lost in dance, not missing a step scores shechter and strut danc… · tantra is at least partly...

1
14 THE AUSTRALIAN, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 29, 2020 theaustralian.com.au/arts ARTS AUSE01Z60MA - V1 The British Museum finds itself in an uncomfortable position: mounting an exhibition about Tantra, the ancient Indian philos- ophy, while arguing that it is not all about sex. Pop star Sting brought the con- cept of Tantric sex to a new audi- ence when he claimed in the early 1990s the philosophy had enabled him to copulate continuously for “four or five hours”. But he turned a sophisticated, complex and eso- teric set of rites and beliefs about enlightenment and divinity into a source of sniggers. “It’s not about pleasure for its own sake,” the exhibition organ- isers insist, rather frantically. But Tantra is at least partly about sex, which is why visitors will flock to British Museum coyly bares secrets, spreads its naughty bits for all to see this exhibition in their thousands. Because sex is fascinating, particu- larly ancient, illicit and foreign sorts of sex, and the British Mu- seum knows it. Across the centuries it secretly assembled one of the finest collec- tions of sex objects in the world, thanks to a uniquely British com- bination of prudery and prurience. Of all the reasons to keep the museum’s great collection intact, its unparalleled assortment of sex artefacts is up there with the Elgin marbles. So, far from shying away from the subject, the museum should put its long-hidden sex col- lection on permanent display, tell- ing the extraordinary story of sex through the ages and revealing how far attitudes to that ticklish subject have evolved. The British Museum reflected the Victorian approach to sex in all its squirming ambivalence. In 1865, after the passage of the world’s first obscene publications act, the museum locked away its already vast collection of “rude” things, described by curators as “abominable monuments to human licentiousness”. Thus was formed the secret museum, or Secretum, a repository for more than 1200 objects that the arbiters of morality wished to shield from the eyes of women, children and the working classes. Into “Cupboard 55” went im- ages and artefacts relating to copu- lation of every imaginable variety: ancient contraceptives, Far East- ern and Indian erotica, classical vases depicting homosexuality, erotic Japanese shunga prints in- volving octopuses, and a chastity belt of the sort jealous Knights Templar clamped on to their wives when they went off crusading. Many of the objects involved gods getting laid in unacceptable ways: an image of Pan getting all goaty with a goat; a 3000-year-old papyrus depicting auto-fertility in which the deity Geb performs fel- latio on himself (do not try this at home); an innocent-seeming snuff box that opened to reveal an ener- getic couple of deities in flagrante delicto on a long-suffering donkey. Cupboard 55 contained the 16th-century equivalent of The Joy of Sex, engravings of sexual positions (there were 16 in Renais- sance Italy) under the Latin title De omnibus Veneris Schematibus, as well as the oldest sex image ever discovered: an 11,000-year-old carved calcite pebble from the Ju- daean Desert depicting entwined lovers, an object that looks like a pair of testicles from one angle and a phallus from the other. Much of the collection was as- sembled by George Witt, a former mayor of Bedford, who donated 434 phallic objects from around the world that he collected (he claimed, not entirely convinc- ingly) on the theory that all an- cient religions were based on penis worship. Witt probably feared prosecution under the new ob- scenity act. My favourite object from the Secretum is the membership card of the Beggar’s Benison, an 18th- century Scottish dining society of bishops, magistrates and aristo- crats who met at Dreel Castle to plot the Jacobite Rebellion and talk about sex. The president wore a large wig made from the pubic hair of one of Charles II’s mistress- es. At the end of the evening mem- bers measured their members on a pewter plate engraved for the pur- pose. This is what Scottish inde- pendence is all about. For a century only gentlemen scholars of “mature years and sound morals” were allowed to peer inside Cupboard 55. Exhibi- tion to a wider audience, it was feared, would outrage public de- cency, undermine