Posts tagged Bodytorque.DNA
The Forgotten Land

Recently landed: The Forgotten Land, Gracia's written response for Fjord Review

"There are no days more full in childhood than those days that are not lived at all, the days lost in a book. I remember waking out of one such book beside the sewing-machine beneath the window on the river in the barrack living room to find my sisters all around me. They had unlaced and removed one of my shoes and placed a straw hat on my head. Only when they began to move the wooden chair on which I sat away from the window light did I wake out of the book, to their great merriment.”

This “strange and complete happiness when all sense of time is lost, of looking up from the pages and thinking it is still nine or ten in the morning, to discover it is well past lunchtime” author John McGahern describes mirrors my own “pure, unfathomable joy" when adrift within a ballet performance. For my pleasure’s own sake, it feels, the structure of time is turned on its head. A close solidarity is formed in the theatre and my affection grows with each visit. I have, in the space of a very short time (but, time, what is that?) become a balletomane (though what to do with that clunky ‘t’?). A devotee of ballet, it requires less self-discipline than a dancer, and all of the gratification.

The Australian Ballet's Imogen Chapman, Vitesse (Image credit: Justin Ridler)

Bodytorque.DNA

Recently landed: Torque of the town Gracia's written response for Fjord Review

Throughout all five works, links are drawn that are in part a result of a theme explored, but not solely. From Cilli’s "ode to the human brain" and its workings, in particular the differences between the left and right side to Harbour’s abstract exploration of the dualities of extroversion and introversion within a performer specifically, we are taken on a fast and furious journey through the body. Or, to appropriate John Adams, a short 79-minute ride in a fast machine. We are shown that the body can be moulded, bent, spun, thrown, pulled, and stretched in an existing vocabulary. It can be still and controlled, even after moments of high brashness (Control). It can slither in its encasement of skin and vinyl as order is sought and possibly found. It can turn inward as it looks within, as movements are passed from one dancer to the next like a game of Chinese Whispers/Broken Telephone, and the traditional front-of-the-stage outward projection is shifted to the centre as we view an intimate circle (Corpus Callosum). It can even appear to glide unbeknownst to its self, as celestial bodies momentarily take over the navigation (I Cannot Know). An arch here, a curve there, and lo! a double helix is indirectly referenced. Particularly pleasing for new work, we are reminded that pointe shoes can extend the range of possible movements, and hair can be released from a bun, and worn as fantastically wild, almost animalistic, extension of character, in the case of Vivienne Wong (Same Vein), or to amplify one’s rock star swagger credentials, in the case of Ingrid Gow (Control).

Artists of The Australian Ballet in Joshua Consandine's  I Cannot Know , in Bodytorque.DNA (Image credit: Jeff Busby)

Artists of The Australian Ballet in Joshua Consandine's I Cannot Know, in Bodytorque.DNA (Image credit: Jeff Busby)