A Book of Hours. Rubiks Collective

3 May 2025. National Film and Sound Archive, Canberra International Music Festival

My review of A Book of Hours was published by CityNews online on 4 May. Below is a slightly altered version of the review. For those of my readers who may not know the ‘bonang’, which is mentioned in the text, I have added some images at the end of this post. The review as in CityNews is at this link.

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The production A Book of Hours gives our ears a classical-contemporary score by Kate Neal, created with the concept of the medieval Book of Hours and its divisions of time as its focus. But the score is more a reimagining of those ideas and asks us look at how time is spent in the present day. The performance in Canberra was part of the Canberra International Music Festival and the score was played by the Rubiks Collective.

The Collective consists of four musicians performing on flute (of which there was more than one) played by Tamara Kohler, on keyboard with Jacob Abela, on cello from Gemma Kneale and on percussion by Kaylie Melville. The score had, to my ears, a strongly percussive overall sound. It made for interesting listening.

Our eyes were given much to take in. The music was played in front of video footage in various formats projected on to a screen at the back of the performing space. Those formats included various kinds of animation from visual artist Sal Cooper, as well as examples of human movement from choreographer Gerard van Dyck, who also performed the movement on film. It was often a fascinating watch especially those moments when van Dyck appeared to be continually falling from the sky.

In addition, much movement was generated onstage by the musicians. They interrupted moments of playing with various personal actions such as cleaning their teeth, combing their hair, adding underarm deodorant, and with various movements of the hands unrelated to the playing of an instrument.

But listening to the score and watching the playing of it, I was surprised to see the percussion section included an instrument that I thought was an Indonesian bonang, the well-known instrument that includes a collection of gongs on a wooden platform. The trouble is that in this case the gongs were of an assortment of different sizes and scattered randomly across the platform. Who knows what an Indonesian would think of it? I disliked the mess that was there given that the instrument is actually a beautifully arranged series of gongs in horizontal lines. Although I guess the mess fitted with the idea of the reimagining around which the overall work was made.

So, what of the hours themselves? They were represented on screen by a huge variety of images of clock faces, some even created from a circle of decorative biscuits. In addition to the biscuits there were speaking clocks, small and large images of all kinds of clocks, as well as digital expressions of time passing. Although it seemed at times that the clocks would never go away as there were so many of them coming and going, in many respects the variety of clocks shown on the screen was the most interesting aspect of the whole show.

A Book of Hours was, to my mind, a multi-media novelty item. Sometimes it was funny, sometimes interesting to hear and watch. But it was also sometimes over the top and do we listen or watch? It was hard to decide. I’d rather listen OR watch rather than being presented with the impossible decision the production asked us to make.

Michelle Potter, 5 May 2025

Featured image: A scene from A Book of Hours in Canberra showing an episode of tooth cleaning on the screen behind the musicians. Photo: © Peter Hislop

(left) A bonang from the Musical Instruments Museum in Phoenix, Arizona. Photo: ksblack99; (right) A section of a bonang (in the foreground)—Embassy of the Republic of Indonesia, Canberra, open day 2019. Photo: © Neville Potter

Dance diary. April 2025

April is the middle month of Autumn in the southern hemisphere. Spectacular colours abound in nature as dance for 2025 continues, despite a disheartening approach to funding for the art form.

The difficult financial situation that Queensland Ballet is facing, for example, is more than disheartening, although the exact changes that are being made to the company are yet to be fully revealed. To date, Brett Clark, Chair of QB Board, is reported as saying (amongst other remarks on the situation): Over the years, we have worked hard to leverage our base grants from State and Federal Governments and have unapologetically advocated loudly for parity of Federal funding to bring us in line with our peers in New South Wales and Victoria. To date we have been unsuccessful.

In 2025, to ensure our ongoing sustainability, we have made the difficult decision to re-vision our organisation across our Artistic and Business teams which will see us farewell some of our artists and arts workers.