virtue and per- haps bring down the empire. Those Victorian curators were not motivated solely by prudery; the objects were considered indecent but they were also important, in- teresting and in many instances beautiful. And so they were pre- served in the greatest repository of history on earth. Virtually every country in the world has a sex museum, from Ice- land’s Phallological Museum to the faintly alarming Sex Machines Museum in Prague. But there is nothing to compare, in imaginat- ive variety and historical import- ance, to the British Museum’s naughty cupboard. The 1960s changed all that. The objects in Cupboard 55, no longer consid- ered a threat to taste and decorum, were dispersed to other parts of the museum. In 1999 the museum controversially acquired, for £1.8m, the Warren Cup, a Roman silver chalice decorated in relief with two images of male same-sex acts. The acquisition proved, one vicar claimed, that the museum was “staffed by sodomites”, but the Warren Cup is now on permanent display, a stunning work of art inspiring not shock but awe. Today the Secretum is no longer secret and is said to house only a collection of wax penises — Italian votive offerings collected by Sir William Hamilton, famous- ly cuckolded by Admiral Horatio Nelson — and some 18th-century condoms made from animals’ in- testines tied at the top with pink ribbons. Cupboard 55 is almost bare. Today the great collection should be reassembled and displayed in its entirety: Everything You Ever Wanted to See About Sex But Were Too British to Ask. Sting can open it. If he’s not too tired. THE TIMES World’s greatest collection of sex objects should be displayed all together BEN MACINTYRE GETTY A statue of Hindu goddess Kali on display at the museum Exhibition to a wider audience, it was feared, would outrage public decency, undermine virtue and perhaps bring down the empire A joyful tribalism pervades the dance style of Hofesh Shechter. A wildly flailing mass of dancers is powered along by pulsating elec- tronic music — as much Shech- ter’s creation as the dance steps — that almost turns some of his shows into dubstep rock concerts. The Israeli choreographer trained as a percussionist, then as a contemporary dancer with Israel’s famous Batsheva Dance Com- pany, and arrived in Britain as a rock musician. For the past dozen years Shech- ter has created and run his own dance company, based in Brighton but taking his raw, insistent dance style out to the world. Shechter respectfully nomi- nates Batsheva’s founder Ohad Naharin as one of his influences. But clearly everything fuels his an- archic imagination, including side projects with Britain’s Royal Opera choreographing dancers around 35 singers, or setting a Broadway revival of Fiddler on the Roof, where that tribal sensibility is evident in its Jewish wedding dance scenes. The mood darkens for Grand Finale, the sombre tale “of eu- phoria, surrender and doom” that the Hofesh Shechter Company brings this week to the Sydney Opera House following a run at the Adelaide Festival last year. Grand Finale loosely alludes to the sinking of the Titanic, in which the band plays as the ship goes down and the passengers alterna- tively party on and panic. To the discordant twang of Shechter’s electronic score, the dancers’ mouths gape open in silent screams while others are dragged seemingly lifeless across the deck. Speaking from London ahead of his Australian tour, Shechter agrees that the apocalyptic theme is uncomfortably apt after the hor- rific fires of Australia’s summer. “Grand Finale is a much darker work, and the word apocalyptic resonates around the world when- ever it tours. I say very honestly that unfortunately disasters are happening to us all the time. It’s part of what this world is — there’s nowhere safe,” he says. “Grand Finale is facing (the fact) there is no escape from our own personal grand finale. Death is all over it, from poetic to parodic, dead bodies on stage. People have very different responses to that most important question, how we deal with the life-and-death issues that surround us. “The positive side of Grand Fi- nale is that people can digest emo- tions perhaps too dangerous to feel during normal life. That’s what art gives us — the privilege to feel powerful things in a safe envi- ronment.” His company’s Sydney shows will be followed by a veritable Shechterfest