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| Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Dance > Sojourn - in a dancer's journey Artist :Choreographers : Ebelle Chong, Royston Fan, Melissa Quek Dancers : Ebelle Chong, Royston Fan, Melissa Quek, Andy Lim, Alycia Chua, Shining Goh, Jewel Ling, Michelle Lim, Joey Chua Venue : The Substation Guinness Theatre All photographs featured are taken by Marcus Chin Reviewers : Kimberly Creasman and Dawn Fung. Viewed at 8pm, 17th March 2006 Dawn : Reviewing Sojourn has been eventful for Kimberly Creasman and I. Both of us write from different perspectives. Evidently, the reader will see the potential lesson in relating their walk in Christ with the struggle of heart versus art. These reviews are longer than usual - Kimberly writes twice as much (2000+ words), but we believe that it would be a beneficial read of Christian artists and their crafts in the marketplace. Enjoy. Sojourn in the Marketplace by Dawn Fung  before 7:30pm... The art of reviewing has much to do with its author's bias. It is tantalising because it is effected from one's subjective and intimate opinion, where the difficulty of the article lies outside the subject to include the participating writer's day and life experience. My latest spar is with "Sojourn- in a dancer's journey", a four part presentation of rather obtuse facts on ideas of identity - how we view ourselves and how others view us - where the ego, and its inevitable conflicts, surfaces. The night opened with "8.00pm" by Ebelle Chong. It was a linear take on the spotlight/glamour issue that plagues man. In the dark doorway, a silhouette of a slinky woman emerges. She sidles up to the front of the microphone and lip synchs to "Begin the Beguine" (De-Lovely OS). We see the whole outline of her mouth because the torch light that doubles up as the microphone only shows that much. This pattern repeats as other women and a man enter. Those who fight for the spotlight but misses end up as a heap on the floor. We see another man enter as all of them end up unmoving. He is wearing white and black, looking not unlike a janitor. Predictably, this man finds a spotlight - thus the never ending joke of resurrection. The lone male dancer eventually wins the coveted spot in front of the light, still controlled at the other end by the janitor figure. He laughs sporadically and maniacally but fails to reach the discomforting plateau made essential by performance art today. I liked the economical usage of light in this piece, a detail that should never be overlooked in any theatre. Good music includes "Headphones" by Bjork and " 'T Ain't What You Do (It's The Way That Cha Do It)" by Ella Fitzgerald. The second piece, "My Sister's Room" by Royston Fan is the cliche of the lot. He takes on sibling love and rivalry. Two sisters fight over toys in a clear indication of possession and ownership. In one instance, one of them produces a sack of balloons while the other tries to keep them up in the air until she is tired. This is the usual spontaneous improvisation where randomness and onsite sequencing collide. Although Jewel Lim and Melissa Quek are competent sibling roles, Royston Fan fails to build on movements that could steer away from modern dance cheese - the fight scene over a doll gets over the top precisely because they disengaged from solid contact work which would have emphasised a tight spatial treatment. "Hold My Hand?" by Melissa Quek created the most doubts in my mind out of the four. When the first character appeared out of the same doorway, again, one audience member mumbled, "Dick Tracy". Unless the intention of the piece was to allow audiences to associate characters with well known personas, this first and only brush with a too familiar figure spelled error for serious viewers. Other than that, its humour was relegated to intermittent tableau and dancers stealing each other's costumes. "Hold My Hand?" slipped into a boring analogy of freedom. Four dancers fight to take off their black t-shirts (to reveal colourful tank tops), only to have one of them put the rest of the T-shirts back on again. Her struggle to get rid of the garments marked the dreadful demise of a piece that would have had the most potential to expand into a full fledge experimental dance trope. The downside here was the ineffective sequencing of entrance and exit, rhythm of humour to tertiary angst, as well as the choice of cast, whose expressions did not fully collaborate with the Beatles medley, for the music took up the better part of my attention than did the floor. "Trails" by Melissa Quek and Ebelle Chong brought me back to a saner ending, although I felt that this structured improvisation made use of too many props. The utilities included dancers stepping back and forth on the rope, playing their choice of music CDs on a dragged out stereo, shoe chases and 'live' sharing from the chairs. Ebelle Chong takes the mick out of postcolonial angst - she shouts out against the music, of Asian dancers and how they should behave. As Shining Goh's remarked, "Feel free to smile or even laugh". The best was really Andy Lim's cameo as the