Beginner's Mind

There is a Japanese saying I'm fond of - "Shoshin Wasururu bekarazu". It means ' remember your original intension' or 'don't forget beginner's mind'. This phrase was created by Zeami, 15h century visionary, actor, playwright who established Noh as an art form in Japan. For me, this phrase has double implications. What is so significant about beginner's mind? When you are a beginner of something, you approach One is to honor every moment in life. The depth of my commitment to each moment determines the depth of experience, which then determines the quality of a person I can become. The other is to approach the seemingly similar experience

Uttering words on stage 　舞台上での発語について

つい最近、演劇における「本当」ということについて考える機会があった。昔初めて大学かどこかで芝居を見た時、「嘘くさい」と思ったのを覚えている。どこがどう嘘くさかったのか思い出せないが、表現の仕方とか、体の動かし方とか、そういうものが不自然に思えたのだと思う。演技も学生のもので、おそらく下手だったのだろう。今プロの役者の演技を見て、さすがにうまいなと感心する。が、「本当か」ということになると、どうもわからない。そしてこの「本当」かどうかということは舞台上で発語するということをいかに成り立たせるかという事にかかっているようである。どうして舞台上で発語するのは不自然で嘘くさいのだろう？日本の伝統芸能は型というものが決まっているし、古くからの形式にのっとったリアリズムではないスタイルで創られた世界に、声も体もマッチしている。これが現代演劇になってくると、新劇以降、「西洋劇、又は西洋のリアリズムをもとにした劇」をどうやって西洋人でない日本人が成り立たせるのかという課題と取っ組まざるを得ない。鬘をかぶって西洋人のように振る舞い、喋る？でも喋っている言葉は日本語。昨年日本に帰った時、こういう演劇を目撃してショックでした。

舞台上で発語するということは、結局、戯曲そのものから生まれてくるのではなく、体や空間から生まれなければ成り立たないのだろう。

Dance, dance, what is dance, why dance?

It is the New Year, 2014. How's my body and mind doing in the new year? Have I explored everything I had wanted to during the last year? Am I ready to embark on a new journey? I think so. In order to revisit my thoughts and ideas from previous years and to renew my hope and wish for this coming year, I decided to expose my work in a particular setup. A dance festival happening in the nation's capital, Washington, D.C. This festival called "Modern Moves" is featuring twelve contemporary dance companies in D.C. The selection was done via invitation of Dance Place, a venue which has been presenting dance in DC since 1980. To be completely honest, I was a little surprised to receive this honor. As the readers of this blog might know, my work is experimental, bordering on dance, theatre, and visual art. I'm not what people consider as a legitimate dancer (if such a thing exists, I know). I'm also not a part of the dance community. My work is not technique-based, beautiful, athletic, vibrant, nor sexy.

My dance stands on fragility, imperfection, subtlety and sensuality. It is the exploration of the body within the frame of some form or content. It is not the exploration of a theme or a subject matter using the body as a tool. Participating in this concert gave me an opportunity to reflect upon my thoughts on dance and clarify what dance means to me.

Dance is ultimately very personal. It is the living body's business. What is inside, fluctuating mind, rhythm of breath, speed of the soul, all of these create pre-movement that eventually manifest in movements externally. What I'm sharing with the audience is what is happening inside of me through the moment-to-moment encounter with the external environment. I am exposing what is happening in the deepest part of myself to the audience, in a universal form, with the hope that perhaps there is something like this inside of them as well. Perhaps we share something in common. Do we call this resonance? If so, all the companies performed today were aspiring for that. What is the difference? I keep pursuing the question. What do I think is important in dance?

My dance doesn't have a reason. It doesn't mean anything. It is not about anything. It's not about war, violence, love, politics, and relationships. It IS love, politics, war, violence, and relationships.