featuring his dance works performed by others in Perth and Brisbane. In April, the Australian Dance Collective, for- merly Expressions Dance Com- pany, will perform a triple bill called Three: Lister, Lane, Shech- ter. Artistic director Amy Hollingsworth received Shech- ter’s approval to stage Cult, one of his early dance works that she per- formed during her time as a mem- ber of his company. Before Brisbane, the Perth Fes- tival will stage a Shechterfest of its own. Perth choreographic centre Strut Dance will perform two works, again with Shechter’s bless- ing but the first time a non-main- stream company has been allowed to do so. This coup has its origins in a fruitful friendship that spans nearly 25 years between Strut Dance’s director Paul Selwyn Norton and the younger Shechter. They first met when Shechter had just been accepted into Bat- sheva, where Selwyn Norton was about to create his first major dance piece with the company. Re- calls Shechter: “I really loved Paul’s physical language and the world he was building. I learned much as a young dancer from what Paul did with us. “I followed his career a little bit throughout the years. And then he contacted me and spoke with me about Strut Dance. He spoke in- credibly passionately and I thought it’s a really great project, so I decided to join in.” The Strut Dance project, as conceived by founder Selwyn Norton, is not to run a conven- tional dance company but to cre- ate a choreographic centre where Australian dancers — particularly West Australian ones — can train with the world’s cutting-edge cho- reographers, culminating in per- iodic performances of inter- national standard. “I want to generate opportunit- ies for young dancers coming out of institutions to access great art- ists,” Selwyn Norton says. “Our program is a multi-year program that’s not only about performance but (also) the development and methodology that underpins that.” About 300 dancers from across Australia and the Asia-Pacific re- gion have come to Perth during the past three years for Strut work- shops and performances. Selwyn Norton jokes that he owns “an address book from heav- en” that lists every major chor- eographer he has worked with or met. Batsheva’s Naharin has come to Perth to teach his famous Gaga dance movement, culminating in a Perth Festival performance called Deca Dance; last year British com- pany Punchdrunk and its award- winning choreographer Maxine Doyle worked with local dancers to produce Sunset, an evocative and dreamlike show set in a for- mer asylum. “Every year we invite a new person in, and every year we have a performance of scale in the festi- val,” says Selwyn Norton. Other stellar mentors include Belgium’s Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, whose extraordinary choreo- graphic works range from Paris Opera Ballet to dance sequences for singer Beyonce. Another is Crystal Pite, from William For- sythe’s Ballett Frankfurt, whose work with Strut will culminate in an exclusive Perth Festival show next year. “It also seemed a natural fit to go to the next generation, which is Hofesh,” says Selwyn Norton. “Every young whippersnapper coming out of any training insti- tution wants to dance for his com- pany but you’d have to fly to London normally to do it. And not every dancer has $2000 for air- fares, so we bring them here and embed that practice in Perth.” Shechter says he admires Strut’s approach to bridging the distance from Perth to contem- porary dance scenes in Europe and the US. “It’s really difficult to get to Australia,” he says. “Companies perform but that’s not enough for young dancers starved of meaningful contact. So members of my company have been several times to Australia to teach workshops, and a lot of the same dancers are coming back for this exchange.” The level of trust is such that Shechter handed Strut two of his works for this year’s Perth Festival, Uprising and tHE bAD, with artis- tic input from Hofesh’s “eyes”, his company colleagues Sam Coren and Bruno Guillore. Out of a cast of 12, nine dancers are West Aus- tralians and 10 were trained at the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts. “Uprising is the first work that put the company on the interna- tional map,” Shechter says. “I de- cided to dig deep into the physicality of men, what happens when you put seven men in the room, the playfulness, the spar- ring, the