Vessel

With Vessel, Belgian choreographer, Damien Jalet, and renowned Japanese visual artist, Kohei Nawa, have produced a disturbing yet compelling, profound, fantastical and visually arresting work that tends more toward the performance art installation realm than dance genre; and yet, only dancers could perform this work given the extreme range of physical demands placed on the performers’ bodies by the concept, choreography and design.

Jalet and Nawa began their collaboration for Vessel in 2015 during a residency in Kyoto and both share a fascination with the symbiosis of sculpture and choreography.  They chose the concept of ‘vessel’ as a starting point, a ‘background’ for that which is contained by the shell.  Also therein lies the cyclic notion of nature, life, death and rebirth.

Lighting design by Yukiko Yoshimoto plays an essential role in the success of Vessel with the subtle, very long cross-fades between states and the intriguing play of light and shadow casting the bodies on stage as ‘other’ than human. 

Similarly, the soundscape is merged with all the performative elements to create a seamless whole.  The compositions by Marihiko Hara (with participation by Ryuichi Sakamoto) range from ambient sound hinting at primordial existence to musique concrete through to throbbing, climactic and unnerving rhythmic passages.  At times, there were breathy, indistinct utterances from the performers but they may also have emanated from the recorded sound - the ambiguity fuelling curiosity.

One reason I mention the lighting early in this review is the power it wields over an audience and its tight relationship to the action.  We are not generally used to being patient or enduring such tortuous, slow changes given the ‘instant’ world most of us inhabit in 2019.  The audience is held captive in the many moments that transition us from dim light to darkness and back to brightness. 

There is a hypnotic sense of evolution and anticipation that is almost unbearable.  At least three groups of people walked out of this Saturday evening performance, not a totally uncommon occurrence it seems during showings of Vessel.

The regular proscenium arch stage of the Dunstan Playhouse eerily transforms as the performance space is gradually revealed and the viewer drawn into a dark but reflective space. There is a central island of white rising slightly above a floor covered in water.  The stillness of the grouped figures on stage is echoed by the mirror-like watery surface as the soundscape drones on.  At times, the splashing and slap of flesh in water adds a naturalistic counterpoint to the electronic sounds.

Clad only in skin-coloured briefs, it is the ‘figures’ on stage that give one pause as surreal shapes are revealed.  Firstly, there are three static groupings of fleshy entities which by virtue of contorted positioning have little in common with anything on our earth.  This is the body, or flesh, as grotesque art - obviously organic but somewhat alien, genderless, cellular or creature-like, and until the final moments, without heads.  There are elements of Butoh evident in the execution of the movement and its original meaning 'the dance of utter darkness' is given full scope. 

As spectator, the bombardment of outlandish images is intriguing and sometimes confronting.  It is impossible to identify which part belongs to which body as all combine to present an unfolding visual onslaught of impressions: Amoebas or cells dividing then merging to evolve, amphibious creatures exiting a watery world, Hieronymus Bosch-like entities birthing through tortured vulval folds, confused but humorous long-legged critters bobbing rhythmically, and finally, a mostly recognizable human who seems to be not quite evolutionarily sound as they merge again with the stuff of the landscape.  In this case a white goo made from potato flour and reminiscent of both the white clay used in Butoh performance as well as the vernix caseosa coating an infant fresh from the birthing canal.

To describe the essence of the movement language/imagery in Vessel, I feel obligated to attach the warning: “don’t try this at home”.  Imagine folding yourself in half (think extreme standing hamstring stretch), your arms bent and crossed so that your hands are near your shoulder blades and elbows toward the ground, your head hidden from view and sandwiched between your arms and legs, so that you are basically kissing your knees.

The seven astonishing dancers that form the cast of Vessel spent the entire performance contorted thus.  There were also additional extreme movements added (though still most with arms bent and crossed and head hidden) that were performed horizontal to the ground, standing but still bent forward, in tightly twisted groupings or in one memorable case bent backward.  The extent of these physical contortions emphasized every nuance of the torso’s musculature and bony structures and aided by the interplay of light and shadow on stage, elevated the absurdity of the entities.

The dancers who give so much to this piece are remarkable.  Theirs is a phenomenal contribution but largely anonymous due to the physical design of the sinuous and demanding choreography.  They are obviously committed, trusting and humble performers to take part in this journey with the creators of Vessel.  Bravo Aimilios Arapoglu, Nobuyoshi Asai, Mayumu Minakawa, Ruri Mito, Jun Morii, Naoko Tozawa and (Adelaide trained) Nicola Leahey.

Damien Jalet and Kohei Nawa are expanding boundaries in contemporary dance with Vessel but also paying homage to historically pertinent artforms from the past including Butoh and the performance/art installation work of the 70s. 

The impactful setting and use of light and deep shadow allows the performance to float in darkness imparting a filmic quality which only added to the surreal and epic essence of the work.  Once again, OzAsia Festival 2019 does not disappoint.

Lisa Lanzi

Photographer: Yoshikazu INOUE