I am dancing Naoko and my perception of the world, how I see and feel the world, seeps through the movements. I am dancing Naoko. I am, I would like to be, dancing space and time. Existing space and time and imagined space and time. Dance for me is a strong yearning for connection. Connection with the immediate and distant environment. Channeling what is not tangibly existing in the immediate time and space, and at the same time existing in the immediate dimension. By doing so, swirling the audience into a larger cycle of the universe altogether. Dance is also a pilgrimage. A pilgrimage into my own self. Deeper, deeper, going down into the deepest part of self. What kind of 'I' is there? Dance is also ultimately somebody else's business. Through the encounter with my dance, different individuals might be imagining and experiencing something completely different from each other. And that's completely ok.

After today's performance, two men came up to me on the street and commented on my dance. Two things they said - "It was so intense." "It's such control of the body to move so slowly." I'm actually not controlling. I'm being controlled. I'm rushing home to work further, train more, more time with my body, mind, spirit, and soul. Yes, this is the New Year's wish. Definitely.

Photo credit: Paul Emmerson

(Preview - http://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/theater_dance/modern-moves-festival-to-feature-dc-areas-most-established-dance-troupes/2013/12/26/3e15d342-6b96-11e3-a5d0-6f31cd74f760_story.html)

What we see Why we see

We finished presenting "What we see Why we see" on January 8th at Dance Place, Washington, DC. This collaboration was one of the most adventurous and meaningful one for me in many ways. My collaborator, Tzveta Kassabova, and I come from a very different background. I'm from dance, theatre, literature and linguistics. She is from dance, gymnastics, and astrology. Since our common interest lied in sculpting the space, we started with a specific type of material to shape the space: plastic. For 7 days in June, we played with all kinds of plastic to see what intrigued us. In August, we met for 10 days to work with what we came up in June and generated some material. We documented everything we had in 45-minutes footage. Then I left for Japan.

Our real work started when I got back from Japan in December. We only had one month before the show opened. We viewed the footage and threw away 75% of the materials we came up with. We built the scenes. When we started deciding the details, we started clashing. Because we were both directors, choreographers, and performers of the piece, we made all the decisions together from large ones to the small ones. We not only came from different disciplines but also had different approaches in building work. So decision making sometimes took a long time.

In the end, I was glad that this collaboration happened. It was a kind of a relief that I was not alone in the decision making process. I still felt that it was my piece as much as it was hers. I faced my insecurities, relearned my weaknesses, and discovered my strengths. Tzveta and I were not playing in either of our backyards, but were taken into the third place borne out of all the clashes and harmonies between us.

The piece is not complete but is on its way and I hope we'll have another opportunity to work on it sometime soon.

0.01 Decibel ~ Improv. Menu

Just finished dancing "0.01 Decibel" at Improv Menu in DC. I asked my cellist/vocalist friend Audrey Chen to join me since she was back from Berlin for a short time. I have worked with Audrey a couple of times in small and big projects in the past and was missing moving with her sound. I wanted to feel her again and meet her with where I was now - it was like a impulsive short rendevous I looked forward to. The duet with her felt like 8 minutes instead of 18 minutes. I was thoroughly enjoying her sound, her presence, her silence, and give and take between us. At the end, she was going far and farther away from me. I caught the last glimpse of her and she disappeared from my sight.

ライフイントーキョー＃１０　素になる

神戸に帰省していたせいで、一週間稽古をしなかった。帰ってきて、さすがになまってるなと自分でも感じた。ところが、復帰して２、３日後に少し変化が見られた。少し楽になったのだ。鼓の音が出るようになった。笛は未だに苦しいけれど、頭で考えていない時は比較的楽に吹ける。謡の声が動かせるようになってきた。これはどうしたことだろう？　やっとだんだん「力が抜けて」きたのかもしれない。

私にとって、能の一番のパラドックスは「やろうとしない」ことの美徳である。一生懸命そのものを把握して完成させるというよりも、「形をかりて、心でみて、体で感じて」そこに素のまま或ること。もちろん、全てを尽くして準備する事は大事ですが、うまくやろうとすればするほど、能は私から逃げていってしまうのです。脳をフルに活用しながら、ある時点を過ぎると脳を一切使わないモードに切り替える。これはものすごい訓練だと今更ながらに感心する次第です。でも考えてみれば、これは全てのパフォーマンスの基本ですね。

