On 7/18 I went to the newly opened Kichijoji Theatre to see "3-nen 2-kumi". Although written, directed and choreographed by Yanaihara Mikuni from the dance company Nibroll, it wasn't a dance piece, but theatre. Set in a school/classroom, the piece centered around an episode where a time capsule was buried, telling a story of a handful od individuals and their idead about life - and staying alive - in this worst or worlds. There wasn't really a theme, but if you need one by all means I'd say it was something like "records, reminiscence and time (and life)". It’s a theme that has been discussed in both theatre and literature a hundred times, and Yanaihara approached the subject matter head-on.
The dialogues spoken to fast to catch every word, and movements of the performers that were in a peculiar way connected to the plot (or at least that’s how it seemed to me), were particularly interesting. The most impressive however was the opening. I don't know if it was supposed to symbolize snow or ash, but white confetti kept falling onto the stage right from the start. William Forsythe’s "The Loss of Small Detail" (1991) ended with confetti falling down, but in "3-nen 2-kumi" the "white world" was the given condition from the beginning.
That’s when I thought of Kisaragi Koharu, who passed away in 2000. In her performances with Noise since 1983, a "White Man" appeared dressed all in white, and carrying a white globe. It became a custom that he showed up on stage at the beginning and at the end of each show. The stage directions of the drama "Moral" (1984 explained that "the white man operates in his own unique speed. As an allegory of transcendental matter - the world, mankind, spirituality, divinity - he exists in a phase different from that of future human theatre." I seem to remember that there was also some white confetti flying around, but I'm not sure.
Nibroll and Noise both have a lot in common. In volume 032 of this column, "Dance in Kiddy Land" I wrote that a crossover of dance (and theatre) with other genres, such as film, music or fashion, used to go as "performance" in the '80s, establishing a whole new artistic discipline. One of the representative units here in Japan at the time was Noise. The point that the relationship between society and individual is often the central thread is another thing both companies share. This is not only my own opinion, but Kisaragi’s husband and former Noise producer Kajiya Kazuyuki (at present a producer at Setagaya Public Theatre) expressed the same sentiment.
Born in the '70s and grown up in Kansai, Yanaihara probably has never seen a performance of Noise, who were mainly active in the Tokyo area. Asked about Noise, Yanaihara explained, "I once received a drama collection from Kajiya-san, and since that was really interesting stuff I read it all in no time. I'm still groping for ways, but since my main concern has shifted to the awareness and state of the body when expelling words, I'm planning to pursue this straightforward also in the future."
To take over something in such manner is a good thing, but on the other hand there remained a slight taste I wasn't perfectly satisfied with. Most of the Noise pieces must have been recorded on video. For the purpose to show artists of following generations what their seniors were doing, shouldn't the works of Noise and other theatre and dance companies be stored in archives, so that they are accessible (for rent, for example) to the general public? A video is not the real thing of course, but as a document showing what kinds of techniques people have been challenging in the past I guess it’s still better to have pieces on video than not.
In the same week the "Laurie Anderson: The Record of the Time" exhibition opened at ICC (7/22-10/2). While listening to a performance by the artist herself on her electric violin, and worshipping her achievements at the press preview on 7/21, once again Kisaragi-san, who was surely influenced by her, came to my mind. As reported in the "Behind the Scenes" column in ART iT magazine, ICC is rumored to close, which raises such questions as where the collection would go, and what would happen with the digital archive (you can download a PDF file of the article here). Here we have the same problem of "records, reminiscence and time (and life)". Things that should be kept, have to be kept.
Postscript:
On 7/31 I went to see a concert of Shina Sadao at CAY on Omotesando. After his excellent performance I learned that CAY was going to close for a makeover on the following day, and that even after the re-opening in October there won't be concerts taking place here anymore (at least not in the form we know it from CAY).
Good grief! CAY is a live music venue that has been presenting especially types of world music for two decades. The walls are covered - graffiti style - with signatures of the likes of Papa Wemba, Kina Shokichi, Shimizu Yasuaki, and others who played there in the past. There’s even a painting by Keith Haring, but I learned that this wall too will be either torn down or painted over. There you go: "records, reminiscence and time (and life)"…
Ozaki Tetsuya / Editor in chief / REALTOKYO