Style v. Substance: Whim W'him at Intiman

In the interest of full disclosure, I'm going to come right out and say it: when I saw 3Seasons at On the Boards in January of 2010, I hated it. But last Friday I found myself at Intiman Theater ready to see the work a second time. Olivier Wevers, Whim W'him's artistic director, had expressed his desire to rework the piece and I came to the theater hoping that a year and a half of tinkering with its structure and movement would have changed the piece into something more substantive. No such luck.

Artist Casey Curran's set is a jumble of separate pieces but, unlike the choreography, it manages to form a coherent, cohesive whole. The dance bounces from caricatures of female primping and male strutting, to lyrical balletic passages to pantomime rage. It's almost as though Wevers couldn't decide what style to operate in and decided to do them all. My biggest misgiving following the work's premiere was the sense that Wevers was unclear about exactly what statement he was making with his choreography and this new version did nothing to alleviate these doubts. In January many questioned whether there was a borderline misogynistic streak running through the work. Perhaps as a direct response to this, Wevers has expanded his already lengthy program notes, using the opportunity to tell us exactly what is happening on stage in each section and what it means to him. I read the notes and kept them in mind as I watched the piece, but 3Seasons still left me feeling uneasy. A gun held by a man at waist level points at a woman's spread legs, women alter their bodies for the men's pleasure, a woman mimes the application of lipstick as she struts around the stage, a woman is raped, bloodied and unceremoniously dumped in a garbage can. Call it caricature, call it "the rape of mother earth," call it whatever you wish, I simply don't see it. Instead I see a work that is juvenile at best and offensive at its worst.

The next piece on the program was undoubtedly the strongest. "Monster" is comprised of three duets that take on "Society, Addiction and Relationship." There were moments of "Monster" that were stunningly beautiful and offered a glimpse of how great Wevers's choreography can be when he's at his most abstract. The stripped down scenery (four long fluorescent lights placed against the wings) and minimal costumes helped too, letting the movement stand on its own. The pseudo-chalk outline of a body projected onto the stage and movie soundtrack reminiscent music selected for two sections were too heavy-handed for my taste, but that's purely personal preference.

Rounding out the show was the premiere of "It's Not About the Money." During the post-show Q&A, Wevers explained that the work had been crafted in only two weeks and this may have contributed to the frequent repetition of various motifs and phrases. Here Wevers nearly got out of the audience's way and kept his program notes to a minimum, but still felt the need to explain that the relationship between the three dancers was intentionally ambiguous and mysterious. The dancers zipped around the stage, full of energy, as they leapt, slid, and ran through the jazz inflected choreography. Like "Monster" much of the movement was abstract, except for a simple gesture that was repeated frequently throughout the work and executed, as far as I saw, only by the men: they ran their hands from their waists down their thighs before raising their hands to their sides and rubbing their fingertips together, the international gesture for money. In a piece that is intentionally vague, why include mime with such literal meaning? Its inclusion reinforced my sense that Wevers is often unclear about exactly what he is presenting to the audience. As a relatively young choreographer, he might benefit from an outside eye to guide his process and help clarify his work.

I found reSet disappointing, but I was clearly in the minority. The final piece received a standing ovation and the audience feedback at the Q&A was undeniably enthusiastic. While the rest of the audience found a company to be excited about, I found nothing to sink my teeth into. Everything from the lighting and costumes to the frequent sliding owes a large debt to the work of European masters Jiri Kylian and William Forsythe. There was a reliance on mime to communicate ideas to the audience in all three pieces, showing a reluctance to truly take the plunge into contemporary dance. The dancers are beautiful, but I would expect nothing less of a troupe composed of dancers cherry picked from the best Seattle companies, alongside a Principal from Houston Ballet. The need to fully explain each piece in the program notes, and with additional spoken text in "Monster," eliminated any subjective experience for the audience and negated personal interpretation. I really want to like Whim W'him, but until Wevers gives me more substance to go with his style, I can't be fully on board.

To read a variety of takes on Whim W'him's reSet, see reviews by:
Michael Upchurch of the Seattle Times
Alice Kaderlan of the Seattle P-I
Omar Willey of Seattlest

Morgenstern and Melton are Dead: The Collected Interviews and Commentary of Eva Stone and Lizzy Melton

"

Eva Stone: As a Representative of the Dance Community here in Seattle...and by popular demand, I would like to take a moment to introduce you all to Ms. Lizzy Melton, currently disguised as an Art History Major at the American University of Paris, but, in actuality, a professionally trained ballet and contemporary dancer with an extensive and prolific resume of performing with the leading European dance artists of our time. Now embarking on a choreographic career (you can see her at Spotlight on Seattle in June) I sat down with her the other day over a bottle of Gin, and let me tell you...the FUN was just beginning to unravel...So, Lizzy, tell us all...how did you get your illustrious start?

