When is a work of art finished? When the words “The End” are typed?
When the
brush is set down? When it’s first performed for the public? In some
cases,
yes. But in many instances, perhaps most, a work of art will be
reviewed and
revised many times before its creator considers it complete. The
refinement of
a work of art is a complex process, one which may find the artist
incorporating
input from outside sources – editors, directors, audiences, spouses –
or taking
the piece in directions in revised versions never explored in the
original. One artist with recent experience in both areas is Jose Luis
Bustamante,
associate artistic director of Sharir Dance Company and the recipient
of a 1995
Choreography Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. At a
company
performance in February, Bustamante presented a new dance, Where Are
the
Elephants?, as a work-in-progress. In the time since, Bustamante
has
continued developing the piece, and this week, he offers an expanded
version
when Sharir performs with Repertory Dance Theatre at UT’s B. Iden Payne
Theatre.
Where Are the Elephants? focuses on the circus, that strange,
sometimes
magical home of wild beasts, daredevils, and fools. The choreographer
had
strong memories of the circuses of Mexico from his youth, and he felt
an urge
to translate the spirit of what he remembered into dance. He was not,
however,
driven by feelings of nostalgia.
“It was inspired by my childhood memories,” Bustamante says, “but
in the sense
that when I look back at that now, I see how interesting a structure a
circus
can be. It can hold many different things, some of them very dissonant.
The
circus is a big community that seems very diverse. You have the
handsome
trapeze artists and the clowns and bearded ladies. Everything seems to
be
there, and there is something about the energy of the circus that holds
them
there.
“Then the circus as a kinetic event is very interesting. When you
go,
regardless of whether you like it or think the animals stink or
whatever, when
the elephants come there is a definite kinetic feeling, this slow walk,
and you
wonder if they’re ever going to get past. Then there are the acrobats,
who have
a different kinetic feeling, then the trapeze artists, who have this
tension
about them but also a slow swinging movement. The circus is a rich
source for
inspiration for movement. So in my mind all of that translated into
different
subjects for the dance.”
Bustamante was not far into work on the piece when he realized the
subject was
greater in scope than he had imagined. “We had been working on it for
four or
five weeks” he recalls, “and I found there was a lot of room for
exploring the
subject. A circus can be very large. I kept having images and didn’t
feel that
it was a work that was finished. I wanted to go on and explore other
areas.” He
opted to proceed with a preliminary presentation in February, with more
work on
the piece to follow.
Initially, the piece was composed of five sections, ranging from
two-and-a-half to six-and-a-half minutes, performed to, Bustamante
says, “very
idiosyncratic music: some of it is classical, some traditional.” The
response
to the piece was positive, he says: “There was a lot of laughter. Most
of these
pieces come out very funny. The two words we hear most are fun and
funny.”
Bustamante acknowledges that whimsy wasn’t the only mood of the
circus he
sought to evoke. “Part of me wanted to explore that edge to these
characters,
for instance, the clowns. Historically, there is the clown that is hit
by
tragedy or sorrow. Then there is the aspect of the circus that is a
little bit
scary, the part with freak shows or sideshows or that deal with the
amazing or
the strange.” But the response assured him that his piece was at least
“true to
the spirit of the circus.”
He resumed work on Elephants, only to have the piece take an
unexpected turn. “I happened to be at Texas French Bread and I saw a
kid with a
yo-yo. I was considering objects I wanted to work into the piece
because I was
looking for a motif. I was thinking, Where did he get that? Terra Toys,
he said, so I went to Terra Toys, and that was the last yo-yo they had.
Then I
see these little elephants made out of wood, so I get them, then I see
these
little balloons. I brought the balloons to rehearsal, and we did so
many things
with them and had so many laughs it was unbelievable. I realized, I
need to
speak to this. So I started exploring… they call them twisties.
They’re
balloons that blow into elongated shapes and you twist them into animal
shapes
or whatever. The dancers and I got into exploring what we could do with
those.”
The balloons became objects for juggling, props for clowns, arms. “We
came up
with four sections that involve the balloons and use them in different
ways.”
That means virtually half of the version of Where Are the
Elephants? being presented this week is new, testament to the radical changes that
can
occur as a work of art is revised. The artist behind this particular
work is
pleased with its development – “I feel now that it’s a little more
rich, that
the sections are threaded together in a way that I consider to be the
best
order,” he says – but is he ready to proclaim the work finished? Don’t
count on
it. “I still believe the piece could grow,” Bustamante says. “In the
future it
can be a very good shell for other pieces. The theme of the piece opens
itself
up to more and to different things. And the structure is such that it
could
accept other developments. Maybe a few years down the line…” and the
choreographer begins spinning images of dances about animals, of dances
by
other choreographers, of a piece that is ever evolving. When is a work
of art
finished? In this case, maybe never.
“What is it they say?” Bustamante asks. “`And the band played on’.”
Where Are the Elephants? will be presented by the Sharir Dance
Company April
28 & 29 at the B. Iden Payne Theatre on the UT campus.
Hay’s Heart
Fifteen individuals squat on a bare stage, each perched on a
brightly
colored balloon. They try to settle their backsides on these fragile
eggs and
can’t quite do it, their forms teetering from side to side, buttocks
sliding to
and fro, ovoids of flesh against ovoids of plastic, pressing together,
each
giving in its own way. Into this company of hunched, uncertain hens
comes a
single upright figure, a smiling woman in a pink tutu who dances among
the
squatters, a merry rebel.
So begins my heart, a dance developed out of Deborah
Hay’s
most recent large group workshop and a departure for the
internationally
renowned choreographer. In place of the enigmatic, ambiguous movement
that has
characterized much of Hay’s past work, my heart features –
embraces even
– movement rich in meaning, emotion, and whimsy. In a silent,
meditative group,
a man abruptly breaks into a series of loud raspberries, a symphony of
farting
sounds. A dozen people stand in a line while a woman in cat’s-eye
sunglasses
and bright, flowered blouse moves among them uttering Italian phrases
and
waving her camera. A community gathers for a wedding. A body is pushed
onstage
by a company of kneeling mourners. A figure plays with a stuffed toy
rabbit,
its fur darkened and worn from the touch of many hands over many years.
In a series of short sections, my heart offers a
collage of
images of community and individuality, the reassuring foundation of the
group
and the joy of solo expression. The work ends with the 17 performers
each
taking a turn around the stage, running in a circle, like a circus
horse. As
you watch this parade of solos and see each dancer transcribing that
same
circle alone, each looking so distinct and moving in such a distinctive
way –
this one with brown hair, that one with gray, this one fleshy, that one
thin,
this one male, that one female, this one at a trot, that one at a
full-bore run
– there emerges the beautiful and wistful idea that though we may
always be a
part of some group, though we may all tread the same path, the path
from cradle
to grave, each of us will always be apart, a separate creature,
traveling down
that path in his or her own way, following the dictates of our own
individual
hearts. – Robert Faires
my heartwill be performed April 27-29, 8pm, at the Temple
Family
Theatre in the Helm Fine Art Center, St. Stephen’s School.
This article appears in April 28 • 1995 and April 28 • 1995 (Cover).