OnenessButoh
journey with eyes wide open
articles & interviews
Interview with Lipton Mah
September 2015
When and why did you start studying Butoh?
It was in 2006 shortly after my mother passed away. Until then, I was holding a full-time job while taking care of her. Taking care of one’s surviving parent is one of the most difficult and emotional things a person can do. When my mother finally died, I felt a mixture of grief, relief, and guilt.
As to why I started studying Butoh, I can't pinpoint a particular reason. I lived an extremely closed life. I always kept parts of who I was in check, including my sexuality. Much of my life has been seeking the approval of others. I grew up very insecure about who I was, and whether I was a good person. My family was very strict and traditional. If I didn’t do well in school, or didn’t greet relatives in the traditional way, I was shamed into thinking I was disrespectful and worthless. As a child, I learned it was best to fake it by putting on a mask. This seemed to stop the constant character judgments that I perceived as personal attacks. As a gay person, this mask-wearing survival skill followed me into manhood. I had hoped, as an adult, I’d be free of judgment and could finally be myself. Instead, it was the opposite. I had relied on these masks for so long, they’d become a part of me--in the worst way. I could no longer separate the outer identity with who I was inside.
When I took my first Butoh class, I was very nervous. But the openness and palpable support of Judy and the other students made it safe to drop the layers of protection I’d built up over the years.
One stereotype about gay men is that we’re drawn to the melodrama of the arts, specifically opera. For me, this makes perfect sense. We’ve spent an entire life holding back emotions. Then we experience an art form filled with high drama, love, death, and passion, and we can't help but be drawn to it.
After everything had settled at home, I started looking for something new just for myself. My grieving had opened up new emotions—emotions that had been bottled up for so long. Was there an artistic channel that could further that connection? Butoh happened to be it.
From your personal point of view, what is Butoh?
Butoh is a dance form that forces me to reach inwardly to bring forth a mood or story. That mood or story is then conveyed through my body. Instead of words, I find subtle gestures, unexpected movement or stillness to draw in the viewer. The viewer then becomes a willing and interested participant.
I remember what Judy always calls my "breakout" moment. I was partnered with a wonderful performer named Laurie. The exact exercise is fuzzy but the interplay of the storyline between us was so strong that--with Judy's literal in-your-face coaching--my entire body became extremely tense, a sweat broke out, and my face became flushed. It was an intense moment of authentic dance, and a raw experience that I’ll never forget.
The Poetry of Angel Island was your first solo. How was that experience?
I have mixed feelings about my first solo. I felt extreme pressure and responsibility to respectfully pay homage to those who came through Angel Island.
When I did my first version at the Oakland Asian Cultural Center, the primary audience was people who actually went through the immigration experience. To my surprise, some were extremely moved by my solo. It felt so good to connect, through Butoh, with those who had the same history as my parents and grandparents.
For the second version at our OB Showcase, the flaws and weaknesses that were passable at OACC now had to be addressed. For the first version, I thought I had given emotionally all I could. For the second version, Judy asked me to reach down even deeper. I worried that I couldn’t increase the dramatic, emotional levels of helplessness, despair, longing and acceptance. Because Judy also asked Nina and Kiyono (two OB members) to perform percussion and voice during the piece, I had to take the lead. It was my responsibility to decide when sounds should occur, and when there should be silence. Though the poems, which inspired the piece, were written by men, I fought hard with Judy that there should be BOTH a male and female narrator for the bilingual reading of the poems. I knew that immigrant women suffered as much as men through abusive relationships and male-centric cultural dominance. Standing up for what I believed made this piece more authentic for me.
What have you learned about yourself from studying Butoh?
The most important thing I've learned is that, in spite of life's ups and downs, I came out "ok".
One of my friends recently started injecting steroids. I’ve always thought he had a great body, looked fine, and was very sexy, especially given his outgoing personality. Instead, when he looks into the mirror, he doesn't see a sexy guy. He still sees a fat, unattractive guy from 15 years ago, and doesn't like what HE sees.
When my Butoh training first began, delving into my deepest emotions was very difficult. I would often fall back into one of my protective "masks". In Butoh, you can default to a typical "theatrical gesture", facial expression, body pose, or stereotype--something familiar. But this is not your authentic, unique self. My theatrical role had become "the giver”, “the nurse", “the one who cares for and comforts others”, but never takes for himself. In life, people judge your worth and esteem by this archetype role. But, in reality, you have merely put on a mask.
For my friend--who doesn't like what he sees in the mirror--it may be easier to change his physical body rather than discover and understand why he doesn't like what he sees—or, even more difficult, to accept who he is today.
