‘Currency’ Exchange in a Valuable Place

Tuesday evening at The Place saw dance artists indulge in their craft, sharing and nurturing their wealth of ideas in the form of ‘Currency’. This season aims for a common currency to be shared through experience, bridging cultures and crossing borders. Little needed to be added to the scrumptious feast served up in the basement; dance enthusiasts relished the chance to converse in all things dance over a plate of delicious falafels, hummus and salad. However this currency had yet to fully convert its followers. In the hours that followed, they happily meandered from floor to floor savouring the rich ideas of Frauke Requardt (Germany/UK) and Alessandro Sciarroni (Italy), Alma Söderberg (Sweden) and Tabea Martin (Switzerland).

Requardt and Sciarroni were given two days to explore, exchange and envelope their ideas. Their fluid exchange is delivered in an intimate sharing at the Founders’ Studio. Coined a ‘blind date’, this collaboration uses an economy of movement to highlight immense difference. Requardt scans the room with curiosity bringing intense awareness to her fingers’ gentle movements. She strokes her expansive, pregnant belly. Sciaronni joins in with his comparatively flat and hairy torso. We are invited to make comparisons with their bodies, their voices and their movement aesthetics. They carefully package their engagement, silently dressing and undressing, slapping and smirking, shaking and holding. The beauty of difference is unwrapped and laid bare.

Ryan Djojokarso and Stefan Baier question difference and homogeny in Tabea Martin’s ‘Duet for Two Dancers’. ‘I am a dancer and I dance like this’…’I dance exactly the same.’ Erotic, beautiful, wow, still, decisive, impossible and unexpected movements are executed with glittery nudity. The microphone perspires as some serious questions about identity are brought into the spotlight. ‘Since I became a dancer, I sometimes wonder if I chose the right profession.’ Baier has every right to wonder; his breath fails him as he delivers his lines, his arms quiver as they hold his partner above his head and his legs buckle as he comes down to the short mike. These performers fight tooth and nail to discover what their identity means ‘I doubt if this dance makes any difference at all’. Their labour results in sweat dripping from every pore. Exhausted, the men call for musical movements, throwing in the towel to the sound of Igor Stravinsky.

Music drives ‘Travail’, a rigorous solo by Söderberg. Her working tools include sound, movement and language; she shakes, stamps and sings ‘uncensored’. Her serious interest in sound sizzles through the space from the onset. Intense rhythms are thrown out from her hand held shakers. She punctures her ankle bells with beat box vigour. Her range of tones are phenomenal and it is a treat to see her move through the space to the sound of her homemade DJ set. Meanwhile, a coil of copper sits and asks to be seen in silence. We will Söderberg on through her exchange, and she seems extremely grateful for our support.

What is important about this currency is the manner in which it is shared pre, mid and post performance. ‘Come on in, take a seat,’ says Söderberg to a latecomer, happily resting from the opening moments of her ‘Travail’. Martin, with her little infant wrapped in a sling, silently encourages and smiles at her dancers as they invest in her acclaimed duet; ‘This is how I choreograph’, she says, leaving the stage with a trusting glance at her performers. Reqardt and Sciarroni are content to be engulfed by intrigued spectators following their interchange of movement ideas. ‘Why did you hit her?’, says a concerned viewer addressing Sciarroni, a small boney structure who slaps his date repeatedly on the arm. ‘Because I like a bit of violence’, Requardt interjects humorously, laughing with her bemused audience.

The value of the Currency season at The Place cannot be underestimated. I experienced fluid international exchanges in which shining gems came to the surface, bringing light to this precious art form. The ‘International Exchange of Danced Ideas’ flourished and enriched The Place over a mere four hours. The possibilities for this to grow are endless.

A Lively Education at Dance Umbrella

Sunday evening at Dance Umbrella had an air of academia about it. It included a trip back in time to the 1930s with ‘A Mary Wigman Dance Evening’, a lecture carefully crafted by Jonathan Burrows and Matteo Fargion, and a piece full of melodious cows; very educational indeed.

Revisiting the 1930s with ‘A Mary Wigman Dance Evening’ by Fabían Barba was intriguing to say the least. Appearances had altered slightly since I bumped into the artist on YouTube; her hair seemed smoother, her face unmasked. Yet the smallest of expressions remained in her fingers and toes as she moved delicately across the stage, music crackling from a distance. Indeed it was a blessing to finally see this dance pioneer live, in colour. For each solo, a red curtain revealed a slender figure draped in gowns of various hues; gold, black, red, cream. Any dance history student will know that the tedious textbooks can prove quite laborious at times. At Platform Theatre, history came alive thanks to Barba’s hard work.

