It is just a few weeks before the premiere of Jiř Kylian's
newest dance-production and he is surprisingly relaxed. Seated in
the yellow couch in his office, he is surrounded by photo's of other
choreographers, awards, more photo's and glass objects by his friend
Borek Sipek. He does not like interviews because he feels he has nothing
to say. "Look at my creations, they can tell you more about me then
I can". Yet he allowed us the only exclusive interview before the
opening night on 5 May 1998.
This is the third time hehas created a full-length performance. A
few years ago he surprised the world with his dazzling 'Arcimboldo',
a piece for all the dancers of NDT (I, II and III). Now it will be
an evening made for NDT I as a special project for the Netherlands
Ministry of Internal Affairs. This year the Netherlands celebrates
the 150th anniversary of the Dutch Constitution. Jiř Kylian
was asked to use 'freedom' and 'human rights' as themes in his newest
creation.
What did you think when you got the request from the Dutch Ministry,
about the 150th anniversary of the Constitution? Were you surprised?
Whether you are interested or not in the Constitution, it is a constant
companion. People who do not have their origins from this country are
maybe more aware of this Constitution. I was always very conscious of
this. The concept of the piece was there before the Ministry approached
me, so it is a bit of a coincidence that the two dates came together.
But this new work has become a gift from me to the company. It is for
the first time that every dancer of NDT I is individually involved in
the creative process. This time there are no group scenes. And if there
are any group dances, then they are done in an individual way. This
piece has to do with individual expression, with individual freedom.
So in a strange sort of way it has become a tribute to individuality
and human rights.
But isn't that extremely difficult, because it is much more work
to create for each individual instead of groups?
Yes, but it is also very rewarding, because you can touch the person
more easily when you work on a one-to-one basis. I also rely upon
the active cooperation of the dancers and they help me with the creation.
And that is very inspiring and helpful to revise my vocabulary. Normally
I only have contact with a few people and nowI do with each one of
them.
How do you prepare for the first day in the studio? Where do you
start?
Well actually I started working on this piece a very long time ago
and it has undergone many metamorphoses. I have had intense collaborative
talks with the architect Kitagawara. So I already prepared a certain
soil from where the dance movements could grow. And that was interesting
because I also had to look at dance from the point of view of an architect.
He is used to working with space and certain entities, shapes and
sizes.
Special music has been composed for this
new work. What influence have you had on this new composition?
My first starting point was music. I love vocal music because like
dance, it is the only human music that can be made without an instrument.
You just need your body. I find it exciting to combine these elements.
Elements of the music are ancient vocal human sounds that are still
being used by the singing female Innuits. But also the chanting of
monks, the peculiar vocal overtones of Tibetan priests, music of Don
Carlo Gesualdo and that of a single cello. The sound of a cello is
closest to the human voice. I gave these complicated elements to the
composer Brett Dean.
The architect is not limited by time, only by space. But with music
it is a totally different thing. Music you have to trust completely,
this is my daily bread, my "daily Brett Dean". If I don't have this
trust I am totally lost. Of course I can choreograph on silence, but
I cannot work with music I don't believe in. So I was very lucky to
find Brett Dean on my side. I got in contact with him through Pieter
Wispelwey and I am very pleased with the result.
What do you give to the architect and what does he give to you?
Every designer is different, so everybody delivers something different
to the process. I love the precision with which Kitagawara works,
and yet much of this incredible precision is based on random computerised
programmes. And I find that very interesting, because if you look
at the design it seems to make incredible sense, but actually it originates
from nonsense. I adopted that idea and I started making choreography
that has to do with random movement in a rather abstract way. I have
learned from him to look at dance as constantly changing architecture
in space.
How did you meet the architect Atsushi Kitagawara?
I was in Tokyo together with the lighting designer Michael Simon.
He is a fanatic admirer of architecture. He proposed to get the Tokyo
handbook for Architecture to look for interesting buildings we could
visit. Every time we saw an exciting building it was from Atsushi
Kitagawara. So that is how we started our crusade through Tokyo searching
for the buildings of this architect, until we saw a small house we
found fascinating. When we came closer we found out it was the office
of Kitagawara. He opened the door and we told him our story and even
used the name of Rem Koolhaas, the architect of our own theatre, which
made him very enthusiastic. We then invited him to come to the performance.
And the rest is history.
Then he came to the Netherlands: what was the starting point for
your collaboration?
