Today I decided that I would have a pen and paper in my pocket the during the class so that I could take notes, and better recall what was said, and what thoughts I had regarding the class. One interesting thing that I noticed was that during my first class, last Sunday, Ohno Yoshito sensei spoke a lot of English. Perhaps he liked me or something, or he wanted to be nice to me. Maybe it was because about half the class was from the west. In any case, this time, he did not speak much English at all, and so I had to understand what he said through a sort of translator. I say that he was sort of a translator because Ohno sensei would talk for a couple of minutes at a time, but when the head dancer translated for me and one other Australian, he condensed everything that was said into a couple of pithy sentences. Clearly I was missing a lot, but if I did understand everything, it might have been too much for me to take in, anyway. Even when the little bit that I did understand (which I think must have been about 10 percent or less), there was still quite a lot for me to absorb. In any case, I will try to translate my notes as best I can below.
The first thing that I understood was Change. Now go. Space is a big problem in dance. What sort of solutions should we arrive at? How can we develop solutions?
The next idea to grasp was that dance is connected to the world. Butoh is connected to world crisis; the dancer cannot be by herself, or isolate herself. To be a dancer, one must feel the tension of the world now. He made a reference to the civil war in Syria, and how the United States might interject its force there. But more then just world crisis, butoh is also connected to everyday life. He told a story about how Diaghelev told Ninjinski to interject more daily life into ballet. How can dance have passion if it isn't related to daily life? We should examine the space for the dance within the context of daily life. This reminded me of GK Chesterton, and how he asks us not to be amazed with things that are uncommon; it is not the solar eclipse that is fascinating, but rather the sun itself is fascinating; earthquakes should not make us tremble, but that there is the earth itself should make us tremble.
Ohno sensei then moved onto the bamboo exercise, reminding us that body and emptiness lead to strength. While dancing with the bamboo, reach high, and reach low. Be heavy, and be light. Dancing with bamboo, he instructed us to dance within the smallest possible space.
He then explained something about the playfulness of children of Brazilian streets. They want a silent night. Then he played the song "Silent Night." This song is mostly about the birth of Christ, but for some reason my mind focused on the resurrection instead. I remember a philosopher made a comment, "If Christ is risen, then nothing else matters. And if Christ is not risen, then nothing else matters." He then took the bamboo away, and told us to continue to dance within the smallest possible space. I tried to dance in the same way I did when I had the bamboo.
Ohno sensei then reminded us that we have to dance as if we are dancing for the audience that is 300 meters away. Wave to a friend who is so far away. Throw him a ball. Nice catch! Then we paired up and on opposite ends of the studio practiced throwing a ball to a far away friend, and catching it. He then illustrated that music makes a difference. He played some electronic music that could have been composed by Xenakis, but I don't know whose music it was, in fact. Then he asked us to dance for someone who is 300 meters away. After that was finished, he asked for an encore, and played what seemed like fast paced tango music, which was a far cry different from the previous Xenakis-like music he just played.
The next lesson was about how butoh and surrealism are related. Butoh likes surrealism. (Or was it realism (which is far different from surrealism)? I couldn't tell through their accents which word they were trying to say. But surrealism makes more sense to me.) In order to get this idea across, he suggested that we dance with our back. Out back is very important. He said that Japanese people care about the back. When you see a person's back, you see her past, and everything about her. Senaka de. Fists down. He said that people could hear Kazuo's soul scream through his back. Also, remember that any moment is a picture, so be cognizant of every part of your body. Open the eye on your back. Here he just had us practice walking down the studio, trying to make our soul scream through our backs. At one point, Ohno sense put a stick into my back. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond to this; was I supposed to straighten up more, or let the stick curve my back down? I opted to hunch. But as I saw him do this to other students, they all stayed straight up, so I straightened my hunched back.
For the next lesson, Ohno sensei informed us that palm trees have flowers that come out of their tips. I wasn't sure how accurate this was, or how accurately I understood him, but I went with it. He wanted us to transmit feelings through the tips of our fingers. If we are sad, be sad through the tips of our fingers. He also reminded us that in Japanese culture, if something is hidden, it is beautiful.
Ohno sensei then told us about how Mishima Yukio thought about butoh. Mishima said that butoh shows us what is material. In space you become material. I didn't quite understand what any of that means, but it reminded me of a photo that I had seen of Kazuo Ohno standing up against a wall. When I first saw the photo, I did not understand what the big deal was. Then I showed it to a friend, and he was amazed by his hands and his face, as he had his back against a wall. This photo is what I thought of when I practiced.
The next lesson reminded me of Buddhist readings I have seen. Ohno sensei reminded us that life is composed of good and bad. Life has pleasure, but it has pain, too. There are very rarely times that life is a series of consistent ups. Rather, what we typically experience is a series of ups and downs, in succession. He then tied this back to the earlier idea that butoh is about daily life. While we care about the audience, the most important audience is the audience above, the spirits that are watching you. He gave us a cloth to squeeze. Squeeze the anger you have inside into the cloth. Of course, when you walk on glass, your foot hurts, but when you lift your foot, strength returns. This is daily life.
He then informed us that it is difficult to say something important quietly. One of the more difficult things in opera, Ohno said, was to sing quietly in pianissimo, but still imbue it with passion and gravity and importance.
Omokage. Even after squeezing the cloth, and trying to get out all of our anger, something still remains in the body. It can be seen. So squeeze the body. Even when the music fades out, continue squeezing. Don't fade out quickly. Dance under a full moon.
One of the last things Ohno sensei had to say was that Europeans seemed to not understand Kazuo's dancing. Afterall, he used the same movements whether he was happy or sad. How can we use the same movements if we are happy or sad? Is that daily life? I don't know.
Finally he had us dance Kamihitoe, with a tissue between our hands. This is one of my favorite exercises that we have had here. He then reminded us that the Buddha's smile in many sculptures is very slight. It made me think of the enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. Neither smile is very large or excited, but quite subtle; not so subtle as to not recognize it as a smile.... What are they smiling at with such a smile? Dance.
I had originally thought that by writing notes out, it would help me better remember the class. Indeed, it did. However, as I rewrite it now, I only have more questions, and it seems to make less sense. Perhaps it is not supposed to make sense, but rather help us practice.
(The photos are of new friends from the dance class.)
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