27 May 2023. Hunters & Collectors Gallery, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Hunters & Collectors is a well-known vintage clothes shop in Wellington’s favourite inner city Cuba Street. Chrissie O, the proprietor, had the wit to instal a mezzanine gallery within the high stud of the heritage building so that small scale art exhibitions and related gatherings can take place there within the shop.
Chrissie was friend and flatmate of Douglas Wright, back in the 1980s when we were young—well, younger than we are now—so she jumped at the chance when her friend, photographer Tessa Ayling-Guhl, offered an exhibition of the photo-portraits she had made of Douglas in 2015, but had never before shown in public. Tessa selected six from her gallery of 75 images, to make a small and perfectly-formed exhibition, geist, which evoked the man and the dancer we knew and loved and miss. A video of Douglas’ poignant solo, Elegy, played silently and continuously in the space.
The opening of the exhibition attracted a buzz of people interested in the intersection of dance and visual arts. Several weeks later an invited audience came to the closing event of the exhibition. Björn Aslund, freelance dancer and member of Ballet Collective Aotearoa, choreographed geist dance, which he performed to Robert Oliver’s playing on bass viol of sarabandes by Marin Marais and Kellom Tomlinson.
Björn made a pavane-like entrance, then with a chair and a lily as props, paid respect to the now classic Elegy, but also featured in his own dance a wonderful theme and variations growing out of the music, with angles and snatches as though to grab at times past, then into curves and arcs and turns that became figures of eight and infinity signs, reaching to the ceiling, knocking on Heaven’s door …
In 1920s sculptor Richard Gross created a larger-than-life bronze statue of a male athlete at the entrance gates to the Auckland Domain. It has become a talisman image for Auckland, Douglas’ town, so it was a resonant moment when Björn standing on the chair moved into the same precarious arabesque the athlete holds, reaching out, almost losing his balance, as do we all sometime in life, but catching it again to the immense relief of every held breath in the room, his own included. This was heroic dance-making and Douglas would have been moved.
The address of Hunters & Collectors is Cuba Street, no. 134 … almost a sequence, but lacking the 2. E tū. In te reo Maori that means Stand up, Stand there, Stand your ground… so Björn and Robert did, as Douglas had done.
Communicate, the latest production from Canberra’s youth group, Quantum Leap, gave me something of a jolt. There were, for example, a few changes to the structure we usually see from the group. But more than that, this current group of dancers aged from 13 to 23, who were joined for this production by 8 dancers from Bangkok, gave a show that often had a strongly professional look about it, more so than usual. Quantum Leap’s production values have always been high and have come from choreographers, designers, composers, film makers, stage managers, and others who are professionals in their field. But with Communicate the company surpassed itself with a high standard of dancing along with the excellent input we have come to expect from the various collaborators. Occasionally I forgot entirely that the dancers were still developing the skills they need to move into a professional company.
The program, which examined various aspects of how we communicate and interact with each other, was made up of three sections. The first, Holding Space, came from a choreographer currently working in Townsville with Dance North. The second, Echo Chamber, was the work of Kyall Shanks, artistic director of the Tasmanian youth company Yellow Wheel. The third, Shared Language, began with a work, choreographed by Lordfai Navinda Pachimsawat creative director of Bangkok Dance Academy, and made in Bangkok on 8 Thai dancers. But this third section was extended once in Australia into two further developments in which Thai and Australian dancers engaged with each other in a variety of ways. These developments had choreography by Ruth Osborne assisted by Steve Gow. In all cases input from the dancers was acknowledged and this method of working is an essential component of any Quantum Leap program.
While each work had its own special aspects, there were some exceptional solo moments that were absolute highlights. It was a thrill to watch as tiny details of placement of various parts of the body were given a focus, and when an emotionally dramatic aspect of the work was physically highlighted. No one held back!
The contingent from Bangkok began their section in a very individual way—brightly and distinctively dressed and also more or less going their separate ways in a movement sense.
