What This Graham Star Learned from Training in Martial Arts for a New Akram Khan-Choreographed Show
When dancers kick their legs, they typically try to avoid hitting their colleagues. But the performers in the upcoming show Dragon Spring Phoenix Rise, choreographed by Akram Khan, have had to train to do just the opposite.
"It's not a grand battement. You're kicking someone's face. It has to have intention," says Martha Graham Dance Company star PeiJu Chien-Pott, who plays the role of Xiao Lian, a mother fighting to protect her family.
At the same time, the trick of performing martial arts onstage is, of course, to not actually hurt the other person. To pull this off convincingly, the six lead performers recently spent two weeks in Beijing training with a kung fu master. Chien-Pott shared with Dance Magazine what she got took away from the experience.
PeiJu Chien-Pott rehearsing in Beijing, with director Chen Shi-Zheng and martial arts assistant, Child G, in the background.
An Rong Xu
Becoming One with a Knife
The type of martial arts she studied is called bagua, which was developed in the mountains of China.
"Each of the main characters has a different superpower, different weapons that he or she's good at," says Chien-Pott. "My weapon is a long, metal knife. Ideally, I'll make it look like part of my limb."
The show's director Chen Shi-Zheng and master martial arts choreographer Yuen Woo-Ping sent her a video from 1983 of a woman moving so fluidly that the knife looks like it weighs no more than a feather. "That's my reference—that's my goal."
What She's Learned
It turns out that kung fu is ultimately less physical than Chien-Pott assumed.
"It's about speed and control and eye contact," she says. "The master told me that eye contact takes 60 percent of the effort, the body movement takes 40 percent. It's about pulling the audience in with intention and strong focus."
Chien-Pott realized it's also about taking pauses between movements to breathe and let the audience digest what just happened. "Learning this technique taught me to be patient; naturally, I always want to keep moving. But then it just looks like messy street fighting."
The training didn't come easily: Over the course of two weeks in Beijing, Chien-Pott sprained both an inner thigh muscle and an ankle.
The other unexpected difficulty? Getting her knife back home. "Well before even entering the airport I was called and asked, what is that for?" (She ended up having to wrap it with towels and ship it back to New Jersey).
The bulk of rehearsals for the production don't start until May (for a July premiere), so in the meantime, Chien-Pott is practicing sequences on her own to increase her arm and wrist strength, and to maintain the martial arts movements in her muscle memory.
But she's not done learning new skills. Next up? Aerial silks.
In the middle of one of New York City Center's cavernous studios, Misty Copeland takes a measured step backwards. The suggestion of a swan arm ripples before she turns downstage, chest and shoulders unfurling as her legs stretch into an open lunge. She piqués onto pointe, arms echoing the sinuous curve of her back attitude, then walks out of it, pausing to warily look over her shoulder. As the droning of Ryuichi Sakamoto and Alva Noto's mysterious "Attack/Transition" grows more insistent, her feet start to fly with a rapidity that seems to almost startle her.
And then she stops mid-phrase. Copeland's hands fall to her hips as she apologizes. Choreographer Kyle Abraham slides to the sound system to pause the music, giving Copeland a moment to remind herself of a recent change to the sequence.
"It's different when the sound's on!" he reassures her. "And it's a lot of changes."
The day before was the first time Abraham had seen Copeland dance the solo in its entirety, and the first moment they were in the studio together in a month. This is their last rehearsal, save for tech, before the premiere of Ash exactly one week later, as part of the opening night of City Center's Fall for Dance festival.
Back in 2011 when Joe Lanteri first approached Katie Langan, chair of Marymount Manhattan College's dance department, about getting involved with New York City Dance Alliance, she was skeptical about the convention/competition world.
"But I was pleasantly surprised by the enormity of talent that was there," she says. "His goal was to start scholarship opportunities, and I said okay, I'm in."
Today, it's fair to say that Lanteri has far surpassed his goal of creating scholarship opportunities. But NYCDA has done so much more, bridging the gap between the convention world and the professional world by forging a wealth of partnerships with dance institutions from Marymount to The Ailey School to Complexions Contemporary Ballet and many more. There's a reason these companies and schools—some of whom otherwise may not see themselves as aligned with the convention/competition world—keep deepening their relationships with NYCDA.
Now, college scholarships are just one of many ways NYCDA has gone beyond the typical weekend-long convention experience and created life-changing opportunities for students. We rounded up some of the most notable ones:
Dancers are understandably obsessed with food. In both an aesthetic and athletic profession, you know you're judged on your body shape, but you need proper fuel to perform your best. Meanwhile, you're inundated with questionable diet advice.
"My 'favorite' was the ABC diet," says registered dietitian nutritionist Kristin Koskinen, who trained in dance seriously but was convinced her body type wouldn't allow her to pursue it professionally. "On the first day you eat only foods starting with the letter A, on the second day only B, and so on."
"The show must go on" may be a platitude we use to get through everything from costume malfunctions to stormy moods. But when it came to overcoming a literal hurricane, Houston Ballet was buoyed by this mantra to go from devastated to dancing in a matter of weeks—with the help of Harlequin Floors, Houston Ballet's longstanding partner who sprang into action to build new floors in record time.