For me, Butoh has made me realize that, as a "giver", I must start giving to myself.
Training helps reconcile experiences and feelings, and detachment becomes a byproduct. Though I want to convey my true self in my dance, I must not let the emotion take hold of me. Butoh is a dance to be shared; however, the stage is not meant for personal therapy. I’m a better dancer when I’ve made peace with myself and my personal issues. Butoh gives me the confidence to try new ways to dance, to tell new stories, and to actively draw from my life experiences.
In all my years of training, I’ve never felt the need to dance about anger. When I’m in the studio, I feel a sense of elevation, of knowing that whatever emotions come, they’ll happen in a positive way. I’ve learned to honor all parts of myself—the good and “bad”.
I recall a time I encountered conflict between myself and another dancer (dancer #1). There was a rift between us made apparent through our communication, or lack thereof. We were working in teams to choreograph a piece. When I tried to explain the steps to dancer #1, she stopped me, saying she couldn't understand a thing I was saying. She then asked dancer #2 to explain, and dancer #2 said the very same thing I had said! All of a sudden, dancer #1 understood and thanked dancer #2 for the help. If there was ever a time when I felt dissed, this was it. But I didn't react with anger nor hostility. I accepted dancer #1 for whatever she brought into the studio, and I let it go.
Entering the Butoh space is very special to me, similar to a martial arts dojo. Upon entering the studio, by taking a simple pledge to leave my negativity at the door--whether towards another person, situation or self (especially self!)--is very empowering.
How has Butoh most challenged you?
One of the greatest challenges growing up in the closet is the fear of discovery, of being outed. To diffuse any perception that I was gay, I put on a mask of super-confident masculinity. The downside of wearing that mask bred hostile resentment towards anything effeminate. Certain people became the objects of my resentment, and I chose to avoid those people to the extreme.
This is a clear case of self-hatred. Even now, it's a touchy subject among my gay friends. It hardly ever comes up in discussion, most likely because of the deep feelings and experiences bottled up in each of us.
One day I’d like to create a dance that movingly conveys this practice of inner conflict and self-hatred, and its long lasting ripple effect on self and others. This would require a lot of self-reflection that may open up past wounds. Butoh has the framework to create such a piece, as it requires me to carefully release and confront my layers of anger, shame and regret. This is the most challenging aspect of performing Butoh.
Another challenge is being spontaneous during improvisation. I haven't gotten to the point when I can switch it on "just like that", so I fall into the trap of theater. When this occurs, I feel lost. Spontaneity is critical in our training and adds immeasurably to the energy, power and poignancy of Butoh. When resorting to movement just to kill time, the result is flat, dull, and aimless. I hear the judgmental voices from the past, and self-doubt creeps into my body. Though this moment is fleeting, it can always come back.
What do you most love about Butoh?
Creating a performance is the best. I performed a small part in Kurozuka at NOHspace along with PJ. Our characters were two Buddhist priests who encounter the demon-woman in the forest. Though we were given loose choreography to guide us, it was not set in stone. I had the freedom to add motivation to my character by adding small touches to strengthen and portray the psychology of the priests. I found this creative freedom extremely exciting.
My other love is working with the group--working and creating with people who are open, supportive, giving and willing to share their personal journeys. Most of us are a relatively old bunch in body, but our reflections on life and living are endlessly youthful and inspiring.
As you progress on your Butoh journey, what do you hope to accomplish?
If the work I do with OnenessButoh has the power to stir emotions in an audience, this is a wonderful thing. During the Locust in Your Mouth Trilogy Q&A, I was really pleased at the comments from the audience. Though they admitted they weren't sure about the "meaning" of the dance, they were very emotionally moved. The magic of being able to invoke self-recognition, even empathy, from the audience gives me encouragement and satisfaction.
In a way, this progress is two-tiered. One goal is to open up communication with an audience; the second is to open up a communication with myself. To travel along this journey of self-discovery, my hope is to become a better dancer. This is a gift I offer to the audience, and a gift I offer to myself.
Reflections on ... Sankai Juku
by Lipton Mah
October 2015
The previous time the Butoh group Sankai Juku appeared in the Bay Area was back in 2010. I attended one of those performances with great anticipation because I knew from their history that they were perhaps the most well-known and most successful Butoh ensemble in the world.
At the time, I was in my fourth year of Butoh training with Judy, but I had never seen a performance by a professional company. Needless to say, I wanted to see what a much admired and revered native Japanese group could do with a uniquely Japanese dance form that I myself was training in.
