Interview with Oguri

What’s your mission, or hope, as an artist?
Dance. Basically I feel inspired to dance. I began dancing with Body Weather and Tatsumi Hijikata’s  work, but it was not to learn a kind of tradition or to be a ‘dancer’. I was attracted by the spirit and community. Body Weather does not teach one how to move but is an investigation of the body through working with and learning from others and explores the connection of body to space. A lot of people connect Butoh with the atomic bomb and Hiroshima, and I want to make it clear that that is a misunderstanding. Of course that is a very strong human experience and everything is related, but Butoh is not a direct expression for that. Rather the dance is a possibility for human understanding. Butoh is revolutionary, but it just means ‘dance’. Dance doesn’t have a goal. I work between my body and myself.

How did Caddy! Caddy! Caddy! come to be?
Because of my interest in William Faulkner.

How does Caddy! relate to the Japanese performing arts tradition?
I found Faulkner through Japanese literature. Oe and Nakagami  were inspired by him, and if they are like my fathers, I wanted to meet my grandfather. When Faulkner visited Japan in the mid-1950s after World War II, he said I am like you. I come from the south–the losers country. There is physicality in Oe and Nakagami’s work, and for me that is dance.  I find the same thing in Faulkner’s work.

What influence has Butoh had on you as a performing artist?
Butoh is respect of Tatsumi Hijikata’s dance. In Japan, there was folkdance, ballet, and modern dance. There was a society where performers presented seven-minute pieces for a classy, sophisticated audience. Hijikata comes along half naked and shines the light in the audience’s eyes. He brought the idea of homosexuality and sex and eroticism on stage. He killed a chicken on stage, and the little girls fainted and he was kicked out. After he was expelled, people sought him out because he seemed so cool, and at the time, many people had the same antiestablishment sense. He did a lot of collaborations and events, but it was very avant-garde, very strong cutting edge work.

This year’s Spirit & Place theme is “Inspiring Places.” Does Caddy! take its sense of place from Faulkner’s writing?
William Faulkner lived his entire life in one small county town. From there he created hundreds of characters and lives full of memories and imagination. He invented a fictional place, Yoknapawtawpha, that the reader feels and travels through. In the dance we carry the spirit of the stories.

Can you describe what it’s like to perform this piece?
I have the opportunity to be in Faulkner’s imagination, to dance his stories in space and explore many different characters and the strength and depth of humanity.

What do you ask of the audience who attends this performance?
If you have a chance, please read Faulkner.

Caddy! Caddy! Caddy! The William Faulkner Dance Project is Saturday, November 7 at 7 pm in The Toby. Tickets are $10 for the public and $7 for IMA members. Purchase tickets online

BONUS: Show any Toby ticket stub and receive half off the ticket price for Caddy!

A full house (Photo by IMA Photography Dept.)

Osso (Photo by IMA Photography Dept.)

DM Stith and Osso (Photo by IMA Photography Dept.)

But I hope we have that same problem Saturday night November 7 at The Toby for Caddy! Caddy! Caddy! What’s that, you say? Caddy is an elusive character in the novels of William Faulkner. We describe the performance as southern-gothic-meets-Japanese-avant-garde. Ill-fitting wigs, chalky white faces, and 4-point barbed wire are the visuals. Slow, grotesque movements are the path to the unconscious. Oguri (below) is the single name of the Los Angeles-based dancer who created Caddy!

Oguri (Photo by Steven A. Gunther)

Oguri is a master of butoh, a radical yet subtle style of Japanese dance. The first person to perform butoh was Tatsumi Hijikata, in 1950s Japan. Here’s how Oguri himself tells it: “In Japan, there was folkdance, ballet, and modern dance. Performers presented seven-minute pieces for a classy, sophisticated audience. Hijikata comes along half naked and shines the light in the audience’s eyes. He killed a chicken on stage, and the little girls fainted and he was kicked out. After he was expelled, people sought him out because he seemed so cool, and at the time, many people had the same antiestablishment sense.”

Hear ye, hear ye. If you are antiestablishment in Indy, I am summoning you to The Toby this Saturday for Caddy!, which invites you to consider your nightmares. To look into “the mirror which thaws fear.” To observe disconnection. To confront pain.

