Countering Erasure Culture

Grab some tea and listen in on this podcast conversation with my old friend. On UNLIMITED: The Terré Holmes Show, we discuss the importance of amplifying African American history in an age where erasure culture is back in vogue. We talk about the ways in which perfectionism can hinder the creative process. We lean into soft landings and self-care, ‘cause life will life for all of us, artists included.

When Smiling Is Dance

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Experimentation is key to my practice. I ask the story what form it wants to take, which medium it would prefer to embody? This way of engaging demands deep listening and surrender. I may have one idea of how things should go, while the work has a mind of its own. I let go and follow the lead. This process of surrendering led me to Japan. Seeking a dance of death to perform in front of my camera, I found Butoh, a countercultural dance theatre movement that embraced all that was taboo in Japan when it was founded in 1959, including outlaws and homosexuals. Butoh felt right. So, I went to Japan and later Mexico to participate in workshops and practice the form. Here is where I met choreographer Dai Matsuoka, a longstanding member of the renowned company Sankai Juku and collaborator on The Way Our Tongues Move. Our conversation has been edited for clarity.

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“Many are interested in how to define Butoh, but definition is very hard. I think this is good, in a way. It allows people to develop their own Butoh.”

When we were in Japan for my first Butoh workshop with Semimaru-sensei, I asked one of the participants how to say your name. He said it in a formal way, but I don't think I ever got it right. Am I to address you as Matsuoka-san? How does it work? What’s the correct way?

It's a nice first question. 

My name in Japanese is Matsuoka. And ‘san’ is for somebody who's older than you. Or when you want to talk with somebody in a formal way, you put ‘san’ after the last name. So I’m called Matsuoka-san or Dai-san. 

So it could be either your last name or first name? 

Yeah, but the first name is more informal—when it's your friend.

Have I always been addressing you disrespectfully? 

No, no, no, no. I mean, outside Japan, of course, I don't care.

So for my next trip to Japan, get it right!

You don't really have to worry. I mean, if you are not Japanese, Dai is fine.

So Butoh…While searching for a dance of death, I came across Butoh and immediately was struck by it….

Do you remember what video or photo you saw?

I don’t remember the exact photo or video. I only remember being completely in awe. Totally pulled in. I thought, ‘What is this?’ and ‘I gotta to know more?’ I’m wondering, though, about your first encounter with Butoh, because you weren’t always a dancer. 

Yeah, it’s interesting. That’s exactly how I got a crush on Butoh — through videos and photos, not the real stage. I first encountered a video of Sankai Juku. The piece was called Kinkan Shonen. It was very old. One of the oldest pieces that Sankai Juku made. It was filmed in 1992, but first premiered, I think, around the late 70’s. They went to France with that piece. It was well received by the French audience. That’s how Sankai Juku started the European tour. It’s still considered one of the masterpieces of Butoh. So I saw that video when I was in college and I was very much shocked. I hadn’t had so much interest in the stage, in general, or even dance. Of course, I didn’t know Butoh at all. So I was really shocked to see these white dancers in the dark. They didn’t use any words. They just had expressive, mysterious movements. This intrigued me. I looked for other stuff at the library.

You went in search for Butoh at the library?

Yeah, at university. I found a collection of photos of Tatsumi Hijikata. He’s the founder of Butoh. These images struck me as well. Hijikata was almost naked. He was dancing on the stage like a Jesus Christ. It was rebellious. He had a prop that looked like a dick. 

Like strapped on?

Yeah, strapped on. Everything was really powerful…and then strange at the same time. Like you said, I was pulled into this mysterious world of Butoh. I started to be very very interested. I took a workshop. That was the starting point.

You were a design student before. You encountered Butoh and it sent you on a search. What was the workshop?

Semimaru’s workshop.

What? The same workshop I took?

It wasn’t summer camp. It was at a different place and shorter — only a few days. So he’s my first master. 

Wow!

And I didn’t know of any Butoh workshops when I was searching. So it was by chance that I could find that workshop online. Immediately I thought, ‘Oh, This will be the last chance! Probably, he’s not doing it very often and I don’t want to miss it.’ So I clicked the button. 

I found out later that he does an annual workshop in Toyama. 