janitor with the broom. "Trails" could have been the first piece out of the four of the night, if only to subvert our evening's expectations and to let the strongest, "8.00pm", end. Sojourn reminded me of a show that I once caught in winter in the town theatre of Canterbury. It was The Cholmondeleys and The Featherstonehaughs and the Victims of Death in Smithereens by the acclaimed dance company, the Cholmondeleys and the Featherstonehaughs. Despite their good reputation, I almost fell asleep. The problem was that their very serious piece had nothing in common with a light blue proscenium theatre designed and performed best with cheesy pantomimes. I bring this comparison to Sojourn because it ought to have been successful if the elemental parts of the performance were re-considered. The title "Sojourn" affirms the dancers' prerogative to present their personal lives, as four relatable moments in their interactions that cause the work to occur. Yet the emphasis on identity and pushing for self-understanding grates on the lack of creative interpretation of a temporary visit. I also feel that too many choreographers spoil the broth, especially when all of them were also dancers for one another's pieces. For one hour, there could have been a smooth yet exciting rhythm of one scene to the next under the guidance of one focused and less tired participant. As such, the incompatibility of space, theme and cast turned out an incoherence that was damaging to this confusing sojourn. --- As Christian dancers in church, I have no doubt that the enjoyment of Sojourn would be higher and very refreshing. This comes from a benign (but shaky) connotation that the most forgiving community is also the most embracing. I view Sojourn as a commentary for Christian artists in the marketplace to continue to pursue relevance in their chosen environments. Preferential treatment to review its quality because of its Christian roots would be detrimental for their progress later on, should similar groups or performers continue to make art and disregard their scope of work. I review Sojourn based from a certain secular understanding of art and reviewing, although Kimberly Creasman's article reminds me that lessons and values of Jesus penetrate through every house and theatre. ============================= Witnessing the Birth of a Good Reputation (With a desire that more will follow) by Kimberly Creasman  the structured improves... I came to this concert with little expectation except to enjoy a concert that a group of individually talented dancers have come together for. I'm no expert dance critic, have taken precious few dance classes, and I know that this group is not an established dance company. There is no established reputation for the group. It's a first. So, I eagerly settle into my front row seat thinking this night is certainly something special, in and of itself. And, perhaps it is an innauguration or birth of something. God only knows. Since last year I've known a little about this group because the producers are friends of mine. Last year Paul Seow, Suelynn Yap and Elaine Chan read the book JOURNEY OF DESIRE with me. I wonder if the title of tonight's concert, SOJOURN, has anything to do with this popular book by John Eldredge. I also know that the majority of performers tonight are dancers who follow Jesus. I know that they have been meeting for a number of months to encourage one another in their faith, and have now decided to share their art and themselves with an audience. I'm interested to see who they are through what they communicate in their dance. Dawn Fung, of Shoebox Arts, sits next to me; her trusty pen & notebook in hand. She's ready to take notes and write a review. I like the front row in a black box performance. You can hear them breathe. You can see them blink. In a way, you can become a part of the performance. This is something unique to a live performance. Somthing that movies and TV can never give. In the audience I've seen a few people I know. In addition to my self-professed, "right-brain dead" husband (who would probably rather watch an action movie at Lido 1), there are other dancers, two theatre friends of mine, a missionary, a lawyer, and a Secondary English teacher from the heartland of USA. He's never been to a dance concert in his life until tonight. I wonder what they will think of tonight's contemporary dance. The lights go down and the first number "8:00pm" (choreographed by Ebelle Chong), begins to "Begin the Beguine". What? One of the girls is lip-synching to a microphone on a stand that is actually a flashlight. A cheesy flower in her hair. Overdone make-up. This microphone is the only light in the room, and it casts a goulish glow on her face. Soon another dancer fights over the microphone, the spotlight. Then another. They are all so...plastic looking. Fake. They all want the spotlight light. And the light is desireable. The piece evolves, and in comes a young man holding a floodlight. It makes the microphone seem like a worthless toy in comparison. In the dark, he shines it on the dancers who lie motionless on the floor. He shines it on the faces of the audience. It