the stage was filled with light. The finale was created by Kakizaki’s voice and Chestnut’s dance, which echoed in the dazzling space. The next time I have a sleepless night, that scene will rise up behind my eyelids.

(Viewed at Tokyo Metropolitan Theatre Theatre East on October 21, 2023)

▼ Sakuya Uemura

Light Collaboration — Review of “Ai no te” by Yasutake SHIMACHI and ROY KAN

　Collaboration can take many forms. Especially when artists from different fields and genres collaborate with each other, the question arises as to how such collaboration should take place.
　Human beings are not numbers, so they cannot be added or multiplied so easily. For example, if two artists are trying to create something by merging what they normally do, one would hope that the two of them would multiply each other’s work to create an unknown expression. In reality, however, it is common for both parties to first share an understanding of how to do things and then to negotiate a balance in the distribution of work.
　On the other hand, there are examples of collaborations that seem to avoid the bottleneck of fusing the two authorships from the beginning, perhaps to avoid this dilemma. Collaboration is defined as the juxtaposition of two artists, each of whom has his or her own strengths, without forcing them to mix them together. This is a case that can be understood in terms of the image of addition. However, the audience’s satisfaction will not simply add up if they only watch each expression in isolation.
　Of course, this is a poor argument, and in each case, the success of collaboration must be measured in terms of the specifics of these fusions and juxtapositions. However, what is expected of collaboration, and what methods are desirable to achieve it, should be asked in a concrete, individualized manner.
　When two artists collaborate, there is a third path that cannot be reduced to the dichotomy of fusion and juxtaposition. Both artists go with each other to unexplored territories.
　Ainote” is a collaboration between Yasutake Shimaji, a dancer who has worked with Forsythe, and the rapper ROY TANROY, who is fresh in the memory for his excellent performance in “The Vacuum Cleaner” (written by Toshiki Okada and directed by Yukiko Motoya). In 2016, the two had also presented a joint work, “Arika,” in which they faced each other and confronted each other with their own expressions[*], but what they tackled in “Ainoite” was a contrast that neither had experienced before. The presence of dramaturg Katsutoshi Nagashima, who joined the production midway through, may have been a major factor in enabling this crossing over into the third realm.
　Since neither had experience with the other, the stakes of the work were unknown. The duo approached their creation with the image of “a dancer who does not dance and a rapper who does not rap” [*2]. By first giving up their weapons and becoming defenseless, they are preparing to move lightly into unexplored territories.
　This lightness was in line with the comedy that pervades “Ai no te”. When something that should be heavy is given a lightness, a sense of humor is born. The words of Tamaki are solid, grounded, and clear to the ear, but her speech is rough and unaffected. Shimaji, on the other hand, has a sharp, free, lightness in his powerful gestures that carry the weight of his body. It is sexy that these strong-looking men have such a light and stylish manner, and at the same time, it is funny, and the funny nature of the men makes them even more attractive.
　The reason that metaphors that fit human existence into mathematical formulas and talk easily about the synergy of attraction are invalid is that human beings are also light and free from themselves. The collaboration of the sultry “Ai no te” was a testament to this fact.
[*1] From the after talk of the Tokyo performance on October 17, 2023.
[*2] NiEW, “Philosophical Contrast and Dance. Yasutake SHIMACHI and ROY KAN talk about their new work “AINOTE”” https://niewmedia.com/specials/022639/5/ (ref. 2023-12-08)

Aiya Hayashi

Yasutake SHIMACHI & ROY KAN “Ai no te

Street culture has four axes: dance, rap, DJ, and graffiti, and as evidenced by the fusion of each to form its totality, dance and rap have always coexisted. Ai no te” is a collaboration between Yasutake Shimaji, a contemporary dancer who worked with the Forsythe Company in Germany and is now active in Japan, and the rapper ROY TANROY. The dramaturgy is by Nagashima Koshi. This is the second collaboration between Shimaji and Tamaki, following “Arika” released in 2016. While the previous work consisted of the two facing each other on stage across the audience, exactly like a street battle, the performance of the current work took place in a so-called typical theater space where the two faced the audience from the stage. The body language and hand gestures that Tamaki naturally used as he rapped and breathed seemed somewhat like dance choreography or acting when viewed from the audience’s angle. In interviews, both artists have said that they wanted to create something like a “play” or a “comedy,” and they were able to do so through minimalist manipulation of the relationship between action and place. Shimaji, who has been playing the role of an austere contemporary dancer in the piece, proudly mispronounced world-renowned rapper Kanye West as “Crab West,” and danced with the precision of a competition demonstration, joined the powerful rap performance of Rim in the last scene with a dance that broke out of the mold. In the last scene, Shimaji joins Tamaki, who performs a powerful rap, with a dance that breaks out of the mold. In a street scene, the audience would be shaking their heads in response, but in front of them was the audience of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Space, who were staring at the stage without moving an inch. The audience in front of them was the audience of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Space, who were staring at the stage without a twitch of an eye. The two artists were not only rappers and dancers with different titles, but also two individuals with different personalities, who created a strange but lovely scenery. I was made an accomplice to the two, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Mariko Kakizaki New work “Can’t-Sleeper

Falling asleep is a solitary act. It is like a ritual to let go of consciousness and end the day. On nights when things go wrong, it is repeated over and over again, and in the midst of what feels like an eternity, one becomes painfully aware of how alone one really is. Can’t-Sleeper,” a new work by Mariko Kakizaki and choreographed by Alice Gotfrey, began with an irregular drum rhythm that evoked just such a ritual. Performed by Kakizaki himself and Akeon Kuris, a DaBY resident dancer. Two bodies wriggling on the stage with the lights dimmed to the limit drew the audience into a labyrinth that spread out into the silent night.

Kakizaki’s specialty is the minute movements of his body, which seem to break down from surface to line and sometimes even to point, and the diverse expressions that emerge by freely connecting these movements. In his solo performance, his strong back contortion resembles that of a wild animal, while in the floor work part, which is referred to as “sleep gymnastics,” his spine is lush with rich curves.

In contrast, Chestnut approaches space by treating the outline of his own body as a single entity. In the last scene, Kakizaki recites the answers to the questionnaire “What do you do on sleepless nights? Kakizaki danced behind the audience as he recited the answers to the questionnaire, “What do you do on nights when you can’t sleep?

While many modern people know the anxiety of sleeplessness, its nature of always being experienced alone does not allow it to be shared. Still, there is a dark area lurking between consciousness and unconsciousness, sleep and wakefulness. This is portrayed throughout the work as the very existence of these two people, and finally the stage is filled with light as if to reveal this darkness. The finale is created by Kakizaki’s voice and Chestnut’s dance, which echoes in the dazzling space. The next time I have a sleepless night, that scene will rise up behind my eyelids.

postscript

Performing Arts Selection 2023″ consisted of five productions, including three new works, presented by Aichi Arts Center and DaBY, and toured four venues in Japan. The Tokyo performance, which the author attended, was presented in collaboration with the Tokyo Performing Arts Festival. Both of the two works presented in this performance were duo pieces, but they were not solo or group dances, but programs that allowed the audience to feel the real pleasure of dancing by two people. In my own way of speaking from the field of architecture, “Ai no Te” is a work in which the two dancers support each other with their different qualities like a pillar and a beam, while “Canʼt-Sleeper” is a work in which they accentuate each otherʼs characteristics with their opposite textures, like the relationship between a stone and a piece of wood.

