Butoh: Metamorphic Dance and Global Alchemy

18. Mourning the Earth

18 Mourning the Earth Eiko and Koma with Leng Tan in New York (2007) Foreshortened in perspective, two dancers lie on a leaf-strewn stage, feet facing to the back and heads facing us. Their legs and hips are covered with black fur, and their bare chests and faces are powdered white. Fragrant branches lie on the floor in front of the stage, and the stage itself is covered with leaves and dark earth. In the audience, we wait: lights to half—to dark—silence. The pianist, Margaret Leng Tan, is barely visible in the darkness as she begins to pluck the strings, playing prepared piano with impediments placed on the strings, as John Cage might have but with a difference. Her music is governed not by chance but by her profound keyboard technique. Lights stream from above, molding the dancers as they start a meticulously slow turn onto their sides. A giant tree trunk is revealed in the background rising from the soft floor of leaves; its rugged bark looks back at us. This soft and rolling dance remains undefined in shape, continually inching into radial dimensions. It proceeds without inflection for the most part with just an occasional leg thrust or body bump settling in half measure. What are these strange, belly-squiggling animals, I wonder? They are male and female, I see, but they seem incomplete. Their rooting and undulating shapes move low to the ground, worming in, prolonged and softly rustling in the leaves. In real life, they are Eiko and Koma, the incomparable pair who have been performing their slow-morphing dances since 1976 at home in New York and around the world. Their teachers were Ohno Kazuo and Hijikata Tatsumi in Japan Mourning the Earth 197 Figure 28. Eiko and Koma in Offering, performed after the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on New York City, in July 2002. Mourning, as described in this essay, is similar in costume and its connection to the earth. Photograph by Varga Mátyás, © 2004. Used by permission of Varga Mátyás. and Manja Chmiel in Germany. They began performing with Hijikata’s company in Tokyo and later worked with Ohno in the early 1970s. Eiko and Koma are no strangers to dances in and about nature. Much of their work has been about this. They have performed their butoh-inspired dances in gardens, public plazas, lakes, and rivers. The visionary musician Margaret Leng Tan, a major figure in the American avant-garde, performs with them in Mourning, both on toy and grand piano. Mourning I Eschewing drama for physical memory, Two dancer animals make their way gently Rising and falling, morphing With breath and undulation In slow motion pictures barely animate, One image into another through faultless transitions. Initially disconnected, presently in nearby collision One dancer finds the other, the man the woman. 198 Essays and Poetry on Transformation He nose-nuzzles her butt, Then falls over her in one heft of body, As the pling and rumble of the piano Thickens the dance. She bear walks back, jutting elbows In sluggish agon, not counting, But through sound and weight, Moving fur as she goes— Muddy amoeba— Oozing visual art at a crawl. In time the performers peek out at us From under their bodies, Smeared with black dust, and gold with light. From under the leaves, they slog, Pillaging gold-black silence. He backs up into her open legs, Asexually and without emotion. She throws herself On him twice, and he grunts, throwing himself Over her again, as she starts to bite him. He moves away without desire, rolling low. II Tan removes the implements fettering strings; Not through wasted melody, her playing blisters the ear. As the dancer bends forward and reaches from sitting—her Hand and fingers outstretched, she picks up a Handful of dirt, and brings it to her mouth, Squats and eats it, then lies down, Her legs spread carelessly. She curls up with her head lifted. He rolls off-stage In front of us. We hear single strands of color, firmness In the pure monotone of improvised music, As he creeps on his belly Back up onstage. In time, the dancers find each other. Or rather, he finds her lying there, Limpid. His inching along the floor so soft In creature likeness. Now in the air— A simple repetitive tune on a toy piano. He lifts his legs...