Butoh Program Rewards in Final Moments

You either have the patience for butoh aesthetics or not, but once you slow down to watch bodies unfold or crumple or gingerly walk in this Japanese-born genre of contemporary dance, you hope it repays your attention. Sometimes, the carefully created images--often subtle, usually enigmatic--have a poetic force that suddenly strikes the right note.

So it happened with Oguri, as he was slowly writhing underneath a milky plastic floor covering at the Electric Lodge in Venice on Sunday afternoon. By turning and tumbling, he gathered the heavy translucent material around him, until it seemed as if he were being majestically digested by an unknown galaxy. How vulnerable yet active he looked, how tossed about in the universe--a pathetic human, but, it had to be noted, one who was meticulously crafting his fate.

This was near the end of a 45-minute duet with guest artist Christine Quoiraud, who danced with Oguri in Min Tanaka’s company during the 1980s in Japan and now lives in France. Called “the city is always bigger than you think,” the piece had few arresting moments before Oguri’s plastic maelstrom.

Careful walking, abrupt jumping and falling, and some umbrella play all went by without creating much interest. Music (by Clocked Out Duo) that sounded like a menacing polyphony of kitchen utensils and a few faraway conversations was heard. And video of the 10-day workshop that preceded this piece (students learning to walk with awareness) was projected in the dark onto plywood strips held by a few of the workshop participants.

But only the last few minutes were truly arresting--Oguri under wraps and then Quoiraud, letting a large crumpled piece of tissue unfold in front of her. A projected slide of what looked like a shower of tiny petals danced on its quivering surfaces.

Sometimes, as a haiku might conclude, a few moments work.