There are probably not many people who are not familiar with contemporary dance but who go through life with no interest in art, design, or culture in a broader sense. I am inclined to recommend selected performances as a starting point for dance appreciation because I believe one can find something that resonates within the rich context of each piece. As I looked around the theater lobby, filled with the bustle of the Tokyo Art Festival, I thought about the countless new encounters between contemporary dance and people that will be born in the years to come.

(Appeared on October 21, 2023 at 14:00 at Tokyo Metropolitan Theatre Theatre East)

▼ Shota Sugimoto

Nobuo Orikuchi proposed the concept of “rare visitors. It is a visiting deity who appears from the everlasting world and descends to the present world. The most representative example is the Namahage of the Oga Peninsula in Akita Prefecture, which is currently celebrated on December 31. The Namahage are taken on by ordinary people of the region. They are transformed from people into visiting deities by wearing masks and entering a trance, or possession.

Tatsumi Hijikata is a butoh guru who danced his way through life in the harsh natural environment of Akita Prefecture. The butoh score he advocated is based on a series of poetic words, which are danced according to the words. The world of imagination and images, transforming one’s own body, and “becoming” or possessing the body are the important aspects of this dance.

Then there is Baku Ishii, a pioneer of modern dance in Japan and a native of Akita. Modern dance, too, is characterized by the need to express one’s own emotions and to “become” the expressive body itself. In this process, the state of possession has a very important meaning. Butoh and modern dance thus have a close relationship. It is interesting to note that the pioneers of these two dances were born in Akita, Japan.

International Dance Festival “Dancing in Akita” vol.8 was held in Akita, Japan from October 27 to 29, 2023. Akita” vol.8, which took place in Akita from October 27 to 29, 2023, brought together dancers, choreographers, and dance directors from all over the world, including Japan and Korea, and closed with great enthusiasm.

This year, the International Dance Selection finalists will perform on the 27th and the second finalists on the 29th, and on the 28th, there will be a special program titled “Dance. On the 28th, “Jap/Vanese” by Indonesian dancer Mo Haryanto and “Shishi Odori” and “Koma Odori” from Fujikoto Toyosaku Odori, Akita’s joint performing arts, were performed. The second finalist group, Annabelle Dubiel from Israel, was unable to come to Japan due to the outbreak of the Israel-Gaza War and had to cancel her performance. As a replacement, Jap/Vanese was performed again on the 29th.

In addition, major changes have been made to the festival this year. First of all, Akita Prefecture and the city of Akita no longer subsidize the festival. The name “International Dance Festival in Commemoration of Baku Ishii and Tatsumi Hijikata” was used until then, but the names of Ishii and Hijikata have disappeared as the festival has become better known as an international dance festival. However, perhaps because of the location of Akita, the performances presented by these “rare people” from around the world were somewhat thought-provoking in terms of possession. Even though the names of Baku Ishii and Tatsumi Hijikata have disappeared, their spirits seem to have been inherited.

The first distinctive feature of the first group of finalists’ performances was the performance of works based on street art. In Kim Joseph’s (Korea) “Gom-bang-yi-teot-da,” a ribbon is worn on the head and swung around, and the circular trajectory of the ribbon colors the space. Interestingly, however, the ribbons on the head sometimes become Kim’s stumbling block. What emerges from the action, as if the ribbon is pulling her back, seems to be Kim’s own struggle to live her life as a street performer. In this sense, this work can be seen to be influenced by expressionism. Because of this, when she tried to manipulate the ribbon, her body for the purpose of performing the technique was visible, and it was difficult to see the expression of conflict in some parts.

And what was unique in terms of intense physicality was “There Was No Room to Eat” by Seo Jung-bin, a promising new star from South Korea. His presence and unique physical vocabulary are overwhelming, as if he had fused the physicality of rock dance and ballet. The work also connects the motifs of plastic bags and plastic chairs that come out of the mouth to social issues such as abuse and environmental problems.

Conversely, the piece that stood out for its simplistic physicality was Cho Hyun-do’s “From Rock to Gravel. The two men in black suits simply repeated simple actions such as tripping and getting up. By repeating these actions over and over again, the body shifts into a trance-like state of nothingness. This was reminiscent of the idea of Butoh, in which the expressive body enters into a state of nothingness.

The second group of finalists, Rio Yamaguchi, danced to Western music on October 29. Although they danced modern techniques, the techniques used were of the modern dance type and perhaps a little less original in terms of new physicality. On the other hand, Ayane Nakagawa’s “Endangered Species” is characterized by a physicality that causes pain to the body. She sat on a chair and kept shaking her body. I was so overwhelmed by the true-to-life dance that it was tiring for me to watch.

And as a special event, “Dancing in Akita” associate dancer for 2023. Akita” associate dancer Reisa Shimojima danced “Jap/Vanese” with Indonesian dancer Mo Harianto. The piece focused on the “discord and difference between two peoples, Japanese and Javanese, who are only one letter apart. First, the audience was shocked to see Mo Harianto enter a trance-like state. In this trance-like state, he makes strange noises that are hard to believe to be coming from a human being, and his shoulder blades contort and dance wildly with explosive energy, giving off an overwhelming sense of presence. Shimojima was not to be outdone, and his movements, which reminded one of traditional performing arts with a lower center of gravity, showed an affinity with the physicality of Koma Odori, a traditional Akita Prefecture performing art performed on the 28th, namely, the creation of kinetic energy by wearing heavy armor and dancing by stepping on the earth. Eventually, Shimojima, too, gradually shifted into a trance-like state through his powerful movements. By confronting the differences and affinities between the Javanese and the Japanese in this way, the importance of seriously confronting ethnic differences was presented. This is a work that is appropriate for the current era of globalization after the end of the Corona disaster, and for an international dance festival.

At the reception party held after the show, it was decided that some of the films would be invited to festivals by foreign directors. Dancing in Akita” will lead to another dance festival. Akita” led to another dance festival. Thus, the “Rarebitos” who came to Akita traveled to another country.

Aiya Hayashi

ProLab International Dance Festival “Dancing. Akita” vol.8 Report

Lurking festivals in the city

A festive landscape mixed with the everyday. A rewriting of a part of the city occurs, and people who do not usually mingle exist on the same layer for a few days. Even if it is only a minor intervention, when the landscape looks different and a little fresh, people’s proactive awareness of their environment is restored. This effect, which can be called an urban gimmick, is what makes festivals so interesting.

The international dance festival “Dance. Akita” has been held annually since 2015, and this year, after the Corona Disaster, marked its 8th edition. Art festivals are now an event that can be seen everywhere in Japan. The situation has become somewhat saturated, and each region is seeking elaborate themes for the festival. In such a situation, this festival has a strong concept consisting only of dance, a program that can be seen only here, where artists from Japan and abroad gather, and a unique location in Akita, the birthplace of Desai Ishii and Tatsumi Hijikata, who laid the foundation of Japan’s modern dance history. This inevitable accumulation of settings is something to behold.

The festival will run for three days from October 27 (Fri.) to 29 (Sun.), with the International Dance Selection by Tatsumi Hijikata on the first and last day, and a special program of performances on the middle day. About 100 works from six countries were selected through an open call for entries and recommendations from overseas dance festivals. The artistic director of “Dancing. Akita” artistic director, Mr. Sanda Yamakawa, and others carefully selected 11 finalists (as mentioned below, one of the finalists did not make it to Japan, so 10 works were actually performed), each with a completely different character. The selection performances that brought them all together were like a microcosm filled with encounters with the unknown. Here, I would like to introduce all the works from the two days of performances at once.