何でも、キンキンになって一生懸命にやろうとする私は、つい最近になってから、「力を抜く」ことを練習し始めています。これはいろんな人からいろんな状況で指摘されていることで、今まで「がんばる」ことの美徳を信じさせられて生きてきた私にとってはとても難しい課題であります。でも、最近はだんだん、「がんばる」ことは自己満足にすぎないのかなと思うようになりました。だからがんばってやったパフォーマンス、自己が満足している時は観客は感動が薄いのでしょう。努力を怠らず、しかし結果を期待せずに一足一音を疎かにせず、力を抜くことを続けていきたいと思います。

ライフイントーキョー＃８　ことば。からだ。演劇。

演劇は「喋る」ことによって、内容を伝えるものと思われがちだが、昨日見た太田省吾作、キム　アラ演出の『砂の駅』、そして今日の、京都出身の三浦基率いる地点のパフォーマンスは、この常識に反するものだった。『砂の駅』は沈黙劇。役者は言葉を発することなく、舞台上で次々とドラマを繰り広げていく。内容はありそうでなく、なさそうであって、観客の想像力によってドラマが引き出されていくようになっている。一方地点の公演は、５人のパフォーマーがひたすら言葉を発するのだが、その言葉はドキュメントや戯曲からの抜粋が組み合わされたテキストだ。５人は、観客席に座り、何もない舞台に向かって、ひたすら言葉を発する。特に身体に重点が置かれているわけではないが、言葉をいろんな風に発語することで、ある種のエネルギーのようなものが生まれてくる。そのままではとても読めないし理解できないテキストのエッセンスが、様々な形状の語り口を通して伝わってくる。

両者共に、独自の方法論で、人間の根源的存在を追求しようとしているが、こうして比べてみると、前者では、発せられない言葉（はっきりとした内容を持つ場合と持たない場合がある）が体に負荷をかける。体は普段では見られない表情をあらわしはじめる。大きな社会という枠組みの中で起こる小さな物語。後者では、書かれた言葉に面と向かうことによって、言葉（非常にはっきりとした内容を持つ）に定義されがちな体を、再定義していくような試みに思われた。テキストに「日本国憲法」と別役実の「象」を使うことによって、現在の日本の置かれた状況を、ベタでなく示唆したのは洒落ている。大きな社会の枠組みの中で起こることの批評。

両者に共通しているもう一つのことは、人が人と、私達が知っているような形では向き合わないということである。１９９６年に太田省吾さんの『裸足のフーガ』を英訳し、舞台化するということで、初めてお会いした。太田さんは紙にいくつか丸（人を表す）と矢印（向いている方向）を書かれて、「日本に西洋演劇が入ってきてから、こうだったのが、（二人の矢印が両方とも前を向いている、つまり向き合っていない）こうなっちゃったんだよ（二人の矢印がお互いの方を向いている）」と仰った。向き合うとどうなるのか？「個人」が曖昧になってしまう。一人一人がバブルのような丸の世界を持っているとすると、二人が前を向いた時には、自分の世界を保ちながら、交わったところで、その人と関わっている。ところが、二人が向き合うと、一つのバブルの中に入ってしまう。このバブルは社会という大きなバブルの中に統合されていく。『砂の駅』では個人の、普段は現れない内面が、静かに又は激しく、外に溢れ出る。地点のパフォーマンスでは、個人は叫んで訴え続ける。あくまで「個」があり、「社会」なのだ。再び自由ということを考えさせられた。

ライフイントーキョー　＃７　こころで見る

能楽師O先生を訪ねる。これで５回目のお稽古である。能楽堂の裏口から入り、稽古部屋へ行く。初回からずっと敦盛のキリという仕舞をやっているが、これは今年の夏ブルームズバーグの能ワークショップで一度舞ったものを、今月３０日の会に向けて練習している。さすがにプロの能楽師と一対一で習うのは緊張する。毎回新しい発見があり、能の深さと濃さを再認識する。前回は、舞の位置づけがいかに正確なものかを教わった。型はもちろん、どの位置にどういう角度で行くか、柱に向かって、観客に向かってどういう角度で立つかは、見え方や舞台上の他の要素との関係性で、全て決まっている。能役者は２間（３m６０cm）の正方形の中で極めて正確に拍子を踏み、舞を舞う。この制約が、「人間わざ」を超越させる。そんな狭い空間の中でしか動いていないのに、時を超え、空間を超えたところに存在し得る。