Flash forward to 2015. Sankai Juku is back for another series of performances. Judy is in her second season with OnenessButoh, and we have had several self-produced performances under our collective belt. I am in my ninth year of training. And though there is still much to explore and learn from Judy, we are all in our individual ways reaching new expressive levels of dancing that were sometimes difficult to consistently achieve a year ago. When we learned that Sankai Juku was performing this early October, we got our tickets immediately. Here was our chance to see what a Butoh company in existence for almost 40 years could do with an often misunderstood, and sometimes maligned, dance form.
In attendance that Saturday evening, October 10th, were Ruth, Keiko, myself and Judy. To get an up-close view of Sankai Juku's dancers, along with the makeup, costuming, set design, music, lighting, and of course, the choreography, we chose the front orchestra pit seats in the third row, dead center. We wanted to see everything, including the facial expressions. In Butoh, the body's expressiveness is all important. But as we continue to learn, also important are the subtleties and nuances of facial expressions to convey deep internal emotion... through a small turn of the head; a stare held momentarily; or even a slight parting of the lips.
When I saw Sankai Juku for the first time, in their performance of HIBIKI in 2010, I was very impressed with the combined elements of a minimal set design and the effective use of lighting. All the dancers were men, all had a similar body shape, all had shaved heads and hairless torsos. But if you ask me today what that 2010 program was about, I would tell you it was something about birth and regeneration. But I would be at a loss to tell you much more beyond that. Frankly, other than some impressive visual tableaus, and a recurring and puzzling gesture in a solo by Sankai Juku's founder, Ushio Amagatsu, I don't remember much about the show, nor anything specific about the artistic "meaning." Perhaps because I was still relatively new to the deeper Butoh experience in 2010, I may have unconsciously focused more that evening on the dance techniques of the performance rather than the artistic intention of the program. I do remember being very delighted when I saw them execute a familiar Butoh movement, and I thought to myself (with a little pride and cockiness), "Oh Gosh, WE do that in class!" It was the novice's thrill of recognition.
As for meaning, I think the message was lost on me. Granted, the scenario might have been poorly conceived or executed, but I think not. Perhaps more so it was because of my limited experience and understanding at the time with the artistic intention of the Butoh choreography. And furthermore, my own still developing "inner Butoh discourse", between what I would see on stage, and how that could reach out to me to trigger subtleties of emotional recognition.... I think that process for me had not yet fully connected at the time.
The 2015 performance was of "UMUSUMA, Memories Before History". How much differently it felt for me to watch this present work unfold. From the moment the soundtrack begins in darkness, the lights slowly come up and spotlighting a thin, continuously falling stream of sand from high above the rafters of the theater, much like the falling sand in an hour glass, the audience and ourselves were mesmerized. The lights open up more, and flanking each side of the falling sand stream are two large round glass discs from which are suspended actual hourglasses, slowly dripping sand. The entire scene reminded me of the scales of justice, with the sand continuously falling, like the continuous passing of time. For each scene change, the hourglass "scale" sometimes would dip on one side, rise up on another or both simply disappear. The metaphor for me was the inevitable progression of time, a time that sometimes is even, sometimes is off-center. But always the sand continues to fall.
Into this scenery emerges Ushio Amagatsu from center stage for his first solo ("Imprints"). He moves slowly, somewhat minimally, but always with a profound gracefulness. Judy teaches us to always make each dance movement and gesture count, to move with intention, to hold the audience and make them wonder with anticipation what the next movement or gesture will be. Amagatsu did just that and he was able to do more.... he held us in awe. From his face I sensed so many emotions, so many meanings... from weariness to forbearance; from wisdom to eternalness. THIS was the emotional connection I was having, of letting me freely engage in an "inner Butoh discourse" between myself and this sage-like man dancing by himself on stage. What a change for me from 2010 to 2015!
What was now different in me over the intervening 5 years? Certainly the advanced Butoh training has much to do with my internal changes. For the first few years of learning to understand what Butoh is, and of being able to effectively bring, as a performer, the feeling, the moment itself to life, my focus was a simplistic view of learning technique.... I was trying to first force an "external theatrical gesture" to inhabit and somehow create my internal feelings. By a theatrical gesture, I mean to "act out" a particular pose or gesture that most audiences would likely recognize as an archetype or, at its worst use, a stereotype. This is a trap that a new Butoh dancer can easily fall into. This was certainly the case with me. The honest process, however, is the complete opposite. I have to tap (or dig deeply) into my memories, my experiences, my thoughts, and then allow my body to intuitively create a gesture or movement that comes from within myself, and not simply copy a gesture that I have seen somewhere else or from someone else. Judy often describes the moment when it naturally arrives from within us as "authenticity".
