Nov 21, 2023 <\/p>

Dealing with the vulnerability of being in the unknowing: Harald Beharie<\/a> invokes ambivalent situations on stage, attacking as well as embracing sedimented narratives around the fear of the queer body as a perverse and deviant figure.<\/p><\/div> Why dance?<\/p><\/div>\n Dancing was present in my life for a long time without me reflecting on why. I think I've always wanted to understand things through a way of being that doesn't need an answer or a common understanding of what is happening. Dance has the potential to be intuitive, transcendent, ambiguous, earth-shattering, peculiar, awkward, and ingenious. It can create ambiguous spaces where we can allow things to be meaningful and also meaningless. I want the explosive power of a physical communal moment, the intimate, and the inexplicable.<\/p><\/div> Agreed! If you understand that seeing dance is not about understanding what is happening on stage, then it creates possibilities to embrace the unknown or to reflect on something that was not possible to think of before.<\/p><\/div>\n For me, it's a lot about the ambiguity of it, which opens up other layers that are awkward or sensations that we don't need to name. It\u2019s a way of working with questions and expressions that are in flux and that it can be more slippery in its ways, wishes, or goals. And it can mean different things to different people. And I think that is the strength of working with the body. You can have all these different energies or emotions, from excitement to boredom, present at the same time.<\/p><\/div> How do you generate material?<\/p><\/div>\n I don't have a set method. My approach to material generation avoids a rigid methodology. It's akin to sowing seeds of thought and observing their natural course rather than sculpting definite images. This process, which I employed in my solo piece Batty Bwoy<\/a>, involves absorbing external influences \u2013 conversations, reading, meeting people, cinematic experiences \u2013 rather than confining myself to the studio for longer periods. A form of riding on urges and energies, and letting the movement develop from these meetings together with already movement practices and specific ideas. This methodology embraces chaos, allowing for organic and spontaneous creation. <\/strong>I usually don\u2019t like to know where I am, what I am doing, or where I\u2019m going, even when I know exactly where I\u2019m bound. A rather reckless approach to movement and creation, but that still can open up for sensitivity and playfulness. When some people saw the movement material of my solo, they reviewed it as violent. But then I'm like, okay, but this is also the way I usually move my body. Maybe it\u2019s not the most sustainable method, but it\u2019s a fun one.<\/p><\/div> Of course, the images you are creating are reflecting on inscribed violence on queer and black bodies, but your move movements are not gore at all. I would say they work through the resonance of brutality that is executed on these bodies, but you are not repeating this violence. The way you build up movements that are shadows of stereotypes has nothing vulgar or pornographic. It\u2019s punk!<\/p><\/div>\n Throughout my performances, I've encountered a spectrum of reactions, some of which have been deeply introspective for the audience. On occasion, some individuals have expressed discomfort at perceiving other spectators' objectifying gazes upon me. For me, this is super interesting in how I can work with twisting the gaze, and lightly push the audience to be confronted with the situation, should I watch, should I not, and that there are distorted familiar images that never land a place where you can clearly point out what they are. From my side I\u2019m clearly working with objectification as a way of empowerment, and a generous attempt of opening up multiple layers. That\u2019s what I love with performative situations where some might be uncomfortable, some bored, some emotional, energetic and some horny \u2013 and since we, in this case are, in a totally lit space, we have to deal with those energies together. <\/p> In the fabric of the performance, there are references that may elude the typical contemporary dance audience, and while I don\u2019t expect an audience to catch them, humor is certainly interwoven throughout. Take an instance from a Stockholm show In May, where the recognition of a fragmented dancehall movement \u2013 Dutty Wine \u2013 sparked laughter from an audience member. This moment of shared understanding stood in high contrast to the baffled silence of the rest of the group, who in my perspective, perhaps wondered if laughter was a sign of discomfort. When it happened, I was happy and thinking this is so good! For me, it was an affirmation that the cultural specificities I embedded within the work were resonant for those with the insight to recognize them. I dispelled my concern or fear that the piece might be narrowly interpreted as a portrayal of black queer pain, highlighting instead that the interpretation of dance is heavily rooted in one\u2019s own cultural perspective, references and history.<\/p><\/div> What is an audience for you?<\/p><\/div>\n An audience for me transcends the notion of passive spectators. I envision them as integral components of a collective and assembly that\u2019s engaged in a communal experience. This concept of audience doesn\u2019t necessitate overt interaction or confrontation but rather invites into something hopefully profound and collective. In my works, I usually aim to dissolve the performer-spectator roles, fostering situations where the very act of observing is transformed into an act of shared presence and immersion.