O先生によると、「うまくいっている」と思った時には「側面的」になってしまい、必ずうまくいっていないという。一番うまく行くのは、「あー今日はちょっとうまくいかなかったなー」と思った時だそうだ。そういう時の方がお客さんは感動する。これもおもしろい。制約は機械のようなパーフェクトさを舞台に載せる為にあるのではなく、「可能であり不可能」の前に人間を立たせる為にある。極めて正確であり、極めて曖昧なところに居続けなければならない危うさ。そこでは、「自分」や「自分の気持ち」を直視し、かつ、執着せず、流れに身を任せることが要求される。

先生は最後に、「月をこころで見る」と仰った。「だから、能面をつけると余り見えないのがいい。目でなくこころで見るのだから。それが観客に伝わり、彼らも又、月を見るんです。」

ライフイントーキョー　＃５　「風景画」

維新派の『風景画」を見た。久しぶりに刺激のある舞台だった。１９７０年から松本雄吉氏をリーダーに活動しているこの集団は、野外にこだわっている。今日の公演も池袋西部の４階、祭りの広場という屋上で行われた。電車がすぐ側を走り、周りには高いビルが立ち並ぶ。この屋上にはそのビルや建物のミニチュア模型が街を成している。

出演者は２４名。男の子７人と女の子１７人だ。（公演中はそのことを全く意識していなかった）全員が紺の半ズボンに白い半袖シャツを着て、短い髪をしている。機械の様なコントロールされた動きが２４人によって極めて正確に示される。特殊なリズムで発される断片的な言葉、恐ろしいほどに統一されたジェスチャー、幾何学的なモチーフ、音楽があいまって、不思議な２次元のような３次元のような時空間をつくりだしている。全体は１１の小章に分かれていて、「点」から始まり、「図形」や「対角線」等、を経て「２０１１〜」で終わる。東京という都会の性質がタブローや細かく振り付けされた動きを通して、浮き彫りにされる。例えば、「四角形」という章では、２４人が６つの四角形をつくり、その内の一つから４点のうちの１点がそとに出てしまう。でもその１点の入るところはない。しばらく迷ったあげく、仕方なしに元の場所に戻る。「４」という数字は以前「家族」という作品で扱ったが、「世間に認められる数字」であると思う。「安定する数字」「３」は「４」よりずっとバランスが悪く、均一にしにくい。私達の周りを見回しても、４点で出来ている四角いものがおおい。「あてはまる」形なのだ。そこからはみ出てしまったものは行くところがない。又、「一秒」という章では、「一秒で何何をする」という号令のようなものがかけられ、２４名は次々とその課題をこなしていくが、最後の方で、「一秒で息をする」「十秒で息をとめる」と、生きていくに必須な息さえも失うことに同意させられてしまう集団性を見せられた。クライマックスの「２０１１〜」になると、様々な線や図形、かたちをつくっていた２４の体は一列に並ぶ。もののかたちが語られ、体の一部一部が四角の中に入れられ、記録され、２４名は列に並んで、どこまでも深く暗い河の流れを見る。最後の最後は『２０１６、２０１７、２０１８、。。。２０３５。。」と未来の年号を言い続けながら、模型の街に向かっていく。ある子供は手を広げ、ある子供はヨーイドンみたいな姿勢になって、街に向かい続ける。そして初めて、ある者は人によりそい、ある者は一人で、静かに街を見つめる。

この芝居中、電車は側でずっと走り続け、ビルのネオンは消えることがなかった。時が時なので、どうしても、「資本主義」「規則」「子供の未来はあるのか？」といった事を考えてしまう。難しいテーマを扱いながら、「陰／絶望」でも「陽／希望」でもないスタンスで観客に投げ返しているのはすごい。そこには答えはなく、問いかけがあるのみだった。