As the group dances in "UMUSUMA" progressed, we were amazed at the synchronicity of each of the performers. They were a mix of younger and older dancers. Their floor work, meaning their movements lying on their backs or stomachs, then , in one instance, so gracefully standing up slowly (and without any visible shaking!) and getting into a lotus position.... well, I was impressed and delighted. However, we also noted that the younger dancers were very precise with their movements. If the choreography required an angular jut of the elbow, or a turn of the hip, the younger ones did it with ease. At the same time, the faces of the young ones seemed very placid and immobile. This was not the case with the older dancers. They instead were sometimes more rounded with their arms, or a dip of the upper body was not as deep. We wondered if this was intentional, or if it were the simple limitations of an older, less limber body. The faces of some of the older dancers also had more feeling to them. It was the way some of them let their faces sag a bit, or a dancer's eyes were closed as in meditation..... or mindfulness? When the choreography clicks with the audience, as it did with us, the spectators can more readily begin delving deeper within themselves into emotional and interpretive possibilities of what they are seeing on stage.
Amagatsu returned for his second solo ("Sedimentation and Erosion, Ad Infinitum"), just prior to the final group dance. In the finale "UBUSU"...birth, the beginning of life, or entering the world), the company came out, with the stage lit at its brightest. Here the astonishing floor work was done with supreme gracefulness, and the lotus position was evoked several times. The dancers ended in an embryonic position, awaiting their birth (or rebirth?). But it was Amagatsu’s solo PRIOR to all this spectacle that seared into my memory. Here the sage-like man was even more expressive with his facial expressions, as minimal as they were. You would think his expressions would likely be barely discernible to the audience sitting from a far distance. But I think the power of his presence was likely even felt by the people sitting in the very back rows. There was a sadness that I saw in his face which made his dance movements so filled with emotion. Judy said she was almost in tears to see Amagatsu in this solo, and that his dance should have ended the program, as he disappeared back into the darkness beneath the ever-flowing sand.
I couldn't remember much of the 2010 performance. But this evening was unforgettable.
by Lipton Mah
October 2015
Thoughts from OnenessButoh Member,
Keiko Nobusada
Simply put, I have loved music and movement all my life. Whether through a martial art or dance, I have always felt more comfortable with and a larger range of emotional expression through, physical movements rather than words. My discovery of OnenessButoh was quite unplanned, and though my butoh development is at its beginning, I have quickly found the daily space for my relationship with butoh to continue. An insatiable curiosity and love of learning, seem to fuel me. In my recent past life, working as a teacher, I was excited about, fascinated by and dedicated to the journey of others. Now my focus encompasses more intent to reserve "nurturance of me" time as well as nurturance of others. I continue to find inspiration in all life's connections, within and without, and I am very grateful to the universe for bringing butoh and the members of OnenessButoh into my life, finding the presence of each moment constantly amplified. It feels strange and sometimes very intoxicating.
So I have been asked to share some of my thoughts...
Oneness, the connection of everything in the universe as one. Butoh, the individual journey inward to knowing your inner self. Is it a duality? No, for me, understanding both, are one and the same. Being a part of OB, brings both of these concepts together and gives breath to something greater than ourselves.
Ever since being a child, I've been an irreverent introvert, the one who always questioned why, while growing up, and always needed a greater purpose to feel satisfied. Raised to believe in kindness and education, I was a teacher for 42 years. It was a career of service and hard work, dedication and challenge, constant problem solving and creativeness. I loved it. Now that I've moved on from that career, I am thrilled to find more time for another aspect of my essence, dance. OnenessButoh brings me great joy and seems a logical continuation of my life's journey.
The dance form of butoh, as presented by our artistic director, conceptually, begs you to let your body truly be a window to your soul, and calls upon each of us to express without voice, our inner beings, from our essence if you will. I am invited to peel through the layers of my life and let them come and go, without judgment and channel my own stories into an art form that reaches out to others. In some ways, it reminds me of teaching, in that awareness of what is happening is the foundation for connections.
OnenessButoh is more than a collective of dancers performing a traditional-based, but ever evolving, type of butoh dance. We are and have become a family of sorts. It's a safe haven where we are valued for honesty, sensitivity, and collaborative effort. Within our small ensemble, I have continuously felt trust developing, experienced energy flowing between myself and other members, witnessed and participated in silent and vocal exchanges reflective of our personal stories each time we meet. I've felt the connections among us be a tool for healing, self-awareness and a base for greater connection in our environment and ultimately the space beyond that contains us all. As our small circle radiates light to each other, it is my hope that our stories and energy will also resonate beyond, and in our confirmed connection that we may also radiate to others and share the affirmation of hope and love in our world.