The Nutcracker it is not. And, anybody with a ticket stub from a recent Toby event gets in half-price; students of any age are free with ID. I dare you to be there…

Visit the IMA Blog tomorrow for a full interview with choreographer and dancer Oguri.

And perhaps this is why we began a series of articles in the IMA’s magazine on the provenance of important works in the Museum’s collection, written by Annette Schlagenhauff. As the IMA’s Associate Curator for Research, Annette has spent years tracing the paths of works of art from the artists’ hands to the walls of the IMA. The stories are fascinating and not without moral ambiguities and missing pieces.

Landscape at Saint-Rémy (Enclosed Field with Peasant)

The fall issue of the magazine features the IMA’s Landscape at Saint-Rémy (Enclosed Field with Peasant) by Vincent van Gogh. As one of the most important and valuable works in the Museum’s collection, Annette peers beyond the paint into the 120 year life of the painting. Painted in southern France in 1889, its early history is well documented, however, during the time of Nazi regime power when many of Europe’s art collections were in jeopardy, its provenance is spotty. Did Landscape at Saint-Rémy leave Europe legitimately or was it tied up in the Nazi’s campaign of looting Jewish art collections?

[This is why the magazine should be online. I could link to the rest of the story here and you could happily finish reading. Soon enough!]

Long story short, papers found in the New York Public Library confirmed that the painting left Europe still in the family of the original owners and had been consigned to a New York-based art dealer when arriving in the United States. The IMA can breath a sigh of relief and say that the provenance of the Van Gogh is clear.

But what would have happened if the provenance was not clear? Should research suggest the name of a possible legitimate owner, the IMA is obligated to attempt to contact them to discover more. Many paintings in the IMA’s collection have gaps in their provenance in the critical years of 1933-1945. Per the American Association of Museums (AAM) and the Association of Art Museum Directors (AAMD) guidelines, the Museum posts these works on the Nazi-era Provenance Internet Portal and the IMA Web site–provenance research project. The facts unique to each painting help determine the course of action. (More here)

I think there are more than a few of us who would like Annette’s captivating, Nancy Drew-like sleuth job. No doubt it’s nerve wracking, hard work. In the winter issue of the magazine, and online, you’ll be able to join Annette in her journey to discover the past of the Dutch painting Valkhof at Nijmegen by Aelbert Cuyp. I see National Geographic documentaries in her future.

The Valkhof at Nijmegen

But you don’t have to take my word for it. Come to the IMA on October 3 or 23 to see The Rape of Europa in The Toby. This is an amazing opportunity to watch a documentary film that examines Nazi looting of the great museums and private art collections of Europe in an attempt to obliterate cultural identities. The film’s epic scope explores a descendant of painter Gustav Klmit’s flight to regain a portrait of her aunt, Louvre staff members who packed and moved 400,000 pieces of art as the Nazis advanced, and the “Monuments Men” who plumbed salt mines to recover stolen art after the war. You’ll be faced with the question: “Which is of more value: a work of art or a human life?”

Preview The Rape of Europa below and get your tickets now.

Back at the derby: spray-painted, crumpled automotive beasts tumble against one another.  The air is filled with terrific absurdity.  These vehicular masochists have planned these clashes.  They have intended it, and yet not intended it – very much like an artist’s relationship to the work of art s/he creates.

I learned three things at the demo derby:

• Embrace the ugly
• Push through anything crippling
• Take things that are hard by nature and try to soften them

Some of these concepts underlie the abstract form of movement called Butoh, made with slow-mo gestures, prolonged facial expressions and the baring of the unconscious.  The dancer Oguri returns to the IMA November 7 with another Butoh-inspired performance, this one an interpretation of the literary experiments of American author William Faulkner (The Sound and the Fury, Absalom, Absalom!).  Fear no art: what appears incomprehensible and senseless at first actually might actually reflect the order of the universe.

More on the November 7 event as it nears.  Until then, keep smashing, clashing, and seeking truth.

Since then, I’ve ditched the dial-up modem for broadband and ReBirth for a full blown electronic music production suite called Reason. Needless to say, I’m still fascinated by electronic music. However, what is more fascinating to me is that electronic music production has gotten to the point where musicians can now be recognized for being able to play a laptop just as well as someone who can play a piano. Here’s a neat fact, an electronic instrument called a “Drumitar” has been used to win five Grammy Awards. Check out a video of it being played here.