But those outer clothes were soon removed to reveal outfits that were more sombre and lacking that individuality. By removing those rather extravagant clothes, the dancers revealed themselves as beings with a shared humanity and they began working closely together in a movement sense. They formed various group patterns, often with arms joined, often moving in undulating patterns. In many respects, this aspect of the choreography reminded me of some of Graeme Murphy’s approaches, and even further back to the choreography of Bronislave Nijinska.
But this section eventually morphed into wider issues of sharing life and dance with others, and eventually we saw all 28 dancers working together.
Going back to the changes in structure mentioned earlier, the most obvious one was that in Communicate each section was separated from the following one by a blackout. In previous Quantum Leap programs the various sections, while still separate pieces, followed on from each other without a break but with a carefully choreographed end to one and beginning of the next. This arrangement was always a beautifully fluid transition and had become an expected part of Quantum Leap programs. So the change was a shock, although perhaps this change moves Quantum Leap into a more regular, or usual arrangement as followed by professional companies?
Overall, this program had been beautifully rehearsed and was mostly impeccably performed. The focus on communication was highlighted in a diverse manner across the production and Communicate was a delight to watch and a credit to all those involved.
Quantum Leap is a significant addition to the dance scene in Canberra and a list of ‘some alumni’ who have begun their careers as Quantum Leapers (listed in the printed program) is quite astonishing. They include (if I have to limit myself to just two} Daniel Riley now directing Australian Dance Theare, and James Batchelor with a major international career as a choreographer.
13 May 2023. Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House
‘Paragon’ is a noun that means ‘a model of perfection and excellence’. The Australian Ballet’s resident choreographer, Alice Topp, set out in her latest production, named Paragon, to demonstrate something of the excellence and perfection (or attempts at perfection perhaps since perfection is something that we can only hope to achieve), which has characterised the past 60+ years since the Australian Ballet gave its first performance in 1962.
Following the overture to Christopher Gordon’s very danceable score, Paragon began with three performers on stage, one holding a swathe of white translucent fabric onto which were projected images of dancers from earlier Australian Ballet days. Once the white cloth was removed, the use of images from earlier eras was projected largely onto vertical panels positioned upstage, and continued as a significant feature of the work. The outstanding audio-visual editing was by Ario Dean Cook.
But links to the past were also featured as several former Australian Ballet dancers worked among and with current dancers. David McAllister and Paul Knobloch appeared with current dancers in a powerful section called ‘Quake’, for example. Then some of the most moving scenes were ‘Saudade’ (meaning ‘Yearning’) with Fiona Tonkin and Adam Bull, ‘Home’ with Lucinda Dunn and Joseph Caley, and ‘Sehnsucht Couple’ with Madeleine Eastoe and Marcus Morelli (with Sehnsucht also meaning ‘Yearning’ or ‘Desire’). In each of these the choreography was filled with unusual lifts, extraordinary extensions of the legs, bounding jumps and jetes, and other twists and turns of the body, often in an uncompromisingly upside down position or across the floor. And every dancer, retired or not, performed with more than admirable strength and exactitude, perhaps even bordering on perfection.
A scene that I found fascinating was ‘Vogue’, which made reference to the Australian Ballet’s commissioning of designers. In the background we saw projected images of various designs on paper for past Australian Ballet productions, while onstage every dancer wore something contemporary and quite ‘vogue-ish’, often a jacket worn over a sparse costume, mostly of bikini-like proportions. Costumes for Paragon were by Aleisa Jelbart, with set and lighting by Jon Buswell.
Yes, there was a strong feeling of nostalgia as the work progressed, which perhaps came to a head in the final section when Kirsty Martin and Steven Heathcote led the finale. But Paragon also gave the audience a remarkable look at Topp as a choreographer. It showed her working with a vocabulary that is clearly one of contemporary ballet, pushing boundaries, and thinking outside the square when it comes to what ballet can present in a narrative sense. Within it all was a beautiful tribute to the history of the Australian Ballet.
Paragon was part of the Australian Ballet’s double bill called Identity. THE HUM by Daniel Riley was the other work on the program. See below for a list of those retired performers who contributed to Paragon.
