IN THE STUDIO | EN STUDIO: Old Men Dancing

Do Not Resuscitate | Ne pas ressusciter

Interviews by Megan Andrews
Photos by Esther Vincent

Bob Romerein, Brian Ling, Paul Clifford, Rob Steinman, Peter Earle, Jim Angel, Colin MacAdam and/et Chris Lemieux rehearsing Allen Kaeja’s work Unhinged/en répétition pour Unhinged d’Allen Kaeja / Photos by/d’Esther Vincent

Old Men Dancing (OMD) was formed by musician and composer Michael Hermiston and emergency medical technician George Barron in 2002. The group consists of men aged fifty or so who have come together for the love of dance and performance. They have no formal dance training and come from all walks of life. Old Men Dancing is unique in the community and in Canada as a group that creates contemporary dance theatre in the context of what it means to be an older male in our society. The group challenges social norms, while they share and learn together.

In 2005 they began working with choreographer Bill James, artistic director of Atlas Moves Watching, who offered weekly classes. The group has since commissioned and performed choreographic works by several contemporary choreographers including James, Allen Kaeja, Marie-Josée Chartier, Tedd Robinson, DA Hoskins and, most recently, David Earle.

Here James, the choreographers and various group members comment on their experiences working with OMD.


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From Bill James, artistic director of Atlas Moves Watching, on working with OMD as teacher, choreographer and director

Bill James
“I have always been fascinated by how people move in natural, unstudied ways. When I was a dancer with Le Groupe de la Place Royale in the 1970s and 1980s I taught theatre students at the National Theatre School, people in workshops on tour, adult beginner classes at our school in Ottawa. I also enjoyed all the instances where we engaged with the community in workshops, classes and residencies. Later on I developed a series projects to bring dance and other art forms to street-involved youth. While, as a choreographer, I love to work with highly trained dancers, I have always included people who are not trained dancers in much of my work. OMD has provided a trove of life experience. I am just beginning to realize how much they have to say as dancers.

“The work with OMD strengthens my abilities as a teacher and as a choreographer. I have developed a more simple dance vocabulary, which is clearer. My teaching has responded to the needs of the men and of the choreographers, so that it is more alive and creative.”


From the commissioned choreographers, on creating work for OMD:

Marie-Josée Chartier
“I happened to have a work in mind for a really long time that I wanted to do with a group of mature men. When Bill asked me, I saw this as a great chance to experiment with the idea. For me the level of skill, the different body types, the different personalities was what made it exciting, and in fact fed me more ideas and possibilities than if I had worked with a more uniform group of professional dancers.

“The only thing that I had to really reconsider was what I could develop with them in the amount of time I had. I have ideas for a full-evening work from my initial concept and had to choose some of those ideas for a twenty-minute work. I went in the studio with the seed idea only and I let myself be inspired by the men, by what they had to offer, which was very rich.”

Tedd Robinson
“I prepare for making work in the same way with each new creation, as I do most of the work in the studio with the performers. I generally see what there is to work with and try to find the most interesting way to get the potential to reality. In the case of OMD I knew that I would work with props but did not know until the last minute whether it would be grapefruits or canvas squares. Basically, this is the same process for everyone that I work with; I come with nothing and find something or I come with something that I have used to see how I can go further with that concept. Because of the time constraints, I knew that I had to be extra clear about the movement from the start. The worst thing I could do would be to change my mind and head off in a different direction. I have also found through the years that no matter the experience of the performer, the first time that a sequence of instructions is transferred from choreographer to performer is the one most deeply ingrained, and Old Men Dancing was no different.

“I discovered quite soon that the spirit in the studio was serious but jovial and I liked that. In fact, during this process we have had a lot of good genuine belly laughs. I think that this has something to do with their well-intended responses to instructions and the fact that they were not the typical responses I was used to. A truly enjoyable experience. Also there is a certain joy when working with people who are secure in the studio because they have nothing to prove, nothing at stake and want nothing but what you can give them today. They are there because of an organic process of coming together under the common bond of curiosity and an inexpressible underlying understanding that this congregation of men dancing is important for them and important for them to share.”

DA Hoskins
“It is integral to absorb the distinction that defines each of my engagements – whether it be commissioned, collaborative or my own independent work. My main objective with this work was to explore aspects of age and innocence. That said, I had no idea how this would play out until we actually got into a room together to play, observe and respond to each other.

“I really thought it was also integral to capture as much of the history of these guys as possible … so I approached my friend and filmmaker Nico Stagias to create a collage of interviews that offered personal insight. We did these interviews at the first rehearsal so it was an intimate and moving introduction to each other. I approached the initial in-studio period as a time to view personal character in action. The first rehearsals were instigated to create a physicality through partnering and solo phrase work. What became most prominent for me was the sense of humor that riddled our time together … not to say it wasn’t serious or discredit the hard work these guys put in … but there was such a celebratory aspect in having us all together.”

Allen Kaeja
“I was first invited to teach a partnering/contact workshop with OMD a year [prior to creating a work]. I didn’t know what to expect, but I found the men to be incredibly curious and willing to try anything. Their sensitivity and sense of self was most surprising. My goal in creating “Unhinged” was to investigate the journey from our perception of stoic, mature and armoured men, to that of vulnerable, caring and powerful yet compassionate men.

“I began by examining sensorial physicalities, both as individuals and within the group. We then moved to their range of partnering techniques that were accessible and fluid. Approaching the qualities and sensibilities of their movement potential really shaped the work.”



From the Old Men, on why they joined, on learning technique and on how the experience of performing is different from their other personal and professional activities:

Jim Angel, chief information officer at Fleming College responsible for libraries and information technology
“I joined back in 2003 out of curiosity. I like the creative process in general and the idea of a group of men getting together, frolicking, playing, experimenting and creating a performance piece sounded like fun, and it was.

“I value the process of seeing something concrete created from nothing but intention and ideas. I value the respectful way that we as men support each other and that thus far “ego” for the most part has been absent from the process.