It is also thoroughly frustrating that in the lead-up to the federal election in Australia on 3 May no political party appears to have made any mention of the arts.

New books

Elizabeth Dalman’s book, Nature moves, was launched in Canberra on 27 April 2025 with a short opening performance from Vivienne Rogis and Peng Hsaio-yin. The performance was followed by a launch speech from Cathy Adamek, executive director of Ausdance ACT.

The performance was danced on a lawn that fronts a particular shopping area in Canberra, and under a large and very old tree—appropriate of course given that Dalman’s book examines dance and nature. When the dance came to an end, the audience simply crossed the road for the launch function, which was held in, and sponsored by, the local bookshop, The Book Cow.

Vivienne Rogis (standing) and Peng Hsaio-yin dancing at the launch of *Nature Moves*, Canberra 2025. Photo: © Michelle Potter

Under the heading ‘Press for April 2025’ (see below) is my short article, which was published in CityNews on 28 April 2025, and which expands a little on how the launch unfolded.

Nature Moves is available from The Book Cow, via this link.

I also discovered, quite accidentally, news about the latest publication by Jill Rivers, whose generosity to reviewers I remember clearly from a period, some years ago now, when she was media director for the Australian Ballet. Her current publication, The Genius of Nijinsky, is an interesting read as Rivers had spent much time speaking to the present-day family of Vaslav Nijinsky. Her presence with, and thoughts about, those family members in a range of situations, sometimes quite personal, are embedded within the story.

The Genius of Nijinsky can be bought via a link to the site Art-full Living.

David Hallberg at Jacob’s Pillow, 2012

The latest playlist from Jacob’s Pillow has a short clip of David Hallberg, currently artistic director of the Australian Ballet, performing Nacho Duato’s Kaburias. Watch at this link.

A still showing David Hallberg in a moment from *Kaburias*, Jacob’s Pillow 2012

Just a year or two prior to the performance at Jacob’s Pillow, I had the pleasure of seeing Hallberg perform solo in New York in the series Kings of the Dance. Read my review here.

International Dance Day 2025

International Dance Day, 29 April, is always celebrated with a message from a major figure in the dance world. This year, 2025, the message came from Mikhail Baryshnikov whose comment read:

It’s often said that dance can express the unspeakable. Joy, grief, and despair become visible; embodied expressions of our shared fragility. In this, dance can awaken empathy, inspire kindness, and spark a desire to heal rather than harm.

Especially now—as hundreds of thousands endure war, navigate political upheaval, and rise in protest against injustice—honest reflection is vital. It’s a heavy burden to place on the body, on dance, on art. Yet art is still the best way to give form to the unspoken, and we can begin by asking ourselves: Where is my truth? How do I honor myself and my community? Whom do I answer to?

Latvian-born, Baryshnikov defected from the USSR in 1974. He has performed in Australia on various occasions, including in 1975 when he appeared with Ballet Victoria.

Mikhail Baryshnikov as Albrecht. *Giselle*, Act Ii. Ballet Victoria, 1975. Photo: © Walter Stringer/National Library of Australia

Press for April 2025

Dalman’s book looks at the creation of dance in nature

Michelle Potter, 30 April 2025

Featured image: Autumn colours in Canberra, April 2025. Photo: © Michelle Potter

Limen. The Royal Ballet

Via the ROH streaming platform

Wayne McGregor made Limen as an exploration of the concept of liminality. The word liminality is not all that easy to define, and to tell the truth I spent a bit of time looking at how it is defined in different settings, including as an anthropological concept. In the end I settled for the fact that the word ‘limen’ in Latin means ‘threshold’ and I watched the ballet with that in my mind.

The ballet as streamed is from 2009, the year of its premiere. It opens in a darkish-blue environment with set and video design by Tatsuo Miyajima, along with a lighting design by Lucy Carter.