Retired dancers appearing in Paragon: Simon Dow, Lucinda Dunn, Madeleine Eastoe, Steven Heathcote, Paul Knobloch, Sarah Lehmann (Peace), Kirsty Martin, David McAllister, Marilyn Rowe, Leanne Stojmenov, Jessica Thompson and Fiona Tonkin.
Following on from a season in New Zealand, the Grand Kyiv Ballet of Ukraine gave the first Australian performance of its double bill, Forest Song and Don Quixote, in the New South Wales coastal city of Port Macquarie. Both works were condensed versions of evening-length ballets and, while I had no advance problems of having an engagement with a condensed version of Don Quixote, having seen that ballet multiple times around Australia and elsewhere, I wondered how I would manage with Forest Song, promoted as a Ukrainian classic making its Australian premiere. Well, I had no need to worry. Both works were accompanied by spoken interludes that filled out the storyline—an essential accompaniment to Forest Song, at least for me.
Forest Song, the ballet, was adapted from the 1911 poetic play of the same name by Ukrainian writer Lesya Ukrainka and was first staged as a ballet in the 1940s. It tells the story of a clash between humans and the spirits of the forest as exemplified by the activities of a young musician, Lukash, and his relationship first with Mavka, spirit of the forest, and then with a scheming peasant woman, Kylyna, who is pushed along in her quest for Lukash by her conniving mother.
In many respects, much of the choreography is quite static. One pose follows another without much ‘joining’ movement, and I suspect this relates back to the fact that it was created 80 or so years ago. A showy end where fouettés, and grand allegro seem there for effect rather than for any other reason similarly appears to date back some years. But a highlight was the wedding scene between the hero, Lukash, and the peasant daughter, Kylyna. It was filled with folk dancing of the kind we used to see in Australia, back in the 1960s or so, from visiting companies from the Ukraine region. It contained much clapping from bystanders and solo acts from various male cast members.
But in this wedding scene the standout performers for me were Margaryta Kuznietsova as the Mother and Veronika Stepanenko as her daughter, Kylyna. Kuznietsova maintained her characterisation so strongly throughout the scene, as did Stepanenko. It was a thrill to see their emotions so plainly exhibited and to see the physicality that they used to maintain the characterisations.
Forest Song in this Grand Kyiv Ballet production is not like any other ballet I have seen. In many respects it reminded me of an old-fashioned pantomime where overacting was always evident and where the dance segments were popped in between text and acting. But I think it is important to see this work for what it is and not wish it looked more like what we know of ballet today. For me it was entertaining and made me look back on shows I have seen in the past (and even shows in which I performed as a very much younger person).
As far as entertainment is concerned, Don Quixote, which in this case consisted of parts of the Prologue, and parts of Acts I and III, was quite fascinating. In particular it was a surprise to see such a different Gamache In this production. We usually see him, Kitri’s rich suitor, as an overdressed dandy. But with the Grand Kyiv Ballet he was an ageing man without a fancy hat and with a wig that showed a balding head—no hat, no long, curly wig, just a man with limbs that weren’t working well. He was dressed in a decorative violet nd white suit but without the lace and frills we usually see. And his acting was well-tuned enough for us to see that he was interested in Kitri. It was actually a welcome change from the overkill of the usual Gamache. As for Sancho Panza if you thought you had seen him thrown in the air by the people in the square in other productions, well think again and go and see the Grand Kyiv Ballet version of these moments. Sancho Panza is thrown so high he just about reaches the fly system.
But the absolute highlight of Don Quixote was the dancing and overall performance of Mie Nagasawa as KItri. She has such a presence onstage and she involved herself in every moment in a very personal way—never really losing the character she was portraying. And as for that moment in the Act I pas de deux where Basilio (Victor Tomashek) lifts Kitri up high and holds her there with one hand as the music pauses, I gasped because not only did he do that, he also walked backwards for several steps while holding her there.
Stepanenko as the Street Dancer and Kuznietsova as the leading Spanish dancer also impressed me (again) with their beautifully fluid upper body movements and their powerful presence.
I could probably be more critical about various technical matters, but there’s no point. I enjoyed these two works, for different reasons in each case. It was entertaining theatre such as you don’t often see and there are great reasons to go to the show, including that it supports the Ukraine community. It is an idea, however, to go without preconceived ideas of what you think ballet should be and do. Ballet can be many things. Here is the link to the dates and venues.
