Update for Found Time

Not unlike the give and take of a Capoiera roda, these quarterly updates are a source of dialogue. Out of my maiden days in Ghana emerged the first quarterly round up of thoughts, and the Watson fellowship´s response left poignant seeds of advice which came into full fruit throughout my time in West Africa.

The main title of my project, Moving Beyond the Stage, references an intentional gaze towards efforts related to dance that exist beyond the proscenium, in that exterior and well-lit space of life through which most of Western culture refers to as daytime, a time and space in our own culture which is more accustomed to the movements of walking and waiting than it is to samba or high-life.

I formerly understood this gaze to be one searching for a function of dance that existed not beyond, but around the definitive performance which informs much of dance training and viewing in the U.S. I was entangled in the notion that dance for too many of its fans was something to sit back and watch, not something that one might ever do. But dance is above all a process of acceptance and release, and both of these are accessed through gazing, as well as moving.

Strapped by notions of otherness, or elevated by notions of other-worldly feats, dance opens doors to those mysterious and awesome caverns of the imagination. But this moment of transmission is one free from the contingencies of architecture or setting--like the eye contact between me and a French speaking Burkinabe, this moment is one that explodes beyond the limitations of culturally determined variables.


What emerged from the verbal pas de deux exchanged with the Watson Foundation in November was an emphasis on the elevating power of big-league performance. Those all star displays of the rewards of training that keep dance within the public eye fuel thousands to lace up a dance shoe, or jokingly try and crunk at a club. But this timeless and beautiful relationship, that between the appreciated and the imitated, is one that crosses beyond the boundaries of different cultures or aesthetics. And the power of cool, the force of a perfect dip or a flawless heel rubbing against the dirt of a street in Burkina Faso, is one force among many responsible for moving dance beyond the stage.


Africa moves. In daylight, by bus stops, while waiting for its hard earned meal, Africa is public and beyond the proscenium. Yet growing out of the performative synopses that paint street life in Africa are resilient organizations and festivals which bring the point of transmission to an institutional and somewhat sustainable level. It is impossible for me to qualify whether my colloborations in Africa with dance companies or street dancing was more illuminating about the nature of dance, both have colored gorgeous realizations.


After my second week in Ghana there was a dance festival in a large park in the center of Accra. Efua Sutherland Children's Park housed the 2007 Yosokoi dance festival. The image of hundreds of dancers warming up to the various drum ensembles set the tone for an affirming yet culturally unkempt display of Ghanaian dance.


If able, sponsorship for the arts is an indispensable component for a responsible society. Conversations with some of the dance groups described the Yoskoi Dance Festival as one of the years most well attended and supportive dance event. The 15 groups in attendance were numerous local outifts from extremely poor neighborhoods who form competitive troups for the event. Including one group from an orphanage and one from a house for the disabled, the competition opened its doors to many. The event is entirely funded by a Japanese corporation, Yosokoi, which produces canned mackerel in tomato paste.


The corporate presence is far from subtle. All participating dance groups, or which there were about 14, all including anywhere from 20 to 150 dancers, had to wear a Japanese styled coat. Moreover, in the middle of many of the dances, the Ghanaian drummers would have to stop to let the required one Japanese song kick in. The 15 groups in attendance ranged from an all-children's dance group from the Osu children's home, to the forty or fifty person strong Lions of Africa Cultural Troupe.


The majority of the groups were large, strong, and comprised of dancers roughly in the 20 year old range. The top three winners of the competition were of this genre, but this classification did not make up the entire demographic. Three times during the performance individuals with wheel chairs made it onto the grassy stage. Either from the rasta acrobats or from the Ashanti New Generation Group & Achimota Secondary School, there was an clear acknowledgment and support for the disabled community of Accra. This was a tremendous source of making contacts withing the dance community in Accra, and I attended rehearsals and classes of several companies I met while at the festival. The economy is lean in Ghana, and community dance programs exist when people dance. This is a theme I will explore in depth over the next six months.


Among the map of things I learned in Africa, one of the most monumental lessons was the possible difficulties of administrative collaboration, I did have some trouble getting in with The National Dance Company of Ghana, funded entirely by the National Government, which was founded by Kwame Nkrumah in 1963. Looking back I wish I could have had a more collaborative relationship with this company, but my time in Burkina Faso was much more successful.


The day after I arrived in Ougadougou I met with a French woman who works as an administrator for the dance company Salia ni Seydou, the travelled and accomplished duo hosting the 12-day workshop I had come to Burkina Faso for. We discussed what roles I might play in the workshop, determining how I might get to understand both aspects of the event, administration and choreography. As I had to concede I was not on a journey funded for broadening my own choreography, Sarah and I worked it out that the first week I would observe the sessions for the administrators, taking dance classes when time permitted. The second week I would spend more time with the choreography workshop. The special guest of the workshop was Carolyn Carlson, an American born choreographer who now lives in Paris, running the Ateliers de Paris; Carolyn Carlson. I left the meeting with Sarah very eager for the workshop to begin and surprised at how my French might actually be functional during my time here.
Attending the workshop were members from a diverse array of countries: Burkina Faso, Senegal, Cote D'ivoire, Congo, Belgium, France, Morocco, and Benin. The choreographers from Cote D'ivoire were especially hungry for the exchange of ideas about to take place.
Over lunch with one of them, he claimed that there was no contemporary dance in his country and that this was an invaluable chance for him to expand his conceptions of movement and expression. Indeed, the most stunning moments of the workshop were those of revealing new possibilities, navigating the mysterious territory of improvisational acts and previously unknown realities. Watching living artists fiercely dedicated to pushing their boundaries offered new routes and possibilities was a constant confirmation of the necessity of questioning, of looking beneath surfaces and assumptions and into the possibilities of art.


Also poignant in its spreading of sustainable dance in West Africa was the portion of the workshop focused on administration. The administrators from 15 companies learned the basics of running a budget, writing a contract, establishing a company with a pyramid structure of artistic director, general management, and technicians. The classes were taught by French citizens who work with Salia ny Seydou in France, and the efficacy with which the classes were organized rivaled anything one might see in New York.


Salia ni Seydou are cultural emissaries. Founded by Ougadougou natives Salia Sanou and Seydou Boro, in 1995 the duo formed a close relationship with French choreographer Mathilde Monnier and have since worked tirelessly to spread their found knowledge of the dance world to aspiring choreographers in the dusty and often desperate realities of West Africa. Attending the workshop proved to be a humbling experience which captured and galvanized all of the reasons I though I should be pursuing this journey.


I am writing from Brazil where I have been the past week. I just left a four hour session with the dance company Dance Brazil. Dance Brazil´s artistic director Jelon Veira, a Brazilian that splits his years between Salvador and Manhattan, is in town until March and has opened all doors to me. Today I helped resolve a technical problem with their speakers, and preceded to film the rehearsal for the assistant artistic director. Although it was in the voyeuristic stage of interaction, I know that over the next month strong relationships will form with the company, and through Jelon, the rest of Brazil.


I am enrolled in a language school and have picked up a decent amount of Portuguese during my first week here. The language is instrumental to my time in Belo Horizonte, Sao Paulo, and Rio, and I am digging deep into dictionaries and conjugation charts every night. At no other point during my journey have I felt such a time crunch. I have five months here, if my visa extension goes through six, and I foresee many collaborations throughout the country. Carnaval starts tonight, and loud police sirens and screams color the auburn air.