A moment from the opening of *Limen*. The Royal Ballet, 2011. Photo: © Tristram Kenton

In this environment dancers come and go as numbers and letters flash into the space and then, like the dancers, disappear. As we watch we can’t help but notice the astonishing manner in which McGregor pushes his choreographic movements into scarcely believable shapes, poses and connections without destroying completely the intrinsic characteristics of ballet. There are some intriguing moments between Steven McRae and Leanne Benjamin before she moves off leaving him alone.

Leanne Benjamin and Steven McRae in *Limen*. The Royal Ballet, 2011. Photo: © Tristram Kenton

The environment then changes with brighter lighting and with lines of coloured light creating a rectangular shape, or later stripes in parallel lines, on the stage floor on which the dancers continue their performance. McRae shines again, in particular with his triple pirouettes. But every dancer, dressed mostly in brightly coloured tops over mostly light, flesh coloured briefs, attacked McGregor’s demanding choreography with gusto.

But without a doubt the highlight of the work was an absolutely stunning pas de deux coming towards the end of the work and danced by Sarah Lamb (on pointe) and Eric Underwood. Lamb scarcely looked into the eyes of Underwood but the connection between them was intense. The fluidity as they moved together was engrossing and they seemed like just one person. Breathtaking!

As the pas de deux came to its end the stage blackened and the performing space lit up with tiny blue dots, numbers in various sizes, and letters all positioned seemingly randomly. Shadowy dancers appeared wearing simple costumes in skin coloured fabric. They danced together before Lamb and Underwood returned. But they too slipped away and were followed by a single dancer. But he too disappeared, as did the blue dots leaving nothing but a blackened space as the finale.

Limen is danced to a cello concerto by Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho, Notes on Light, which, as the Wayne McGregor website notes, was inspired by the idea of a solar eclipse. Although there were many moments that seemed to show the dancers on the threshold of beginning (or ending) a connection with others—thus reflecting the notion of liminality—Limen seemed to me to be more rewardingly seen as an abstract ballet demonstrating McGregor’s choreographic style. Like all of McGregor’s ballets, Limen is a masterly collaboration that leaves us both emotionally drained and filled with thoughts.

Michelle Potter, 26 April 2025

Featured image: Sarah Lamb and Eric Underwood in a pas de deux from Limen. Photo: © Bill Cooper

Dance Week 2025. Savour the program being presented by Ausdance ACT

A somewhat intriguing sentence appears on the website of Ausdance ACT as the organisation sets out to introduce us to its program for Dance Week 2025. The suggestion is, Experience a tasting plate of performances, workshops, and activities for all ages with a range of free classes and events. Within those three sections (courses?) on the tasting plate—performances, workshops, and activities for all ages—there is a diverse menu from which we can choose.

Dance in the ACT has a community focus, which in a variety of ways reflects Canberra’s multicultural population. It also has a focus on diversity with the area’s dance activities also being inclusive of a range of ages with, for example, the presence of groups such as Canberra Dance Theatre’s GOLD company, which consists of dancers over the age of 55, and the Blueberries Classes for children from two to four years of age (and their parents). Many of these community groups have strong professional connections, but there is also a range of fully professional organisations focusing specifically on dance.

Dr Cathy Adamek, Executive Director of Ausdance ACT is convinced that dance has a particularly strong and well-defined presence in the ACT. She notes:

I have examined statistics from AusfitNation, which comes through the Department of Sport and Recreation and, according to those statistics, there are more dance studios per capita in the ACT than anywhere else in Australia. We have very strong student and pre-professional training pathways in Canberra. Not only that, perceptions of dance have changed. Dance has become a more inclusive form of activity. It has also become something that can be done at any level as a hobby.

Ausdance ACT’s 2025 Dance Week program brilliantly puts on display the complexity and diversity of dance in the ACT. Looking at the ‘Performance menu’, for example, there are presentations from Folk Dance Canberra; the Stellar Company featuring the Chamaeleon Collective and Hilal Dance Australia; Canberra Dance Theatre; QL2 Dance; a solo show from independent artist Mia Rashid; and a street performance combining contemporary dance, Butoh and improvisation.