The evening ended with a request for the audience to stand for the singing of the Ukrainian National Anthem, an emotional ending to an unusual evening.
My visit to Port Macquarie was generously assisted by Concert Events Ltd and Lionel Midford Publicity and I was also privileged to be given a tour of the beautiful Glasshouse theatre, including its backstage area and the decorative elements that make the interior so appealing.
Michelle Potter, 12 May 2023
I have no full captions for the images, which I think come from a range of performances in different areas.
Don’t we need more than one Day?—how about a Week? New Zealand Music gets a Month. Let’s make it a Year for Dance…one day at a time. by Jennifer Shennan
How was your International Dance Week? For me…
Day One—Saturday 29 April I’m in Christchurch to see Woyzeck (which I’ve reviewed elsewhere on On Dancing)—a thrill to watch actors who move in such focussed ways, they could be dancers. Director Peter Falkenberg tells me later he works with Laban movement concepts for each actor’s character before they even get to the script. Aha, so that’s why these actors can dance.
That same day I meet up with three former students from New Zealand School of Dance — 1990s but I remember each of them very clearly, for different reasons, these three decades later. It’s heartening to hear their memories, and to learn about the enterprising ways they have since carved dance-related careers for themselves (dance teachers or Pilates tutors— the world needs more of both, so bravo)—but it breaks my heart to learn they are still carrying student loan debts of up to $60,000 from their student days! They don’t seem as fazed by the facts or the dollars as I am on their behalf, but I know I would feel crippled and unable to sleep, let alone work, let alone dance, if I was shouldering such a debt. It’s madness and has negative effects in several directions—e.g. a further colleague of theirs won’t come back to New Zealand on account of her loan, so grandparents don’t meet their grandchildren … another, with a young family, is back here but can’t get a mortgage to buy a house … another won’t take a job here since that would mean having to pay back the loan. Which political cynic choreographed this chaos of educational economics, this dance of death? [Of course we well remember which Minister of Education introduced the scheme, we just don’t want to speak his name. Australia manages a much better and fairer system apparently].
Those former students and I plan to set up a dance club around the Youth Centre that is soon to open in Christchurch. We’ll be offering 500 year old break dancing (that’s galliards to you—along with some pavans and brawls). All we know at this stage is that it will be free for participants and there will be live music. We can do this. Not all the youngsters will want to join in, but some of them will.
Day Two—Sunday 30 April I spend the day in Christchurch with Ian Lochhead, dance writer and historian, and a trustee of the Russell Kerr Lecture in Ballet & Related Arts. We’re discussing suitable topics for next year’s RKL and thought we’d like to mark RNZBallet’s 70th anniversary in some meaningful way. We plan to canvas attendees widely, inviting their response to the question, ‘Which is your single standout memory of a production across the 70 years or so you’ve been watching this company? The work you recall as suiting the company uniquely and memorably?’ We’ll be intrigued to learn if our initial consensus as to which work is chosen will continue to find favour. The RKL will be a Sunday in late February 2024.
Day Three—Monday 1 May— M’Aidez. I walk on the grass and remember May Day in history … ‘the first day of May, long celebrated with various festivities, as the crowning of the May queen, dancing around the Maypole, and, in recent years, often marked by labour parades and political demonstrations.’ There’s an interesting entry on Alastair Macaulay’s website about the maypole in Black dance history. On Youtube in Ashton’s La Fille malGardée a maypole is sweet and colourful but doesn’t have the urgency that outdoor rituals can offer, and seems to taper off rather than triumph at the cadence. (The late Annette Golding, a dance educator at Wellington Teachers’ College, used to mount a very spirited Maypole on her students back in the day). I spend several hours reading the titles on the spines of Ian’s very considerable dance library. I appreciate an update on the May Day gala dance event being organised by Maryanne Meachen for a performance in Palmerston North.
