That combination is nothing new, but here are a couple examples of big name music artists choosing to work with exemplary dancers/choreographers.
Timbaland with Lousie Lecavalier of La La La Human Steps:
(check her out with David Bowie as well)
For comparison, here's a clip of La La La Human Steps on their own:
Dave Matthews with Zoe Scofield (of zoe juniper):
...versus this clip from their work the devil you know is better than the devil you don't:
The importance of collaborations such as these lies in how they bring artists that make sincerely quality work into the periphery of a larger public. Sometimes art, especially that of the contemporary sort, can get buried in a category of modernity that makes it seem inaccessible. By pairing their work with something that already has a given audience, companies like La La Human Steps and zoe juniper can gain some new ground.
10 May 2009
03 May 2009
A choreographic lineage?
Watching an evening with multiple choreographers on the bill inevitably leads to comparisons being drawn between the various artists being presented. Sometimes lines are drawn between genres and in others choregraphic relationships are established. Last weekend's Icono-clan attempted to make a case for the latter. The evening's lineup:
Merce Cunningham Landrover (sections)
Gus Solomon Jr Statements of Nameless Roots
Donald Byrd Sentimental Cannibalism
Opening with Cunninham set the tone for the pieces to come (including Cunningham actually set the tone by just being included in the mix). From the movement to the music to the costumes, the use of choreographic angles and abstraction was a unique glimpse of who this artist was and his place in the canon of dance. Without a doubt he has been a solid force in the American dance scene and the chance to see why was a treat. His connection to modernism and Martha Graham (oh the angles of the body!) was distinct, but you could also see his tie into post-modernism in his use of abstract movement and a move away from narration. His experiments in choreography and the overall mise-en-scene settle him nicely inbetween those 2 movements.
The choice of Statements of Nameless Roots with Cunningham's piece was nicely curated. Here you could see the influence of Solomon's mentor with some additional flourishes and a softness that established the show as his own. The piece itself lacked the strength of it's predecessor in the evening and, over the course of a week, is now only memorable for its relation to Cunningham and the argument it made for the "clan" (although Solomon's label as an inconoclastic choreographer mystifies me).
The last bit of the night, Sentimental Cannibalism, is hard for me to comment on, mostly because I saw this piece in the fall and was disappointed to find it on this bill. Originally staged in 1993, SC is a reminder of the path that Byrd forged in the 90s (especially with the return to narrative, a raw sexuality and a heightened athleticism). I think I had hoped to see a work of Byrd's that would tie him more closely to Cunningham and Solomon, or perhaps something that would have made a better case for Byrd as "provocateur." Bits of the piece were innovative in their time, but, again, how this piece falls under a label of an iconoclan is confusing. Perhaps this was an iconoclastic piece in 1993, but times have changed and the title is not fitting in 2009.
Overall, watching the way Byrd and Solomon were influenced by Cunningham (both of them dance with him back in the day) was one of the highlights of the evening, in addition to Cunningham's piece. But is this really an "icono-clan"? I've got my doubts.
SIDENOTE - The placement of intermission begins to feel important in an evening where multiple artists are being layed out against one another. To be be the sole artist after the intermission implies an elevated importance. It, as opposed to its companions from prior in the night, should seemingly be the piece to entice audience members to stay. How often is this really the case though?
Merce Cunningham Landrover (sections)
Gus Solomon Jr Statements of Nameless Roots
Donald Byrd Sentimental Cannibalism
Opening with Cunninham set the tone for the pieces to come (including Cunningham actually set the tone by just being included in the mix). From the movement to the music to the costumes, the use of choreographic angles and abstraction was a unique glimpse of who this artist was and his place in the canon of dance. Without a doubt he has been a solid force in the American dance scene and the chance to see why was a treat. His connection to modernism and Martha Graham (oh the angles of the body!) was distinct, but you could also see his tie into post-modernism in his use of abstract movement and a move away from narration. His experiments in choreography and the overall mise-en-scene settle him nicely inbetween those 2 movements.
The choice of Statements of Nameless Roots with Cunningham's piece was nicely curated. Here you could see the influence of Solomon's mentor with some additional flourishes and a softness that established the show as his own. The piece itself lacked the strength of it's predecessor in the evening and, over the course of a week, is now only memorable for its relation to Cunningham and the argument it made for the "clan" (although Solomon's label as an inconoclastic choreographer mystifies me).
The last bit of the night, Sentimental Cannibalism, is hard for me to comment on, mostly because I saw this piece in the fall and was disappointed to find it on this bill. Originally staged in 1993, SC is a reminder of the path that Byrd forged in the 90s (especially with the return to narrative, a raw sexuality and a heightened athleticism). I think I had hoped to see a work of Byrd's that would tie him more closely to Cunningham and Solomon, or perhaps something that would have made a better case for Byrd as "provocateur." Bits of the piece were innovative in their time, but, again, how this piece falls under a label of an iconoclan is confusing. Perhaps this was an iconoclastic piece in 1993, but times have changed and the title is not fitting in 2009.
