Now in its second decade, the Dublin Dance Festival has undergone less transformations compared to the broader societal changes in Ireland over the past quarter century. Artistic leadership has subtly transitioned four times, maintaining the festival’s consistent aesthetic and format. Whilst personal tastes have subtly influenced programme shifts, careful attention has always been sustained towards evolving societal shifts in Ireland, throughout boom times, recessions and lockdowns.
Initiated in 2002, the festival was originally known as the biennial International Dance Festival Ireland under the artistic leadership of Catherine Nunes. In its early stages, the festival’s programme closely mirrored that of the Dance Umbrella based in London. Though some critiques were made regarding the similarities, in retrospect, this association actually bolstered the growth of the nascent festival.
[ Cloud Gate: Dublin Dance Festival 2024’s showpiece presented by Taiwan’s treasure ]
While the first three festival editions were comprehensive and artistically harmonised, they also ensured essential aspects like performances for children, professional workshops and outdoor public activities were included. The premier opening night marked a high point in symbolism and significance, with Merce Cunningham Dance Company gracing the stage of the Abbey Theatre. This inaugural performance successfully set a positive impression for attracting prestigious international dance companies to the Abbey Theatre’s challenging stage.
Under Laurie Uprichard’s leadership (2008-11), the Dublin Dance Festival, now an annual event, successfully challenged the austere narrative, focusing on spiritual and cultural identities, and responded to the passing of esteemed dancers Merce Cunningham and Pina Bausch by exploring themes of ageing and generational shifts in in contemporary dance. Julia Carruthers (2012-15), guided the event less by themes, often spotlighting artists from specific countries like Australia or Germany. Benjamin Perchet (2016-21) however, managed to weave strong ties between Irish and international artists, exploring broad themes including migration, memory, and protest. His final curation efforts, regrettably, were impacted by lockdown restrictions. The incumbent artistic director, Jazmin Chiodi, has carried on with thematic programmes, this year’s theme being Dance Out Loud.
As an adage, it could potentially be prone to exaggeration, but the initial round of the hip-hop-based presentations revealed more depth than mere exertion. ‘Blkdog’ ★★★★☆, a work by Botis Seva, provides an illustrated narrative of subdued trauma and melancholy, inspired by the narrative, ‘Shoot the Damn Dog’, penned by Sally Brampton in 2008. The canine in the metaphorical firing line is the symbol of depression, known as the “black dog”, a term heralded by Dr Samuel Johnson in the 18th century and later cited by Winston Churchill. Brampton, renowned as the founding editor of Elle’s UK version, observed that her depressive episodes intensified amidst regular circumstances. As she received assertions of her fortune and privilege, her depression progressively took a stronger grip. She ended her life in 2016.
‘Blkdog’ artistically embodies this struggle, particularly resonating with the younger demographic, between private internal depression and the counterfeit Utopia propagated by social media culture. Silhouetted figures shrouded in hooded robes move in synergy in Seva’s irresistible free-form hip-hop or in lines of strenuous, rapid Cossack strides, through a foggy blur. Nonetheless, they repeatedly retreat to solitude within their individual luminous realms, thanks to the remarkable lighting concept by Tom Visser.
Childhood, being influential, and Torben Sylvest’s audio accompaniment blends an adult’s and a child’s voice, thus juxtaposing innocence and wisdom. Seva, having recently become a father when the work was conceived, vividly demonstrates the ease with which childhood traumas can permeate into adulthood. As the 80-minute act unfolds, abstract movements give way to specific gestures – insinuating sexual conduct, a heart attack or violent attacks with a baseball bat – yet towards the end, the septet of dancers indulge in childlike role-plays in regal costumes, intermittently navigating the stage on miniature tricycles. This segment is characterized by raw, vicious playfulness devoid of any innocence. ‘Blkdog’ concludes ambiguously, but as the electronic rhythm yields to a wordless voice and the drone of a harmonium, a spiritual resolution is hinted at by Seta, a deeply religious Christian.
While describing ‘Blkdog’, he related it to a glimpse into the experiences of today’s youth as they navigate a world ill-designed for their needs. If viewers intend to comprehend this younger generation, the paradox of providing earplugs in case the music exceeds comfortable volumes is not overlooked.
“Cellule”, a three-star production by French choreographer and dancer Anne-Marie Van, known as Nach, commences amidst the echoes of uproar and the projection of monochrome images depicting male activists of colour. Drawing upon the bold dynamism of krump, a primarily vertical and abruptly intensive dance form stemming from hip hop, Nach begins the performance in repose as though a tightly wound spiral awaiting release, her presence slowly becoming discernible in the dim light. However, what unfolds thereafter is a rather subdued contemplation on identity and the various characters everyone encompasses.
The title ‘Cellule’, refers to a symbolic state of restriction, forced upon from external sources that confines one’s persona and essence. As Nach performs at the central stage, identifiable aspects of krump, like chest pops, are noticeable; yet a conspicuous shadow of butoh, a dance style she studied in Kyoto, also seeps into her performance. Videos of her self-taped rehearsals, projected during the show, amplify the persistent introspection, acting as self-reflection and presenting a revelation for the audience.
As the performance nears conclusion, the representation of ‘cell’ becomes more evident, taking form of a rectangular space illuminated in red from where she emerges, performing a beautiful swirling monologue to a soft piano accompaniment. Although a sense of tension is maintained in the musculature, a contrastingly liberation is also felt. The moves flow from her outstretched hands and feet, appearing to extend into the vacant space, like waves of energy.
This pulsing motion forms the underlying language for the opening show of the festival, the four-star ’13 Tongues’ by Cloud Gate Dance Theatre, performed at the Bord Gáis Energy Theatre. The piece begins with 11 dancers evolving from a dim monochrome universe, each being noticeably individualistic and tardy in merging into a collective. Initially the performance is disjointed and episodic, gradually gaining rhythm and consistency as the dancers swap their black outfits for more vibrant colours. The dance, inspired by a raconteur based in Taipei’s Bangka district, universally applauds the remarkable power of imagination and those who add vibrance to life.
The Dublin Dance Festival will run through until May 25th.