“I’ve seen a transition from the early days to the present. We have shifted from the wild, partially improv, play-based pieces that I believe were probably ragged to the eye and part of our charm, to much more intentional, deliberate skill-based presentations. Admittedly, at first I thought learning more technique would limit and constrain things. In the end I think our potential repertoire has actually increased and within a more creative, disciplined environment I think we are evolving.”

Ray Barker, writer, performer, gadabout
“I was hosting a dinner party at the Riverview Art Gallery when George Barron and Michael Hermiston asked if I would join with a group of old men to perform dance work. After the laughter subsided I said sure.

“[I value] the camaraderie and the physical intimacy of creating dance together and the integrity and commitment of the members to dance and to contributing to our community and the world.

“As a physically limited individual, I could not accomplish what the others did and missed the first year of training. However I watched with awe the development of the others’ skills and I gained knowledge that allowed me to perform despite my limitations.”

Jose Botero, information technologist
“I attended the latest fundraising event at the Market Hall. I had one more beer than I usually drink, two instead of one. I should have said no but I said yes; then it was too much fun to quit. I have not raked the leaves nor cleaned the house yet this month due to rehearsals.

“I work in IT; I thought IT users were the fastest to change their minds about what they want. Well, apparently I am still doing parts that were removed from the script the first day. Finally, I am getting what a “creative process” is all about.

“Only one reflection so far [on learning technique]: It is very hard to go from dancing to Shakira’s music to dancing to Franz Schubert, especially if you cannot move your hips.”

Paul Clifford, massage and structural integration therapist
“The whole enterprise (and especially the performing) is challenging, in at least the following realms: emotional, psychological, mental, cultural, spiritual and last and possibly least importantly – physical.”

Peter Earle, part-time human resources director, part-time handyman
“I had never danced; didn’t know anything about it. I knew some of the men, friends, and had seen them dance. One day, one of them suggested I join. I had just gone through a rough period, had time on my hands and felt a need to challenge myself, get out of my head and do something that was really, really scary. So I did.

“Old Men is a very welcoming, open, supportive and fun group. We don’t take ourselves very seriously, but we work hard and want to learn and enjoy. The performance is secondary. I suspect if we never performed nobody would mind. It’s about getting together, exploring a process physically and experiencing the surprising elements that go along with that: learning about ourselves, caring, intimacy, beauty, movement, joy.

“We have worked now with six choreographers. We learn a lot each time, and become physically a little more adept, but it’s not about being great dancers. What’s much more interesting is seeing how each choreographer works, how they engage with an amateur, untrained group and what their experience with us becomes.”

Peter Hewett, social worker
“George Baron called me in the fall of 2001 and asked if I’d be interested in trying to do some dancing with a bunch of other old men. I thought this sounded interesting and at the time was looking for some avenue to explore creativity. Our first meeting as a group was at St. John’s church hall where Michael Hermiston, one of the co-founders with George, arranged for us to wash each others feet, which in one fell swoop challenged our stereotypes and the boundaries of traditional male relationships. The intimacy, openness and quirkiness of the experience had me hooked and excited at what seemed like endless possibilities.

“[I value] the open, expressive, emotional and spiritual connection with a group of men who, without competition or ego, are trying to explore and express themselves through movement.”



Chris Lemieux, natural heritage communications and marketing specialist, Ministry of Natural Resources
“I’ve always wanted to dance and to move. I’ve finally given myself permission to do as I please, everyone else be damned! It’s freeing and fun, and bloody hard work sometimes, but there’s always a huge payback in personal satisfaction when you’ve created something beautiful.

“I spend a lot of my time in my personal and professional activities ‘thinking’. The OMD experience allows me to suspend the thinking and to spend more time ‘feeling and doing’. I value the release and the opportunity to free my mind, as well as my body.”

Brian Ling, retired educator, painter and nature photographer
“It seems that OMD has given me the opportunity to experience a beginning again, not knowing, having no skills in the area and allowing me the space to learn without being judged or compared. This was not true in my professional life. There was an expectation that I was perfect, had it together and so on, which was not true. In some ways I wore the veneer of a mask professionally whereas with OMD I am what I am, and playful at that, which was frowned upon in my professional world.

“Learning greater dance specific skills seemed to take me full circle. I have been very athletic all my life and competed at high levels in many activities. Nevertheless, I see that the journey has taught me to be more playful, be willing to risk more and not be so concerned about technique and outcome. Through all this I then began to ‘become more of a dancer’, whatever that is. Intellectually, it seems reversed to me. I suspect I needed to be freed up first.”

Colin MacAdam, adjudicator who loves to sing and dance
“I joined OMD because of the name. It’s a verb, not a noun. I knew it would be cool. And I joined just when the big project with Bill James began last year.

“I’ve always been willing to perform but OMD has taken me to the deep end of my pool. The choreographers have given us great opportunity to extend ourselves creatively and I think we’ve all wandered beyond safety zones to some great places. It then resonates in different ways in my other lives.”

David McConkey, social worker, ultra-distance trail runner
“I have been moving forward as a runner for years and now adding some new movements in the form of dance as part of the process. One of the positive attributes [of OMD] has been to work on pushing limits beyond how my body is accustomed to move in space and to dedicate time to increasing flexibility in body, mind and spirit. The opportunity to dance with others whom I respect and feel comfortable taking unfamiliar steps with, under the direction of such accomplished choreographers, is a privilege.”

Brian Nichols, retired professor with a private practice as a psychotherapist/play therapist
“My answer initially to the why (eight years ago) [I joined OMD] was that ‘old men dancing’ in a local one-off performance piece sounded like it wouldn’t be a big commitment and it sounded like it could be a blast. Now the why is much different. It is a huge commitment (ten to fifteen hours a week for months on end) but it provides me with such a physical and creative outlet for expression of who I am, and who I want to be, that I cannot give it up. There are options to be in fewer pieces (to not work with each choreographer) but each one (Bill, Marie-Josée, Allen, Tedd and Darryl) provides such an incredible experience that it is hard to choose not to participate. I find myself now building my work and personal life around being available to dance.