Given my fascination with electronic music, I’ll definitely be in The Toby this Thursday, April 16, to see Beatrix*JAR. The JAR is a one-of-a-kind electronic sound art duo that messes with the circuits of electronic toys to make super entertaining glitch tunes. Basically, Speak and Spell bends to their musical wishes and becomes their instrument.

I’m super excited about the show and encourage anyone who is even slightly interested in music to attend. If you’re unsure about what kind of fuzzy sonic bliss you’re getting into, Beatrix has a MySpace page with some great tracks in their player.

And, because I’m really trying get the “electronic music rules” word out, the first two people (non IMA employees) who leave a comment will get a free ticket to see Beatrix*JAR.

In order to get a ticket, the comment must read, “Phil,  I want to see Beatrix*JAR and will pick up the ticket at the IMA front desk at 7:00 pm on Thursday.”

Hope to see you there!

Phil: Good morning, Dynah. How are you?

Dynah: Ay-Yay-Yay! I don’t see you anymore. What, you don’t have time for Dynah? The only one of you that comes to see me anymore is the one they call Peeper. You can’t stop by? Say hello to little ol’ Dynah?

Phil: You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m in Public Affairs now and don’t handle Lilly House A/V anymore. But we’re talking now aren’t we? After all, this is your interview.

Dynah: You said you’d call. I miss my handsome green eyed shaygets.

Phil: Whoa, Dynah, whoa! Hands off. Sit. Drink your tea. Tell me about something. Anything. Have you been to The Toby yet? Seen a show?

Dynah: I have. But forget that little girly of yours. She can’t cook like I do…

Phil: Dynah, I’m sure you’re better. But can you elaborate on your Toby experience? Please?

Dynah: (Pouting) If you insist. I like the foreign films and a human of mine is going to sneak me into your Winter Nights this Friday. She says the Indianapolis Chamber Orchestra is going to play along to “The General.” Oh, how I enjoy Buster Keaton. Care to join us?

Phil: I may stop in for second. What else? Are you excited about our next exhibition? European Design Since 1985?

Dynah: How many more questions do you have? I thought we were going to talk about us?

Phil: Two more, I promise. And I promise we’ll talk later. But now, Dynah, please, our next exhibition?

Dynah: Fine, but you’re going to talk to me later. Yes, as you know, I live in the Lilly House, and I have an affinity for fine design. I’m also close friends with James Dyson’s house-elf, Margaret. We used to play bridge together. She’s excited about the exhibition too because she has in her silly head that the show will have one of the very pieces she used to clean Jim’s carpets.

Phil: That’s interesting. She sounds lovely. Last question and you’ll have to forgive me, but fans of house-elves everywhere are asking, do you know Dobby?

Dynah: Sure I do. The putz dated my cousin.

Alice with students at Cold Spring School

What does it mean to say, “I live in Indiana”?  What is distinctive about that, as opposed to saying, “I live in Colorado,” or, “I live in Florida”?  These questions came to my mind as I listened to chef, author and food revolutionary Alice Waters speak at The Toby on December 2 as part of the IMA’s Planet Indy series. Alice was describing the simple delights of eating local, seasonal food, as well as the simple genius of rebuilding local economies around sustainable practices. In Alice’s economy, producers of organic vegetables, fruits, dairy items and meats know that their products will supply local markets and restaurants instead of being shipped across the country. Organic producers make a decent living; their neighbors enjoy fresh, high quality food and improved health.

Alice’s revolution is aesthetic as well as economic. She advocates beautiful experiences with the food we enjoy. She believes that children deserve to learn how to notice tastes and scents, and to develop the language skills to describe these and their thoughts about such sensations. During Alice’s visit we discussed the Human Capabilities initiative of philosopher Martha Nussbaum and Nobel Laureate economist Amartya Sen. They argue that a humane society has a responsibility to give its citizens the opportunity to develop such capabilities as understanding how to care for their bodies, how to give and receive love, and how to communicate effectively. I have sense that Alice, Martha and Amartya are on the same wavelength.