Overall, watching the way Byrd and Solomon were influenced by Cunningham (both of them dance with him back in the day) was one of the highlights of the evening, in addition to Cunningham's piece. But is this really an "icono-clan"? I've got my doubts.
SIDENOTE - The placement of intermission begins to feel important in an evening where multiple artists are being layed out against one another. To be be the sole artist after the intermission implies an elevated importance. It, as opposed to its companions from prior in the night, should seemingly be the piece to entice audience members to stay. How often is this really the case though?
The Glass Effect
Listening to Philip Glass tends to make me feel like I'm in a movie and that the drama of every moment is consequently heightened. Again, just saying...
15 March 2009
No Surprises
This song increasingly tugs at my heart. From the first time I saw Romain Duris on film to tonight. Just saying...
Meta meta (and a dance by a caped crusader)
What does Nature Theater of Oklahoma's No Dice, a 4-hour epic of sandwiches, accents and the occasional dance...
...have to do with tv shows like 30 Rock?
They're both royally post-post-modern in a meta fashion.
In the first clip, the performers in No Dice begin to discuss dinner theater. As their conversation progresses, their description increasingly resembles what they are actually doing - the goofy costumes, odd accents, inflated acting, etc. They are subverting the oddness of what they are describing by enacting it and, furthermore, have begun to fuck with conventions of accepting the inherent falsehoods of theater.
In the second clip, Liz Lemon talks about a wireless provider service with her colleague, only to turn and face the camera and directly address that same provider, asking where their check is. She has broken both the conventions of the tv fourth wall and of quietly accepting product placement.
Both the performance and the tv series have an awareness of the paradigms of their medium and a desire to display this awareness. In the past decade, more and more entertainment along these lines has populated the theater and creeped into mainstream television - Buffy the Vampire Slayer (toying with teen and horror genres), Family Guy (cartoons and tv), Mark Haim's Goldberg Variations (expectations of dance/movement vocabularies), etc.
It seems like an interesting trend to watch... But that interest could be influenced by the intoxicating combination of cheap sandwiches, dr pepper, a little whiskey, a lot of time in a vacant office space and a nightcap involving tv reruns on my laptop.
To take this out on a random note - the dance starting at 1:35 in the following video of No Dice will remain a highlight of things I've seen this year (listen carefully and you'll hear the performers proclaiming "I'm a sexy robot").
...have to do with tv shows like 30 Rock?
They're both royally post-post-modern in a meta fashion.
In the first clip, the performers in No Dice begin to discuss dinner theater. As their conversation progresses, their description increasingly resembles what they are actually doing - the goofy costumes, odd accents, inflated acting, etc. They are subverting the oddness of what they are describing by enacting it and, furthermore, have begun to fuck with conventions of accepting the inherent falsehoods of theater.
In the second clip, Liz Lemon talks about a wireless provider service with her colleague, only to turn and face the camera and directly address that same provider, asking where their check is. She has broken both the conventions of the tv fourth wall and of quietly accepting product placement.
Both the performance and the tv series have an awareness of the paradigms of their medium and a desire to display this awareness. In the past decade, more and more entertainment along these lines has populated the theater and creeped into mainstream television - Buffy the Vampire Slayer (toying with teen and horror genres), Family Guy (cartoons and tv), Mark Haim's Goldberg Variations (expectations of dance/movement vocabularies), etc.
It seems like an interesting trend to watch... But that interest could be influenced by the intoxicating combination of cheap sandwiches, dr pepper, a little whiskey, a lot of time in a vacant office space and a nightcap involving tv reruns on my laptop.
To take this out on a random note - the dance starting at 1:35 in the following video of No Dice will remain a highlight of things I've seen this year (listen carefully and you'll hear the performers proclaiming "I'm a sexy robot").
14 March 2009
The unspeakable act
In 1973 the crimes of serial killer Dean Corll were unearthed. The combination of his appetite for strung out young boys and a tendency towards hypersadism proved ruthless as he wound his way through upwards of 20 victims.
In 2007 French director Gisele Vienne adapted a novella, JERK, about Corll by US author Dennis Cooper. The story was brought to the stage under the guise of a lecture of sorts - one of Corll's accomplices told the story of what had happened leading up the day of Corll's death. Using puppets and gruesome sound effects, the solo performer demonstrated the acts he had been present for and, when unable to talk about the crimes, he instead had the audience read from a zine he had constructed prior to the performance.