“For me the greatest discovery has been the joy of participating in a transparent creative process that involves others and one that leads to public performance. Our work has been really well received not only by our friends in the Peterborough area but also by others who do not personally know us. We have moved from a group of men who got together to eat breakfast and laugh and eventually create a ‘dance’ piece, to a group of committed dancers who are open to explore ourselves through movement that is personal and expressive. Some days I still miss the breakfast part. Our level of ability to move, to hear music and to be aware of each other on stage, because of Bill’s generosity as teacher, has increased dramatically over the past three years and we have not yet peaked! We are getting older and better at expressing ourselves through dance.”

Bob Romerein, engineering consultant and chief technical officer of a cable TV manufacturer
“I have tried not to deconstruct the essence of the group. Whatever it is, it is a rewarding experience to feel the energy.”

Rob Steinman, drama teacher and head of the arts department at a local high school
“Pete Hewett came to my house for dinner after the very first rehearsal of the Old Men Dancing with choreographer Michael Hermiston and described the foot washing ceremony they did. He said that they planned to do a piece for Emergency, Peterborough New Dance’s yearly local dance showcase. I was intrigued and said, ‘is it to late to get involved?’ I joined at the second rehearsal.

“Old Men Dancing has provided a creative outlet in an atmosphere of comradeship, unlike any other group I have performed or worked with. I think because we all began as novices, were involved in a lot of creative play in the early years, and felt that the process was as important as the product, that it evolved as a rather unique group.”



On the most surprising or meaningful discovery from working with OMD:

“The generosity, the setting aside of ego, the depth to which these men commit themselves and really honour and support one another. And the fact that they all really LOVE to dance. They are a funny and irreverent group on the whole, and they put their souls into dancing in a way that is incredibly refreshing. They are truly inspiring!”
– Bill James

“I was pretty amazed at their openness; they will try anything with full generosity and commitment. In my piece they sing, dance, speak, howl like wolves, yap like chihuahuas, perform circus tricks, roll like waves and fly like beautiful birds. What more can I ask for?”
– Marie-Josée Chartier

“A real perspective on the value in engagement.”
– DA Hoskins

“The strength, uncompromising integrity and connectivity of the group. Their honesty and ability to tap into and identify with their vulnerable selves as well as be completely immersed in their respective roles was the most transformative experience for me.”
– Allen Kaeja

“I can ‘do it’, and I love to do it. And ­– for some reason or other – the choreographers all seem to really, really like working with us!"
– Paul Clifford

“That I have ‘presence’ as a performer on stage and that I can create meaningful performance that communicates to the audience. I was also in awe of how Bill James’ training techniques could increase the strength and flexibility of one’s body. One member cured his flat feet.”
– Ray Barker

“I like doing it, even though I still find it intimidating. Even though many of us do not see each other outside of the group, there is a powerful bond that exists among us as a result of doing this work.”
– Peter Earle

“The importance of being sensual.”
– Jose Botero

“I feel we have just scratched the surface …”
– Jim Angel



Atlas Moves Watching presents Old Men Dancing in premieres by Tedd Robinson and David Earle, along with work by Bill James and Allen Kaeja from December 3rd through 5th at Market Hall Performing Arts Centre, Peterborough. OMD’s program Older and Still Gorgeous (Do Not Resuscitate), with choreography by Marie-Josée Chartier, DA Hoskins, Kaeja and James, runs March 26th and 27th, 2010 at the Enwave Theatre, Toronto.

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IN THE STUDIO | EN STUDIO: José Navas

Interview by/Entrevue de Megan Andrews
Translation by/Traduction de Marie Claire Forté
Photos of José Navas and company by/Photos de José Navas et compagnie de Valerie Simmons

Le français suit l'anglais.


Born in Venezuela in 1965, José Navas has been based in Québec since 1991. After having proven himself a talented and charismatic soloist on the international scene, he created a repertoire of striking group pieces. The creator of nearly thirty works as an independent choreographer or as the artistic director of Compagnie Flak (among them "Sterile Fields" (1996), "One Night Only 3/3" (1998), "Perfume de Gardenias" (2000), "Solo with Cello" (2001), "Adela, mi amor" (2004) and "Anatomies" (2006)), he now focusses his artistic research on the essence and purity of movement. Abstraction, sobriety, intensity and depth are the words that he chooses to characterize his current work.

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You’ve said your formal training continues to have a strong influence on your work. Having studied with Merce Cunningham, would you say his choreographic approach also influenced you and if so, how? How have you reflected on his passing last summer?

Yes, I studied at the Merce Cunningham Studio for three years and had the opportunity to learn from Merce directly.

Yes, of course Merce’s choreographic approach has influenced me profoundly, and in relation both to vocabulary and to process. In terms of vocabulary, my movement continues to reflect my formal training, so there is still lots of balletic gesture and formal movement derived directly from Cunningham technique. In terms of process, Merce and John Cage relied heavily on chance, and used various devices, such as the “I Ching” (Book of Changes), to channel chance so as to dictate the choice and order of movement and music. I don’t rely on chance quite as fully as that, but I derive from Merce a sense that the initial choices in creation need not be meditated and that there is a beautiful, creative richness that comes from allowing a role for chance. So at the outset of structuring a piece, in the early stages, I will toss up scraps of paper, each representing a phrase, and use the random order of the phrases as a starting point. Later on, I’ll make adjustments, so – unlike much of Merce’s work – I won’t stay faithful to the random order. But I use it to begin, rather than a sense that I can somehow think through a formal structure at the start. And there is also chance in the sense that when I create what I call an anchor phrase, and invite the dancers to create complementary material around it, I am not controlling the material they make, and we are allowing the chance of their reaction to my phrase to have play. Again, I intervene in the process of chance by accepting some such created phrases and rejecting others, but I do sense the influence of Merce here.

