Akram Khan's 'Kathak' a dynamic dance

By Mehru Jaffer

JAKARTA (JP): If the flick of a wrist and a few pirouettes were capable of an explosion then Gedung Kesenian Jakarta would now be in smithereens, so energetic was the performance of Akram Khan who danced there at Indonesia's third international Art Summit of contemporary performing arts.

All the electricity in Khan's dancing made his audience burst into goose pimples as it sat on edge, watching with both mouth and eyes wide open.

Khan's trump card is to communicate all the enthusiasm he is feeling instantly to the audience. To witness him swirl on stage, his torso resembling a top, sprinkling so much ecstasy around him is like sitting before a Sufi dervish in motion.

The power of his performances also comes from the fact that he is so young. He is only 27 years old, but with decades of rigorous training behind him in Kathak, one of the classical dance forms of north India. In fact, Khan has been dancing for as long as he can remember.

At the age of three he was already on stage, giving informal performances of Bengali folk dances.

Khan is of Bangladeshi origin, born in London and took a graduate degree in contemporary dance, after being tutored by guru Sri Pratap Pawar in Kathak from the age of eight.

Far from being confused or full of awe, the different influences in his life have only enriched the work of the youthful dancer and choreographer. He seems to have derived much strength and security from the fact that he has so many more resources at his disposal into which he can dip for inspiration.

Khan comes to Jakarta with a small band of seven, an interesting melange of dancers, musicians and technicians with different backgrounds. Gwyn Emberton is Welsh and Moya Michael is South African. They are both contemporary dancers who have been taught the basics of the Kathak dance by Khan.

The three performed together in a 30-minute piece called Rush. Here Khan makes maximum use of body language to explore the adrenalin that keeps people going, whether it is in a city that never sleeps like London, or those who paratroop from breathtaking heights for sport. The piece is danced with great speed, with some amazing movements choreographed just for the arms, to music by Andy Cowton who incorporates the half-time beat as a basic structure.

In Loose in Flight, a five-minute solo, Khan uses the music of Indonesian composer Anggie Atmadjaja to bring out the playfulness of the Hindu deity Krishna, making cheeky attempts to defy some of the mathematical precision imposed upon classical dance. The use of individual imagination by all those involved is very obvious, as opposed to blind imitation of the classical arts, be it dance or music.

Neither do traditions clash with modernity in Khan's art. Rather, classicism is liberally used to enrich contemporary art and life. What endears Khan most to classical Kathak is the continuous energy of the dance form that is depicted by repeated circular movements.

But within that continuity of movement he also finds moments of deep calm. This search for stillness in the midst of so much rhythmic race is what defines Khan's work at the moment.

And he takes from classicism what he requires in his contemporary life, without an iota of self-consciousness. He disrobes his performances of all shimmering and glittering costumes in gaudy colors, used traditionally by Kathak dancers in ancient times to perform at temple festivals and later in the courts of both Muslim and Hindu rulers of northern India. He exchanges them for simple-cut outfits in pitch black, a color that youngsters today find so chic.

While the glamorous getup of the dancers in ancient times served precisely to create a distance between the performer and audience, to create an illusion that the stage was not really of this world, the use of more realistic props and symbols by contemporary art is an attempt to stay as close as possible to what is here and now.

It is for the same reason perhaps that none of his dancers uses makeup, leaving the eyes to shine with the sheer excitement of being able to express themselves, while the body glistens and glows at the simple joy of being able to move every muscle on stage.

Since these artistes perform in different corners of the world the live orchestra of about half a dozen people that traditionally accompanies a classical performance is replaced by recorded music and much of the drama unfolding on stage is highlighted also by the imaginative use of sophisticated lighting effects. The result is a real high, just like Rush.

Khan's last performance here is on Sept. 14 at Gedung Kesenian Jakarta, at 8 pm.