aggressive energy.” He describes the other work as “a bit more of a naughty piece”, and says: “The idea was to try to create a non-structured piece that arrived at some kind of perfect flow but with a sense of chaos to it. “When you walk into a con- temporary dance performance you don’t know what’s going to happen, you don’t know what are the rules. This is a liberating place to be, and the freedom is daunting, but that’s what makes it a highly effective and emotional art form. I’m hoping that contemporary dance will remain kind of lost.” Selwyn Norton says it has been a gift to gain access to Shechter’s repertoire, which will be staged in Perth’s State Theatre Centre courtyard — hence its title, Ho- fesh in the Yard. “I think people are starting to understand how our model operates,” he says. “If they have seen the outcomes for Bat- sheva, for Punchdrunk, they know we work to a high level of excel- lence. We feel blessed that some of the greatest artists of this and last century are willing to come and play with us.” Grand Finale, by the Hofesh Shechter Company, is at the Sydney Opera House from Wednesday to February 2; Hofesh in the Yard, by Strut Dance for the Perth Festival, runs from February 18 to March 1 at the State Theatre Centre Courtyard, Perth; Three: Lister, Lane, Shechter, by the Australian Dance Collective, runs from April 1 to 4 at the Playhouse Theatre, QPAC, Brisbane. The work of Israeli choreographer Hofesh Shechter is coming to Sydney, Perth and Brisbane VICTORIA LAURIE Lost in dance, not missing a step ‘This is a very liberating place to be, and the freedom is daunting’ HOFESH SHECHTER CHOREOGRAPHER Clockwise from main picture, Grand Finale by the Hofesh Shechter Company; Hofesh Shechter; Strut Dance director Paul Selwyn Norton with dancers rehearsing for Hofesh in the Yard ANDREW BEVERIDGE/ADELAIDE FESTIVAL; MITCHELL ALDRIDGE The story of how JS Bach’s choral works all but sank into oblivion, only to be revived by another composer 80 years after his death, is one of the best-known “rediscoveries” in classical music. Now, however, Bach schol- ars have obtained a trove of 250-year-old musical scores that suggest this stirring tale of resurrection is a little too good to be true. Received wisdom has it that before Bach died in 1750 his compositions were largely con- sidered too stuffy, intricate and baroque for the tastes of the day, which tended towards the galant, a simpler and less or- nate style. Not even Bach’s many children bothered to pre- serve the bulk of his manu- scripts. While there was some enthusiasm for his organ and keyboard pieces, elaborate choral works such as the Mass in B Minor were seldom played, even in the Leipzig church whose choir he had directed for 27 years. Then in 1829 Felix Men- delssohn staged a modernised, stripped-down and spectacu- larly successful performance of the St Matthew Passion in Ber- lin, prompting a Bach revival. That, however, may not be quite the whole truth. The Bach Archive in Leipzig has ac- quired a collection of late 18th- century sheet music for the St Matthew Passion, suggest- ing that Bach’s greatest choral masterpiece had never been forgotten. The papers, bought at Sotheby’s in London last year, consist of eight “part books” written for singers performing the oratorio’s final chorus, Wir setzen uns mit Tranen nieder (we sit down and weep). Peter Wollny, the archive’s director, says the manuscripts had been produced in about 1770, about 20 years after Bach’s death, by a Berlin copy- ist called Holstein. Holstein’s customer was the Music-Prac- tising Society, a group of wealthy Berliners who met once a week to play works of music. Wollny suspects this club kept the memory of the oratorio alive until it found its way into Mendelssohn’s hands as a Christmas present from his grandmother, Bella Salomon. This may provide the miss- ing link between the Prussian Bach enthusiasts who played his music after his death and the composer who brought it back to a mass audience 50 years later. “It is absolutely conceivable that Bella knew of the piece from this earlier concert, that she witnessed a performance as a girl or a young woman,” Wollny told the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. THE TIMES Scores shed light on Bach revival OLIVER MOODY His compositions were largely considered too stuffy, intricate and baroque for the tastes of the day