Modernity stripped bare (3)

My injured leg is making me even more immobile than before. But is it really so? Protecting the injured leg, the rest of the body starts creating obscure movements. Strange balance, slow rhythm. Using a cane makes me feel like a mysterious character appearing in a fairy tale. This might be a super laid-back perspective for such an inconvenient situation I'm in right now. But once you accept the situation, you can actually experience a kind of peace. You start making new discoveries. People you meet with this new body don't know if the situation is permanent or not. So naturally, their reactions vary. Experiencing them, I realize that I'm standing on the other side. It's making me appreciate what I've been taking for granted such as people's kindness, my car, the luxury of going into the yard and touching the earth, morning light, and even listening to music. Perhaps injury and pain happen for an unknown reason that our beings are secretly in need of. My next question is, what kind of dance comes out of this body? 怪我をした足のおかげで以前にも増して動かない体になっている。が、果たしてそうなのだろうか？使えない足をかばって、体の他の部分はいびつな動きをし始める。おかしなバランス、スローなリズム。杖まで使っていると、なんだか変なキャラクターになった気分だ。とても不便な状況なのに、のんきなものだと思うが、一旦あきらめてしまうと、思いがけなく余裕が出てくるから不思議である。こうなって、いろんな発見がある。出会う人達は私がずっとこうなのかどうなのか知らない訳だから、反応は様々で、それを経験すると、普段立った事のない側に立たされている事に気づく。今まで、当たり前と思っていた事が新鮮に思えてくる。人の親切が身にしみたり、車の有り難さに感謝したり、庭に出て土を触れることがとても贅沢なことに思えたりするし、朝の光がいつもよりまぶしく思えたり、音楽を聞くのがとても楽しみになったりする。怪我や痛みは私達の理解を超えた、でもひそかに求めている為に起こるのかもしれない。どういう踊りがここから生まれてくるのだろう？

Modernity stripped bare (2)

アンサンブルでやる稽古も好きだが、一人でスタジォで過ごす時間は密である。動かない体に面しながら、新しい動きを発見して、病後の回復期のような気持ちになる。どこに私が居るのか。気合いを入れていかないと。。。 As much as I like ensemble rehearsals, I cannot appreciate enough of my time alone in the studio. Facing the body that doesn't feel like my body, I start discovering new impulses within as if I were on my way to a full recovery from an illness. Where am I now? Where am I in my body? Where am I in my mind?

Space. Dance. Love.

久しぶりにシアタープロジェクトにダンスを見にいく。空間を多彩に使ったパフォーマンスと聞き、少し期待して行った。７時半から１０時半の間のいつ来てもいいという設定だったので、８時半頃着く。確かに空間は変わっていた。そして、ダンサー達は一生懸命にやっていた。ライブ音も悪くなかったし、照明や衣装もちょっとちゃんとしていた。だが、何かが起こっていたのか？うーん。やはり印象としては、いま一つ意図が掴みかねたというのが、正直な感想である。どうしてなのか？いろいろ理由はあると思うが、「筋肉と感情で押す」ダンスに魅力が感じられないのがまずひとつ。そして、空間は変えているが、がんばり過ぎていて、空間への愛が感じられない点である。ダンサー自身の踊りと私はどう関係しているのかもわからなかった。どうして私がそこにいなければいけないのか？見たことで何を感じているのか？疑問はつきない。 I visited Theatre Project after a long absence. I have been hearing about this site-specific performance and have been curious about it for a while now. Since the performance was set up in a way that the audience can come and go anytime between 7:30 and 10:30pm, I arrived at around 8:30pm. They surely changed the space. The art gallery was turned into a dance space. They built a platform inside the audience and placed chairs on the stage, etc. Dancers were committed fully to venture into this experimental 3-hour marathon. Live music played at different spots in the house was decent and fit the movements. Lighting and costumes also supported the dance, it seemed. But I wonder...was there something happening? Not sure. My honest impression was that I had difficulty understanding their intension. Why is that? There are several different reasons for that. One of them surely is my lack of interest in the 'muscle and emotion' dance. Another reason is about the space. The space was transformed, but it seemed like 'transformed'. The space didn't transform, but was transformed. There was much 'doing' and I was having a hard time feeling the love for space. I was also not sure what I have to do with the dance that was happening in front of me. Why did I have to be there to witness it? What am I feeling while watching it or after I watched it? My inquiries continue...