Hmmm…. I started to feel that my own residence in Indiana is a bit superficial, and not all that aesthetically appealing, either. I have an address in Indianapolis, but an inventory of my refrigerator and cupboards wouldn’t necessarily confirm that statement. Veggies from California, bottled water from New York.  If I had amnesia and went to my kitchen in search of clues about my own life, there would be little evidence to help me deduce my location. And if you asked me to name a good, local, organic poultry producer, I’d be stumped. I spend most of my days in Indiana, but I have no meaningful relationship with the farmers or cheese makers in my area who are working to produce quality food.

Nearly a year ago as the IMA staff began planning for Alice’s visit, we initiated a series of meetings with organic producers, chefs and culinary arts instructors, school lunch decision-makers, and environmental educators. It was amazing to see the groundswell of enthusiasm and the number of committed people who wanted to help bring Alice’s message to a wider public. IMA educators initiated a partnership with Cold Spring School, IPS’s environmental magnet and a neighbor to the Museum, to introduce some of the ideas in Alice’s Edible Schoolyard initiative. At Cold Spring I saw children learn where tomatoes come from and how different a local, vine ripened tomato tastes from a cellophane-wrapped import purchased at the grocery store.

In 1971, American meditation teacher Ram Dass wrote a book called Remember, Be Here Now. I’ve always loved that line: Be Here Now. I know that my distracted attention wanders all over the place and is often anywhere but here in this moment. I think that if you added up all the moments in my life when I have really been consciously present – in my body, in the instant – the sum total of those moments of fully-lived experience would be pretty small.

Alice isn’t teaching meditation, but she is advocating that life be lived more fully and with greater consciousness. She is urging us to help our children discover that a fuller life is their birthright. Live here now.

There are actually more than 10 reasons to visit

What, you haven’t been to the IMA’s new Tobias Theater yet? Consider this your personal invitation…along with ten good reasons to get thee to The Toby to catch a film in the next two weeks:

1. To be surprised: Little Fugitive, a black-and-white beauty made in 1953, is probably a film you’ve never heard of. Let that be a good thing. This 80-minute indie gem is about a boy who runs away to Coney Island. Think of it as Leave It To Beaver infused with art, subtlety, and cinematography to die for. Sneak away and see it at The Toby Tuesday, December 30.
2. The sound rocks: As the museum’s senior AV technician, sound hound Chris Cruz made sure the sound system in The Toby is top notch. Three refrigerator-sized speakers lurk behind the movie screen to give you blasts of aural delight.

3. Because Johnny Depp is the new Santa Claus: To cut the sugar that often accompanies the holidays, we’ve picked out two moody Depp films and are running them back-to-back as part of IMA’s One-Two Punch series. Find out which films and when.

4. To escape your mother-in-law: Had enough family time? Sneak off to The Toby for the dazzling animation of Princess Mononoke the day after Christmas, or see Clint Eastwood turn the western on its head in Unforgiven on Jan. 2.
5. To escape economic woes: According to financial and historical gurus, movie attendance surges during troubled times. What are you waiting for?
6. You can come in your PJs: I will admit you free to any Toby film if you come in your pajamas. At The Toby, you can lounge around AND fathom the images on a 15’ x 30’ screen. Netflix, schmetflix.
7. To canoodle in the balcony or the ComfySacks: We won’t stop you and your honey from holding hands up in The Toby balcony or on the massive red bean bags down near the screen.
8. Beverages are for sale: Wine or beer (for the appropriately aged) are available from the stylin’ Toby concession counter.
9. You’re independent: You could go to Kerasotes or United Artists, but seeing a film at The Toby contributes to the local economy.
10. Because you can also visit the galleries: The visual art just won’t quit at IMA. Before or after the cinema washes over you, you can be transported to Ming-dynasty China in the Power & Glory exhibition, check out the new minimalist exhibition in the Forefront gallery, or ponder the wintry landscape through the veil of Maya Lin’s Above and Below installation on the IMA’s second floor galleries.

If you’ve already been to The Toby, please leave us your impressions and testimonies below.

She covered all the points you’d expect from a sustainable food advocate: the health crimes of fast food, the shame that many urban children have no idea where their food comes from, the lack of time for experiencing food.