Tatsumi Hijikata International Dance Selection, Performance by the first group of finalists

The work that opened the first day was “Political Spaghetti” (Japanese title: “P.S.”), choreographed by Ayako Takahashi, who is based in New York and Yokohama. The two dancers, Nozomi Ohgami and Akane Koizumi, are connected by a red thread extending from their closed lips. Their dance is delicate and tinged with a certain sadness, born from a sense of detachment that is lost when they open their mouths. The work was like a gentle embrace, depicting the contours of such contradictory feelings of being afraid of being hurt by deep communication, but still seeking someone else.

Choreographed by Jo Hyun Do of Korea, “From Rock to Gravel” was a collection of small chapters that unfolded by switching the lighting. The repetitive slamming of the body against the stage and the dancers’ ragged breathing towards the end of the piece were painful, but the work was like a stoic practice to make us perceive life through hardship.

Phantom,” choreographed and performed by Yuri Yamamura. I was intrigued even before the performance began by his unique title as a juggler and dancer. The music was performed live by Azumi Piano, a pianist trained in Germany. Even I, with little knowledge of juggling, was able to recognize the superb techniques that were full of real joy, overlapped with a piano tone full of a sense of speed, like a rain of notes. On the dimly lit stage, only the 24 white balls flying in the air and the fingertips of Yamamura manipulating them emerged, and the afterimages of their trajectories created a fantastic scene before the audience’s eyes. The scene that followed was, by contrast, calm. Yamamura carefully scooped up the scattered balls one by one and rearranged them. In this way, the mandala on the floor continues to transform, and the scene before our eyes is transformed into an abstraction that can only be described as “something white, round, and soft, and a man playing with it. The transition of dimensions created by small gestures is accompanied by the music of Azumi Pia, who accompanies the process. It was a work that encompassed a rare spatial experience.

By the way, since I have a background in architectural design, I paid attention to how each piece in this selection of performances approached the scale of the stage and audience. The most thought-provoking work in this regard was “Gom-bang-yi-teot-da,” choreographed and performed by Kim Joseph of Korea. The chains connected to the headgear, the key element of the piece, circled around his body, creating an iconic scene. The long chain, which was a little too long for the space, occasionally bumped into the lights and stage sleeves. Or should it be seen as a rough handling of space? I personally was intimidated by the directness of the expression, and could not fully accept his step toward the audience, crossing the boundary itself at the end of the piece.

There was no room for food” by Seo Jung-bin from Korea was another impressive work in its use of space. She initially stood in a space dotted with mismatched plastic chairs. The spatial composition with depth, using the entire stage, already showed a remarkable sense of space. The light leaking from the gaps between the chairs was surprisingly like sunlight filtering through trees, casting organic shadows on her body, which was standing at the end of the light source. It is amazing how a plastic chair (bought at Daiso in Korea, by the way) can play with space like this. As if to overwhelm the viewer with her natural sensibility, she suddenly sits down on the floor and spits out a convenience store bag she had been holding in her mouth like a piece of bubble gum. The cheeky, childlike charm of the woman made me completely surrender to her. In fact, this film was originally created with the concept of conveying an SOS message from marine organisms that eat the plastic garbage that humans throw away, and once one understands this, each expression in the film takes on a completely different aspect. While a strong message is latent, the work leaves room for interpretation and is poetically expressed as a beautiful dance in a space created by the diversion of everyday items, which is brilliant. By the way, the Japanese title “There was no room for food,” which is a literal grammatical translation of “There was no room for food,” or perhaps a more literal translation based on the author’s intention, is still questionable.

The Palace by Megan Doheny and Ilya Nikulov has an impressive introductory scene with a chandelier, which is also used in the festival’s key visual. The dancers, who acted as mysterious guides, led the audience into the world of the piece, and their duo dance was dramatic as the piece shifted between abstract and concrete, fantasy and reality, and emerged on stage as a story of a relationship between a man and a woman.

Tatsumi Hijikata International Dance Selection Finalists Group 2 Performance

The first piece in the Selection Group 2 performance is “Equatorial Roadless Belt” by Mizuki Ko. In this piece, a single body traverses a silent stage, and that is all that happens. In this traversal, the dancers shift their range of motion from joint to joint while locking their entire body. This may remind you of street dance-like isolations. However, by thoroughly and obsessively removing noise from her series of movements, she sublimated them into a somewhat minimalistic, inhuman, and déjà vu-free expression. The gap between her inorganic movements and the terrible look in her eyes that she throws at the audience in the last scene is thrilling.

What is noteworthy about “little love,” choreographed and performed by Rio Yamaguchi, is her strong expressive power. While moving freely across the stage space, the vector of her consciousness always catches us, the audience, in the act. Her spirited dance, like that of a wild beast trapped in a cage, shows not only her physical prowess but also her hungry spirit. The work was a work that made the most of the dancers’ unique skills, including a slow and rapid composition that dared to have a silent showcase at the climax of the music, as if they were experienced showcase and battle dancers. We have high expectations for this dancer to become a pioneer of “fascinating” contemporary dance that combines backgrounds.

Human,” choreographed by Park Su-yeol of Korea, begins with five dancers folding their bodies together on stage. The huge rock-like elements are eventually unraveled in soft movements and split into individual dancers. A new space is created by reconnecting their relationship like particles scattered on the stage. The dancers’ individuality shone through in their solo dances, duo dances, and group dances, which developed in parallel, creating a diverse scene.

The last of the selections, a new work by Ayane Nakagawa, winner of last year’s “Dancing. The final piece in the selection, a new work by Ayane Nakagawa, winner of last year’s “Akita” award, left a special aftertaste. Dressed in a T-shirt and disheveled hair, Ayane wandered around the silent stage. Her every movement seemed to suggest a message about sexuality, but what struck me was the introduction to the piece that preceded it: a waltz by J. Strauss, in which she sat on a chair and shook her body, shakily and unceasingly, against her own will. It was a tremor that seemed to rise up from the core of her body, and it did not stop against her will. She is a dancer by nature, but the way she exposed herself, as if to appeal that this was the only way for her to dance, shook my heart more than I understood it.

Special Program Performance “Jap/Vanese” (Performed by: Fujisato-cho Kamiwaka Local Performing Arts Preservation Society)

On the second day of the festival, “Jap/Vanese” by Reisa Shimojima and Mo Harianto was performed in collaboration with the Fujisato-cho Kamiwaka Local Performing Arts Preservation Society. This project was born from the exchange of Shimojima and others in Fujisato-cho, where they stayed during the production of the piece.

First, two traditional performing arts of Fujisato-cho, which Shimojima and others were taught in the area, were performed by the preservation society. The Shishi Odori (lion dance), whose steps to the rhythm of taiko drums reminded one of earthquakes, and Koma Odori (piece dance), in which the performers play their armor as if it were a musical instrument. I was overwhelmed by their powerful expressions, which simultaneously appealed to both the auditory and visual senses of the audience. These dances are performed every year in conjunction with the annual shrine festival in September, and the dancers begin practicing about two weeks before the festival. I was impressed by what one of the performers said after the performance: “These movements have been ingrained in my body since I was taught them as a child, but I have never danced them as if they were dances. This sense of physical expression before becoming dance is also linked to “Jap/Vanese,” which will be performed later in the program.

