This is posted everywhere since Merce died. But it captures so completely what makes me and so many friends dance, I think I must keep it handy.
"You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive. It is not for unsteady souls."
- Merce Cunningham
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
T.h.e O in Old
Swee Boon is that soft but completely unrelenting director and teacher, who softly runs what are probably the most punishing rehearsals in Singapore. In performance it all pays off. T.H.E gets better every time I see them. They move with an unrivaled fluidity, power and control.
Full review on the Singapore Arts Festival Blog
Monday, 31 May 2010
Where to find me!
It has been pretty quiet around here because i have a bunch of projects these school holidays.
One of them is my next show! I am dancing for Ricky Sim in It Appears That... in the Esplanade Studio Series on 9-10 July. Click here for details.
I have also been swallowed by the Singapore Arts Festival, as audience and blogger! You can see my ramblings about the Festival Opening, Wind Shadow, In the Mood and a few more at the Singapore Arts Festival blog.
One of them is my next show! I am dancing for Ricky Sim in It Appears That... in the Esplanade Studio Series on 9-10 July. Click here for details.
I have also been swallowed by the Singapore Arts Festival, as audience and blogger! You can see my ramblings about the Festival Opening, Wind Shadow, In the Mood and a few more at the Singapore Arts Festival blog.
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Dancing in the Shadows
Wind shadow was
stunning.
Read more of my review on the Singapore Arts Fest Blog
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Velocity - Needs some revving up
Note to self- need to break that bad habit of thinking of all Taiwanese choreography in the same box as Cloud Gate. There is other stuff out there, and young choreographers especially need support for doing something different.
So I tried to prod myself not to be annoyed when the all-male cast of Horse spent the first five minutes of their act falling over in half-hearted contact improv and very casually scrunching paper into hats, vests, musical instuments, fishing rods.... I love a good po-mo moment but it didn't seem to come to much. There were several entertaining moments of accordion-laced slapstick worthy of a saccharine prime time tv comedy, a rousing parody of military-parade gun tricks done with floppy paper rifles, a surprisingly effortless trio where a chain of guys took turns to hoist each other overhead and fold between the legs of their partners. Finally, three impressive solos hinting of martial arts, release technique and stylised contact improv. The lanky guy whose solo ended the piece repeated an astoundingly soundless flip from his shoulders to his feet.
Sadly, it came across as a sophmorish improvisation class. None of vignettes seemed to have been thoughfully strung together and the transitions from were abrupt. The manila-paper cupboards and eight monitor screens projecting grass and static didn't do much for the production either.
It may be worth checking back on these boys in about five years. But for now they need some time to grow.
Velocity by Horse at the Esplanade Theatre Studio on 1st May 2010
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
So I tried to prod myself not to be annoyed when the all-male cast of Horse spent the first five minutes of their act falling over in half-hearted contact improv and very casually scrunching paper into hats, vests, musical instuments, fishing rods.... I love a good po-mo moment but it didn't seem to come to much. There were several entertaining moments of accordion-laced slapstick worthy of a saccharine prime time tv comedy, a rousing parody of military-parade gun tricks done with floppy paper rifles, a surprisingly effortless trio where a chain of guys took turns to hoist each other overhead and fold between the legs of their partners. Finally, three impressive solos hinting of martial arts, release technique and stylised contact improv. The lanky guy whose solo ended the piece repeated an astoundingly soundless flip from his shoulders to his feet.
Sadly, it came across as a sophmorish improvisation class. None of vignettes seemed to have been thoughfully strung together and the transitions from were abrupt. The manila-paper cupboards and eight monitor screens projecting grass and static didn't do much for the production either.
It may be worth checking back on these boys in about five years. But for now they need some time to grow.
Velocity by Horse at the Esplanade Theatre Studio on 1st May 2010
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
Memory
Memory by the Living Dance Studio (Beijing) at Theatreworks this weekend.
Of course this must arrive suddenly in the peak period of arts/dance activity for the year. But for them, I have no hesitations catching my second show in a day (after Cake's Cuckoo Birds).
I have never forgotten their intense "Report on Giving Birth", staged here during the 2005 arts festival. The UCC theatre studio was emptied of seats and transformed into a cavernous chamber where the audience roamed between gritty performance installations of women backed up against a wall in rubber kitchen gloves, writhing on a table, whispering feverishly in a line of quilted sleeping bags as they recounted their lives in pregnancy, birth, family. So close, you could feel their breath, sweat, and pain. Haunted by magnified sections of themselves projected live from the roving camera of the company's videographer Wu Wenguang. Then the intimate studio workshop a few days later (just three of us dancers, I recall!), and choreographer Wen Hui presenting us with toilet roll improvisation and the conviction that all the creative material we would ever need was present in our own lives.
Of course this must arrive suddenly in the peak period of arts/dance activity for the year. But for them, I have no hesitations catching my second show in a day (after Cake's Cuckoo Birds).
I have never forgotten their intense "Report on Giving Birth", staged here during the 2005 arts festival. The UCC theatre studio was emptied of seats and transformed into a cavernous chamber where the audience roamed between gritty performance installations of women backed up against a wall in rubber kitchen gloves, writhing on a table, whispering feverishly in a line of quilted sleeping bags as they recounted their lives in pregnancy, birth, family. So close, you could feel their breath, sweat, and pain. Haunted by magnified sections of themselves projected live from the roving camera of the company's videographer Wu Wenguang. Then the intimate studio workshop a few days later (just three of us dancers, I recall!), and choreographer Wen Hui presenting us with toilet roll improvisation and the conviction that all the creative material we would ever need was present in our own lives.
Saturday, 20 February 2010
finding centre
Since I began dancing, I treasure my centre. This rare centredness is a revelation that I guess only certain physical training can teach one to savour, though we all live in daily gravity. Dancers, acrobats, gymnasts, practitioners of tai chi and yoga may touch this. As slippery as perfect pitch, the value of a complex number?
The special moments where the body perfectly aligns, a miracle of living counter-forces finding stillness in a universe of constant motion. You could stay suspended forever on one leg, five metatarsals, a hand, a head. You are invicible and if you leave it for another direction, another level, a dynamic, it is because you so choose. I'm not a natural at balancing, so those fleeting moments come and go and it's a constant fight to rediscover them with practice, a teacher or a physiotherapist. With belief that I'll find it again, and hope that it will be more often than not. Perhaps it's an addiction. Experiencing that centre personally or vicariously, is just thrilling. The ultimate connection, control, harmony, and surrender.
The special moments where the body perfectly aligns, a miracle of living counter-forces finding stillness in a universe of constant motion. You could stay suspended forever on one leg, five metatarsals, a hand, a head. You are invicible and if you leave it for another direction, another level, a dynamic, it is because you so choose. I'm not a natural at balancing, so those fleeting moments come and go and it's a constant fight to rediscover them with practice, a teacher or a physiotherapist. With belief that I'll find it again, and hope that it will be more often than not. Perhaps it's an addiction. Experiencing that centre personally or vicariously, is just thrilling. The ultimate connection, control, harmony, and surrender.
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