Lizzy Melton: I gather all of my inspiration from observing chickens and penguins. In fact, a penguin at the Woodland Park Zoo told me to move to London and start making weird art, and you really can't turn down advice from a captive water-loving bird. Oh, and this weird modern teacher I had in high school probably had something to do with it as well. But mainly it was the penguin.

ES: This is very unusual....as a deeper exploration of your work does express penguin tendencies. But let's talk about your aesthetic connection to chickens. I have heard that you have a fascination with poultry and the solar system. Is this true? And how does this influence your work?

LM: Yes, Eva. It is, in fact, true that my fascination with poultry and the solar system is manifest in my work. These terrestrial avian and extra-terrestrial planetary themes are common in my choreographic oeuvre. This dichotomy consistently informs my work and exerts a pull over my creative process that is very much akin to the gravitational forces at work on our planet. In my personal iconography, I feel that chickens represent a return to the primitive and a child-like naïveté, while the movements of the planets mirror the cyclical nature of our day-to-day existence. I have, however, begun to turn away from the themes of my early career and have embarked on a sort of personal iconoclasm. Since returning to The Amerika, I have begun field-observation of the grotesque horrors one can experience in Amerikan Supermarkets. These observations will form the basis for my new creation, the Robyn Orlin-esque "Mum? Mumma? Mama? I have been here two weeks and I am no longer wearing pants because Wal-mart has placed too much strain on my elasticized waist..."

ES: I agree too with your comment on the correlation between us and primitive poultry. Do we all, upon dropping an egg on the floor, have an instant and immediate knee-jerk reaction of, "Oh no! My baby!" But I must challenge your transcending desire to bring Walmart into the fray when diatribing on dance and the world at large...

LM: As a member of the counter-counter-culture living in McStarbucksylvania, in the belly of the beast so to speak, I don't expect you to understand my perspective on Amerikan "culture." Your take on primitive poultry, is spot on though. I do think our instantaneous gut reaction to the shattered, oozing sight of a crushed egg provides incontrovertible evidence of the pre-Hominidae instincts that are typically buried within our amygdalae. Very interesting theory indeed, Eva.

The Disappearance of Ai Weiwei

The Chinese police have finally spoken out on the detention of Ai Weiwei, stating that he is being held for "suspected economic crimes." The Huffington Post has an article by Chris Buckley that covers these accusations in depth. Also available on the Huffington Post is a report on the artist by Dan Rather, including an interview given just ten days prior to his arrest. The interview details Ai Weiwei's political activism, helping to explain why the Chinese authorities would want to remove him from the public sphere.


Chris Buckley's article on the motivations for the detention of Ai Weiwei

Dan Rather's report and interview with Ai Weiwei

Where is Ai Weiwei?

The market for contemporary Chinese art is expanding rapidly, drawing growing numbers of Western bidders and auction houses and driving demand for new work. Case in point: on April 3rd the auction record for a contemporary Chinese painting was set at Sotheby's Hong Kong, with "Forever Lasting Love" by Zhang Xiaogang going for $10 million. This increased interest seems to be linked with further government scrutiny being placed on artists. Perfectly illustrating this was the detention of Ai Weiwei in Beijing as he passed through immigration to catch a plane bound for Hong Kong, occurring the very same day that Chinese contemporary art reached a new market high. His whereabouts remain unknown and the Chinese government is angrily responding to criticism from foreign countries and respected art-world figures. Ai Weiwei is easily one of the most well-known Chinese artists working today. His installation "Sunflower Seeds" is currently filling (literally) the Tate Modern's Turbine Hall and his "Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads" is set to go on display in Central Park on May 2nd, the same day the Tate exhibition closes. I have nothing new to add to this discussion, as the topic has been widely discussed by experts in the fields of art and diplomacy. I simply wish to add my voice to those calling for not only Ai Weiwei's release, but his artistic freedom as well.

Guardian of London coverage of Ai Weiwei's detention

Artinfo's report on "Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads"

Tate Modern page for "Sunflower Seeds"

Artinfo on the April 3rd Sotheby's Hong Kong auction

Reviewing the Review

Ever since Alastair Macaulay made his comments about Jennifer Ringer and Jared Angle in a review of The Nutcracker (“Timeless Alchemy, Even When No One is Dancing” New York Times, November 28th 2010), there has been a large amount of online debate surrounding the idea of critiquing not only a dancer’s technique, but also his or her body. Having read Macaulay’s subsequent rebuttal to the firestorm that greeted his first (“Judging the Bodies in Ballet” New York Times, Dec. 3rd 2010) I must admit that I agree with many of his statements. Yes, dancers open themselves up to criticism of all sorts the second they step onstage. Yes, dancers are aware, acutely, that this criticism might and probably will extend to their bodies. All dancers have experienced this so-called “body fascism.” I have been dismissed from an audition after being asked to point my left, and then my right foot. I hadn’t danced a step. One director told me he wouldn’t hire me because I looked like his ex-wife, while another said he didn’t like redheads. Then there was the costume designer who complained that making my bodice would be unbearably taxing for him, stating that I was “simply too busty for a tutu.” So yes, like it or not, dancers will be criticized for their bodies.

