The exhibition opening of ‘The Light Show 2009′
The Annexe Central Market
16 April 2009
Most dance productions have to be seen in person. No video, no matter how accurately captured and carefully edited, can compare with the ability of the human eye to encompass the width of the stage in one instant, then hone in to focus on the swivel of an eyeball in the next. That said, there are a few occasions when watching a dance production in person is so frustrating and uncomfortable that a video comes as a welcome blessing. ”Seven Skins’ at the launch of The Light Show at the Annexe Central Market was one such instance.
Anne James in 'Seven Skins'.
To be fair, the Annexe probably didn’t predict the crowd that showed up that night, but they should have. Not only were the art installations created by an accomplished and gregarious crowd with plenty of trendy friends, but ‘Seven Skins’ was directed by no lesser personage than Aida Redza, Malaysian dancer-choreographer extraordinaire who for the past several years has been performing extensively in Denmark. I went because I had never seen any of Aida’s work, and I was curious. Apparently, so was the rest of KL’s dance community. And it didn’t help that the inclusion of Suhaili Micheline and Shafirul Azmi Suhaimi brought out all the Aswara dance students, while Sukarji Sriman’s performance lured the dancers from University of Malaya. Add to that all the theatre buffs who came to check out Anne James in an uncharacteristically non-speaking role, and there you have it: two rooms of the Annexe packed to the brim.
Crushed into the centre of the room, trying hard to keep behind the black lines on the floor that separated audience from performers, and becoming more and more aware of the pins and needles in my legs, I found it very hard to concentrate on the performance, even when I was able to see it any of it. Most of the time it was hidden in atmospheric pitch darkness, or concealed by the crush of bodies. When the dance moved to the second room and the audience surged after it, blocking both the doors, I gave up entirely and headed for the food queue. So I was relieved to hear that a video would be made and displayed for the benefit of those who missed out.
Chris and Desmond from Lifetale, with editing and post-production by Nazim Esa, have produced a stylish little video that you can view at the Annexe until Sunday. They opted for an impressionistic approach, rather than strict documentation, which was probably a pragmatic choice rather than an artistic one given the challengingly low levels of light at some points, and the scattered nature of the performance at others. On video the camera swoops in close to the action, and the heaving swell of spectators fades to background. Reduced to two dimensions, my relationship with the work became much less fraught. I wasn’t worried that Suhaili’s flying elbows would land in somebody’s face. I wasn’t constantly craning my neck to catch this moment here, while suspecting that I was missing something rather more important over there. The great impersonality of video, the way it dials physicality down, benefits rather than hinders this dance work. It’s rather like admiring a picture of a bustling colourful market scene, and not having to worry about purse snatchers or avoiding that pile of fish guts.
On video, everything is reduced to light, which is particularly appropriate for this exhibition. Someone asked Suhaili why the piece is named ‘Seven Skins’. She replied because there are seven bodies, and Aida wanted the dancers to focus on their skins, the facade of their bodies rather than their content. [The person then said, no, there are only six dancers, but there are in fact seven, though it was not obvious to most of the audience during the performance – Aida’s mother, wearing bright red baju kurung, was seated on one of the raised platforms, tranquilly twisting her hands to the music.]
Suhaili Micheline (crouching), Sukarji Sriman (standing with lights), and Shafirul Azmi Suhaimi (the climbing blur top left).
The idea of describing dancers as skins reminded me, rather unfortunately, of the Jews in the Holocaust whose skins were transformed into lamp shades. After all, the entire exhibition was really about lamp shades. We didn’t come to see electricity flowing through a twisted filament and making it glow, we came to see the multiplicity of things that can be put around the glowing filament.
If the body is a lampshade, then what is the light that shines from within? In the video, freed from the physical reminders of my own body, I became aware of the different characters the dancers were allowing to emerge through their skins. First there was Aida, chatty one minute, fey the next. Sukarji exerted a moderating and calming influence, but he was not above taking on the belligerent Shafirul in a fight. Suhaili was a whip-end of wild abandon, who reared like a horse when Anne James blew at her. Foo meanwhile was a cool figure, smiling beningly, but also a crawling creature like a fractured Chinese New Year dragon.
If you have the opportunity, go and see the video, but don’t overexert yourself. Although it’s better on the small screen than in real life, I suspect this particular production was also better in rehearsal than it was in performance. With such an interesting cast of characters let loose in a playground of shining delights, you can imagine that rehearsals were interesting affairs. Suhaili described the process to me as two hours of talking, followed by one run-through. For her it was a particular pleasure to work with such an encouraging and caring choreographer, one who trusted you to produce something memorable without having to drive you towards it. In the end, Aida’s compassionate flexibility may have rather endangered this work, which seemed to diffuse light rather than focus it. But see for yourself; view the video.
~
Photos by Sharon Chin
(BH)