Upload: others

Post on 23-Apr-2020

2 views

Category:

Documents


0 download

TRANSCRIPT

14 THE AUSTRALIAN, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 29, 2020theaustralian.com.au/arts ARTS

AUSE01Z60MA - V1

The British Museum finds itself inan uncomfortable position:mounting an exhibition aboutTantra, the ancient Indian philos-ophy, while arguing that it is not allabout sex.

Pop star Sting brought the con-cept of Tantric sex to a new audi-ence when he claimed in the early1990s the philosophy had enabledhim to copulate continuously for“four or five hours”. But he turneda sophisticated, complex and eso-teric set of rites and beliefs aboutenlightenment and divinity into asource of sniggers.

“It’s not about pleasure for itsown sake,” the exhibition organ-isers insist, rather frantically. ButTantra is at least partly about sex,which is why visitors will flock to

British Museum coyly bares secrets, spreads its naughty bits for all to seethis exhibition in their thousands.Because sex is fascinating, particu-larly ancient, illicit and foreignsorts of sex, and the British Mu-seum knows it.

Across the centuries it secretlyassembled one of the finest collec-tions of sex objects in the world,thanks to a uniquely British com-bination of prudery and prurience.

Of all the reasons to keep themuseum’s great collection intact,its unparalleled assortment of sexartefacts is up there with the Elginmarbles. So, far from shying awayfrom the subject, the museumshould put its long-hidden sex col-lection on permanent display, tell-ing the extraordinary story of sexthrough the ages and revealinghow far attitudes to that ticklishsubject have evolved.

The British Museum reflectedthe Victorian approach to sex in allits squirming ambivalence. In1865, after the passage of theworld’s first obscene publicationsact, the museum locked away itsalready vast collection of “rude”things, described by curators as

“abominable monuments tohuman licentiousness”. Thus wasformed the secret museum, orSecretum, a repository for morethan 1200 objects that the arbitersof morality wished to shield fromthe eyes of women, children andthe working classes.

Into “Cupboard 55” went im-ages and artefacts relating to copu-lation of every imaginable variety:ancient contraceptives, Far East-ern and Indian erotica, classicalvases depicting homosexuality,erotic Japanese shunga prints in-volving octopuses, and a chastitybelt of the sort jealous KnightsTemplar clamped on to their wiveswhen they went off crusading.

Many of the objects involvedgods getting laid in unacceptableways: an image of Pan getting allgoaty with a goat; a 3000-year-oldpapyrus depicting auto-fertility inwhich the deity Geb performs fel-latio on himself (do not try this athome); an innocent-seeming snuffbox that opened to reveal an ener-getic couple of deities in flagrantedelicto on a long-suffering donkey.

Cupboard 55 contained the16th-century equivalent of TheJoy of Sex, engravings of sexualpositions (there were 16 in Renais-sance Italy) under the Latin titleDe omnibus Veneris Schematibus,as well as the oldest sex image everdiscovered: an 11,000-year-oldcarved calcite pebble from the Ju-

daean Desert depicting entwinedlovers, an object that looks like apair of testicles from one angle anda phallus from the other.

Much of the collection was as-sembled by George Witt, a formermayor of Bedford, who donated434 phallic objects from aroundthe world that he collected (he

claimed, not entirely convinc-ingly) on the theory that all an-cient religions were based on penisworship. Witt probably fearedprosecution under the new ob-scenity act.

My favourite object from theSecretum is the membership cardof the Beggar’s Benison, an 18th-century Scottish dining society ofbishops, magistrates and aristo-crats who met at Dreel Castle toplot the Jacobite Rebellion andtalk about sex. The president worea large wig made from the pubichair of one of Charles II’s mistress-es. At the end of the evening mem-bers measured their members on apewter plate engraved for the pur-pose. This is what Scottish inde-pendence is all about.

For a century only gentlemenscholars of “mature years andsound morals” were allowed topeer inside Cupboard 55. Exhibi-tion to a wider audience, it wasfeared, would outrage public de-cency, undermine virtue and per-haps bring down the empire.Those Victorian curators were not

motivated solely by prudery; theobjects were considered indecentbut they were also important, in-teresting and in many instancesbeautiful. And so they were pre-served in the greatest repository ofhistory on earth.

