Woolf Works Its Wonders
Tuesday, May 05, 2015
So last night as I lay in my cushy bed, I indulged in my pre-somnolent custom of scrolling through my Youtube subscriptions like a frantic puppy (I spent the last two days in Ipoh, Malaysia with intermittent Internet access). Whilst trawling through 48 hours worth of visual fodder, my sleepy eyes were, by the mercies of divinity, held open long enough to see that the Royal Ballet had uploaded a series of clips. Glory hallelujah.
One in particular caught my eye, largely because the dancer featured was the ever-sublime Edward Watson, whose calf muscles have more life to them then my entire body. Watson was helping RB resident choreographer Wayne MacGregor demonstrate the latter's upcoming work. I've attached the video below and details are in the info bar, go read up if you have to, I'm not your mother.
Let me just say that for a person on the verge of stupor, what more with the attention-span of a fruit-fly, I was utterly mesmerised by Watson. He is one of those dancers of such compelling, captivating quality that prying your eyes away from his form feels unvenial. The way he cuts through space is fluid yet incisive, a mathematical equation slicing clinically through a plane, but with the dynamic, genesis-like touch of gracefulness. Each flourish of the hand is nuanced, the expressiveness of every extension is palpable, the delicate transference of weight and pregnant inertias are stunning. Speed is an element, but never is a moment frantic or frenzied.
Even in the absence of accompaniment he is electrifying, which is truly diametrical to the perception that dance is inherently dependent on music. The dance is the music; a sort of synaesthesia if you will, for those that do not naturally discern it as such. When, or if, acoustics are thrown into the mix, the craft becomes even more enriched, and when the dancer is able to commune with the sensibilities with keen discretion, that dance becomes exceptional. I presume that was how the great works of our past became truly great, and that is the beauty of these often misunderstood movements.
We have to mention, of course, the genius who conceived such work. Credit to MacGregor for his labour and direction. One wonders how much toil must have gone into cultivating his partnership with Watson: the two combined are such a creative force. I imagine that when the creator and the dancer have formed such a cohesive working relationship, it feeds into the performance and tones it.
I particularly enjoyed how this rehearsal provided an insightful glimpse into the artistry of the choreographer and the way he works. One striking feature of his is the abundant vocalising. It seems a peculiar addition to the room - as if ballet itself has not already been dismissed with its eccentricities - save for the fact that MacGregor's alveolar trills and percussive noises are not the mere products of the clichéd choreographer's idiosyncrasies. Words often fall short of explicating the spirit of movement, and ballet jargon, employed mostly to communicate the sequence of steps, rarely has any say on interpretation. As far as I am concerned, given the limited lexical references, MacGregor's phonating is but a physical translation of how he envisions his ballet in the real world.
When MacGregor does actually speak in the video, and mind you he does quite a bit of it, he brings several concepts to our attention. The philosophy of transition versus space is a pertinent one. From a purely spectatorial point of view it is the essence of dance as a craft, as opposed to haphazard marriages of distorted angles. The 'ending' of one shape morphing into the 'beginning' of another essentially embodies the natal aspect of dance, whether in the creative or the performative process.
I am also intrigued by the notion of perspective posited by MacGregor. He broaches this from a choreographer's lens, but I believe it would be interesting to investigate this from the audience's vantage point. Spatial awareness is rarely afforded to them because of the way stages are designed, and unsurprisingly the art can often fall victim to being of mere static enjoyment for this sedentary assembly. During the practice, the choreographer's mobility within the same plane as the dancer, and at such intimate proximity, subverts the dimensional artifice of the work at its embryonic stage, giving depth to the creation in an organic fashion. If we were to extend this to the actual recital, where the audience placement is markedly different to those of traditional theatres, that same subversion could occur and enrich the ballet-watching experience. One could say that instead of the dancer moving alone, we could potentially make the world move with him/her.
Without a shadow of a doubt, if such possibilities were explored, the repercussions for the world of ballet would be unprecedented. One hopes that it will snuff out the prevailing sentiment that ballet is an antiquated, or worse dead, art form with nothing new to offer. I don't claim to know everything about ballet, or art, or staging, but seeing this video was a timely invigoration of my faith that this centuries-old dance tradition could definitely deal a new hand in the game. And even if you know nothing about the world of ballet, I pray this delightful clip will suffice as persuasion of the greatness yet to come.
-Jacalyn
p.s. We will be commencing a series on SYTYCD: The Best Of. With any luck we'll have it up and running soon, but since I'm currently studying for some tests, I hope you'll pardon any tardiness.
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