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The Nature of Nature: A Western Meditation on Five Chinese Elements

By Yafonne

Five modern dancers from Facing East Dance & Music and five musicians from the Somei Yoshino Taiko Ensemble came together last weekend to “unearth” five Chinese elements in choreographer Sue Li-Jue’s world premiere of Nature of Nature, held at the Asian Pacific Cultural Center in Oakland. Running through March 25, Nature of Nature explores the inter-connections between the natural world, the physical body and different human personalities. Boasting a fine line-up of Asian American collaborative efforts, including heartfelt text written by Vivien Dai, original costume design by Colleen Quen, a bare primitive set design by Richard Jue, and lighting by Tomo Nishio, Nature of Nature nevertheless turned out to be a conceptual challenge to this East Bay-based dance company.

Somei Yoshino Taiko Ensemble.

As Li-Jue’s second full-length work for Facing East Dance & Music, Nature of Nature struck a surprisingly surface note in contrast to her previously soul laden work of Rice Women at Theater Artaud last year. The potential depth and mystery of the work was dulled by the predictable logic of the program and too literal an interpretation of each element. Moreover, the work evidenced little significant understanding of the five Chinese elements, which actually have ancient roots in Chinese culture, medicine, and cosmology.

Nature of Nature opened with “Wu,” a sneak preview overture in which five dancers slowly approach the center platform, dressed in their different elemental attire. Coming together as one mass of moving elements, they spin and leap off center stage, flinging themselves to the edge of the performance space encompassing most of the auditorium. The bare, earthy set design of Richard Jue was hardly ever used throughout the evening.

For “Earth,” the first piece, darkness enfolds as the sound of chirping crickets emerges, and taiko musician Ellen Reiko Bepp blows a horn, as if calling something into being. Up on stage, dancer Sharon Sato rises up from behind a cluster of taiko drums, attired in an evening dress of woven thick yellow straws. Bepp strikes the five taiko drums with growing authority while the voice of Sue Li-Jue meditates on the art of worrying. Singing a single note while moving in a slow, lush manner, Sato constantly transforms herself, from mouth gaping gestures to rolling about on the floor like a heavy rock.

For “Water,” by far the most intriguing piece in the program, Sue Li Jue stands on the center platform like a mysterious ice sculpture, dressed in a low-back black leather dress with her hair in messy, upside-down braids. A flash of white light pierces the darkness right before she moves, slowly, at first with small movements of her hands, and then with faster shakings of her arms and legs, as if electricity flowed through her body. Shakuhachi player Kallan Yoichi Nishimoto joins Li-Jue on the center platform, waving his flute over her in a blessing gesture as she falls backwards into the dark void.

In “Wood,” the entire cast runs in carrying dancer Priscilla Park, throwing her on the floor with a loud yell. They pick up pan-like drums, knocking on them, circling Park with growing menace. Dressed in an olive-green frilled shirt and black shorts, Park lets out a yell of desperation, a dash of high kicks, and bursts of turn kicks. This is the dance of a sharp, angry young woman, her explosive movements lending credence to the voice over text about objectifying orientalism. Taiko dancer Bruce Ghent enters the stage, moving cautiously as a panther. They circle, eyeing each other with wary tension. He strikes, his silent motion juxtaposing Park’s strong gusty demeanor.

In the shadowy darkness for “Metal”, dancer Lily Wang, dressed in a beaded white shirt, walks in, carrying a metal chime which she strikes occasionally, sounding a faraway note. Walking up to the center platform, she reaches for her father figure in the form of musician Jimi Nakagawa, who spoke only in rare instances of volcanic anger. Slowly, they proceed side by side in a trance walking up to the stage, where she performs a moving lyrical dance of sorrow.

Finally, the sound of laughter breaks the darkness for “Fire” as dancer Vivien Dai suddenly appears. Moving on cue, the musicians begin to horse around and make noise. Dai acts like a mischievous sprite, a wild toddler on the loose. A star diva in her super red triangle dress, she declares herself out loud, laughing, stealing the show from drummer Shohei Takatani. Rubbing her hands together to make a fire, she showed her stuff on the taiko drums, much to the surprise of the musicians.

From there, the Somei Yoshino Taiko Ensemble let out all the stops in “We Hsing,” striking up an intense drum piece, each one taking turns improvising. Extremely tight as an ensemble, they stir up the audience’s energy and excitement. Riding on that energy, the Facing East Dance & Music dancers come out for the finale.

Clearly, Nature of Nature is a modern dance of contemporary Asian American sensibilities set along a neconceptual vein. As separate vignettes, the story of each element is nicely developed. Nevertheless, Nature of Nature is conceptually fragmented, lacking an overarching context. There needs to be more intuitive understanding of the elements to help the audience stay engaged and challenged. Just a literal personification or dance interpretation of the five Chinese elements does not fully satisfy if it does not also show the transformative power of the elements throughout the human body, which Li-Jue began to do in “Water.” As a choreographer, Li-Jue is capable of grasping on a gut level what the five Chinese elements are about. Perhaps she already does, but needs more time to reach the power of her roots.