A scene from *Stars in 3D* from the Chamaeleon Collective. *Stars in 3D* will feature in Dance Week 2025. Photo: © Andrew Sikorski

The ‘Workshop menu’ is also hugely varied and includes a Burlesque Workshop from the Menagerie of Misfits, and a Dance Film Workshop to discover, with Peng Hsiao-yin from Danceology Taiwan, how to film an original and creative self-portrait video. Then there’s the Australian Dance Party’s Immerse Lab with Omer Backley-Astrachan, a choreographer and educator who has worked with a range of dance companies across Australia, and an improvisation event with Debora Di Centa at Mirramu Creative Arts Centre. And more.

As for classes that are available, many of which are free to participants, the variety is impressive. They cross a wide range of dance styles—ballet, contemporary, hip-hop, belly dance, street dance, fitness, and other styles—and they range from classes for young children, classes for those with a disability, classes for older people, and more. One has a fascinating name: ‘Loitering & Leaping in the Library with ZEST’. It takes place in the National Library of Australia and is led by ZEST Dance for Wellbeing.

A class for older dancers. Photo: O&J Wikner Photography

Cathy Adamek stresses that there is a very strong emphasis on participation and inclusiveness in this year’s program, along with what she refers to as ‘a real rise and engagement with a younger generation as well as connections we have been able to make with some independent artists.’

Dance Week, which is always held around the date of International Dance Day on 29 April, runs in Canberra from 28 April to 5 May. The tasting plate looks delicious.

Here is the link to the full program for Dance Week in the ACT. Watch or participate, or both. Dance is for everyone.

Michelle Potter, 23 April 2025

Nijinsky. The Australian Ballet (2025)

16 April 2025 (matinee), Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

John Neumeier’s Nijinsky is a spectacular and highly complex work. I have had the good fortune of seeing it several times (twice by Hamburg Ballet, the company for which the work was made in 2000). In terms of the nature of the work and its relationship to the dramatic life of Vaslav Nijinsky, I can’t do any better than provide a link to the time Hamburg Ballet presented it in Brisbane in 2012 (now unbelievably over 10 years ago). Here is the link to that review.

Nevertheless, each time I see Neumeier’s Nijinsky I notice something a little more clearly than I did on previous viewings. It’s that kind of work. It opens up further with each viewing. I was staggered this time by Neumeier’s choreography as it was so clear that his choice of movement was just brilliant in the sense that it captured the intrinsic nature of the characters represented. Perhaps my awareness of the power of Neumeier’s choreography was heightened as a result of seeing (and disliking) Schachmatt (Checkmate in English translation) from Spanish/international choreographer Cayetano Soto with its dismantling of the balletic vocabulary. Neumeier also dismantled the vocabulary to a certain extent but those splayed fingers, flat palms of the hand, bent elbows, twisted bodies and the like were so much part of the erratic and obsessive behaviour that marked the last years of Nijinsky’s life. They had a meaning that was absolutely within the narrative. (Not so with Schachmatt.)

Of the cast I saw on this occasion, a mid-season matinee, I was impressed in particular with Mia Heathcote as Romola Nijinska, especially in her short scenes with the Doctor, danced by Jarryd Madden, who was treating Nijinsky for a range of issues. Nijinska’s infidelity was very clear. I also was impressed by Luke Marchant who danced the role of Nijinsky as Petrushka, especially in Act II when his dramatic solo was strongly presented.

In general the Australian Ballet dancers performed reasonably well with Elijah Trevitt in the lead role of Nijinsky. But I guess I longed for something that approached the absolute power of other occasions that I have been lucky enough to have seen.

Michelle Potter, 18 April 2025

Featured image: the opening scene (with Kylie Foster at the piano) of Nijinsky showing the ballroom of Suvretta House, St Moritz, where Nijinsky gave his last performance. Photo: © Michelle Potter