is piercing light. It hurts my eyes. Maybe the front row isn't a good spot to be for this show. "Yuck." I think to myself. The girls are ugly. The male dancer hoarding the light was unattractive. His laugh is irritating. Their attitudes are ugly. Sometimes the flood light is on, and the dancers grovel after it. Sometimes it goes off and they wander aimlessly. I think about an Old Testament prophecy about the Messiah, "the people walking in darkness have seen a great light..." I watch the dance and my mind is bubbling with Bible verses. Paul's letter to the Ephesians says, "For you were once in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them...Wake up O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." Hmmm. What are the dancers trying to tell me? I wrestle with the ethos of dance. It isn't story driven like so much of theatre. I tell myself to stop looking for the story and ask, "How does this make me feel?" I watch the performance and see dancers trying to make sense of the light, and life. Again Scripture comes to my mind as I shade my eyes from the spotlight passing over the audience again. The Gospel of John. When I think of light, I may know from chapter one that that "in Jesus is life, and that his light is the light of men," but here, in the Guiness Theatre, I'm thinking to myself, "The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it." (John 1:4,5). I laugh to myself as I think that Dawn, or the two other younger actors I know in the audience, probably liked this piece. They are nearly 20 years younger. I'm not one for artistic pretense. I try to understand, but I won't pretend that I like abstract art in order to come across more high brow. I frankly was glad when it was finally time to move on to the second piece, "My Sister's Room" (choreographed by Royston Fan). This piece, and the following one, "Hold My Hand" (choreographed by Melissa Quek) were easier to grasp and so delightful that I decided to bring my 9 year old son back the next day for the Saturday matinee. Watching these two pieces made me regret again that so many of these small local shows only last one weekend. Should SOJOURN have had a two week plus run, I would have rallied every church Dance Ministry to get their skinny backsides over to the Substation so that they could see a rare example that dance can uplift and engage an unsophisticated audience without offending or confusing their conservative sensibilities. These two pieces were both artful enough to stretch and fill our minds with wonder, and they were clear enough to communicate a positive message without whacking us over the head with it. In "My Sister's Room", a sister wants to be like her elder sibling. Feels left out. Grows up wanting what she wants. Follows in her footsteps. Playful, tender, endearing girls who grow up before our eyes. Then, through the use of as simple a devise as blowing up balloons and trying to keep them all in the air (unsuccessfully), I'm sure we all got it: part of growing up means balancing life's competing demands. And there are, oh so many things, we must juggle. We watch as the younger sister makes a discovery. She begins to focus only on keeping ONE in the air and doing it well and with enjoyment. You don't have to do it all. She unties the knot in a balloon as if to say, "Here's how to let some of these go." Pwiiishhhhhhh. There goes the first balloon flying off toward stage right...and the second...and the third. I felt as if some of my own burdens were being lifted off my shoulders as I watched and was reminded to not take everything so seriously. Jewel Ling and Melissa Quek were the two dancers in "My Sister's Room." They were not merely clear in their intentions, and elegantly entertaining to watch as they executed some clever and difficult choreography (On Saturday, my son said "Wow!" aloud a few times), they were adorable bits of eye candy. Dancer-actor-pixie-clowns. Simply, it was fun to watch beginning to end. I giggled a bit at the opening of "Hold My Hand?" Standing somewhat backlit in the upstage entrance, the male dancer Royston, reminded me of an old Michael Jackson video. Once the music started and the lights were up, this was quickly forgotten, as I was taken further down memory lane. A timeless Beatles medley took us on an emotional roller coaster ride of relationships, or our lack of relationships. Wearing stark black costumes, the dancers each had a bright yellow assessory. Shoes. Jacket. Hat. Are they trying to have a relationship with one another, or do they just want each other's stuff? And whose stuff is the best? And, what does one really do with this stuff once you get it? Joey Chua took the stage for the first time in the evening, and she was a delightful addition to the ensemble. The "Eleanor Rigby" segment brought out the deepest emotions of the evening for me. Only that afternoon I'd listened to the lyrics of that old song as my ipod shuffled through on "random". Living in the city, where we are all so close to one another, piled on top of one another we seem unable to look at one another or simply greet one another as we pass in public. My heart often breaks for the