Jap/Vanese” was created at a workshop in Singapore last year, and has been refined since June of this year as part of the “Dancing. Akita” since June of this year. The work is a complex intertwining of various sources of inspiration, such as Shimojima’s origins in Yosakoi dance, Mo’s background in Indonesia, and the two’s experience training in Fujisato-cho, but they are beautifully edited together without becoming chaotic. The steps taken to the beat of the electronic music and the clapping of tongues as the dancers clapped their bodies, while showing elements of Fujisato-cho dances, appeared as original movements that had undergone reinterpretation. Shimojima said that he did not adopt the form of the movement itself, but rather, he started the work from the spirit of the festival that runs in common between the two dancers and Fujisato-cho. Mo, with a gamelan ball wrapped around his waist, and Shimojima, with Naruko in his hands, are dancing to the music. The exuberance created by the dancing duo spread throughout the space, filling the audience after the performance with the excitement of witnessing a new world.

Jap/Vanese” again

There was another finalist in this year’s festival who was a finalist in the selection performances. She is Annabelle Dubiel, who lives in Israel. Despite desperate last-minute attempts to find a flight to Japan in the current climate, she was unable to make it to the festival. She was lonely, isolated, and anxious about her future. I can’t find the words to express these feelings…” On the last day of the festival, when Annabelle was supposed to perform her piece “FICTIONS,” Yamakawa read out the message she had sent to the audience in a trembling voice.

Shimojima and Mo came forward to perform in her place, and “Jap/Vanese,” which was performed again, sounded completely different from the previous day. Although this piece is a duo piece, their bodies do not actually touch each other during the performance. This is partly for religious reasons for Mo, who is a Muslim, and partly as a result of their response to the question of how to handle their independent personalities. A light border drawn on the ground by the lighting divides the stage space into two parts. The two dancers danced as if they were competing with each other across this strip of light, but the opposing energies of the two dancers created a strangely harmonious landscape. Differences certainly exist. Accepting this fact as it is is the beginning of compromise, and that is what the word “coexistence” suggests about the world. At the end of the piece, the wall of the stage breaks in two to reveal a large horse’s tail hanging from the ceiling. Behind Shimojima and Mo, standing in the red light, the horse’s tail gently swayed, encompassing all the feelings entrusted in the work and seeming to nod in agreement.

generalize

The subtitle of this year’s festival was “Your arts adventure awaits. As the title suggests, the three days of the festival were a series of encounters with the unexpected feelings that welled up inside of us when we came into contact with the artworks.

As a northern country, there are only a limited number of good weather periods when events can be held, and the lack of public transportation makes it difficult for young people to even come to the evening performances on their own. In addition to his passion for the festival, Mr. Yamakawa also spoke of his environmental woes. Nevertheless, the special performance on the second day was packed with local people who had come to support the preservation society, and it was a good opportunity to bring “Jap/Vanese” to a wider audience. It seemed like a very natural way to interact, and it made me honestly think how much more fun it would be to expand the festival’s circle in this way.

The next “Dancing. Akita” is scheduled to be held in February2025. And one of the major themes of the organizers is “crossing borders. The various forms of crossover already foreseen for this year’s festival are likely to be further developed. And with the newly established artist-in-residence program at the core, the festival will not only be a main festival, but will also be a year-round event. The dots connect to form a line and stand up amidst the falling snow. Dancing. I look forward to seeing the new scenery that can only be seen in “Dancing Akita. (5856 words )

Aiya Hayashi

The Yokohama Dance Collection, now in its 29th year, will be held from November 30 to December 17, and will feature an intense program involving choreographers, dancers, and artists from Japan and abroad. One of the programs, Competition I, known as a gateway to success for choreographers, received 166 entries from 14 countries and regions this year. The eight finalists selected from among them presented their works on December 2 and 3, and this year’s winners were announced at the awards ceremony on the final day.

doldrums” choreographed and performed by Mizuki Takaka. The doldrums emerge from the back of the stage and traverse the silent space diagonally. That is all that happens in the piece, but the dancers do not just move forward; they shift the location of their bodies by combining stop and backward movements as well. It could be said that this work is a dance design of the time that flows in the process of moving from one point to another. The work has been danced at various festivals, and this time it was awarded the Jury Prize, the Kinosaki International Art Center (KIAC) Incentive Award, and the Architants Artist Support Award. Non-Ordinary Services,” choreographed by Taiwan’s Chuan Po Sian, was performed by two dancers. One dancer appeared on stage dressed in ordinary clothes, while the other dancer, nearly nude, clung to her feet. The two dancers, repeatedly repelling and approaching each other, never dance in unison. The work evokes the soul and body, thoughts and words, and the often divergent elements that exist within the same person, and brings to the surface the contradictions that lurk within us.

Instant” choreographed and performed by Yoko Omori. A stuffed animal sits on a chair in a space with bright music. The stuffed animal seems to represent the person she is in love with. She talks to the stuffed animal and then appeals to it with a daring street dance. The dizzying back-and-forth between reality and fiction left a thrilling afterglow, as if something disturbing lurking between the lines could be glimpsed at any moment. The prize was awarded to

Choreographed by Ji Jie of China, “Nowhere to turn” is a duo piece featuring herself and another dancer. As Ji Jie herself told us after the performance, the piece was about her own traumatic experiences in her personal relationships. By expressing the piece as a duo, Ji Jie’s emotions and experiences are first taken up by the dancers who dance with her and then released as a work of art. This process corresponded to the rough breathing repeated in the work. This work, which purely addresses the characteristics of the body as a filter that connects one’s inner self to the world, won the MASDANZA award at the Spanish dance festival.

DATING ABUSE,” choreographed by Park Soo Yeol and featuring two dancers, won the Encouragement Award in the competition. The mental control and co-dependence behind the violence is exposed by the relationship between the two dancers, which changes over the course of the piece. The groove created by the combination of dance and music was effective in dramatizing the work. The music was composed by Kim Jae-duk, the leader of the Korean dance company Modern Table, with whom Park is in close contact, which made perfect sense. The lighting and costumes were also well thought out to create a superb worldview.

Raindrops on the Rooftop,” choreographed by Yuriko Nagano, was a duo piece performed by Nagano, who has a background in Japanese dance, and Moe Abe, who has a background in classical ballet. The differences between the two dancers are clearly expressed in their different choreographies, but they are somehow refreshingly harmonious, like a bumpy friendship. It was a naturalistic work that expressed a fantasy world in a life-size way.

Interchange” choreographed by Mohammad Zulkhanain bin Zubel of Malaysia. It is danced by three dancers in casual, practice-wear-like costumes. The speed of development of Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, where the dancers are based, corresponds with the speed of the dance, which is free from counting. The choreography casually quotes the movements of the traditional dance Turinai. This work, which abstractly stands up the urban landscape, received the Kinosaki International Art Center (KIAC) Incentive Award.

Choreographed by China’s Xiao Jiren, “Chaos” was danced by two female dancers. The iconic visuals of the two dancers are their smiles that seem to stick to their faces and their bright red mini-dresses. The straightforward message conveyed by the repeated gesture of holding a gun to the dancers’ faces and the final, anticlimactic line, “I’m falling in love! The contrast is striking.