I’ve reflected a great deal on Merce’s passing, alone and with friends and members of my community. It was a shock to lose such a pillar of dance, and the same year as Pina Bausch. The shock was in realizing that people we had sort of assumed would always be making dance could, indeed, disappear. But admiration too of course for such a full life and so much creativity, right to the end.



Once you’ve created the core movement material, you talk about a process of refining, organizing, inverting and opening up. Specifically, how do you work in this phase; do you proceed intuitively or do you use specific methods or formal procedures and can you give an example of what you might do with a given movement phrase or set of phrases?

I wouldn’t say it’s an intuitive process, and when I think about your question I realize that it’s quite formal. Much of this process takes place on paper, at home, rather than in the studio with the dancers. Part of that comes from the need to be frugal with studio time: every hour of rehearsal time with the dancers is counted and precious, so I literally can’t afford to be too intuitive by spending a long time with the dancers in the studio without knowing what I want to do. So at home I look at all the phrases I have and I decide how long a segment I need here, or there, and look at source material that I could use. And looking at the phrases on paper – I have names or numbers for each – I know that I’ll need a contrast from a phrase of one feeling to another. In terms of refining or inverting, as I’ve said, I create an anchor phrase, call it phrase 1, and then the dancers will create complementary phrases around it: 1a, 1b, 1c, etc. At some point, phrase 1 itself will be eliminated, and we’ll be left with 1a, 1b and 1c, each of which is the same length as phrase 1 and each of which will have similar movements, at moments, because each fits with the initial phrase. And I work with those. But it’s pretty much all worked out in my notebook at home, so when I show up to the studio, it’s to execute with the dancers.


You use the phrase “pure abstraction” to describe your work. Some would argue that the human body can never be purely abstract. It is always a human body, a human being, and can’t help but carry both personal and cultural meanings implicitly. How do you understand “pure abstraction” with respect to this perspective and in regard to your own work?

I find it frustrating when people think that by abstraction, artists including myself suppose that the elements we use are entirely devoid of meaning, resonance, or emotion, as if to be abstract something has to be cold or meaningless or dead. I don’t claim that the human body itself is purely abstract. I’m referring to my movement, and what I mean by that is just that the movement isn’t telling a story or representing anything but itself. But I’m always fully conscious that putting movement, which per se doesn’t narrate or represent anything, onto human bodies changes it. Doing so allows that movement to touch people, although the reactions or emotions experienced vary a great deal from person to person. I think the beauty of creating purely abstract dance movement is that the body itself carries so much meaning, and we connect to that meaning through movement that is itself abstract. Unquestionably my work would be entirely different if robots were performing it, and that’s not what I do. So I don’t see the body’s implicit personal and cultural meanings as a problem for my project of abstraction, but rather as a crucial element.



If solo work, as you say, keeps your dancer’s self alive, what is the nature of your relationship to the group work you make and to the dancers with whom you work?

My solo work is personal; it’s my body as an instrument, and me as a performer. My relationship to the group work and to the dancers is that of an architect towards his building or an engineer towards her designs. I see the dancers as an extension of my mind and my body; they become my body, executing my ideas. They give flesh and bone to the movement impulses that enter my head or that I do in the studio for them. And they do it with youth and beautiful technique, so nowadays they can fulfill my ideas in a way that I no longer can. As a soloist, I adapt my work to my own limitations. The dancers for the group work can carry out my ideas with fewer limitations.


I recently attended a visual art show in which the artist noted that other people had titled her works. I’m curious about how titles for dances arise, particularly for formalist work such as yours, without narrative or thematic content per se. How, generally, do you come up with titles for your works? How, specifically, did you arrive at the titles for your current works,“S” and “Villanelle”?

Earlier titles for my pieces used to be things I thought might provoke reflection on the part of the audience, make them wonder where the title came from, how it related to the piece – "One Night Only"; "Perfume de Gardenias"; "Adela, mi amor". And sometimes they were things that I could connect to a personal experience or to a text I knew. With the more recent titles, I have begun with a working title and then it has stuck. I am leaning now towards titles that are much less evocative and that really just evoke the work, itself abstract. It’s easier to convince people that the work really is abstract, really isn’t about anything, when there isn’t a figurative title attached to it! So "Portable Dances" referred to a three-part piece, in which the order of the pieces could be changed, and one or two performed without the other. They were also literally more portable than earlier works because of the absence of set or other staging. "Anatomies" came about because I was really exploring anatomy books and investigating the body deeply at that time, and the plural in the title also captures, I think, the five parts of the piece. "S" was a working title I came up with because I was working a lot with silence as well as with music by Erik Satie. And "Villanelle" has a slightly fuller story: I was inspired in part by a poem by Dylan Thomas, “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night”, which is written in the form of the villanelle, a tightly structured form with repeated lines.



Having performed solo works to critical acclaim early in your career, how does it feel to return to the form as a more mature artist? What kinds of impulses or reflections does your accumulated experience generate inside the solo creation process?

It’s a funny question: I think I have developed as a choreographer, and so I come back to choreographing solos with a sharpened craft, in the same way that my group choreography is maturing too. But in terms of performing, and here’s why I said the question is funny, I don’t actually feel that I am now a more mature artist, and what I mean is that I actually have the feeling of carrying on right where I left off as a solo performer. I think that those solo performances early in my career showed a mature artistry, and I think it would be unfaithful to those early performances to frame my path as a soloist as a progression from immaturity to maturity. I think you’re born with the capacity to be a solo performer – or not.


If you plan to continue making and performing work as you get older, how do you expect it might change? Do you see a time when you will choose not to perform any longer?

In terms of keeping on making and performing work, I suspect the change in the kinds of material I make for myself and for the group dancers will intensify. Ten years ago, I think the vocabulary and material I made for a group piece and a solo for myself was similar. Already at this point, with "S" and "Miniatures", my solo show from last year, you can sense the difference: the company dancers in "S" can do things that I no longer can, and the new solo, "Villanelle", requires a focus and intensity as a performer that they just might not yet have, although its technical demands may be less.

