The Talking Book that is the Body
By Julia Wilson (Guest Writer)
Jürg Koch’s latest offering to the JOMBA! platform is one that looks back over a choreographic career of over 20 years, and simultaneously takes inventory of the body: it’s potential, the space it takes, and the qualities it can bear. It is also a sentimental look at the artist in isolation: how does one perform a canon alone?
A printer’s tray is designed to hold the individual block letters that are transformed by the printer into words, and sentences, that create meaning. It can also be used to keep memorabilia and items of significant personal importance. I had one as a child, and it stored my grandmother’s hair barete, a little jewellery box I found and loved, a dead moth that I thought was pretty, and a medley of other fragments of memory that were precious to me.
Koch’s work, similarly, is compartmentalised into 15 pieces, which can be accompanied by 41 pieces of music, ranging from classical piano to bluesy guitar and techno. For the festival, Koch selected 6 of the works, in a fixed sequence with a dedicated musical score. I mention this, as in future, live iterations of the work, Koch plans to allow the audience to select both the choreographic and musical score.
The parts are short and direct: the first examines ‘Walking line, straight and curved’ where the feet initiate movement, in a specific spatial pattern. Later, Koch creates a solo canon for the arms. This speaks so plainly to the life of a dancer in isolation, as has been the case for most of this year. It is playful but somewhat lonely: there is a sentimentality that comes with watching a lone dancer fill a large space.
The last compartment delivered, ‘Pathways used in the pieces Untelling Stories (2005), Parts, (2015) and Human Scale (2018)’, is a kind of archive or library for work Koch has done in the past. In conversation with JOMBA! Artistic Director, Dr. Lliane Loots, Koch noted how working in this way makes one conscious of one’s habits, tendencies and patterns of dance-making. This process of taking stock has been a way for Koch to decide what of his repertoire to dispense with, what he consciously brings with him and what is simply ingrained in the body after a decades-spanning career in dance.
Speaking around the shock that Covid-19 has delivered to the world at large, and to the arts community, Koch acknowledges the privilege he has had in taking a forced sabbatical this year, although he has plans for live performances as soon as this month (albeit to audiences of 16 people and no more). These performances will allow audiences, as mentioned, to make choices as to the structure and soundtrack of the work, which transforms it from an internal archive to something that the public has access to, and may view in their own way. The element of chance elevates the potential for ‘happy accidents’ and opens up possibilities, both for Koch and the audience present.
The work is a kind of case study for a dancer in isolation. Watching the conversation between Koch and Dr. Loots, it is very clear that while our lives on one hand have gotten smaller, there is a need for us to come together as a global community of dancers and dance makers if we are to survive. That, while our worlds are shrinking, we must use the means we have to maintain connection. Living in a digital age gives us the opportunity to stay connected, and conversations like the one between Dr. Loots and Koch remind us of the warmth that is still out there, and the possibilities that abound if we continue to reach out across the distance.