The venue for this competition, where these works were presented, was the 3rd floor hall of the Red Brick Warehouse No. 1. The director and chief producer, Mr. Shinji Ono, said that many dancers come to the competition looking forward to dancing in this charming brick space. The red brick warehouse was originally built in the early 20th century, and its appearance as a tourist attraction is the result of major renovations that took place about 20 years ago. Take, for example, the walls inside the hall. While using the same bricks as the building’s exterior, the way they are stacked has been subtly adjusted to adjust the reverberation rate of sound in accordance with the hall’s purpose. (From data provided by Nagata Acoustic Design, who was in charge of the music design.) It is not easy to tell just by looking at the completed building how much of the existing design was used, how modifications were made, and what was removed.

This is a bit similar to the situation of dance as it appears before us on stage. Usually, the interpretation of a work is left up to the recipient, but in this competition, after the performance of the work, there was time for dialogue between the jury and the finalists to determine the winner. As with many festivals, the reception held after the awards ceremony was a place where feedback on the works could be exchanged, and the presence of past award winners in the lively venue with a DJ booth was a scene that showed the strong vertical and horizontal connections associated with the competition. The audience was able to see the paths taken by the works and their creators, and to watch where they are going in the future. The sharp but warm gaze that could be seen everywhere in the venue seemed to reflect the creed of the competition and the Yokohama Dance Collection.

▼ Sakuya Uemura

To put my foot forward: Spring Forward 2024 Walking Chronicles

　スプリング・フォワードのあいだ、私たちはたいへんよく歩いた。メインプログラムが設けられた3月の21日から23日にかけて、私たちは一日につきおよそ6～9作品を観劇したのだが、公演はダルムシュタット、マインツ、そしてヴィースバーデンの三都市にわたって行われたので、各都市に点在する劇場を渡り歩くようにしてその三日間を過ごすことになったのだった。スプリング・フォワードの開催地は年次によって異なるが、それでも複数都市を跨いで公演をするのは原則として守られているということだ。劇場同士はそれなりに距離があるのでバスも当然使われたが、ドアトゥドアで送迎されることは少なく、足を使って移動することが前提されていた。

　Between performances, a coherent length of time is inserted for walking, thinking, and chatting. Yes, the significance of that walking goes beyond mere exercise. Spring Forward was an invitation-only festival, and we traveled in the same group of around 30 people throughout the three days. Communication with the body, which promotes the bonds of the dance community, would have been expected there, and indeed we talked a lot.

　On the other hand, I was impressed by the cluster of works that followed each other in the theater, capturing the phase in which walking gestures are abstracted in this modern society.

　Especially symbolic was Anna-Marija Adomaityte & Gautier Teuscher/Cie A M A Company’s ” Workpiece. Upon entering the theater, Adomaityte walks in a very disciplined and strict rhythm on a treadmill placed on a bare stage with only a few fluorescent lights. The Adomite’s walking never stops and seamlessly transitions into the performance, which continues solemnly even after the show begins, but soon his gestures are accompanied by convulsive side-to-side neck swings and wrist movements.

　タイトルにも示されているように、作品の主眼は、今日の労働のありようを再考することにある。アドマイティテは過去にマクドナルドの厨房で働いていたことがあり、その疎外の経験を作品に昇華させたのが今作なのだという。しかし、そうだとして、なぜ作家はルームランナーをその表現のための装置に選び取ったのだろうか。公演の翌日に公開されたダリア・アンクルタのレヴューには「作品が主張している中心テーマがあまりにも漠然としている」[*1]とあるが、実際、ルームランナー上の歩行とマクドナルドでの労働の経験との結びつきは、直ちに明らかではない。

　レベッカ・ソルニットは『ウォークス：歩くことの精神史』（東辻賢治郎訳、左右社）のなかで、「ジムは筋肉や健全さ(フィットネス)を生産するための工場であり、多くは工場のような外観を呈している」（440頁）と書いているが、この一文には単なる視覚的メタファーを超えた含意がある。現代の労働は、娯楽やエクササイズの装いをまとうことで、労働としてカテゴライズされてきた時間の外にまで伸長している。余暇と名指されている時間の中でも、私たちは労働向きの健康で健全な身体を築き上げる運動に余念がない。開場時間と開演時間を不分明にするアドマイティテの歩行は、生における労働のこの全面化を思わせるものだ。ジーンズに赤いポロシャツというアドマイティテの衣装はマクドナルドの従業員の制服を想起させもするが、ラフな私服としても受け取れるものであって、まさにそうした不分明さのゆえに選び取られたものだろうと思える。

　また、ソルニットは、現実の土地や地形と結びついて豊かな経験をもたらすものであった歩行という行為からルームランナーが空間性をはく奪し、シーシュポスの神話のような虚しい反復的運動に人々をさいなむことを指摘して、ジムの器具の中でもとりわけこれを辛辣に批判している。「精神と身体と地表面の移りかわりがひとつに融けあった扉の外(アウトドア)の歩行よりも、定量化可能で明瞭に規定された活動」（444-445頁）が遂行され、「風景として、地勢として、光景として、経験としての空間は消失する」（446頁）のだ。

　Adomite’s gait is so rigorous and sure that it could be described as mechanical, but literally speaking, it is not grounded. The organic nature of the body in the experience of walking is already lost. In the midst of the tasteless, factory-like environment of a bare stage under fluorescent lights and the inorganic, noisy music of a toyshop, Adomaitė’s walking body is soon cut into pieces. The fact that the body eventually begins to convulse on its own is proof of this. On the other hand, this task, which is carried out with such rigor that it leads to convulsions, confirms to us that the body is expanding in a field that cannot be abstracted or quantified.

[*1] https://springbackmagazine.com/springback-academy/reviews/workpiece/

　 Trevoga ‘s ” 11 3 8 7 ” is a performance by three dancers, bare-chested and clad in latex, with contact lenses and blank eyes, but their movements are kept to a minimum: they stand and walk around, hardly performing any dance-like dance. They were standing or walking, and hardly performed any so-called dance-like dance. The dancers do not simply stand erect, but rather sway up and down in small increments as if they were hovering, a movement that is almost constantly repeated. The way it is dressed up like a character and standing in space as if drifting is reminiscent of an avatar in an online game.

　これは、身体がヴァーチュアルな次元へと移行し、そのリアリティを希薄化させている今日の社会への反応なのだろう。身体の明証性そのものが疑われてしまえば、これまでのように踊ることはできない。むしろ身体への問いをあえて自らの身体のうちに受肉させ、これを仮想的な次元へと昇華させていくことが、そこでは問題になる。フランチェスコ・ネロ・ディーキンは「ダンスの希釈化（dilution）について」という題を冠した評で今回のスプリング・フォワードを振り返り、ムーブメントや振付といった側面が全体的に軽視されていたと書いてこれを嘆いている[*2]が、フェスティバルの多くの作品を通じて上演の賭け金となっていたのは、まさにこの「希釈化」ということだった。

　It is striking, then, that the treadmill was again used as an important theatrical device in ” 11 8 3 7 “. This device, chosen to reproduce the bizarre, but often seen behavior of game avatars, where they simply repeat steps without moving anywhere, again works to abstract and derealize the gesture of walking.