Day Four—Tuesday 2 May I stay with John Cousins, composer friend, and Colleen Anstey, dancer friend, both of them tango milongueros. They had travelled to Buenos Aires for a tango festivaI a few years back but found themselves undone to learn the stories of Argentinian struggles, sufferings, deaths and disappearances. I listen to John’s very moving composition Tristeza de Corrientes with accompanying images, on the subject, and remember how no dance is isolated from the context of its community.
Cover image for Tristeza de Corrientes by John Cousins. Image courtesy of John Cousins
Day Five—Wednesday 3 May I return to Wellington, to view a filmed excerpt from Mary-Jane O’Reilly’s Giselle, which she has re-named What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? I sincerely hope MJ finds funding to complete the full-length theatre version, as this is a striking and spiky wonderful contemporary re-choreographing of a classic work that departs from, yet pays respect to, the original.
Day Six—Thursday 4 May I teach a Baroque dance lesson to a new and fired student who keeps us going at an impressive pace, and doesn’t mind appreciators watching our work. Robert Oliver, the viol player who accompanies us, is a joy to collaborate with.
I then go to Hunters & Collectors gallery for the opening of the exhibition, geist, photographs of Douglas Wright, by Tessa Ayling-Guhl, taken in 2015, but never before exhibited. They are astonishing images of this visionary dance force. Even though Douglas died in 2018, the memory of him is indelible for many. A dance performance by Björn Aslund, with Robert Oliver, is being prepared to close the exhibition.
I then go to St. James Theatre for a performance of Romeo & Juliet by Royal New Zealand Ballet, choreography by Andrea Shermoly. The role of Juliet is danced by Mayu Tanigaito who gives a beautifully tuned performance … but the real hero of the night is the conductor of New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, Hamish McKeich, who leads the orchestra through the mighty and much-loved Prokofiev score, as much drama in the music as ever on stage. Not two years ago Hamish suffered a debilitating stroke leaving him with one arm and one leg seriously affected. This annoyed him as there is much he still wants to do. Hamish conducts this mighty music using just one arm and takes his curtain call from side, not centre stage as the walking stick might slow things down. If that’s not courage then nothing is.
I am reminded of the Auckland-based Touch Compass mixed-ability dance company, founded and led for years by the gifted and intrepid Catherine Chappell. As one performance ended, curtain calls over, audience readying to leave, curtain still up on an empty stage, Catherine’s voice over, ‘Would the dancers go back and help clear the stage of the various props and set please’ … a voice replies, ‘Oh but I’ve only got one arm. ..’ Catherine replies, ’Then that’s the one to use, isn’t it.’ Indeed it is.
Day Seven—Friday 5 May I attend the funeral of the much-loved Margaret Nielsen, pianist and champion of New Zealand composers’ work. Margaret died close to 90, ‘ready to go now as I’ve selected all the music I want at my funeral.’ Many beautiful songs later, came the excerpt from her colleague David Farquhar’s Ring Around the Moon suite—composed as incidental music for a play in 1953—the year of the Queen’s coronation, the ascent of Everest by Edmund Hillary, and the founding of New Zealand Ballet by Poul Gnatt. Harry Haythorne used this music to stage the 30th Anniversary Gala—in 1983—everyone from the Company and the School onstage, dressed in swirling blue and dancing every spirited beat. Poul entered last and strode down centre stage, purposefully stepping on the off-beat. When Edmund Hillary was asked what is the essential attribute of a leader, he replied, ‘Well, involve everyone in the team, but the Leader has to have a Plan B.’ Poul always had a Plan B.
Margaret had chosen the Waltz and the Tango from Farquhar’s music. I ask myself—What else is there?
I come home to watch the choreography of the royal procession of the Coronation, and was especially impressed by the troupe of musicians mounted on horseback, playing their instruments and guiding the horses with their ankles and heels. Look, no hands! And there were Black gospel singers who (nearly) danced inside Westminster Abbey. It’s been a while since anyone danced in that Abbey I think.
Every day is Dance Day. That was my Dance Week. How about yours?
Jennifer Shennan, 8 May 2023
Featured image: Poster for Tessa Ayling-Guhl’s exhibition of her photographs of Douglas Wright, 2023. Image courtesy of Tessa Ayling-Guhl