Virtually every country in theworld has a sex museum, from Ice-land’s Phallological Museum tothe faintly alarming Sex MachinesMuseum in Prague. But there isnothing to compare, in imaginat-ive variety and historical import-ance, to the British Museum’snaughty cupboard. The 1960schanged all that. The objects inCupboard 55, no longer consid-ered a threat to taste and decorum,

were dispersed to other parts of themuseum. In 1999 the museumcontroversially acquired, for£1.8m, the Warren Cup, a Romansilver chalice decorated in reliefwith two images of male same-sexacts. The acquisition proved, onevicar claimed, that the museumwas “staffed by sodomites”, but theWarren Cup is now on permanentdisplay, a stunning work of artinspiring not shock but awe.

Today the Secretum is nolonger secret and is said to houseonly a collection of wax penises —Italian votive offerings collectedby Sir William Hamilton, famous-ly cuckolded by Admiral HoratioNelson — and some 18th-centurycondoms made from animals’ in-testines tied at the top with pinkribbons.

Cupboard 55 is almost bare.Today the great collection shouldbe reassembled and displayed in itsentirety: Everything You EverWanted to See About Sex ButWere Too British to Ask. Sting canopen it. If he’s not too tired.

THE TIMES

World’s greatest collection of sex objects should be displayed all together

BEN MACINTYRE

GETTY

A statue of Hindu goddess Kali on display at the museum

Exhibition to a wider audience, it was feared, wouldoutrage public decency, undermine virtue and perhaps bringdown the empire

A joyful tribalism pervades thedance style of Hofesh Shechter. Awildly flailing mass of dancers ispowered along by pulsating elec-tronic music — as much Shech-ter’s creation as the dance steps —that almost turns some of hisshows into dubstep rock concerts.

The Israeli choreographertrained as a percussionist, then as acontemporary dancer with Israel’sfamous Batsheva Dance Com-pany, and arrived in Britain as arock musician.

For the past dozen years Shech-ter has created and run his owndance company, based in Brightonbut taking his raw, insistent dancestyle out to the world.

Shechter respectfully nomi-nates Batsheva’s founder OhadNaharin as one of his influences.But clearly everything fuels his an-archic imagination, including sideprojects with Britain’s RoyalOpera choreographing dancersaround 35 singers, or setting aBroadway revival of Fiddler on theRoof, where that tribal sensibilityis evident in its Jewish weddingdance scenes.

The mood darkens for GrandFinale, the sombre tale “of eu-phoria, surrender and doom” thatthe Hofesh Shechter Companybrings this week to the SydneyOpera House following a run atthe Adelaide Festival last year.

Grand Finale loosely alludes tothe sinking of the Titanic, in whichthe band plays as the ship goesdown and the passengers alterna-tively party on and panic. To thediscordant twang of Shechter’selectronic score, the dancers’mouths gape open in silentscreams while others are draggedseemingly lifeless across the deck.

Speaking from London aheadof his Australian tour, Shechteragrees that the apocalyptic themeis uncomfortably apt after the hor-rific fires of Australia’s summer.“Grand Finale is a much darkerwork, and the word apocalypticresonates around the world when-ever it tours. I say very honestlythat unfortunately disasters arehappening to us all the time. It’s

part of what this world is — there’snowhere safe,” he says.

“Grand Finale is facing (thefact) there is no escape from ourown personal grand finale. Deathis all over it, from poetic to parodic,dead bodies on stage. People havevery different responses to thatmost important question, how wedeal with the life-and-death issuesthat surround us.

“The positive side of Grand Fi-nale is that people can digest emo-tions perhaps too dangerous tofeel during normal life. That’swhat art gives us — the privilege tofeel powerful things in a safe envi-ronment.”

His company’s Sydney showswill be followed by a veritableShechterfest featuring his danceworks performed by others inPerth and Brisbane. In April, theAustralian Dance Collective, for-merly Expressions Dance Com-pany, will perform a triple billcalled Three: Lister, Lane, Shech-ter. Artistic director AmyHollingsworth received Shech-ter’s approval to stage Cult, one ofhis early dance works that she per-formed during her time as a mem-ber of his company.