[*2] https://springbackmagazine.com/springback-academy/features/on-the-dilution-of-dance/

　Catarina Miranda ‘s ” Cabraqimera ” is a performance by a group of four dancers on shiny roller skates, and while some of the stunning turns are reminiscent of figure skating or classical ballet, the intention to show the beauty of the human body seems rather weak here. However, the intention to show the beauty of the human body seems to have been rather weak here. The dancers’ bodies, depersonalized in red and blue bodysuits and helmets, were also dyed red and blue by the lights, and sometimes seemed to melt into the dark space, while the glittering trajectories of the skaters and mouthguards equipped with luminous neon lights were more attractive to our eyes. The luminous neon-equipped skaters and mouthguards drew our eyes more than the glittering trails.

　The lightness of the body, which is light enough to avoid touching the ground, serves to emphasize the virtuality of the body, as is the case in figure dance and ballet. The techno music that plays constantly is like video game music, and the dancers, dressed in impersonal costumes and repeating specific gestural patterns, begin to look like avatars in some video game. Eventually, the gestures become provocative and incendiary, and a wrestling match ensues in which the dancers throw their opponents to the ground.

　終盤部にさしかかるころ、舞台に爆発音が鳴り響き、上方から大きな煙が立ち込めてきて、ダンサーたちはみな倒れ伏してしまう。やがて照明が原色を弱め、自然な色みを取り戻すと、かれらは起き上がり、ヘルメットを脱ぎ出すのだが、そこには自然な表情が浮かんでいる。ヴァーチュアル・リアリティでの諍(いさか)いが極点を超えた後で、そこに固有の身体があることを確認するようなシークエンスである。

　Then they skate again. However, it was regrettable that this concluding section, which could be interpreted as a step toward the fusion of flesh and virtual behavior, was filled with symbolic gestures with strong meanings, and the exploration of the dimensions of physical excellence and its yet-to-be-seen use was abandoned. The symbolism of the gestures, such as the wild animal-like gestures followed by the gender-reversal sexual intercourse, was difficult to follow.

　In AuroraBauzà & Pere Jou ‘s ” ABEGINNING #16161D,” the theater is enveloped in complete darkness for a few minutes after the performance begins, and the audience listens to the choral sounds of the five performers. Even after their hand lights begin to illuminate the stage, their entire bodies are not revealed to the audience. They hide in the darkness, skillfully manipulating the faint light, but this austere and fantastic scene is somehow futuristic, reminiscent of the calm after the world has come to a catastrophe. In the last part of the film, a hand light alternately and quickly illuminates the faces of the performers from the left and right, and by the exquisite degree of flicker, their faces appear as if they are virtual images that do not exist in reality.

　By the way, the reason I use the term “performers” rather than “dancers” here is that this work is even more non-dance-like than the three works I have introduced so far. The performers sing and also manipulate the lighting by moving their hands. In this respect, the role of the body is not completely abandoned, but this is still more like an a cappella body than a dance. This is why I have a very common-sense hesitation to call it a dance, but the non-dance-like impression of the work is largely due to the absence of expression using the feet. The simple walking and bending forward, backward, left and right are performed, but there is no meaning beyond the movement of the body and the light source, and the feet are rarely illuminated during the performance.

　 LesIdoles ” Reface” is another work in which the use of the feet is thoroughly restrained. The two (apparently female) dancers simply sway in a circular trajectory, hardly moving their feet or changing their standing positions at all. Nevertheless, this circular motion is effective, and it is a straightforward expression of the impossibility of standing upright with a secure foothold and the absence of existence.

　やがてダンサーたちは顔を剥がし始める。変装していたのである。あげく、剥がした顔を口に入れ、食べてしまう。また剥がす。かと思いきや、またつける。剥がす。その顔面の着脱をダンスとして魅せる、ワンアイデアの作品だが、このように観客の注意を惹きつけるたくらみや遊び、趣向に満ちていて、40分の間退屈を覚えることがない。リアリティを希薄化させる身体が、そのようなものとしてまた独自の薄気味の悪いリアリティを帯び得ることを、変装の着脱のプロセスがあっけらかんと、グロテスクなまでに可視化してしまう。最後、おそらくはダンサーはすべての変装を剥がし切って、素顔のまま円状に揺れていると思えるのだが、この素顔というものの疑わしさが拭えないうちに、舞台は溶暗する。出色の作品である。

　In these works, we can say that in this age where AI is substituting for human work and thought, where the transition to a metaverse of existence is being advocated, and where the view on a digital device is substituting for experience rather than the landscape of reality, there was expressed a doubt about thinking of dance based on the premise of the body. When the demonstrable reality of the body is questioned, the questioning begins with the feet, and there are directions in which walking is abstracted through devices such as roller skates and treadmills, and there are also directions in which walking is denied through immobility and non-use of feet. It is interesting to note the paradox that these questions about the body were explored not through visual media or the latest digital technology, but through low-tech devices and contraptions, or through the body itself. We cannot escape from the body completely. Or, it can be said as follows. The body is questioned, but not given up on. I found the most exciting performance of the festival was that of María del Mar Suárez, aka La Chachi, who danced wild flamenco with a fierceness that had the audience in stitches, and whose raucous footsteps echoed throughout the theater. It was ” Taranto aleatorio” (Taranto a leatorio).

　スプリング・フォワードを主催するエアロ・ウェーブスは、フェスティバルに並行して批評家養成プロジェクト、スプリングバック・アカデミーを開催している。ヨーロッパで活動するライターを主な対象に10名の参加者を募り、4人のメンターを付けて執筆の指導を行うものであって、アカデミー生はフェスティバル期間中、対象公演についての寸評を公演当日のうちに書き上げる。あまりの公演数の多さに連日へとへとになっていた身としては、掲載のスピード感に驚かされることしきりであった。ここまで二度にわたって先行する評を引用してきたが、実はこれらはいずれも今年のアカデミー生の手によるものである。ちなみに「ダンスの希薄化について」を書いたフランチェスコは、現地で交流を深めた私の友人でもある。

　Webサイトには時に辛辣すぎるのではないかと思われるほど忌憚のない評が並んでいるが、これはアカデミーの主宰団体がフェスティバルと同じエアロ・ウェーブスであることを思えば、驚くべきことである。作家からの反発もあるのではないかと推察されるが、作品の安易なプロモーションに終わらない、あるべき批評を書く力を持った書き手を増やそうという、エアロ・ウェーブスの真摯な姿勢を感じる。

　According to mentor Sanjoy Roy, the Academy’s aim is to provide young writers who tend to be isolated and have few opportunities to present their work with a platform to publish their reviews and opportunities to interact with others, and to promote their growth by providing them with a mentor. In addition to the performance reviews published on the day of the performance, Springback Magazine has been launched in recent years as a medium for the publication of longer articles, thus providing long-term support for the activities of Academy students rather than one-time support. This is an extremely fulfilling initiative.

　The fact that Spring Forward was selected as the destination of the ” DaBY/ProLab 1st Round Norikoshi Takao’s Dance Critics [Training -> Dispatch] Program” (hereinafter referred to as the “Training -> Dispatch” program), in which I participated, may explain the characteristics of the program to some extent. The fact that Spring Forward has been selected as a destination may explain some of the features of this program. In a nutshell, it is the cultivation of critics who are both mobile and critical at the same time.