<\/p> The dynamic with the audience is a reciprocal exchange of energy, where just being present in various ways can shape the performance. While roles exist, I view the audience more as witnesses. This subtle shift from spectator to witness alters the expectations of the energy and sensitivity invested in the performative situation, demanding more from both me as a performer and everyone involved. Or that is at least has the potential to do that.<\/p><\/div> Can you remember the first piece of art that really matter to you?<\/p><\/div>\n It must be music. While growing up, my dad was always playing records, especially soul\/funk music from the '60-80s, as he earlier worked as a DJ in Florida. I think it really influenced my music taste today, but it also created a certain type of nostalgia that is following me today. But I don't know if I could name a certain dance piece as it's difficult because I feel there are a lot of artists that have been important to me in different times of my life when they had a really big impact. I'm really inspired by people who manage to stay in their own energy and, by that, open up a new world. Norwegian Choreographer Kristin Helgebostad is someone that I really look up to in that sense. And Still Not Still<\/em> by Ligia Lewis is a work I recently witnessed that is still running in my head.<\/p><\/div> Your personal utopia would look like\u2026?<\/p><\/div>\n Not to say the obvious, but my personal utopia would be a place where words and language don\u2019t have that much power.<\/p><\/div> That's a beautiful sentence. Thinking this through a bit, this is also reflected in the fact that you are reappropriating language with the title of your recent piece: Batty Bwoy<\/em>, which is referencing a homophobic Jamaican slang. For me, you create in this piece this absurd being: tender but not afraid of explicit gestures, examining the absurdity of a queer monstrosity. We already touched on your affinity for staging the unknown, which plays into this sphere. People are often demonizing things they don't know in any kind of storytelling. And this leads me to the sound of Batty Bwoy<\/em>, referencing the progressive rock soundtracks of 70ies horror movies.<\/p><\/div>\n It's rather fascinating to reflect on the impact of bands like Goblin, whose music, when mixed with cinematic violence, engenders a reinterpretation of on-screen aggression, distinct from conventional horror scores. This synergy attracted me to almost envisage a queer antagonist or villain within the work \u2014 a concept that seemed incomplete without the complex layers of progressive rock. In pursuit of this texture, I discovered the prog rock band Ring Van Mobius, who had never worked with dance before and asked them to compose the score for the performance. Their compositional style, rich in thematic depth and melodic intricacy, was evident in their preliminary demo, where they also worked with auditive narratives. This\u00a0\u00a0 imaginative sound catalyzed a process that ventured into the ambiguous, and took me and the physical material to a space evaded of clear definition, manifesting in a corporeal form that was not meticulously preconceived. <\/p> Initially, I had a love-hate relationship; it was a mixture of admiration and frustration, yet I was compelled to confront its complexity and assimilate it into my own body. After a while, I recognized that the music's chaotic progression provided a canvas for the dance to evolve, to stay malleable, and to invite new interpretations of prolonged movements and actions. This allowed for a multiplicity of perspectives within the same choreographic sequence, all facilitated by the grandeur of the music. Ultimately, the collaboration unfolded a narrative far more complex and exhilarating than what I initially anticipated, joining difficulty with delight in the creative journey.<\/p><\/div> I also thought about the director Jordan Peele, who uses shock value more to comment or make fun. It's also a bit like a reappropriation of a horror movie.<\/p><\/div>\n Yeah, kind of. A huge inspiration for me is the humor mixed, together with this absurd violence limits, which I find really intriguing and physical for some reason. Like Jordan Peele said in an interview once, the only difference between comedy and horror is the music.<\/p><\/div> Harald Beharie (b. 1992) is a Norwegian-Jamaican performer and choreographer based in Oslo. While applying various formats and contexts, his practice looks into alternative modes of dancing and existing while questioning notions of normativity. His work was presented at ImPulsTanz, Centrale Fies, Les Urbaines, SPRING festival, Utrecht, MDT, Zodiak, Santarcangelo Festival and many others. <\/p> Don't miss his performance \"Batty Bwoy\" at Backslash Festival 2023<\/a> \/ Gessnerallee<\/a>.<\/p><\/div> <\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n In her practice, the tendons of corporeal exposure are stretched into narratives in the making: The You<\/em> as an encounter, the Me<\/em> as rough substance and the dancing Us <\/em>converge, enlivening physical incidents of co-presence.<\/p><\/p><\/div><\/div>\t<\/div>\n\t<\/div>
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Maria Metsalu: The Fleshy Zone Between the Collective and the Individual<\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t