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Antibodies’ Collective (Kyoto) with Tactile Bosch (UK)
May 25th 2019 Seibu Kodo Kyodai Kyoto
The Antiodies Collective(http://antibo.org/ ) created an installation performance piece
of the post-Fukushima era took place in Kyoto, creating a retro- and
post-modern atmosphere of a tangible alien planet. Stepping into Kyoto
University Seibu Kodo was a time-slip of
its own. This a venerable space near the French and Italian Institutes adjacent
to Kyoto University was originally a central performance space, part of the
student union, but has fallen into disuse, a puddly,sloppy parking lot and
debris surrounding the old structure. But inside it is magic: high ceilings, with
a stadium-sized concrete and dirt floor, sloping downward. It has hosted all
sorts of vanguard troupes since the 1960s, and continues to be the occasional
meeting homeground for old hippies and new artists.
The Antibodies Collective,
performed on Inushima in the Inland Sea last year and revived this year, has a
concept, design, and music by Kajiwara Toshio, choreography by Higashino Yoko,
creating total-experience performances. I still recall Higashino’s former group
Baby-Q performance in Osaka from a decade? ago: deafening industrial metal,
surprising, precise, but seemingly random dance choreography, and a giant,
oblong inflatable objet. Lighting, sound, installation, and dance came together
for 90 minutes in the cavernous space, although I cannot recall any theme or
vision except a vague dis-ease of Bladerunner-esque post-apocalyptic
steam-punk.
Antibodies/Tactile
Bosch here reproduced the circus-like atmosphere, but added a tragic layer of
consciousness of the post-Fukushima earthquake/tsunami/atomic disaster. On
entering a flap in the black curtains, one came into an oval where spectators
could move around freely, although most tended to stay on the sides (where
there were some seats). On one side of the space were numerous built
structures: two red-and-white geodesic domes, a platform with trophy-like
miniature buildings, a large scaffolding and work-ladders lit by dangling
fluorescent lights, another built triangular, both covered with tiny lights, TV
screens, and debris. Spectators could move around these, but there were tiny
grey triangles to prevent trespass; there was a small alcove on the other side.
Shock and
awe are my feelings experienced when entering this strange, new world. When
entering, men and a few women in biohazard white suits were circling the
theatre, stepping near spectators with “Geiger counters” beeping, seeking
radioactivity. They scuttled and sped randomly throughout the performance,
faceless workmen cleaning up the mess. An Elevator girl/tour guide (?) in bright
orange (Higashino) danced energetically, on platforms, climbing the scaffolding,
lifting and getting inside the geodesic dome. She was joined there by an orange
jumpsuit pony-tailed man with outsized black cap climbing up the fourth stage
of the lit scaffolding. A young Salaryman,
black slacks and white shirt, Harry Potteresque big, black glasses, screamed and
zigzagged near the structures, or lay agonized, prone or stock-still, stricken
by some “algorithm of life and deconstruction repeated indefinitely into
entropy” (as per program notes). A near- naked man on a harness writhed butoh
like, holding horse-shoe or circular objects of silver and gold. A butoh-white
dancer, naked from the waist up, glided through the entire oval area, impassive
and imperturbable. He emerged later in black blouse, dancing dynamically
throughout the space. Later, the orange jumpsuit man offered a nonsense rap,
his voice distorted into electronic whines and staccato sounds. The harnessed
man now next to him lay flat, a Frankenstein awaiting reawakening.
Apparently,
this was part of a workshop-presentation by the visiting group of British
performers. A man and woman sat on a back-wall platform, she holding up a white
cloth as he cut a vertically, like a curtain noren. Another stately, wild-maned female dancer in a strangely
sharp-angled dress seemed pulled by an elastic band stretching across the
center stage. Then, with a twitch her shirt came off, pulled away. A large, bald-headed footballer-looking man
took out plans for building, made noises, looked through a pinhole at the
central action. However, their aesthetic, stage presence, and surreal coolness for
me neither enhanced nor blended with the subtle dynamic diversity of the
Japanese performers. Spectators soon ignored them, and they performed on their
islands, away from the main action, simultaneous but out of synch.
Balls
played an important role as well. Plastic, black and basketball-sized balls
were dropped, bounced, and thrown at each other. The wild-maned woman carried a
branched stick of black balloons. A bocce ball rolled and hit a spectator.
These noises added to the general mayhem
in a well-planned soundscape that shifted moods and places. At base was a
thumping industrial sound, with the Geiger bleeps and motor-y whirs. The rap
song distortion were the only words; object dropped on the concrete like large
steel bars made resonant, reverberating sound. Hand-clackers, sticks hitting
the structures, panting dancers, and electronic static filled the space. The
sound was also ambient in a special way: played out of hand-held speakers and DVD
players at were carried around by black-clad stage assistant. We were all
listening to the same sounds, but depending where we stood, and where they
faced the speakers, we were hearing different volumes and movement.
Taking advantage of the sloping
central area, the performers gathered at the high end, groping and praying? In an
expressionist tableau before rolling individually down the incline, gathering
themselves for another rush to the top, like zombie-surfers.
At the climax(?), a large,
grey-black inflatable object was spread in the center, as the naked man, now
descended from harness, and Higashino took turns doing contact improvisation
with each other, hurling themselves into the bubble, and being tossed out,
tumbling, only to try again. Eventually all the performers ended up beneath the
“tent”, straining against it and causing waves and ripples.
The music stopped, and Higashino
announced the End. If not, no one would have known, as official and unofficial
photographers jostled with spectators, some seated, many standing, throughout the
space. There were perhaps 150 audience members spread out, some sitting in
chairs, others on the bare ground. Many mothers and babies, toddlers, and
backpacked clumps of teenagers made navigating the “straits” at the edge of the
oval perilous. After one tour of the various spaces, constructions, and
vestibules, I contented myself with a seated view of the proceedings. Obscured
by those standing in front of me or walking by, this partial perspective was
part of the performance: chaos, migration, decay, and deconstruction.
At the end
of the exhausting (a hot Kyoto May 85 degree day, hotter inside) performance,
actors gathered for applause—there were 20 of them!—then danced a celebratory
Awa Odori, the exuberant (and easily mastered) summer festival dance welcoming
the dead. This was the prelude to an Oct 14-16 event planned I Inushima, so all
were in a grand mood, even spectators joining in. As on entrance, a pack of
smokers and hangers-on loitered outside, soaking in the atmosphere of this
alien, transcendental expression of 21st century angst—yet performed
with a masterful balance and fun that it actually gave hope for Japan’s future.
Like the Sixties, these micro-sites of resistance and craftsmanship still exist.
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