Wild Cursive

This post will be longer than usual. I came across a video from the dance performance I saw back in NYC four years ago. Being a student in a dance criticism class, I had the luxury of attending many performances but this one has left its mark on my mind. Without further hesitation I share this piece of choreographic treasure and wipe off the dust from my criticism papers... as writer Mikhail Bulgakov once said: "Manuscripts don't burn":

Company: Cloud Gate Dance Theater

Date: 10/07/07

Venue: Brooklyn Academy of Music

Title: Wild Cursive

Choreographer: Lin Hwai-Min

Composer: Jim Shum and Liang Chun-mei

Set designer: Lin Hwai-Min

Lighting designer: Chang Tsan-tao

Costume designer: Sammy Wang

The famous minimalist painter John Graham once said:

“A work of art is neither the faithful nor distorted representation, it is the immediate, unadorned record of authentic intellecto-emotional REACTION of the artist in space.”

            This quote perfectly describes the choreography of the Wild Cursive by Lin Hwai-Min.  The Cloud Gate Dance Theater’s dancers capture one’s imagination by moving on the stage freely and expressively, like the traces of a calligrapher’s brush. Their bodies are gentle yet strong brushstrokes that bend, float and twist in imitation of the signs of calligraphy that fascinate the choreographer Lin Hwai-Min. The set design consists of scrolls of rice paper that, just before performance, are freshly painted backstage with calligraphy and, when the curtain goes up, are still dripping with ink. The scrolls are lowered and retracted depending on the scene sequence.

            The dance starts with six dancers breaking out into violent movement at the sound of a single scream. Apart from the sharp scream the theater is silent. The dancers go from chaotic and martial-artlike poses and kicks to delicate and sensually measured motion. There are also moments of complete stillness, with the dancers frozen in intricate positions of curved arms and open leg kicks.  As the scene goes from stillness to immediate action, the lights go off as unexpectedly as they initially came on.  When the light returns, we can see the first scroll of calligraphy descend from the ceiling and a female dancer sway from side to side on her knees – her motion slow and accompanied by the elegant rotations of the chest and arms. As the single stage light is focused on this dancer, seven more dancers standing shoulder to shoulder approach her in unison. As they walk, the performers bend at their knees and straighten up again.

            What strikes me the most in this scene, and in Hwai-Min’s choreography throughout the piece, is his intricate work with space. Even though he often plays on asymmetry, placing an unequal number of dancers on stage right and stage left or by destabilizing it by his use of paper scrolls, Hwai-Min achieves breathtaking harmony. The dance consists of 11 sections in which the number of dancers as well as screens changes frequently. Hwai-Min draws Wild Cursive’s elements from the martial arts, classical ballet technique and modern dance. Despite the different art forms involved in the choreography, the dance elements are united by the spiral movement of the torso accompanied by the rotations of the arms and wrists. Most of the movement is directed outward, as if opening up.

            In my opinion, a dance can only be truly labeled entertainment if it is accessible to the general public. To be audience-friendly in dance means having more than one element that can capture and hold the audience’s attention. For instance, The Nutcracker can be said to be audience-friendly, because people who do not understand dance or love ballet can find other elements of the performance intriguing – the costumes and musical score, for example. Wild Cursive is not entertainment – it is art. It is not meant to entertain but to draw attention to the intricate philosophy of the piece. It is interesting to observe the different sections of Wild Cursive and identify the choreographic origins of its elements. However, most of the choreography is repetitive and dry. The only scene that stands out is the one in which the lighting on the scrolls illuminates the silhouettes of women dancing in synchrony. Jim Shum and Liang Chun-mei’s score does not add variety to the piece, either. The score consists of long silence interrupted by occasional sounds of wind, waves or bells. The costumes are simple: black leotards and black wide pants for the female dancers and the same pants for bare-chested men. For even an experienced audience member’s eye, the dance needs more variety.

            The decisive moment in my classification of Wild Cursive as art rather than entertainment was my curious observation of a little girl sitting in the row ahead of me. Her parents were both Caucasian and the girl, about five years old, was Asian. I assume that her parents took her to the performance to make her more aware of the beauty of her heritage and open her up to the fun of dance. The idea was a great one, except for the choice of the piece to introduce to such a young little lady. Ten minutes into the show, the girl was so desperately bored that she turned around in her seat and looked back at the audience for the rest of the performance. Although such a young audience member is not representative of the general public, a child’s reaction is equally as relevant as that of an adult in assessing entertainment value.

            The complexity of the movement and theory behind the choreographic elements makes Wild Cursive a performance more suited for a dance informed audience than a family seeking a fun weekend activity.