A Dance of Darkness That Sheds Light Too

Subversive. Dangerous. Angst-ridden. These adjectives characterize butoh , the avant-garde Japanese dance form that grew out of that nation’s response to the bombing of Hiroshima. Loosely translated, butoh means “dance of darkness.” Drawing on the ancient forms of Kabuki and Noh (notably in their adaptation of the grotesque), butoh’s founders, nonagenarian Kazuo Ohno and the late Tatsumi Hijikata (he died of cancer in 1986), were also reacting to--and rejecting--Japanese assimilation of Western style, including German and American modern dance.

A butoh progenitor and celebrated pioneer in his own right, Min Tanaka, born in 1945 near Tokyo, also studied ballet and modern dance. He too found himself doubting those art forms, and after attending a series of Hijikata butoh performances in 1972, Tanaka abandoned modern dance to search for his own mode of expression, honing, along the way, skills learned from the master.

What Tanaka found has resulted in a lengthy career marked by startling, often extraordinary performances, where an excruciatingly slow movement vocabulary, a silent scream, and white-painted faces and bodies reign. Indeed, Tanaka performed naked on a street in Ginza--one of Tokyo’s most sophisticated commercial areas--culminating in a 1977 arrest; he founded his own company, Maijuku, in 1981, touring the world for 16 years; and he has collaborated with the likes of writer Susan Sontag, musician Meredith Monk, and visual artist Richard Serra.

A frequent performer in New York (he has a lifetime contract to give annual concerts at the P.S. 122 performance space), Tanaka has appeared in L.A. only twice--first in the early 1980s, then in 1995, in a solo performance that The Times’ Lewis Segal praised for its “unsparing intensity.”

On Friday, the dancer-choreographer brings his newest company, Tokason, to L.A.’s Japan America Theatre for the U.S. premiere of “Caprice: Guests From the Dark.” Inspired by Goya’s etchings “Los Caprichos,” “Guests From the Dark” is one of a series of Tokason dance theater pieces based on these 80 works depicting everyday life and people in 18th century Spain. The 65-minute performance will climax with a separate 15-minute piece outside on the plaza, under a full moon, in a collaborative effort with Los Angeles Zen archery master/performance artist Hirokazu Kosaka.

Tanaka spoke by phone, via translator, from Body Weather, his 5-acre working farm and dance studio, which has been home and training ground to more than 500 dancers.

Question: In 1981, when you formed Maijuku, you also opened a performance studio, Plan B. Hijikata had stopped performing by that time, but came to see you dance and asked, “Can you become shorter?” What did he mean by that remark?

Answer: I have to clarify what he said in Japanese--we’re not talking about actual measure so much [Tanaka is 6 feet tall], but talking more about a person, some sense of humbleness and [the ability to] belittle oneself. That particular word, “belittle,” [means] I am trying to not merely depend on power or force, but to [be open] and continue searching for dance. It has stayed with me because Hijikata is not dead for me.

Q: Why did Maijuku disband in 1997 and what was the impetus to form Tokason last year?

A: The institutionalization was bothering me, so we dissolved. My motivation for forming Tokason was this: [The name] is a fictional village [Plum Arcadia, in English] that comes from a book of essays [by poet Issui Yoshida], and in this village, we have no choice but to live our own way. It’s the individual’s responsibility to make everything work versus [being] part of a big organization [where] you depend on someone else.

Q: Tokason is multinational, with dancers from Brazil, the United States and Spain as well as Japan. You’re bringing four out of the company’s 10 dancers with you, one from New York. Some believe non-Asians cannot authentically dance butoh . What are your thoughts?

A: [I don’t like] the word, “multinational,” rather I would say it has to be open to anyone, because everybody has the right to participate. When people of different backgrounds--be it cultural or social--come together, naturally there are misunderstandings, [and] it’s important to accept those different elements.

Some people consider dance [as] bodies moving, something clearly visible. To me, dance includes a lot of things invisible. Sometimes a person laying on the bed is a butoh dancer, so, of course, anyone from any country can be a butoh dancer.

Q: In 1994 you were inspired by artist Edvard Munch to create “Dance of Life” with a group of Norwegian dancers that premiered at Norway’s Olympic Cultural Festival. Now you’ve made a work based on Goya. What was the genesis of “Caprice”? What can we expect to see and hear?

A: Munch had no order--he just painted. I understand that and used it. I [also] understand Goya doubted the established sense of people’s beauty. If you look at [the subjects in] his “Caprichos,” there are many that are considered ugly, deformed. The concept of not being in the mainstream, I get attracted to or feel sympathy for.

We have been performing the Goya pieces for more than a year and a half. [This one] will not be a piece where you remember a certain etching. It’s in a way deconstructed and reconstructed again. When you see a certain dancer, you may be reminded of three or four etchings together, or maybe one person or character in the etching may be interacting with another.

I’m bringing a musician [who plays] an electronic instrument. Many different sound sources have been recorded on minidiscs, and he will combine those onstage. Every time I perform the Goya, it’s different. For me, the piece will be born only on-site. I have to be there, feel the theater, then give birth to a new piece.

Q: Kosaka said his installation, which will be mounted on the plaza while your performance occurs inside, has little to do with Goya, but you agreed to what he has in mind, which will involve a powerful searchlight, rice and sheets of vinyl. The installation will be completely new to you. How do you know what you’ll do with it, and how will it fit in with what the audience will have just seen?

A: Kosaka and I met and talked about the piece. In Spain, they’ve been eating rice for a long time. As a matter of fact, I love paella, so I think there’s a connection with his installation--using rice stalks--and my piece.

For me, the first challenge is to make the presentation of dance onstage, or wherever performed, and the second factor is my being, my life. When I look at other presentational performing arts, mostly they are very separated. What goes onstage has nothing to do with offstage life. For me, that’s not my dance. I have to make the two aspects close. My way of life should be one with what I perform and that is my constant challenge--onstage and [as part of] the installation.

Q: How long do you plan on dancing, and do you feel a responsibility to pass butoh down to yet another generation?

A: Next year I will be 57. This is the age Hijikata passed away. I feel at the same age I have not yet reached to his footsteps. I have to think about dancing another 20 years. I feel I was given a power--dance--to continue thinking what the world is about. In this sense, it’s important that a younger generation continue that kind of thinking.

I support that, but not specifically the responsibility of handing down butoh . Butoh to me is not a category of dance, [but] more a way of life. I sometimes feel like I’ve got it, I found it, but then one moment after, it goes far away. *

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“CAPRICE: GUESTS FROM THE DARK,” Japan America Theatre, 244 S. San Pedro St., L.A. Date: Friday, 8 p.m. Price: $12-$20. Phone: (213) 680-3700.