　First of all, Spring Forward offers an opportunity to view works by up-and-coming young European artists. It is an opportunity to be among the first to experience the works of artists who are expected to lead the movement overseas, and at the same time, it is a place where one’s eye is tested in terms of how to view these artists who have not yet been fully established in the field of art. As mentioned at the beginning of this article, Spring Forward is an invitation-only festival, which means that we are almost always in the company of directors, writers, and young writers from all over Europe. The dispatch this time was predicated on the premise that expanding one’s network and knowledge abroad through exchanges with these people was as important a requirement as viewing the works. In comparison with the Springback Academy, the difference is that the Springback Academy focuses on providing writing guidance and writing opportunities through mentors, whereas the [Training → Dispatch] program, as the name suggests, is a program focused on international travel and exchange.

　余談として、今後の［養成→派遣］プログラム生のために書き残しておくが、私はそもそも作品について人と話し合うことを一般に好まないたちである上に、口頭での語学力に大変な問題を抱えていたので、ここまで「交流」「交流」と書いてきたが、これにはたいへん難儀した。しかし、乗越さんの講義では毎回英語でスピーチする時間が設けられていたのだが、そこで場合によってDeepLの使用が許可されていたのを思い出し、恥を捨ててこれと音声入力アプリに頼り始めてから、どうにか会話はうまく運ぶようになった。気さくに喋れずとも、英語が喋れずとも、とにかく足を運んでしまうのが吉である。

　まだ見ぬ場所へ足を伸ばして経験を重ねることが必要だ。これは、国内での講義から今回の派遣に至るまで、プロジェクトのメンターである舞踊評論家の乗越たかおさんから、私がひしひしと受け取ってきたメッセージである。言葉で書くのは簡単だが、実行に移すのは容易ではない。個人主体での遠征の経済的なハードルは今後ますます高まっていくことが予想されるが、批評家の国外との交渉を促進するプラットフォームはこれまでほとんど存在していなかった。「相当の筆力を当然に持っている者が、さらにプロの舞踊評論家として自分のスタイルを発見するためのもの」を目指すという乗越さんの言葉の通り、［養成→派遣］プログラムは私のような若輩者のみならず、中堅やベテランを含めたあらゆる批評家にとって意義あるものとなるだろう。これは、持ち前のフットワーク、ネットワークを駆使して仕事をされてきた乗越さんのこれまでの蓄積があってこそ実現したものだ。［養成→派遣］プログラムを後援し、私たちの海外派遣にかかわる経費を援助してくださったEUジャパンフェスト日本委員会には頭が上がらない。そして今回のプログラムを全面的に下支えしてくれていたDaBY。こうして振り返ってみると、さまざまな方々の心意気によって実現した、稀有なプログラムであったと実感する。足を前に踏み出したいと願う書き手たちの支えとして、［養成→派遣］プログラムが今後も長期的に継続されるよう、それは大変な仕事でもあると思うが、ともかくも願い、応援している。

Aiya Hayashi

Spring Forward 2024 Spring Forward 2024 A perspective that looks at dance from Perspectives on Dance

DaBY/ProLab 1st stage “Takao Norikoshi’s” Dance Critic [Training → Dispatch] Program Aiya Hayashi

Darmstadt, Germany, the site of the dance festival Spring Forward 2024, was a city that gave me a strange impression as I walked around it, as if I had somehow lost my focus. After a few days in the city, I noticed that there is no clear center of the city, and while the historical axis connecting the palace and the large public space of Luisenplatz, built in the 17th century, certainly crosses the city from east to west, the Darmstadt State Theater, the cultural center of the city, is located far south of this urban axis. The Darmstadt State Theater, the cultural center of the city, is located far to the south of the urban axis. The theater was originally built adjacent to the palace, but was bombed during World War II and moved to its current location. On the other hand, because it is located away from the major urban axis, the current theater has a calm atmosphere, and the square in front of the theater is used like a quiet park where local people can relax, which is very attractive. There are relationships that cannot be noticed simply by standing on the street and observing a single building, but can only be seen when viewed on an urban scale. This is the need for a “bird’s eye view” perspective that does not exist in the line of sight of everyday life, and I think that is what makes it so interesting.

This year marks the 14thSpring Forward Festival since its inception in 2011, and the guest list of over 200 dance professionals is a testament to the high profile of the event. The festival is organized by Aerowaves , a trans-European contemporary dance platform. The festival is held in a different location each year, which is made possible by Aerowaves’ strong partnerships with 44 dance organizations and theaters in 34 countries. This year’s festival was hosted by Bruno Heyderickx, director of the Hessisches Landestheater, and was based in Darmstadt , Germany, in partnership with theaters in the surrounding cities of Mainz and Wiesbaden.

The compact three-day festival will feature a dense program of works by up-and-coming choreographers from all over Europe. The call for entries is open to choreographers based in Europe, and this year nearly 700 works were received in total. The Spring Forward Festival is unique in that the selection process involves not only the festival director, but also all of Aerowave’s partners. They gathered at the selection meeting held last October(this time the Cultural Center in Rijeka, Croatia, was provided as the selection venue ) and literally spent the entire night viewing and discussing all of the entries. The final 20 works were voted on by the partners, and gathered at the festival in March2024, when the weather was still chilly.

Space to dance, space to create

The venues for the productions varied in scale and environment, and as someone who works in the architectural design industry, one of the highlights of the event was how to make the best use of the space. According to Tzu-Yin Hsu, who was involved in Spring Forward 2024 as a producer, location scouting was conducted in the vicinity of the event site in advance, and arrangements were made to arrange a venue that would meet the wishes of each production as much as possible.

Take, for example, “11 3 8 7” by the Dutch three-person unit Trevoga, performed at the Darmstadt State Museum on the first day of the festival. The visual impact was created by the contrast between the austere museum lobby space designed symmetrically and the grotesque expressions deployed by the dancers in cyberpunk-style costumes. Another work, “TARAB” by the Austrian-based contemporary dance company ATASH, featured a unique flow line that allowed the audience to enter from the backstage of the Darmstadt State Theater, and was performed on a stage with exposed lighting and equipment. Although the group dances based on folk dance research were in harmony with the power of the rugged space, it was regrettable that the viewing experience was not much different from that of a typical proscenium-style theater. Is it selfish of me to wish that the special location had been used more than just as a backdrop to create a deeper connection with the audience and the work?

The environmental setting of ” Born by the sea,” a work by Fran Díaz, may seem modest in comparison to the works mentioned above. The chosen location for the performance was a small theater in the city of Wiesbaden. Two dancers appear on a bare stage in rehearsal wear, and their physical movements are overlaid with groovy music. The structure of the piece was nothing new, but the attention to detail made the quality of this work special. The lighting from the high side of the stage, which accentuated the three-dimensionality of the body, the minute amounts of smoke that drifted and diffused lazily across the stage, and the gestures that brushed the rough concrete surface of the walls, all contributed to a slightly textured space. When a bit of texture is added to the space, the two bodies that are moving in the midst of the sense of impermanence that envelops the entire work emerge like a flash. It was a moment that brought me back to the creed of craftsmanship, as I was touched by the sensibility of building up a space through the repetition of exquisite additions and subtractions of elements, rather than by the use of eccentric techniques and ideas.

Cultivating an audience.

It is interesting to note in retrospect that two of the 20 productions selected for this year’s festival were productions that are usually performed for youth and children.