I honestly don’t know. I’d love to dance as a soloist until I’m a hundred. But I’m open that some day I’ll just decide to stop dance entirely. Who knows? I always want to be an artist who creates things, but I don’t know for sure that I want always to be doing solos and creating group work. I’m enjoying doing this and have the feeling I’ll enjoy doing it until the end of my days, but who knows. I’m open to the possibility that life may change.~


Né au Venezuela en 1965, José Navas est établi au Québec depuis 1991. Après avoir été reconnu sur la scène internationale comme un soliste talentueux et charismatique, il crée un répertoire remarquable de pièces de groupe. Auteur d’une trentaine de créations comme chorégraphe indépendant ou comme directeur artistique de Compagnie Flak, y compris « Sterile Fields » (1996), « One Night Only 3/3 » (1998), « Perfume de Gardenias » (2000), « Solo with Cello » (2001), « Adela, mi amor » (2004) et « Anatomies » (2006), il consacre sa recherche artistique à l’essence et à la pureté de mouvement. Abstraction, sobriété, intensité et profondeur sont les mots qu’il emploie pour parler de ses présentes créations.


Vous avez dit que votre travail est encore très influencé par votre formation technique. Vous avez étudié avec Merce Cunningham ; diriez-vous que son approche chorégraphique vous a aussi influencé et si oui, comment ? Quelles sont vos réactions et réflexions à la suite de son décès l’été dernier ?

Oui, j’ai étudié au Merce Cunningham Studio pendant trois ans et j’ai eu l’occasion d’apprendre directement de Merce.

Oui, bien sûr que l’approche chorégraphique de Merce m’a profondément influencé, autant le vocabulaire que le processus. Pour le vocabulaire, mon mouvement continu à refléter ma formation, alors j’emploie encore plusieurs gestes balletiques et formels directement dérivés de la technique Cunnigham. Pour le processus, Merce et John Cage faisaient énormément appel au hasard ; ils recourraient à différents outils comme le « Yi King » (Classique des changements) pour canaliser le hasard afin de dicter le choix et l’ordre des mouvements et de la musique. Le hasard ne prend pas une telle importance dans mon processus, mais de Merce, j’en tire qu’il n’est pas nécessaire de calculer les choix initiaux en création et que de laisser la place au hasard donne lieu à une belle richesse créative. Ainsi, dans les débuts, lorsque je commence à structurer une pièce, je vais lancer des bouts de papier en l’air. Chacun représente un enchaînement et j’emploie l’ordre aléatoire des enchaînements comme point de départ. Plus tard, je le retravaille, à la différence d’une grande partie du travail de Merce, je ne reste pas fidèle à cet ordre aléatoire. Je commence par cela plutôt que de m’en remettre à l’idée que je pourrais pressentir une structure formelle au départ. Le hasard est en quelque sorte présent lorsque je crée ce que je nomme un enchaînement source, et que j’invite les danseurs à créer du matériel complémentaire. Je ne dicte pas le matériel qu’ils créent et nous valorisons ainsi le hasard de leur réaction à mon enchaînement. Encore, j’interviens dans le processus du hasard en acceptant certains enchaînements et en délaissant d’autres, mais là, je sens l’influence de Merce.

J’ai beaucoup réfléchi au décès de Merce, seul et avec des amis et des collègues de ma communauté. C’était un choc de perdre une pierre angulaire de la danse, la même année que Pina Bausch. Réaliser que nous tenions pour acquis, en quelque sorte, que certaines personnes aillent toujours créer de la danse, mais qu’en effet, elles peuvent s’éteindre : voilà le choc. Mais il y a aussi une admiration à une vie tellement remplie et à tant de créativité, jusqu’à la toute fin.



Une fois que vous avez créé le mouvement de base, vous parlez d’un processus de peaufinage, d’organisation, d’inversion et de déploiement. Comment, précisément, travaillez-vous ? Procédez-vous intuitivement ou employez-vous des méthodes ou des procédures formelles particulières ? Pouvez-vous donner un exemple de votre travail sur un enchaînement ou une série d’enchaînements ?

Je ne dirais pas que c’est un processus intuitif et en pensant à votre question, je me rends compte que c’est surtout formel. Une grande partie du processus se déroule sur papier, à la maison, plutôt qu’en studio avec les danseurs. C’est en partie pour être économe avec le temps de studio ; chaque heure de répétition avec les interprètes est comptée, précieuse. Je ne peux pas, littéralement, être intuitif très longtemps avec les danseurs en studio sans savoir ce que je veux. À la maison, je regarde tous les enchaînements et je décide la longueur du segment ici, où là, et je regarde le matériel dont je peux me servir. Regarder les enchaînements sur papier – je leur donne un nom ou un numéro – me permet de voir que j’ai besoin d’un contraste entre un enchaînement d’une tonalité et un autre. Pour peaufiner ou inverser, comme je l’ai dit, je crée un enchaînement source, soit l’enchaînement 1, et les danseurs créent les enchaînements complémentaires : 1a, 1b, 1c, etc. À un moment donné, nous éliminons l’enchaînement 1 et il nous reste 1a, 1b et 1c, chacun de la même durée que l’enchaînement 1 et chacun avec des mouvements semblables, par moment, puisque chacun découle de la même source. Et je travaille avec ceux-là. Mais c’est surtout réglé dans mon cahier de travail à la maison, alors quand je me présente en studio, c’est pour l’exécuter avec les danseurs.


Vous employez l’expression « abstraction pure » pour décrire votre travail. Certains diraient que le corps humain ne peut être purement abstrait. C’est toujours un corps humain, un être humain, et il ne peut s’empêcher d’être porteur implicite de sens personnel et culturel. Comment entendez-vous « l’abstraction pure » en relation à cette perspective et par rapport à votre propre travail ?