My learning continued as I hopped into ‘Cheap Lecture and The Cow Piece’ delivered by Burrows and Fargion. There were no tuition fees necessary and I was even provided with a cushion to keep me comfortable. My tutors seemed at home too; they had managed a gig here most nights thus far. I gripped my notebook determined to document the experience, albeit in scribble format. God help my naivety. While I found the whole thing enlightening, I failed to keep up and my laughter jolted my pen off the page at regular intervals. The fact of the matter is ‘Cheap Lecture’ ought to be experienced live and don’t worry, ‘Everything will be explained’. Even the wisdom that follows in the shape of ‘The Cow Piece’ is too good to miss. My top tips: Kleenex tissues are wholly necessary (you will most likely cry with laughter) and as for note taking; don’t bother. After all, these guys ‘don’t know what [they] are doing and [they] are doing it…and everything is stolen anyway.’

Melt Down in Granary Square

If you were out and about in King’s Cross last Sunday, you may have experienced a calm stillness draping the majestic landscape of Granary Square. This came in the form of Melt Down, Rosemary Lee’s contribution to Dance Umbrella 2012. Her work happily collides with London’s hustle and bustle, whispering to the landscape with movement. Silence ensues as thirty men acknowledge the skies with open arms. Their movements are punctuated by the sound of a bell, which meditatively shapes the passing of time.
Spectators yield to Melt Down’s serenity. Some eyes rest on one individual, others dance around capturing the unit’s gentle dialogue with their surroundings. The children pause their games. ‘Look Mammy, they are stuck!’ Skaters approach with their cameras, leaving their session on nearby benches behind. Some passers-by capture the moment fleetingly with a smile before rushing off to tend to their daily tasks. As the performers exit the space, many onlookers hover to absorb the experience. Their chatter resumes, but in a quieter tone.
Some will be lucky enough to happen upon this treasure this coming weekend, but I can only urge the rest of you to take a meander down Regent’s canal come Saturday or Sunday. Lee’s work will reemerge and linger beautifully.

A Taste of Dance Umbrella’s Opening Night

The Platform Theatre at King’s Cross, London had audiences arrive hungry for dance yesterday evening. Upon arrival, they happily replaced their dripping umbrellas for an umbrella of a different sort – one under which international contemporary dance could be savoured in all its forms. This is the thirty-fourth Dance Umbrella festival and it promises much to nibble on for anyone with even the smallest craving for dance.

The Host (2010), conceived by Andros Zins-Browne, sees three cowboys bring groundbreaking resilience to the table. As the audience spills in and encircles the space, Zins-Browne, Sidney Leoni and Jaime Llopis carefully survey the scene and proceed to tackle their inflatable, yes inflatable, terrain. Scuffing, stamping and kicking develop into laborious tackling as the ground swells beyond belief. Moments of calm interrupt the chaos as the body weight of the cowboys work to deflate the monstrous land. A steady rhythm evolves in the form of a line dance in which the performers make full use of their now quiet ground. They carve the space with ease, weaving a web of movement with their upright bodies. The climax brings this line dance to a tilting plateau in the form of a giant black inflatable platform. The three men rhythmically tackle the chaos beneath with a determination that provokes laughter in many a spectator. The serious undertone of this piece, however, demands that we survey the lay of the land today and acknowledge its power. The sudden ending of this work highlights the ongoing nature of this chaos that lurks beneath us.

Jonathan Burrows and Matteo Fargion are two artists that are prepared to do the serious business of dance with a little laughter and fun. Two microphones, a brilliant dialogic sound score and a couple of chairs are all that are needed for their latest work One Flute Note (2012). Let us not forget the artists themselves who offer brilliant nuggets of movement and sound throughout. Their eyes mimick the expectancy of the crowd. Their words are full of colourful tones. Repetition is key here. At one point, Burrows may have been an RnB star; ‘go on…go on….tubular bells,’ his head bopping to the beat. The execution is sharp. From the chair dance to the simple step forward in unison, everything is delivered with clarity and precision. This collaboration is a gem that injects much needed humour into contemporary dance.

Luckily, the fun does not stop here. This beautiful venue and its surroundings will be treating us to dance until the 14^th October. And while the Dance Umbrella team and artists continue their hard work behind the scenes, all we have to do, in Artistic Director Betsy Gregory’s words, is ‘taste and take the temperature of the moment’. Bon appetit everyone.