I spent September 2009 in Japan working on Noriko Kato’s performance at Aomori Contemporary Art Center. Here are some photos and excerpts from my journal about the project:
ACAC site in good weather
From my journal about the beginning of the process:
For me, as the non-Japanese speaking cast member there is an added difficulty of both cultural and linguistic understanding. I realize my collaborators will have to translate a lot for me, they all speak more English than I speak Japanese—but I am also so grateful for Noriko’s interest in this added challenge and layer of exchange for the project. She is brave to add yet another difficulty to an already very complicated project with a lot of technical needs and a lot of collaborators. Anyway, I am already feeling very grateful for their English and patience.
The stage platforms we will sometimes dance on weren’t in place yet—we were working mostly in the water and on the concrete yesterday and today. Besides coming together as a trio we were really exploring the space, figuring out how we can move safely in the water, what shoes we will wear, and what movement choices we have in this environment that we wouldn’t have anywhere else.
The water is a constant companion in our dance—when we turn, we create ripples and reflections, when we jump the water becomes clouded, when we are still the reflections of the forest behind us become more clear. Sometimes a gentle movement will make a bigger ripple than a forced movement. We are pleased that we can fall, that we have traction, and that the water isn’t that cold yet.
We will be rehearsing outside on-site for two weeks: rain or shine, warm weather or cold weather, and both in the daylight and at night. I wonder how working outside on site so much, will affect the piece?
ACAC site in the rain
From my journal in the middle of the process:
[I think this section is interesting to note because of how I experienced the tone of the political climate just a year ago. I wonder what reaction my presence would have evoked in 2010.]
There are often visitors to the art center who have been stopping and watching our rehearsal, or playing on the set. One afternoon some eight year olds who were on a school trip stopped me. Their teacher explained they wanted to practice their English, but they were sort of shy, too. It seemed like they were just staring at me. Everyone was totally silent. Finally, here we go, one of them braves a few words (I expected ‘hello my name is..’ or something), but here he goes, loudly: “Obama, YES WE CAN!”. It’s an interesting time to travel, I think. I am reminded that the world is watching what happens in the US—and Japan just elected their own underdog, so they may be feeling in synch with us.
visitors to the museaum playing on our stage
And from the end of the process:
I am on a train from Aomori (which means ‘blue forest’ by the way) to Hachinohe to change trains to Tokyo, beginning my long slow return to New York.
Last night I had to say good-bye to Fumie, the projection designer, and a wave of sadness passed over me. I have no idea when or if I will see her again. For the past two weeks, day in and day out she has been part of my support, becoming a friend, teaching me to cook Japanese food, laughing a lot together, despite our language difficulties. She pushed the conceptual aspects of the project sort of like a dramaturge, and talked to us about the region and the culture here in the north (Takako is from the south of Japan, while Norkio and Fumie are from this area).
At times I think Noriko, Takako and Fumie were all more stressed by the effort of translating and communicating with me than they expected. The entire production was on a short timeline and this aspect sometimes slowed things down. Similarly, I sometimes felt bored, or more frustrated and inept than I expected. Anyway, I wonder how that affected the piece. I wonder what if anything I contributed that would have been different if the third dancer had been Japanese (or was fluent in Japanese)?
But hey, my Japanese has improved a lot. By that I mean I’ve moved from speaking about three words to maybe thirty- and recognizing far more; but next time I visit Japan I am hopeful I will have a longer time-line to prepare, and spend more time on language. I was actually shocked by how much I could speak by the end, and that I could hear the differences between the northern and southern accents, and hear the rhythms that change the meaning of things.
I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was going on, where we were going, or what needed to be done. I did this because I didn’t want to have everything explained to me, but also because it was part of the way everyone else was working together, too. The residency was so short and intense that there was a way that everyone would jump into doing things, a sort of group think where things were finished very quickly with little conversation, and sometimes by the time I could figure out what to do the task was done. It took a lot of energy to fight against that.
Working with my Japanese friends there is a constant spirit of trying, an energy of trying to understand, but it’s so impossible sometimes. Even as I understood more words, all of the layers of linguistic subtlety and cultural meaning became more obvious, particularly in dealing with the subject matter of the piece. The complex regional feelings about Dazai, about suicide, about the north of the island and cultural change—all of these layers of the project were things I could barely glimpse.
Working in New York I almost never rehearse in a space so immense. This trip had made me aware of the ways that New York theaters and studios has shaped my work: working in smaller spaces has led me towards work that is more intimate, more gestural, and more conceptual. It’s interesting to be isolated out here, in the woods and the mountains, while also performing in a space bigger than I usually encounter in New York.
I am sad to go, but have felt the frustration of not being able to take care of myself, not able to read, not able to drive, not able to communicate in the easy ways that I can in New York, so after the strike I hightailed it to Tokyo sooner than expected. I wanted to give Noriko a few days break from me, from her constant taking care and showing of Japan to me! Of course I am so grateful for her friendship and support, but I need to at least attempt to be more independent here. In Tokyo they can giggle with me over my pronunciation but at least I can get myself around on a Subway again! So I have a chance to set my own priorities for a few days before I head back to New York.
Postscript, almost one year later:
I’m proud of this work. I still can’t believe we danced so much and so hard in cold water and on rocks, in the day and the night and the rain- and none of us got hurt. Sheer focus. The openness of the improvisational structure was a great challenge for me, and I really felt in the end the piece had an emotional impact that built with our inability to fill the time and space. The less we tried, the more our smallness and humanity inside the vastness became their own content.