Je trouve cela frustrant quand les personnes croient que par l’abstraction, les artistes, moi compris, présument que les éléments que nous employons sont entièrement vides de sens, de résonance ou d’émotion, comme si l’abstraction doit être froide et vide de sens ou mort. Je ne dis pas que le corps humain est purement abstrait. Je parle de mon mouvement, et je veux simplement dire que le mouvement ne raconte pas une histoire et ne représente rien d’autre que lui-même. Mais je suis entièrement conscient qu’un mouvement qui, proprement, ne raconte pas une histoire ou n’est pas une représentation change lorsqu’il est sur un corps humain. Cela permet au mouvement de toucher les gens, bien que les réactions ou émotions qu’il suscite varient beaucoup selon le spectateur. Selon moi, la beauté de la danse purement abstraite est que le corps est tellement porteur de sens que nous accédons au sens par l’entremise du mouvement lui-même abstrait. Il va sans dire que mon travail serait entièrement autre s’il était présenté par des robots, et ce n’est pas le cas. Je ne perçois pas les sens personnel et culturel implicites du corps comme obstacles dans mon projet d’abstraction, mais plutôt comme élément crucial.



Si le travail solo, comme vous le dites, donne vie au danseur qui vous habite, quelle est la nature de votre relation aux créations de groupe et à vos interprètes ?

Mon travail solo est personnel ; mon corps est l’instrument, je suis l’interprète. Ma relation aux créations de groupe et aux danseurs est celle d’un architecte envers son édifice ou une ingénieure envers ses conceptions. Je vois mes interprètes comme une prolongation de mon esprit et de mon corps ; ils deviennent mon corps, exécutant mes idées. Ils donnent de la chair et des os aux impulsions de mouvement qui traversent mon esprit ou que je leur présente en studio. Et ils le font avec la jeunesse et la beauté de leur technique, alors de ces jours-ci, ils peuvent donner corps à mes idées d’une façon que je ne peux plus le faire. En tant que soliste, j’adapte mon travail à mes limites. Les danseurs des pièces de groupe peuvent réaliser mes idées avec moins de limites.


J’ai récemment été à une exposition d’arts visuels où l’artiste avait noté que les titres de ses œuvres avaient été attribués par d’autres. Je suis curieuse de l’émergence des titres pour la danse, particulièrement pour le travail formaliste comme le tien, sans récit ou contenu thématique explicite. Comment, en général, trouvez-vous des titres pour vos pièces ? En particulier, comment avez-vous choisi les titres pour vos dernières créations, « S » et « Villanelle » ?

Avant, je choisissais des titres pour provoquer une réflexion chez le spectateur, pour qu’il songe à l’origine du titre, au rapport entre le titre et l’œuvre : « One Night Only », « Perfume de Gardenias », « Adela, mi amor ». Il s’agissait parfois de choses liées à une expérience personnelle ou un texte. Avec les derniers titres, je commence par un titre provisoire et il reste. Je penche beaucoup plus vers des titres moins évocateurs, qui renvoient uniquement au travail, lui-même abstrait. C’est plus facile de convaincre les gens que le travail est proprement abstrait, qu’il ne porte sur rien, quand il ne porte pas de titre figuratif ! Alors, « Portable Dances » désigne une pièce en trois volets, dans laquelle l’ordre des volets peut changer ou un ou deux des volets peuvent être présentés sans l’autre. Ils étaient littéralement plus portables que mes créations antérieures par l’absence de décors et de scénographie. Le titre « Anatomies » s’est révélé parce que j’étais en profonde exploration des livres d’anatomie et du corps à l’époque, et le pluriel du titre désigne aussi, je crois, les cinq sections de la pièce. J’ai pensé à « S » comme titre provisoire puisque je travaillais beaucoup en silence et avec la musique d’Érik Satie. L’histoire de « Villanelle » est plus profonde ; je me suis inspiré, en partie, d’un poème de Dylan Thomas « Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night », qui est écrit dans la forme villanelle, une forme très structurée avec des vers répétés.



Après avoir présenté des œuvres solos acclamées en début de carrière, comment vous sentez-vous de revenir à la forme comme artiste plus mature ? Quels genres d’impulsions et de réflexions votre expérience cumulée génère-t-elle dans le processus de création solo ?

C’est une drôle de question. Je crois avoir grandi comme chorégraphe, alors je reviens au solo avec une meilleure maîtrise chorégraphique, qui s’applique tout autant à mes créations de groupe. Mais pour l’interprétation, c’est pour cela que la question me semble drôle ; je ne sens pas, dans les faits, que je suis un artiste plus mature. Je veux dire que j’ai l’impression de continuer d’où j’étais rendu comme interprète solo. Je pense que mes spectacles solos en début de carrière faisaient preuve de maturité artistique, et je pense que ce serait infidèle à ces premiers spectacles de désigner mon parcours de soliste comme une progression de l’immaturité à la maturité. Je pense qu’on est né avec la capacité d’être interprète soliste – ou non.


Si vous planifiez de continuer à créer et à interpréter en vieillissant, comment pensez-vous que cela va changer ? Entrevoyez-vous un moment où vous délaisseriez l’interprétation ?

Pour continuer à créer et à interpréter, j’ai l’impression que les différences dans la nature du matériel que je crée pour moi et pour les groupes vont s’intensifier. Il y a dix ans, le vocabulaire et le matériel que je créais pour une pièce de groupe et pour un solo étaient semblables. Déjà, maintenant, avec « S » et « Miniatures », mon solo de l’an passé, on peut voir la différence. Les danseurs de la compagnie dans « S » peuvent faire des choses que je ne peux plus faire, et le nouveau solo, « Villanelle », exige une concentration et une intensité d’interprétation qu’ils n’ont peut être pas encore, même si les exigences techniques sont moindres.

