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Flash Review 2, 7-14:
Tanaka Takes Butoh to the Roof
By Chris Dohse
Copyright 2000 Chris Dohse
I like the world when
it gets small. Makes me think I'm doing something right. Min Tanaka
comes to New York each year and suspends time for me. I watch the
way he spins corporeal emotion (one way to describe it), and the
hamster wheel in my head shrinky-dinks.
While I was in queue
for "Dreaming Trees -- Flying in Nexus" last Sunday at P.S. 1 (what
a fine opportunity the day was for hipster-hobnobbery and observation
thereof), a voice behind shouted, "Are you in line for something?"
Another voice answered, "Japanese Vaudeville." Hmmm. A curious description
of Tanaka's style. He is usually accused of working within the form
and lineage of Ankoku Butoh, although some claim there's no such
thing, that the "dance of darkness" only existed in the post-Hiroshima
moment of its genesis. I've certainly never considered Tanaka's
difficult, perplexing vision entertaining. I've classified his performances
as thought processes made flesh, moving meditations that gaze unflinchingly
at the terrifying, the despairing and the absurd.
In Part One of "Dreaming
Trees," Tanaka wore band-aids on his face and fingers and any old
dressing gown. He and his cast, (Shiho Ishihara, Dana Iovacchini,
Jorge Schutze and Zack Fuller), perambulated the roof's surface
of stones looking a little injured, a little deranged. All of them
damaged in some way, unwelcome guests at a picnic gone dangerously
awry. They moved as if their bones were filled with perfume. Were
they errant, tarnished leaf shapes, breezeblown, or stormkill clogging
a rain spout?
For Part Two (seen yesterday
and playing again today and tomorrow at 4 PM), the trees edging
the playing area were weighted more heavily with bricks. A necessity
of structure or metaphor? The wind made a greater intrusion, or
inclusion, yesterday, complicating the dancers' gauzes, blowing
everything crookedy, rearranging the misaligned.
Something troubled me
though, something that felt like a misunderstanding between the
experience the dancers were having, so apparently profound, and
the one I was having, which didn't really rise to the occasion.
Made me wonder why do this in front of people? Why allow us to witness
such interiority? Can awareness be communicated? If so, would it
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