emotional isolation all around me. "Ah, look at all the lonely people. Where do they all come from? All the lonely people. Where do they all belong?" The old song uses melancholy strings. The strains of the solo violin musically tying together some of the phrases are even more heart rending as I watch dancers ache to draw near to one another. Each time they get close, a hand stops in front of their face. They can never really see each other. The choreography is just like life: it's never the exact same way each time we meet, and never the same each time we miss. I could have gone home a satisfied customer at the end of that segment, but the Beatles had many hits and the dancers had so much more to give. "We Can Work it Out" gave way to "Help" and they reminded us to find our own identity: under the black shirts they each had their own style and unique colour. Michelle Lim eagerly put on the all the discarded shirts thinking they were her answers to finding herself. She didn't need to speak, we all could hear her through her dancing, "This doesn't fit! This isn't right! Ick! I'm being suffocated!" In bondage to the shirts she wrestled madly to get each one off again. To get rid of the last one, she found help from a friend. Sometimes we just can't do it alone. Peeling off the last black t-shirt revealed that she had colour underneath it all too. Hers was red which gave my heart a subliminal message to turn my thoughts to Christ. The last segment of the piece, "From Me to You" became for me words directly from God. "I got everything that you want. I got everything that you need. If there's anything I can do, just call on me and I'll send it along with love, from me to you." So much of what I've been learning spiritually is that our longings for anything this world can give are placed in our hearts by our Creator. But our enemy has turned them into imposters for the real thing. "We come into the world longing," says Gil Gailie, "for we know not what. We desire. And desire is good, for it's what takes us to God. But our desire is not hard-wired to God." On stage, the dancers demonstrate "arms that long to hold you" and though my dear husband sits next to me, I'm remembering that these earthly symbols of the intimacy and satisfaction can only be completely fulfilled in an eternity of "happily ever after". Just before the piece ends, I'm thinking about how many people settle for limiting their search to the here and now. How many don't accept the happily ever after offer, and won't choose God on his terms; and I watch the piece end as 3 dancers fall to the ground and only one reaches up. Toward the light. "Trails" the last piece was to me a bit of an encore, but also another reason I was satisfied with the concert as a whole. It seemed to have a little something for everyone. Easily accessible pieces for the novice audience, and obscure or experimental pieces for the more "sophisticated" art lovers. I read in the paper the next day that Melissa Quek thought this final piece, the structured improvisation could be either brilliant or a disaster. It was neither. But it was still interesting. A pile of ropes to fuss over or play with on stage right, two chairs placed downstage center along with a collection of cds and player. The ensemble also had areas of activity on stage left, both downstage and upstage where they could listen, react, and go with the flow as the piece took shape. The dancers randomly took turns sitting downstage center to talk to us, or picking out a new genre or tune. I loved that the dancers talked to us. It was as if the forms of Contemporary Dance and Physical Theatre were merging. There was something always going on somewhere on the stage. I found that if one section wasn't quite" in the groove", I could turn my attention elsewhere to find a dancer or two who it was working for. And so it worked for me. I suppose I'm easily pleased. I came with simple expectations. When the dancers gave their curtain call, they had my genuine applause. I'd stopped wondering what the other people around me were thinking of it. Even my left-brained spouse was glad we'd come. We'd enjoyed this concert that a group of individually talented dancers came together to make for us. I enjoyed it enough to bring my never-sits-still 9 year old back the next day; and he was transfixed for the full hour. Sure, I'm no expert dance critic, and I know that they are not an established dance company with any established reputation...until last Friday night. March 17, 2006. And I was there, sitting in the front row to observe and feel a part of a great reputation in the making. Congratulations dancers, I hope you are pleased with the outcome of all your work on this Sojourn. And thanks to COOS, for always being so supportive of artists finding ways to grow in faith and artistry. (Kimberly Creasman is a freelance theatre practitioner here in Singapore. She's always digging through good books and discussing them with other artists who want to grow in their faith. Find out more about drama as ministry and Kim's other links at http://spicetolife.blogspot.com)
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