Honnêtement, je ne le sais pas. J’aimerais danser comme soliste jusqu’à l’âge de cent ans. Mais peut-être un jour, je vais simplement décider d’arrêter la danse complètement. Qui sait ? Je veux toujours être un artiste en création, mais je ne suis pas certain que je voudrais toujours créer des solos et des pièces de groupe. J’y prends plaisir actuellement et j’ai le sentiment que j’y prendrais plaisir jusqu’à la fin de mes jours, mais qui sait ? Je demeure ouvert à la possibilité que la vie puisse changer.~



*A bilingual photo essay on Navas’ creative process for "S" and "Villanelle" appears in the November 2009 issue of The Dance Current.

José Navas/Compagnie Flak presents "S" and "Villanelle" from November 25th through 28th at Centre Pierre-Péladeau, Montréal. | José Navas/Compagnie Flak presente
« S » et « Villanelle » du 25 au 28 novembre au Centre Pierre-Péladeau, Montreal.

Learn more | Pour en savoir plus >>
www.flak.org

IN THE STUDIO: Jorden Morris and the RWB for Moulin Rouge - The Ballet

Interview by Megan Andrews
Photos by Bruce Monk








Amanda Green and Jorden Morris rehearsing for Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Morris for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet





After retiring as a principal dancer with Canada’s Royal Winnipeg Ballet (RWB), Jorden Morris began to explore choreography. His first ballet, The Three Musketeers, premiered in 1999. He has created numerous works since, including the transformation of the popular children’s television show The Toy Castle into an interactive live dance performance, and the Celtic-themed ballet Deverell. In 2006, the RWB presented the world premiere of Morris’s full-length ballet Peter Pan. The critically acclaimed work is the company’s biggest box office success to date, and toured Canada last year. Morris is also the associate director of the Royal Winnipeg Ballet School.


As part of its seventieth anniversary season, Canada’s Royal Winnipeg Ballet premieres Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Jorden Morris from October 21st through 24th at Centennial Concert Hall, Winnipeg. A Canadian tour follows from November 2009 through April 2010.

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You’ve said that you consider music the soul of a ballet. Where do you begin in terms of making this fundamental choice?

After I have found a story and characters (this is for full length works), then I start the process of finding music that speaks to me for those scenes and characters. I spend anywhere from twelve to eighteen months finding music for my ballets. I try to find a composer, or group of composers that have great harmony and cohesiveness with their music. For Peter Pan I used primarily British composers that were writing music at the same time that J.M Barrie was writing the book. I like to think that perhaps Mr. Barrie heard some of that music while writing and therefore for me it creates a connection between the music and the story. For Moulin Rouge - The Ballet I explored the French composers from the time the Moulin Rouge was opening, Toulouse Lautrec was painting and the Eiffel Tower was being constructed. For the Tango and Gypsy scenes I found Quartetto Gelato and Astor Piazzola made a great fit with the mix.























Costume sketch by Shannon Lovelace for Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Morris for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet

As you’ve indicated, developing a score for a full-length work isn’t a simple matter of finding a single piece of the required length. How do you decide which selections you’ll use and how they fit together?

Initially I make a list of music for a scene that I think will work – then I listen to those selections over and over again until one of them sort of jumps out and says, “I’m the right music for this scene.” This process can take hours, days or weeks. Sometimes it speaks to me very clearly, and sometimes it’s a piece I’ve listened to twenty-five times before I hear something in the score I hadn’t heard before, and it just clicks. Occasionally, there is a piece that I like for a particular scene, but it doesn’t work well as a transition to the following scene. This is where the lengthy process of “weaving” the score takes place. I try to find a way for all the selections I’ve chosen to work together. I may change the order of the scenes slightly to accommodate the music, or I may re-think the characters’ action in a scene if the music is right and suggests I take a slight turn with the story. This is one of the most exciting times of the creation process, but also one of the most frustrating and exhausting times.





















Angela Galt sewing a costume for Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Morris for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet

Once you have the music in place, how do you begin to develop the dance?

People often ask me if I choreograph the steps first and then find the music, or if I find the music and then choreograph the movement? For me the music is the most important thing after the initial idea. However, I start to envision choreography from day one of story and through music selection. I make notes for future reference and then pull those choreographic ideas into play at this point in the process. During the story/music process, I have an idea of what the dance will be like in each scene. For example: this will be her entrance solo, this a pas de deux, this a group corps section etc. So when I get in the studio with the dancers, I know what “type” of scene it is and what the dancing will be like to a point. I will work on my own to identify certain movements or series of steps for each character, as well as the “flavour” of big scene dances (lots of jumps and turns, or pattern work with canons) or pas de deux (lyrical, romantic, hostile etc.).





















Set construction for Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Morris for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet

In terms of developing the movement material overall, and for specific characters, how would you describe your use of the established classical ballet vocabulary?

The classical vocabulary is such a great medium to work in, so I try to stay within that language. But I also develop derivative movements or a slightly different dialect for certain characters or sections. At times I will use more contemporary movements, and it’s always good to think outside the box.






















Thiago Dos Santos, Jorden Morris, Gael Lambiotte and Tristan Dobrowney in Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Morris for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet

Classical ballet has sometimes been seen as an art that features the female dancer, and that the male dancer is simply there to present and support the ballerina. What is your perspective on the balance between male and female dancers in a work?

I think that perception is a bit dated personally – as a choreographer, I look at what stories would make great ballets. (Cyrano would be great for a male dancer, Joan of Arc for a woman). I think historically there were more female-focussed works, but I hope in the future of this art form, we will create works that promote the balance.





















Jorden Morris, Gael Lambiotte and Tristan Dobrowney in Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Morris for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet

For Peter Pan and Moulin Rouge – The Ballet, you drew on an existing story or text as a primary source for the dance. Is this a common starting point for you? How is your process different when working with more abstract concepts, as compared to character and narrative?

For Moulin Rouge – The Ballet, I wrote an entirely new script. All I took from existing sources were historical facts and names; then I wrote a script and developed it with my dramaturge. It’s an exciting process, but creating new characters can be a challenge as well. When working on an abstract piece, I let the music dictate the source of movement and what I want it to say.
























