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In February 2010, Singapore-based writer and critic Tara Tan was invited by the Goethe-Institut to travel to the German "Dance Platform" event (Tanzplattform) in the city of Nuremberg. For tanzconnexions, she reflects on the performances she saw and on questions that were raised during these encounters as a 'cultural tourist'.

To quote About Khon, Jérôme Bel and Pichet Klunchun’s performance dialogue, I am writing this from the point of view of a ‘cultural tourist’. Arriving as a stranger, and gentle onlooker, to the city of Nuremberg, over the course of four days I saw something like eleven vastly different performances by artists from or based in Germany.

Held every two years, and curated by a rotating group of journalists and cultural producers, the 9th edition of Dance Platform was selected by a jury of four – journalist Melanie Suchy, choreographer-dancer-curator Jochen Roller, and curators Michael Bader and Gerti Kohn. The theme of this year’s independent contemporary dance showcase was “One Step Ahead”.

Some of the works presented were especially visceral, while some played on the conceptual, but most were interested in the physical manifestation of the “dialogue”: artist to artist, artist to audience, culture to culture. As a visitor, I was most intrigued by the conversations that occurred between and within cultures, which happened, of course, both on and off the stage.

Responses to the evolving notion of choreography

One of the most striking moments took place on a quiet Sunday afternoon in a small discussion held at the Künstlerhaus. An Egyptian artist made the observation that the dance he had seen over the last few days was far from what he was used to. He said something to the effect that the performances did not “stir any emotions” in him, suggesting, perhaps, that they were largely cerebral.

Whilst I don’t agree entirely with his sentiments - some of the pieces triggered quite a strong emotional response, VA Wölfl’s Ich Sah: Das Lamm Auf Dem Berg Zion and Antonia Baehr’s Lachen, for instance – I think it brought an interesting perspective to the table in terms of our responses to the evolving notion of choreography.

Having said that, it seems likely that many audiences around the world would react adversely to the definitions of choreography presented at Dance Platform 2010. Take, for instance, the relentless gasps which make up the duet in What They Are Instead Of by Angela Schubot and Jared Gradinger, or Antonia Baehr’s technique of, literally, breaking laughter into singular mechanical notes and turning them into an orchestra of evocative sounds. These are gorgeous pieces, no doubt, but perhaps our different ways of seeing remind us of how permeable these boundaries are, and should be recognised to be.

The intentions of the platform beget yet more questions: Is there a dialogue going on between artists from different parts of the world? What transpires in this global conversation? Does it even exist, or is it idealistic to hope that dialogue does occur between the lines of festivals, international collaborations and commissions?

What do we exchange, exactly, in these spaces? Perhaps it offers us an insight into the different ways in which artists work and think their ideas through. Then again, in this time of busy global exchange, just how distinct are cultural differences?

An opportunity to address questions of identity, community, and movement

There was also some debate about the cultural role that the Dance Platform plays in German dance: whether it served to give an identity to the German dance scene, or to encourage dialogue between the German dance scene and the rest of the world. Yet how relevant is this idea of “German dance” in this age of cross-cultural, inter-cultural, geographically-flighty artists and audiences?

Perhaps we did miss a valuable opportunity to address such question of identity, community, and movement. Coming from Singapore, where audiences are honed on a sleek buffet of international shows, I had my own particular perspective on the varied palette of shows at Dance Platform. I wouldn’t quite call the identification a burden; rather, it invited questions on locality, influence and representation.

Looking On

As I sat, unnerved and despairing, through VA Wölfl’s Ich Sah, marveled at the sheer physicality and endurance of What They Are Instead Of, the puppetry of hands amongst shadows in Richard Siegal’s technology-heavy As If Stranger and admired the methodical precision of Lachen, the breadth and scope of what constitutes “choreography” in contemporary Germany struck me as something truly fascinating. And of course, I couldn’t help wondering, as well, about what had been left out, and why this particular selection of works had been chosen for presentation.

To consider the range, take for instance, the intense, self-reflexive and phenomenal experience of Ich Sah: Das Lamm Auf Dem Berg Zion, which painted a harsh and bleak portrait of art’s impotence.

A woman sang an aria against the backdrop of a deadly duet between a blowtorch and a microphone. At first, the mic amplified the blast of the fire, but is soon burst into flames and was consumed by the fire. Six stage lights moved in unison with the dancers in mechanical choreography – man and machine locked down for the purposes of entertainment. Manifestos such as “You do not define art. Art defines you,” and “Dance is a business. Business is an art. Art is a problem” rained heavy in this sombre piece, which whined with a guttural roar.

The flesh and the human body

In some ways, it formed a stark contrast with What They Are Instead Of and Hotel Hassler; pieces whose choreography worked closely with the flesh and the human body. What They Are, performed by Jared Gradinger and Angela Schubot, melded two bodies into one gasping entity. With lungs and breaths pulsating in a rhythmic beat, it was a show of stamina and feat; the piece was held together, literally, by sheer perseverance.   

Hotel Hassler used similar props: the malleable body. Three men, dressed understatedly, fall like wooden dolls on top of one another. Playing with balance, weight and strength, they succumbed to gravity’s pull, becoming at once vulnerable and volatile yet solid and stubbornly set. Like tumbling blocks, they built on one another, then demolished what they had created, again and again and again, forming a haphazard world of co-dependence and retaliation.

In Logobi, where we saw the dialogue between a European contemporary dancer and a “gangster” dancer from the Ivory Coast unfold “live” before us, there was a faint tinge of something about the set-up of an intercultural exchange that was doomed to fail. The irony and even inauthentic nature of these repeated “first encounters” might ring hollow to some. However, in that “failure” - amidst the miscommunication, the total unexpectedness and uncontrollability - the contrasts between cultures and the ways that we see, listen, speak, move and live, are through into stark relief.

Festivals and showcases like “Dance Platform” carry the promise to focus, define and juxtapose ways of seeing. As a cultural tourist, these “snapshots” offered a glimpse into an on-going global dialogue. Will it define German dance for me? I hardly think so. Perhaps it reinforces the idea that, as geographical boundaries diminish it might be more piquant to observe the surges of creative movements and ideology rippling, reflecting and resonating in spite of, or sometimes, due to, these geographical distances.

Tara Tan
is an arts writer from Singapore, who reports on the arts scene for "Life!" section of The Straits Times, the main English daily newspaper.