Modernity Stripped Bare

このプロジェクトの準備を始めました。今回は電子音楽家のヨーコKさんとのコラボレーションです。しかし、写真の展示の中で踊るというのは難しい。。考えすぎてもいけないし、でも全く関わらないというのでもない。まあ、どちらにしても、私は私の踊りしかできないから、いきつくところまでいきつくのみです。しかし、カスパーにこの２ヶ月というもの、かかりっきりだったので、体が無くなってしまったみたいだ。感覚をどこまで取り戻せるのか。あせる。 Finally started working on the April 22nd performance. It is a collaboration with an electronic musician, Yoko K. It is really challenging to dance in the gallery where such powerful photos are exhibited. I can't think too much. But the photos are the given of the space, emitting intense energy into the space. In any case, I can only dance my dance, so I'll see where I can reach. Because of my investment in "Kaspar" for the past 2 months, I cannot feel my body so clearly. I wonder how much sensation I can gain back? Time is ticking.

Dance and Language (1)

I saw two performances which involved spoken language. The first one was by Gail Langstroth, a poet, eurythmist and stage artist (http://www.wordmoves.com/en/). She and Fred Johnson, a drummer/singer presented an evening of spoken/sung poetry with movements. The poems included both hers and other people's and she seemed to have danced these poems before. Her dance was clearly connected with spirituality coming from the poetry. It had a strong presentational quality which I'm not so used to and also somewhat congregational (?). The performers at times seemed to be calling for spirits through their movements, voice, and music and connecting with those who gathered. The second one was an event planned by two local Baltimore dancers. They read the words of a butoh dancer, Kazuo Ohno has uttered during his workshops in Yokohama. The floor was open for anyone who was inspired to dance. Given that Kazuo Ohno is a legendary dancer whose soul-filled performance kept captivating the audience until he died at the age of 103, I was expecting some kind of a spiritual connection between dancer and the words, the viewer and the event. However, despite the amount of dancing that was happening, the spiritual resonance seemed not to be there. The connection between the words and the dance was not apparent and neither was the relationship between the doer and the viewer. Compared to the first event, this one felt very personal and individualistic. And most importantly, Kazuo Ohno seemed not to be there.

In both of these events, dance was a way to enter into the person/the content through the words read or spoken.

weight of form

I just got back from a week of rehearsals and performances of an English Noh Play, "Crazy Jane". Along with the play, two short dance pieces were presented each night and I was given one piece to dance on Friday night. It has been five years since I participated in an intensive training of Noh, so naturally, I felt rusty and under-prepared, which I had expected. What I didn't expect was the revelations I had while I practiced the dance being in half-panic state.

The most potent moment visited me when I was rehearsing by myself in the studio a day before the performance. At that point, I had the sequence memorized and had a pretty good idea of how the song matched the dance. (In Noh dance, movements and singing are in a close relationship to each other. If you don't know the song well, you can't dance well.) I wanted to reach the place where I can actually feel and dance the dance.

As I worked on my dance in an empty quiet space, my body started remembering the power that resided in every aspect of noh. Because I was re-learning the form, so to speak, this time I was starting to understand more about the reasons for various details - why jo-ha-kyu, why small steps, what happens when you restrain, why arms move in certain sequences and why all these things are important to make the dance work. I also began to realize when all elements are executed, strong energy starts circulating through one's body and connecting with the energy of the universe. Through extreme minimalism, this energy becomes distilled to the purest primal state and gets transmitted to the audience. As I kept dancing, I began to feel this energy inside my body, moving it to the next step, and the next step. The air around me started shifting and I started being in contact with the invisibles. (perhaps this is the reason why contact between the performers is minimal in noh?)