Before Brisbane, the Perth Fes-tival will stage a Shechterfest of itsown. Perth choreographic centreStrut Dance will perform twoworks, again with Shechter’s bless-ing but the first time a non-main-stream company has been allowedto do so. This coup has its origins ina fruitful friendship that spansnearly 25 years between StrutDance’s director Paul SelwynNorton and the younger Shechter.

They first met when Shechterhad just been accepted into Bat-sheva, where Selwyn Norton wasabout to create his first majordance piece with the company. Re-calls Shechter: “I really lovedPaul’s physical language and theworld he was building. I learned

much as a young dancer fromwhat Paul did with us.

“I followed his career a little bitthroughout the years. And then hecontacted me and spoke with meabout Strut Dance. He spoke in-credibly passionately and Ithought it’s a really great project,so I decided to join in.”

The Strut Dance project, asconceived by founder SelwynNorton, is not to run a conven-tional dance company but to cre-ate a choreographic centre whereAustralian dancers — particularlyWest Australian ones — can trainwith the world’s cutting-edge cho-reographers, culminating in per-iodic performances of inter-national standard.

“I want to generate opportunit-ies for young dancers coming outof institutions to access great art-ists,” Selwyn Norton says. “Ourprogram is a multi-year programthat’s not only about performancebut (also) the development andmethodology that underpinsthat.”

About 300 dancers from acrossAustralia and the Asia-Pacific re-

gion have come to Perth duringthe past three years for Strut work-shops and performances.

Selwyn Norton jokes that heowns “an address book from heav-en” that lists every major chor-eographer he has worked with ormet. Batsheva’s Naharin has cometo Perth to teach his famous Gagadance movement, culminating in aPerth Festival performance calledDeca Dance; last year British com-pany Punchdrunk and its award-winning choreographer MaxineDoyle worked with local dancersto produce Sunset, an evocativeand dreamlike show set in a for-mer asylum.

“Every year we invite a newperson in, and every year we havea performance of scale in the festi-val,” says Selwyn Norton.

Other stellar mentors includeBelgium’s Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui,whose extraordinary choreo-graphic works range from ParisOpera Ballet to dance sequencesfor singer Beyonce. Another isCrystal Pite, from William For-sythe’s Ballett Frankfurt, whosework with Strut will culminate in

an exclusive Perth Festival shownext year.

“It also seemed a natural fit togo to the next generation, which isHofesh,” says Selwyn Norton.“Every young whippersnappercoming out of any training insti-tution wants to dance for his com-pany but you’d have to fly toLondon normally to do it. And notevery dancer has $2000 for air-fares, so we bring them here andembed that practice in Perth.”

Shechter says he admiresStrut’s approach to bridging thedistance from Perth to contem-porary dance scenes in Europe andthe US. “It’s really difficult to get toAustralia,” he says.

“Companies perform but that’snot enough for young dancersstarved of meaningful contact. Somembers of my company havebeen several times to Australia toteach workshops, and a lot of thesame dancers are coming back forthis exchange.”

The level of trust is such thatShechter handed Strut two of hisworks for this year’s Perth Festival,Uprising and tHE bAD, with artis-

tic input from Hofesh’s “eyes”, hiscompany colleagues Sam Corenand Bruno Guillore. Out of a castof 12, nine dancers are West Aus-tralians and 10 were trained at theWestern Australian Academy ofPerforming Arts.

“Uprising is the first work thatput the company on the interna-tional map,” Shechter says. “I de-cided to dig deep into thephysicality of men, what happenswhen you put seven men in theroom, the playfulness, the spar-ring, the aggressive energy.”

He describes the other work as“a bit more of a naughty piece”,and says: “The idea was to try tocreate a non-structured piece thatarrived at some kind of perfectflow but with a sense of chaos to it.

“When you walk into a con-temporary dance performanceyou don’t know what’s going tohappen, you don’t know what arethe rules. This is a liberating placeto be, and the freedom is daunting,but that’s what makes it a highlyeffective and emotional art form.I’m hoping that contemporarydance will remain kind of lost.”