The first was Where the Boys Are by Yotam Peled & the Free Radicals. Stepping into the gymnasium of a local high school in Darmstadt, which had been designated as the venue for the event, one was greeted with a nostalgic scene that could be shared universally. The use of a balance beam and a vaulting box for audience seating did not detract from the natural atmosphere. Soft natural light, which changes from moment to moment, pours down from the skylight of the gymnasium onto their bodies, which are layered with contact work assembled on the basis of martial arts movements. It was a scene where two contradictory elements, a strong physical body and ephemeral fragility, coexisted.

The other work, “Microworlds,” by Czech-based artists Jazmína Piktorová and Sabina Bočková, was presented in the basement hall of the State Theater Wiesbaden. The key to the piece is small natural objects such as pine cones, pebbles, and twigs that can be picked up with a fingertip. The dancers play with these props, and the audience gazes at the tiny landscapes that unfold on stage. At the end of the performance, the audience is also invited on stage, and the way the adults bend down to interact with the tiny world is somehow endearing, like giants who have wandered into a fairyland. When the play is performed as an educational program, the audience is transformed into children, which is a lovely sight just to imagine. It was a beautiful piece that lovingly and delicately captured the subtleties hidden in everyday life.

What these works have in common is that, although they are intended for a younger audience with little or no experience in viewing art, they ensure the understandability of the works with simple expressions, and do not escape into childish expressions and wordy complementary work. I have the impression that the strength of the work was amplified by the elimination of unnecessary elements. What is needed to cultivate the eyes to see dance works of the future? These two works were rich in suggestions from artists who are facing this question.

Dance to design time

On the other hand, not all of the 20 films in the selection were a great success. There were a few pieces that were overloaded with text, props, and scene changes, resulting in information overload. The production method of covering up a few dozen minutes of performance time with all kinds of elements was often breathtaking. Their subconscious fear of blank spaces may be due to the influence of an age in which we are continuously exposed to expressions that provide instant gratification, such as short teaser-like videos on social networking sites and the rise of songs that are less than three minutes long.

However, there is always a certain richness that is created by the margins of space. This was proven in “MEGA STRUCTURE,” choreographed and performed by Isaiah Wilson and Sarah Baltzinger, staged in the Great Hall of the Wiesbaden State Theatre. The upper and lower halves of the two squishy, rubber doll-like bodies were separated and set in motion, and as the piece progressed, their movements were further broken down into smaller and smaller pieces. The only sound that regularly echoes through the theater is the regular thumping of the floor as the body parts are thus disjointed and controlled. They sometimes stop moving altogether, and the silent space gives the guests an opportunity to overview the work. We can savor the comedy of their movements, contemplate their relationship, or simply marvel at their physical prowess. And when they start to move again, we are drawn back in by the honest fun of their physical expression. The exquisite pauses, like a silent call-and-response, psychologically bound the audience to the work, and the audience applauded after the performance.

Another work that takes the concept of time control to an extreme form of overdrive is Viktor Szeri’s “fatigue,” in which the only thing the viewer sees is an abstract image projected in the background and a man swaying to slow, almost droning club music. In “fatigue,” all the viewer sees is an abstract image projected in the background and a man swaying to slow, almost deadpan, club music. It was a 50-minute long solo performance. After the performance, one of the guests blurted out “It was a torture! (It was a torture!),” one of the guests blurted out after leaving the venue. The theater space was used as a weapon to physically restrain the audience, and it was certainly not a pleasant viewing experience. Nevertheless, I still have high expectations for his future works. I found myself captivated by the extraordinary sensation of time being stretched and space being distorted, and by the artist’s confident and criminal work.

A testing ground for exploring boundaries

Aerowavesのパートナーは作品のセレクションに際して10か条の指針を共有している。「良いアイデアを起点とした作品」「オリジナリティ溢れる振付」「国外での活動経験が未だ少ないアーティスト」などが並ぶ明快な文言の最後は、「未来があること」という一言で締めくくられている。そのクライテリアを体現するように、ダンス作品として見た際の既存の価値尺度では決して測ることのできない作品も積極的に紹介されていた。

For example, ” Cabraqimera, ” choreographed by Catarina Miranda, features a group of roller skaters in neon costumes running around the stage in all directions. And Tom Cassani, who performed ” Iterations,” is a performer with a background as a magician. The audience was immersed in the disappearance and reappearance of the coins in his hand, and his fingertips were the only thing that held the space in his hands.

A BEGINNING #16161D ” byAurora Bauzmà& Pere Jou, consisting of lighting effects and a mass chorus, is another unique work. The bodies of the performers are illuminated as if floating in the darkness, and the contours of the work are repeatedly stretched and contracted by the transformative and intelligent lighting design. However, the technical aspects of the work do not outweigh its physicality. The warmth of the handmade, human-scale lights, which are linked to the movements of the performers, clearly indicates that the interest of the work is always directed toward the exploration of new forms of physical expression.

The Spring Forward Festival reexamines the fringes of contemporary dance, which are constantly being updated, and asks us to redefine them. And as the three works involving roller skating, magic tricks, and choral music, which were generally well received by the festival’s guests, testify, this attempt to shake up the boundaries is itself a positive hope.

Festival from a bird’s eye view

By the time I reached the finale of Spring Forward 2024, the double duo ” V/ertigo,” choreographed by Damien Jalet andImre & Marne van Opstal and performed by the Hessian State Ballet, I was at a loss. By the time I reached the performance of “V/ertigo,” a double duo choreographed by Damien Jalet and Imre & Marne van Opstal, I was completely at a loss for information. It was similar to the feeling I had when I first walked the streets of Darmstadt. Not only the works, but also the encounters with artists and dance professionals, the many valuable conversations I had during the intermissions… As if to digest all of this, I found myself taking pen and paper and embarking on the task of mapping out the festival. The following chart is the result of this process.



While some festivals have a clear concept for each festival, the organizers of Spring Forward Feastival have not dared to do so. Nevertheless, when one takes a bird’s-eye view of the entire festival on a large map like this, the current concerns surrounding contemporary dance seem to emerge naturally. Teaser videos of each work can be viewed on the official festival website ( https://aerowaves.org/artists/ ). We hope that this mapping will be of some help in finding the works.

The Spring Forward Festival in2025 will be held in Gorizia, Italy, as part of the European Capital of Culture project. When I asked Roberto Casarotto, co-director of the festival, what the future holds for the festival, he replied that it will continue every year without change, emphasizing “the same members and the same format. This community, protected by people who share the same aspirations for dance, will continue to draw a colorful map reflecting the current state of contemporary dance in the years to come.

in the end

The first phase of DaBY/ProLab’s “Dance Critics [Training → Dispatch] Program” by Takao Norikoshi began with a review of one of KIDD PIVOT’s “Reviser” works. As he visited festivals in Japan and abroad, his perspective became more three-dimensional than he could have ever imagined. The six months I spent experiencing the perspective of dance critics, who move between two opposing scales – confronting the body in front of one’s eyes head-on and viewing a work from the perspective of major social trends – were an invaluable asset. I am very grateful to all the people I met at Spring Forward 2024 and the dances I was allowed to cover in Japan. I would like to express my gratitude to all the people I met at Spring Forward 2024, as well as to the people I had the opportunity to interview in Japan, Akita and the Yokohama Dance Collection. I would also like to conclude this report by expressing my sincere gratitude to the EU-Japan Fest Japan Committee, which provided financial support for this overseas mission, as well as to my mentor Takao Norikoshi and Dance Base Yokohama, the organizer of this program.