This resonates with what I have been striving for in my own work - maximum evocation with minimal stimuli. The work transcends what a performer does or who he is (visibles) and rises into a large encompassing universe. But to achieve this, you need to perfect the form with precision. In a sense, it seems that the performer is 'borrowing' the form to reside in the spirit of the Noh character.

I renewed my appreciation for the depth of this traditional art form and was glad to be able to 'feel' the form through the body rather than 'understand' it through the head.

sound of no sound

Issui Minegishi is a ichigenkin (one-string instrument) player from Japan. I met her in NY through my director friend. She mentioned how challenging it is to manipulate the one string to create music. One of the things she is focusing on right now is to listen to the silence after the sound is gone. It seems already minimalistic given that it is only one string which is producing sound, but she wants people to listen to the sound after the sound is gone. This ultimate minimalist approach resonated with me. In Japanese, 'ma' (the space between) is honored in every aspect of life. In studying ookawa (Noh hip-drum) a little, I learned that vocal calls and rhythm are much more important than the actual sound you make. Rhythm of course means the 'sound' part and 'no sound' part. Vocal calls fill in the 'no sound' part. And this 'no sound' part goes with the arm movements. Extremely acute sense of listening is required to listen to this 'ma'. Some also say that 'ma' is where the spirits reside. It seems like the portal to the eternal world. When you honor this space more than the 'filled' space, the sound is much fuller and the 'no sound' gets awaken, creating the equisite harmony.

0.1 decibel

Recently, I had lunch with Yoko. K whom I met through my workshop held in June. She is a singer/electronic musician based in Washignton, DC. It is not everyday that I meet a Japanese person here in Baltimore, especially a female working artist. It is also not so often that you sit with someone and just talk for a long time. She kindly shared not only her own thoughts about "Paraffin" but also her friend's whom she brought with her on that day. I was thrilled to hear that she felt invisible tension and power that was inexplicable. I shared with her some of my 'kodawari' (almost anal obsession about the details) which seemed to have caused that tension. Yoko told me about her 'kodawari' when recording music - she uses 0.1 decibel mixing instead of 0.2 even if other people tell her that it doesn't make a difference. I completely understood why she wanted to do that. It's amazing how the degree of such care directly shows on stage even if it might be a meticulous choice which makes a miniscule difference. As a performer, so much of what one does off-stage gets revealed on stage- how you have been handling props, costumes, how you have been relating to the space, other performers, how you have been listening, seeing, sensing, how you have been living every moment of your life. Yoko also shared that her friend had thought that my stance was very strict and no-nonsense, but my compassion was deep. I was shocked that both Yoko and her friend had not only experienced what was happening on stage, but also perceived what kind of preparation had been done to make it happen - how we had been working. I felt blessed to have witnesses like Yoko and her friend who could share with me such constructive feedback that made me reflect upon what's important for me. Thank you, Yoko-san!

Post-Paraffin

When I decided to do "Paraffin" at Baltimore Theatre Project again this year, I wasn't entirely certain why we should do it except for my gut feeling that it was not over for me yet. As a whole, I'm glad we did it. The work was exposed to a wider range of the audience. With the new cast, we matured over three performance experiences at different venues. And it made sense to complete it in the space we started.

My own process of creating, recreating, erasing, adding, subtracting, cutting, reshaping, was very intriguing in itself. The question 'why' and 'how' kept coming back to me. (The lighting designer Kel Millionie mentioned that my work is about 'why' and 'how' and not 'what'.) Also, another big question, 'which choice is more truthful?' - truthful to the piece, truthful to myself. Within the limit of keeping the structure, I think we were able to honor time and space and depth more this time.