Selwyn Norton says it has beena gift to gain access to Shechter’srepertoire, which will be staged inPerth’s State Theatre Centrecourtyard — hence its title, Ho-fesh in the Yard. “I think people arestarting to understand how ourmodel operates,” he says. “If theyhave seen the outcomes for Bat-sheva, for Punchdrunk, they knowwe work to a high level of excel-lence. We feel blessed that some ofthe greatest artists of this and lastcentury are willing to come andplay with us.”

Grand Finale, by the Hofesh Shechter Company, is at the Sydney Opera House from Wednesday to February 2; Hofesh in the Yard, by Strut Dance for the Perth Festival, runs from February 18 to March 1 at the State Theatre Centre Courtyard, Perth; Three: Lister, Lane, Shechter, by the Australian Dance Collective, runs from April 1 to 4 at the Playhouse Theatre, QPAC, Brisbane.

The work of Israeli choreographer Hofesh Shechter is coming to Sydney, Perth and Brisbane

VICTORIA LAURIE

Lost in dance, not missing a step

‘This is a very liberating place tobe, and the freedom is daunting’

HOFESH SHECHTERCHOREOGRAPHER

Clockwise from main picture, Grand Finale by the Hofesh Shechter Company; Hofesh Shechter; Strut Dance director Paul Selwyn Norton with dancers rehearsing for Hofesh in the Yard

ANDREW BEVERIDGE/ADELAIDE

FESTIVAL; MITCHELL ALDRIDGE

The story of how JS Bach’schoral works all but sank intooblivion, only to be revived byanother composer 80 yearsafter his death, is one of thebest-known “rediscoveries” inclassical music.

Now, however, Bach schol-ars have obtained a trove of250-year-old musical scoresthat suggest this stirring tale ofresurrection is a little too goodto be true.

Received wisdom has it thatbefore Bach died in 1750 hiscompositions were largely con-sidered too stuffy, intricate andbaroque for the tastes of theday, which tended towards thegalant, a simpler and less or-nate style. Not even Bach’smany children bothered to pre-serve the bulk of his manu-scripts. While there was someenthusiasm for his organ andkeyboard pieces, elaboratechoral works such as the Massin B Minor were seldomplayed, even in the Leipzigchurch whose choir he haddirected for 27 years.

Then in 1829 Felix Men-delssohn staged a modernised,stripped-down and spectacu-larly successful performance ofthe St Matthew Passion in Ber-lin, prompting a Bach revival.

That, however, may not bequite the whole truth. The

Bach Archive in Leipzig has ac-quired a collection of late 18th-century sheet music for theSt Matthew Passion, suggest-ing that Bach’s greatest choralmasterpiece had never beenforgotten.

The papers, bought atSotheby’s in London last year,consist of eight “part books”written for singers performingthe oratorio’s final chorus, Wirsetzen uns mit Tranen nieder(we sit down and weep).

Peter Wollny, the archive’sdirector, says the manuscriptshad been produced in about1770, about 20 years afterBach’s death, by a Berlin copy-ist called Holstein. Holstein’scustomer was the Music-Prac-tising Society, a group ofwealthy Berliners who metonce a week to play works ofmusic. Wollny suspects thisclub kept the memory of theoratorio alive until it found itsway into Mendelssohn’s handsas a Christmas present from hisgrandmother, Bella Salomon.

This may provide the miss-ing link between the PrussianBach enthusiasts who playedhis music after his death andthe composer who brought itback to a mass audience 50years later.

“It is absolutely conceivablethat Bella knew of the piecefrom this earlier concert, thatshe witnessed a performanceas a girl or a young woman,”Wollny told the FrankfurterAllgemeine Zeitung.

THE TIMES

Scores shed light on Bach revivalOLIVER MOODY

His compositionswere largely considered too stuffy, intricate and baroque for the tastes of the day