Our starting point was actually very vague. I have told him about
my musical idea in a letter. And when he came to the Netherlands we
talked extensively about it over dinner. To my surprise he said,"
I think the piece should be about eroticism and death". I thought
that sounded kind of heavy and I laughed. But of course we are all
very deeply involved in sexuality. This makes us live and create.
And naturally every single one is puzzled by this question of death.
And the fact that in several nations orgasm is a little death. So
I saw that sexuality and death are interrelated. Almost every work
that I have created has touched sexuality and some kind of a departure.
This implies that it plays a part, but it came out in a more abstract
way. The piece is not about sexuality and death, but this is being
suggested. So then we departed and everybody started to work. When
he came to the first production-meeting we said to him: the set should
not be too expensive, it should be easy to transport, and it should
be built in the shortest period of time. He is really a very understanding
man because he made something cheap, which you canreally put in a
suitcase. I only thought that he had tried so hard to accommodate
us that their was not enough Kitagawara left. He was too modest. I
started going through his books and suggested some adjustments to
him in a long letter. He understood my ideas perfectly. Then I did
my one-day "stunt" trip to Tokyo and he showed me his designs and
I am very satisfied with them.
Jiř, when do you get excited in the process; after so many
years of creating, when does it happen?
It varies. If you have a daunting task like making a full evening
piece, it is terrifying before it gets exciting. And I always question
myself: do I have something to say for one and a half hours; can I
keep the interest of the audience? Then I become modest and timid.
And I get afraid that I don't live up to my own expectations. That's
the sickness of people around fifty, because your choices are so much
sharper and limited. Your self-reflection is much greater and your
possibilities are likewise fewer. I am happy that I have so much support
of the people around me. That is phenomenal. I should not complain
about this at all.
What sort of planning did you use for this work?
The whole piece should not make any logical sense. It has become more
intuitive and abstract. But the word abstract is not a good word because
there is nothing abstract about a human being. This time there is
no story, there are feelings, without any reason. You know, I start
the day not knowing how it will end. It is really a totally different
working process. It's more a non-narrative work. I cannot tell anything
more about it. The dancers are wonderful, I use their creativity through
improvisations. They really have fun working on this piece. Everybody
has the feeling that something essential is happening, but at the
same time it is frightening. But then again, it has always been like
that whenever I started on a new piece.
What more can you tell about the piece?
I really don't want to give away too much. But there is a central
figure as a point of reference for the piece and the audience. But
if she either does important or less important pieces, she is always
the constant factor, the balance, the eternal link between the past,
the present and the future. I find that exciting and it reminds me
of the aboriginal that I asked: "Why do you dance?" And remarkably
simple he said: "Because my father taught me so and because I have
to teach my son". In his left hand he was holding his father and in
his right hand his son or daughter. He looked upon himself as the
link in an endless chain. If he would let go he would cause a gap
and the continuity would be lost. Naturally he feels this responsibility,
but not in the way that it is a burden. He is proud that he can play
this role. I hope that the central figure will be regarded as this
point of reference.
What is the most exciting moment of the process: the applause? Is
that the most important thing you are waiting for?
It is not an easy thing to say because we all like applause. In a
way stage-presentation is about appreciation. You give something to
the public and you want to get appreciation. We make our work not
for ourselves but for the public. Of course at first you don't make
any compromises to the public, but you take some of it into the making
process. Many of may colleagues don't work like that, the think: "I
don't care about the public, I make what I like". I don't agree with
this arrogant state of mind. For me the most important moment is the
moment of discovery. You work in the studio with the people you feel
good about, and suddenly there is a movement, the wink of an eye,
a touch that is discovered like: "This is good, this is the beginning,
from here we can go on. This enriches the human soul". These moments
are the most important of all. Then I feel on top of the world. These
are the moments I live for. This piece will be like all my pieces
in that I think there will be people that like it and are touched
by it, and there will be people that don't see anything in it. I don't
mind if people don't understand my work, because actually, I don't
understand it myself and I never did. You know, sometimes I see myself
as an instrument, I don't where things are coming from. Not that I
find myself a medium, but I have often had the experience f being
quite surprised by the result of my work. That is so exciting!
If you go home after this piece you should have some existential
thoughts.
The piece is not some kind of recipe or cure, but it sort of makes
a statement: everything we do is total nonsense. If you come to the
realisation that everything that you do is nonsense, it gives you
an enormous strength to go on. Because if I take myself too seriously,
it will become more difficult to create something new.