My first workshop took place in Kyushu, the southern part of Japan. I flew there from Tokyo. Semimaru was very surprised that I came all that way. After the workshop, he informed me he was having a rehearsal and asked, “Why don’t you come?” That’s how I got into the company. 

He saw something in you immediately?!

There was a questionnaire he handed out to workshop participants. I wrote about the Kinkan Shonen performance I saw. There was a particular scene of a dancer holding a peacock that really impressed me. I shared my thoughts about this scene and I think he liked it. 

Do you remember specifically what struck you about Butoh?

It didn’t look human to me. It was haunting. Also, while I was studying design, I had a strong interest in phenomenology*. Phenomenology is one category of philosophy.

What did your family say when you went from studying design and philosophy to Butoh?

My mother was very surprised. She was a ballet dancer. She was even teaching for a while before I was born. Butoh was very controversial when she was dancing. It was not so accepted by people who were performing Western styles of dance. So when I told her, ‘I’m in a Butoh company!’ And my head was shaved and I’m walking around in white makeup, she was shocked. 

Eventually, she came to see me in a show with Sankai Juku. Gradually, she accepted it. Now, she’s very very supportive and she likes it very much. 

Your dad? He wasn’t as shocked?

Well, I couldn’t really see his reaction directly because he was working outside of Japan at that time. But he was happy after all. He was happy that I could make a living by leading these creative activities. 

He passed away years ago, but he was happy with it.

So dance is in your blood actually?

Yeah, people could say that.

So the first time you’re performing dance on stage, you’re performing with Sankai Juku?

Yes. My debut was Kinkan Shonen — the very first Butoh video I ever saw. I performed in a revival of the piece. When Semimaru invited me to rehearsal, it was for this revival.

Destiny. Wait, do you believe in destiny?

Well, yeah. Sometimes things like this happen. 

You also work with people who have disabilities and non-professional dancers (like me). How do you address areas of insecurity and vulnerability when collaborating with these communities?

The purpose is different for inclusive dance. It’s more important to have interaction with other people. You don’t necessarily have to show it very well on stage. I mean that would be great.

I believe that this kind of vulnerability could be very essential for performing on the stage. If you are used to staging yourself too much, that’s sometimes boring. And there wouldn’t be any freshness. 

So that vulnerability is exciting on stage.

It’s great to have yourself exposed on the stage. There’s no mirror. There’s no video, so you can’t really see yourself. I think that’s a good part of how theater works. You need to carry out everything on the stage without reflecting on yourself too much, without seeing the reflection.

There is a kind of line between the spectacles of Sankai Juku and community dance or inclusive dance. 

It seems that working with people through inclusive dance programs would require more than just teaching choreography. That it might also require some psychological or emotional care. Is this true? Or am I reading into it too much?

So, I think your question is that inclusive dance requires a lot of things outside of dance, right? I think it’s important to draw out and extract some individuality from each person, because each person has very different characteristics in movement, or personality, or disability. There’s one girl who was in a wheelchair. She couldn’t talk or raise her hands or do anything by herself. When I coached her and tried to dance with her, I raised her hands. There was a moment when she reacted to that. She had a bright, smiling face. I think that could be dance. It offers a new idea of how to consider dance. Because if dance is expression, I mean, then only smiling can be dance, right?

That’s beautiful.

This expanded my idea of dance and how you can create a dance with all people. 

I’m gonna step back…when you meet someone who knows nothing about Butoh, what do you tell them it is that you do? How do you explain Butoh?

That’s also a good question. Since there are so many prejudices or preconceived ideas around Butoh, I start with very objective information. Butoh was developed in Japan in the 1960s. The founders are Tatsumi Hijikata and Kazuo Ohno, They were trying to make something that countered Western dance forms. Together, they made a unique movement in Japan that’s now spreading. It would be helpful to add that we usually do white makeup like Kabuki. So it’s a mixture of Japanese traditional performing arts and also other styles are taken into this expression. 

People add adjectives like “grotesque” or “abnormal” to describe Butoh, but these are very subjective, so I explain facts first.