The show did feel very different performing it and listening to the responses. Design pretty much stayed the same - lighting, costumes, and music. The cast was half new (for this venue). What felt very different was the connection with the audience - tighter, closer, deeper, and more intimate. I tried to think why this was the case. First of all, we had some people who saw the show last year. So in viewing the show, they had more 'readiness'. So on most nights, there was a mixture of the second timer and the first timer, which created a certain dynamics. Secondly, it seemed that there were people from more diverse groups (age, occupation, cultural background). Two nights of Q & A were filled with inspiring and exciting questions which last 45 minutes to 1 hour. The audience' responses had more of a range this time. People found different stories, themes, actions, verbs, images, spirits, etc, etc. Of course, some people felt the need for more narrative (according to the audience' questionnaire), but most of them were just in it, yes, they were in it with us - that was how it felt. A simultaneous exploration of what was going on in every moment between the performers and the audience. Ten days later, I talked to some audience members and they seemed to be still resonating with what happened.

I'd like to thank those who came to witness this work, those who helped restore the show, those who helped present it, and those who performed it.

Although we got no review from the press, I'd like to share some of the audience responses here.

"Between life and death is Paraffin."

"Other worldly- unbelievable beauty."

"Evocative-fascinating-mysterious-primitive-unique-sensual-challenging."

"True beauty even when 'savage'."

"Beautiful, imaginative, terrifying, reaching for the heavens."

"Samuel Becket meets Artaud on the road - theatrical tour-de-force"

"Questioning the what-ifs about the human life cycle - how could it have been different? Dance is a challenging medium to ask questions like that - very thought provoking."

"A medictation on death - how death affects one's feelings on life"

"Timelsss..."

"People started on the floor and ended up in the air..."

"Evoked extreme feelings of loss and desire"

"Continuous search for light or love or acceptance - the show will definitely inspire conversation among its audiences."

"The most brilliant portrayals of the current state of imbalance in humanity I have ever seen."

Post-concert review of Dance Place

Thank you so much for coming to see the performance at Dance Place! The responses have been very positive and I'm learning a lot from them. It was a fantastic experience to collaborate with a choreographer Sharon Mansur whom I have known for almost 10 years and have wanted to collaborate. I look forward to further collaboration with her in the future. Sharon Mansur and Naoko Maeshiba perform at Dance Place

Monday, April 5, 2010; 6:00 PM

Sharon Mansur and Naoko Maeshiba are a natural fit to co-headline a performance: Each operates in an abstract realm where meaning is revealed by slow drip rather than steady stream. Both have movement styles that seem more rooted in individual impulse than in anything they learned from a technique class.

Their show at Dance Place on Saturday night opened with Mansur's "semblance," a work intended to be a reflection on women's identity issues. From one dancer's seizure-like collapse to the floor and another's repeated episodes of hyperventilation, it was clear the work's three main characters were struggling to cope with something. The supporting ensemble, sporting schoolgirl-like skirts and red canvas sneakers, represented conformity at its most stifling. However, those threads never came together to make a cohesive statement.

Mansur later performed an improvisational solo called "here/there . . . (for one)" that was a fine showcase for her light, delicate dancing but had an unsatisfying vagueness to it.

Maeshiba's works were more successful, existing in dreamscapes that managed to be strikingly beautiful yet somewhat disturbing. In "Paraffin," a dancer was surrounded by technicians in lab coats, and through a lighting trick involving an overhead projector, it appeared that her body was being covered in scribbles and graffiti. This and other scenes left a powerful emotional imprint by exposing the consequences of forgetting or disregarding someone's humanity.

"Face of Another" shows how smart and thorough a choreographer Maeshiba is, as it has no linear narrative and yet somehow builds to a riveting climax. Through a collage of fluid gesture and intentionally unsteady hobbling, Maeshiba takes a journey to make sense of herself and her place in the world. It's the kind of work that is so well-paced and so carefully crafted that the audience can comfortably get lost in it, completely entranced by the strange world she has created.

-- Sarah Halzack

RE: Best of Baltimore

Thank you so much for choosing "Paraffin" as the 'best dance performance' in City paper's Best of Baltimore! We are hoping to remount the show next year - if you haven't seen it or if you would like to see it again, stay tuned! http://www.citypaper.com/bob/story.asp?id=18844