Costume sketch by Shannon Lovelace for Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Morris for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet

In the past, you adapted a children’s television show into a dance performance. Have you ever adapted dance for television or film? Do you have a dream project that you’d like to develop?

I have done several projects that take dance to television and film; it’s always an interesting process to combine these media. As long as I have the opportunity to create, this is my dream project. I would like to keep creating new ballets, and I would love to film Moulin Rouge – The Ballet. I think it would be a very successful ballet on film.


*A bilingual photo essay on Morris’ creative process for Moulin Rouge – The Ballet appears in the October 2009 issue of The Dance Current.

As part of its seventieth anniversary season, Canada’s Royal Winnipeg Ballet premieres Moulin Rouge – The Ballet by Jorden Morris from October 21st through 24th at Centennial Concert Hall, Winnipeg. A Canadian tour follows from November 2009 through April 2010.

Learn more >>
www.rwb.org

IN THE STUDIO: Janak Khendry

Interview by Megan Andrews
Photos of Janak Khendry Dance Company in rehearsal by David Hou

Janak Khendry is an internationally renowned classical dancer, choreographer and the artistic director of the Janak Khendry Dance Company. He has trained extensively in four distinct dance styles of India: bharatanatyam, kathak, sattriya, manipuri and also in western modern dance. Khendry’s choreographic career started in 1961 in Hyderabad, India, and he has performed around the world, including five command performances for two past Presidents of India. Khendry has a Master’s degree in sculpture from Ohio State University. His works have been exhibited and are in private collections in India, the United States, Canada and Europe.

Janak Khendry Dance Company presents GANGA from September 17th through 20th at the Fleck Dance Theatre, Toronto.

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In addition to your training in four different Indian dance styles, you also trained in modern dance. How does this complement your Indian dance practice?

I studied modern dance as part of my Master’s degree program in sculpture at Ohio State University, Columbus. The focus of my modern dance study was Graham, Limon and Cunningham techniques. What fascinated me about the modern dance was the floor technique of Graham, the emotional impact of Limon and the powerful-expanded movements of Cunningham. I have studied several Indian dance styles and with study of each new style I become aware of the potential of the human body and the beauty of each new form. The study of modern dance was a very special experience because it was completely different than any dance style I had studied before. In my current choreography it gives me a great deal of understanding of the movement and flexibility to merge different dance styles. If used properly and with understanding then all dance styles complement each other.




With respect to your training as a sculptor, how does this background influence your approach to choreography?

The study of sculpture has given me very deep understanding of form, space and movement, which I use in my choreography with great freedom. In my choreography I see the human body as a moving and alive sculpture. Due to my study and knowledge of sculpture, the space has become very important for my choreography. My choreographic works can be viewed from front, back, sides and above. Each view is equally interesting.


For the past eighteen years, you’ve been conducting research into ancient Indian scripture, seeking philosophical ideas to take up in your dance work. How have you developed these themes choreographically?

At this point in my choreographic life, I want to create works that have a universal message. The reason I am searching information in ancient Indian scripture is because the sages who compiled these scriptures had a universal vision. The themes I have handled so far have been about non-violence, human equality, self realization, life, light and creation – to name a few. Though some of my works are connected with the different religions of India, I do not look at them from the religious point of view. I never use the word religion in my work. I always search for the real message that is below the surface. It is that search below the surface that takes so much research time for each of my works. After extensive research and reading, several hundred verses are selected – which are very carefully edited keeping the most essential ones, then a script is prepared. The most challenging part is giving a concrete and sequential form to an abstract subject. Once we are satisfied with the script and are confident that the audience will receive the message we are trying to convey, a copy of the script is sent to the music composer.




How do you work with scholars and researchers? I want to understand more concretely this aspect of your preparatory work.

I work very closely with the scholars, anywhere from two to four years, depending on the subject we are dealing with. We meet quite frequently for three- to four-hour sessions and discuss the subject on several levels and I constantly take notes. They recommend books and I also keep searching for books on the subject. Most of the subjects I have been choreographing recently are very abstract subjects. To present them as dance works is a huge challenge. I have to create a sequential order for the audiences to understand what I have created. To be able to do this, I have to have the inside-out knowledge and understanding of the subject. These subjects have different meanings at different levels and to understand them, the serious discussions with the scholars are imperative. One cannot always find all the information in books, so one has to depend on the accumulative knowledge of the scholars. I have been very lucky to have contact with some of the most brilliant minds in the field.




You like to work with dancers from different disciplines. For GANGA (The River Ganges), how many dancers are involved and what are their primary training backgrounds?

Yes – I love to work with dancers of several different disciplines. For me it is a challenge to create dance movements that all dancers can perform comfortably and with ease. The dancers I work with are very special to me because they carry forward my creative dreams to the public. They become a very important part of my life. For GANGA I am working with seventeen dancers of African, modern, bharatanatyam, kathak, odissi, mohini attam and kathakali dance styles. They are excellent dancers. The dancers themselves enjoy working with colleagues of different disciplines.




Do you consider GANGA to be a work about environmental awareness or is this angle secondary to the river’s historical and cultural significance in the dance work?

GANGA was started for its historical and cultural importance and I have found the most incredible amount of information about the river on many different levels. I have travelled and photographed the entire Ganga (Ganges) route of 1600 miles and have been fascinated by its unparalleled beauty, power, moods and colours. During this journey, I also saw to my horror that in certain places this magnificent river has been turned into sewage. Now the environmental issue has become as important as the historical and cultural aspect.

I would like to add that my working relationship with everyone involved with my creative work is very special. My scholars, music directors, dancers, designers, lighting director and photographers are very special to me. From the beginning I share every piece of information with them, I ask for their input and they become a very important part of the creative process and they give me their best.

*A bilingual photo essay on Khendry’s creative process for GANGA appears in the September 2009 issue of The Dance Current.

Janak Khendry Dance Company presents GANGA from September 17th through 20th at the Fleck Dance Theatre, Toronto.

Learn more >>
www.jkdanceco.org