The masterful construction of the show had an emotional impact so strong that it became physical - it was as my stomach sank through me to anchor my body to the seat. This effect left me in a post-performance daze that lasted until the weekend was over. Once it lifted, one of the themes that struck me most was that of the unspeakable act (an act, a moment an idea that is so abhorrent that to talk about it is impossible) and how it was communicated throughout the show.
[An aside - to speak of something is to take steps towards comprehension and, in turn, ownership over an idea. I think we avoid this in some cases because we don't want to become even momentarily involved or acknoweledge involvement.]
In JERK we see different levels of ownership and avoidance of this act (or acts, as it were). I would divide it out into the production's use of the following:
PUPPETS This secondary medium (secondary in that the puppeteer speaks through it) allows the voice to be heard, but projects the actions onto a different object.
ZINES The actions are so awful that they can't be spoken. Instead they are written out, but remain unpronounced.
VENTRILOQUISM The actions are communicated through spoken words, but the lips and tongue refuse participation - the speaking organs reject their role in naming the act. The voice continues on, but the source of the words (the sight of the puppeteer in this case) is no longer recognizable.
DROOL The words will not remain dormant and force their way out in such a way that they become physical, in a liquid form.
In the above we see distancing, avoidance and, in some ways, acceptance as well. In the case of the latter two devices an interesting parallel to the story emerges and another layer is added on - complicity. David Brooks, the accomplice and the puppeteer in this play, was not directly involved in the murders or the torturing. He stepped back and often played the role of videographer. Towards the end he supposedly wanted it to all to be over; he no longer wanted to participate in the torture and the murder. But he did nothing to put it to an end; he sat back and let it happen. Fast forwarding to when he's in jail and trying to talk about what happened, he experiences something similar - he no longer wants to tell this story and own up to his role. The memories are overwhelming, but he remains complicit and unable to stop. His words go on, even as he physically shuts down.
So what bearing does this have on larger cases of the unspeakable? The case of JERK demonstrates how when we take a non-participatory stance, we are still connected whether or not we like it. The unspeakable will not just stop if it is avoided; if anything the consequences of such can be much larger (eg immaterial words becoming solid drool).
In 2007 French director Gisele Vienne adapted a novella, JERK, about Corll by US author Dennis Cooper. The story was brought to the stage under the guise of a lecture of sorts - one of Corll's accomplices told the story of what had happened leading up the day of Corll's death. Using puppets and gruesome sound effects, the solo performer demonstrated the acts he had been present for and, when unable to talk about the crimes, he instead had the audience read from a zine he had constructed prior to the performance.
The masterful construction of the show had an emotional impact so strong that it became physical - it was as my stomach sank through me to anchor my body to the seat. This effect left me in a post-performance daze that lasted until the weekend was over. Once it lifted, one of the themes that struck me most was that of the unspeakable act (an act, a moment an idea that is so abhorrent that to talk about it is impossible) and how it was communicated throughout the show.
[An aside - to speak of something is to take steps towards comprehension and, in turn, ownership over an idea. I think we avoid this in some cases because we don't want to become even momentarily involved or acknoweledge involvement.]
In JERK we see different levels of ownership and avoidance of this act (or acts, as it were). I would divide it out into the production's use of the following:
PUPPETS This secondary medium (secondary in that the puppeteer speaks through it) allows the voice to be heard, but projects the actions onto a different object.
ZINES The actions are so awful that they can't be spoken. Instead they are written out, but remain unpronounced.
VENTRILOQUISM The actions are communicated through spoken words, but the lips and tongue refuse participation - the speaking organs reject their role in naming the act. The voice continues on, but the source of the words (the sight of the puppeteer in this case) is no longer recognizable.
DROOL The words will not remain dormant and force their way out in such a way that they become physical, in a liquid form.
In the above we see distancing, avoidance and, in some ways, acceptance as well. In the case of the latter two devices an interesting parallel to the story emerges and another layer is added on - complicity. David Brooks, the accomplice and the puppeteer in this play, was not directly involved in the murders or the torturing. He stepped back and often played the role of videographer. Towards the end he supposedly wanted it to all to be over; he no longer wanted to participate in the torture and the murder. But he did nothing to put it to an end; he sat back and let it happen. Fast forwarding to when he's in jail and trying to talk about what happened, he experiences something similar - he no longer wants to tell this story and own up to his role. The memories are overwhelming, but he remains complicit and unable to stop. His words go on, even as he physically shuts down.
So what bearing does this have on larger cases of the unspeakable? The case of JERK demonstrates how when we take a non-participatory stance, we are still connected whether or not we like it. The unspeakable will not just stop if it is avoided; if anything the consequences of such can be much larger (eg immaterial words becoming solid drool).
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