Many are interested in how to define Butoh, but definition is very hard. I think this is good, in a way. It allows people to develop their own Butoh. It doesn’t have to be white make-up or grotesque. It doesn’t have to be nude. You can expand and take into your own expression. That’s a fascinating thing about Butoh, I believe. So I call it ‘something called Butoh’. 

Tell me about the origin of Land Fes.

That’s my organization. It’s now officially a non-profit in Japan. I’ve been doing this since 2012. It started as an event, just a dance event. I couldn’t afford to rent a studio or rent a theater. I didn’t have space to give my performance…

What? Whoa, this is incredible. I love things being born out of lack. The beauty of what you can create if you have the desire, the intent, and the will. You can create an entirely new fucking thing. Okay, I’m sorry. Whoah! Okay, go ahead!

It’s a problem for many artists. It’s expensive to rent space in Tokyo, especially. I couldn’t afford it, so I tried talking with people in the city who were running coffee shops or restaurants. I made friends with local people in business. I pitched this idea of ‘what if a dancer could walk around to different places and while visiting, they could dance or do a session with musicians. The audience would follow the dancer, experience different venues, and learn about the local community. Wouldn’t that be great!’ That’s how I started Land Fes. 

Gradually, people came who were corporate and offered opportunities to give workshops or performances. Over time we grew to attract public grants and can now promote inclusive dance events in collaboration with international artists. 

That’s really special, I love it. Butoh ChoreoLab was also born out of lack, from this inability to be in public because of Covid. 

Yes, it started during the pandemic because it was practically impossible for people outside of Japan to travel to Japan and learn Butoh. So I made an online platform. I ended up documenting seven prominent Butoh artists. I interviewed each one of them and they showed choreography and where their choreography comes from. I felt it necessary to archive and keep the culture of Butoh alive. At that time, there were many Butoh legends who had passed away. I felt a need of [preserving] this legacy and passing on to the next generation before it’s gone. That was the motivation. One of the dancers I interviewed passed away last year. It was very much worthwhile. 

So, legacy is important. 

I’m looking in two different directions with Butoh — one is to preserve past legacies and the other is to look ahead. For Butoh to be meaningful or connected with other art forms or other cultures in other parts of the world, you have to have these two directions. Otherwise, it’s going to be either very protected and conservative. Or too extreme and nobody cares after all.

You’re in Amsterdam, we’re collaborating, and we’re both surprised by it.

Yeah, but I’m happy. I’m very honored to be here with you.

I told my son one of the things I respect about you, Dai, is that your yes’s are yes and your no’s are no. When you say ‘no’, you mean it. When you say ‘yes’, you mean it. Not everyone can do that. Why did you say yes to the David project (The Way Our Tongues Move)?

First of all, I like you as an artist and as a human also. We spent time together in Toyama, Japan, and also in Mexico. But especially in Mexico, I saw you very creatively trying to engage and you were committed. I had a feeling that you were sincerely interested in Butoh and dance. And that’s a big reason I said yes. I’m also fascinated with the story of David in The Way Our Tongues Move. Because I’m not familiar with making a piece using a narrative. I don’t even have a script for my own dance piece. It’s also challenging and new to me.

I have one final question for you. You said it and one of your company members said it also — Ichi.  He saw my camera in Japan and asked me about photography so I showed him my work. Ichi was very affirming and positive. Then he said, “Keep going.” 

And then when you and I had dinner, we were discussing one of the portraits in my house and you also said, “Keep going.” Was that a coincidence or is that like a mantra?

Did I say that? 

Yes.

And Ichi said that too? 

Yes.

Is it not usual?

For people to say, “Keep going”? No.

Oh, maybe it could be a translation from Japanese.

How do you say, “Keep going” in Japanese?

We usually say, “Ganbatte”. There’s no direct translation but it’s like, “Hang in there.” Like “Keep it up!” “I’m cheering for you.” Or something like that. 

Okay. Ganbatte Dai-san! Thank you very much!

* Phenomenology is a field of philosophy concerned with conscious experience from a first person point of view.

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Dai Matsuoka was photographed and interviewed in The Netherlands by Malika Ali Harding

Body Awareness and Imagination with Dai Matsuoka workshop participants were photographed at Igloo Kokolo in Mexico by Ana Quiñones for MARES//encuentros en danza butoh - IV edición