But then she turned to the power of tablecloths. In her work with schools gardens (a.k.a. Edible Schoolyards, the subject of her new book), she noted that children flock to a table with a tablecloth. The kids recognize a well-set table as a sign of love and care.

She also addressed olive oil, equating good oil with life quality. This is a woman who carries her own olive oil with her when she travels. Lest her connoisseurship smack of elitism, Alice assured the crowd that quality-intense food pleasures like these are available at any farmers market across the land.

But just when you think she’s a charming spokesperson for edible beauty…she roars. She told the crowd of her daughter’s admission to Yale University, and their introduction to the college president Richard Levin. Alice twisted his arm, and showed him the light, encouraging him to leverage Yale’s food buying power to develop a local food program at Yale. Seven years later, the Yale Sustainable Food Project is going strong, complete with campus garden and a café with a sustainable menu.

True to her crusading ways, Alice didn’t leave Indy until she had dinner with IMA CEO Maxwell Anderson and several museum donors, which she took as an opportunity to inquire about the IMA’s food service, noting her disappointment with art museums that are monuments to beauty and human creativity, only to disappoint with sad cafes full of pre-packaged, soulless food. Watch the IMA Café in the coming year to see if her comments stuck…

In and among the logistics of her visit, a few of us on the public programs staff had a quiet moment with Alice. We told her we liked working with her assistant Varun, to arrange her visit (a long-term, intense process). “Varun walked into my office, with his long, long eyelashes, and I said, ‘you’re hired.’”

There it is again: Alice’s capacity for intoxication with life—the most persuasive argument you’ll ever hear for art, or food.

Did you hear Alice Waters at IMA last Tuesday? What did you think?

Interview with Alice Waters
As published in the winter issue of the IMA’s Previews membership magazine

Q. What culture do you think has the most interesting relationship with food?
While I can only speak to the cultures I’ve visited, I find the Mediterranean culture of Southern Italy has a unique balance in their relationship with food. Food is part of the fabric of life there. It’s not on the side in the form of health or fueling up. It’s connected to meaningful everyday experiences. Sitting down at the table with family and friends is precious and important.

Q. What did you learn from your grandparents about food?
Not much. My grandparents were Irish English and it seemed to me that they liked to eat quite a lot, but that’s it. They had a narrow, limited diet. My parents were concerned about diet but didn’t know how to cook. My interest in food came from working in my parents’ Victory garden, and my passion came from traveling to France at the age of 19. The experience opened up a world to me.

Q. How are children in the Edible Schoolyard project transformed by food?
When kids are growing the food and cooking it themselves they build a sense of pride in what they are doing. When they serve it, they want to eat it, and their friends want to eat it. The ideas about food happen by osmosis. The values we talk about are absorbed by the kids in the process of working in the garden and kitchen. Science and history classes educate their senses and open their eyes to the world around them, not just to food.

Q. What’s the relationship between food and art?
You can set a table with flowers and cloth and it’s like magic. I think of art as magic. It nourishes us in beautiful ways that we can’t speak about. I see beauty as a way of caring. Both food and art offer the possibility of seeing the world in a different way.

The reason I’m interested in working with artists is to take food out of that ‘foody’ place and put it into the beauty of culture. Food is a universal language. We are digesting fast, cheap and easy. The consequences of the choices we make are destroying our world and our culture. I envision a place where an artist is curating the food. You would walk through a beautiful museum and food would be part of that experience.

Q. What artists inspire you?
Peter Sellars, Olafur Eliasson and Ann Hamilton – These artists have a way of surprising people and caring about the same set of values that I’m talking about.

Q. What’s in your refrigerator?
All the produce I brought back from a friend’s garden, jams given to me, milk, coffee, a bottle of Bandol Rose Wine, two small bottles of sweet wine from my daughter’s birthday, duck eggs, pickles, mustard, walnuts and hazelnuts, a couple lemons and Seltzer water.

Q. If you could be any food, what would you be and why?
It’s a toss up between being sweet like tomatoes or spicy like garlic.

Recipes from Alice Waters
If you are still unsure of what will dress the Thanksgiving dinner table tomorrow, try these recipes from the kitchen of Alice Waters.