While I am going to begrudgingly admit that dancer’s bodies are fair game to critics, I must say that it is only because I agree with Macaulay’s statement that “in an Apollonian art that requires purity of line, precision of execution and harmony of appearance, dancers with less than ideal shapes must bring other qualities to bear.” He calls to mind notable examples to prove his point, including one by Mark Morris. I have had the good fortune to see Morris perform his solo Peccadillos twice, and yes it’s true that the sight of Morris preparing to dance is slightly comical. But Macaulay has it right: once he begins to move all issues of age and body type fall away. We only notice his expressivity of movement and his profound ability to communicate with the audience. For me, the issue with Macaulay’s original comments rests less with the fact that he took aim at the dancers’ bodies, and much more with the way it was stated: “Jenifer Ringer, as the Sugar Plum Fairy, looked as if she’d eaten one sugar plum too many; and Jared Angle, as the Cavalier, seems to have been sampling half the Sweet realm.” It all seems a bit less New York Times and much more insults near the monkey bars on the playground. Yes you may critique the body, no you may not act mean-spirited while doing so.

A similar feeling of disgust washed over me as I read Alice Kaderlan’s review of Seattle Dance Project (“Seattle Dance Project’s Mixed Bag” Seattle P-I, January 31st 2011). Having not seen the show, I cannot say whether Kaderlan’s critique of the performance as a whole was justified. Just the same I can’t help but comment on one particular line of her review: “…the costumes, which looked like casual clothes the dancers might have pulled out of their own closets, were especially unflattering, especially for bodies no longer razor-thin.” Using costumes “the dancers might have pulled out of their own closets” seems to be a trend in contemporary dance at the moment (last year I put a dancer on stage in items culled from her own wardrobe) and its true that they might seem unpolished to a critical eye accustomed to seeing tutus and tiaras at Pacific Northwest Ballet or hand-painted skirts at Whim W’him.

As far as the first part of the sentence is concerned, Kaderlan can think whatever she likes about this particular trend, it’s the last six words of the phrase that rankled me and got under my skin. After reading the review in its entirety, I came back to these words again and again. I am completely and utterly at a loss as to why Kaderlan felt it was necessary to conclude her train of thought with “especially for bodies no longer razor-thin.” Wouldn’t ending on “unflattering” have sufficed? No. Kaderlan felt the need to place what should have been an internal footnote down on the page. Kaderlan wanted to leave us with no doubt that the bodies, and not the costumes, were at fault.

Having mentioned that I am a dancer and choreographer, I would like to share an idea with Kaderlan. In spite of my small (read: $0) budget and the fact that I have no studio space, I began creating a solo work for myself in early November, before any of the brouhaha over Macaulay’s article had erupted. Oddly my self-prescribed theme was perception. I decided to explore ideas about how an audiences interprets a work, based on how they react on a personal level to the performer, costumes, lighting, music, program notes or any other aspect of performance. Having completed the majority of the piece, I began to think about costuming last week. I was considering wearing a dress (yes, again with the “street clothes”), but was debating whether or not I wanted my legs to be that visible, a good example of body-fascism being self-reflexive. In light of Kaderlan’s review, and having returned to Macaulay’s words, I now have a different idea.

As a student working multiple jobs, I rarely have the opportunity to take dance class. I am twenty-seven years old, young by normal standards, but practically ancient in the dance world. My diet is that of a college student: I had pizza for breakfast this morning. I do not exercise, other than climbing the six-flights of stairs up to my apartment two or three times a day. Certainly a non-dancer would not think of me as heavy, by any stretch of the imagination, but the body I had when I was twenty-one and dancing full time is long gone: I am easily ten to fifteen pounds heavier than I was then. I have cellulite and varicose veins and, to paraphrase Macaulay, my upper arms and thighs wobble. In a piece about perception, performed in a post too-many-sweets performing environment, why not put it all on display? I fully expect the audience to mentally, and maybe ever verbally, critique my body. It’s not the perfect dancer’s body, but it is a dancer’s body all the same. I am nearly certain that Kaderlan will not be among the audience members, but when I finally present my solo onstage I know that I’ll be wearing a simple bra and underwear. And yes, they will be pulled from my own closet.