Nothing is simpler than a bowl of rice. And yet rarely do people think of the labor of love that goes into the production of those small grains. It is easy to take rice for granted.
The same could be said of Lin Hwai-min’s (林懷民) newest work for Cloud Gate Dance Theatre (雲門舞集), Rice (稻禾), which had its world premiere on Friday night at the National Theater.
Rice is the essence of simplicity; there are no flashy moves or pyrotechnics. It is not simple in the sense of the stark Zen minimalism of other Lin works such as Water Stains on the Wall (屋漏痕) or the Cursive (行草) trilogy, but simple in the way a breeze sways the branches of trees or stalks of rice, clouds are reflected on the surface of a lake, or the wind rustles past. It is the simplicity of the things we take for granted in the world around us.
Photo courtesy of Cloud Gate Dance Theatre
That natural world is both the inspiration and the setting for Rice, brought into the theater thanks to the videography of Chang Hao-jan (張皓然), who worked over two years filming the seasons in Taitung County’s Chihshang Township (池上), and Ethan Wang’s (王奕盛) projection design.
The video shifts in focus from close-ups of seedlings to expansive views of the East Rift Valley, from ripened grains to sweeping fields of green, while the screen size changes from a thin low-to-the-ground stretch of muddy paddy to a full backdrop panorama or small boxes of color, thanks to Lin Keh-hua’s (林克華) set design.
40th ANNIVERSARY SHOW
As befitting a work marking the 40th anniversary of Cloud Gate’s founding, Rice is truly an ensemble work. While there are scattered short solos, quartets and sextets, the emphasis is on the company as a whole, with the exception perhaps of the gorgeous coupling of Tsai Ming-yuan (蔡銘元) and Huang Pei-hua (黃珮華) in the “Pollen II” segment.
Tsai and Huang curl and weave about on the floor against a small rectangular backdrop that is a sea of green and gold, seamlessly melding together, at least one part of their body always in touch with the other’s.
Much of the movement in Rice is low down, there are few lifts or carries, but lots of floor work and shoulder rolls, keeping a connection with the ground, the earth. The women are often hunched over, like farmers bending down to plant seedlings. The repeated sequences of male dancers slowly pacing across the stage, a long flexible bamboo pole bouncing in one hand, brings to mind the steady pace of a water buffalo pulling a plow through a field.
There are repeated cycles of movement, just as the changing seasons repeat the cycle of life on a rice farm
Yet Lin clearly has a bigger message in mind then just a valley of rice in Taiwan. When it is time for the paddy to be burned after the harvest, blackened fields fill the screen. Concentrate on the close-up of the flickering flames amid the burning clumps of stalks, with the smoke filling the air, and the image could be an aerial view of the now annual fires that consume huge swathes of Sumatran rainforests, producing a smoky haze that chokes Singapore and parts of Malaysia.
It is hard not to read a message about the destruction of our environment into the segment.
Rice ends with footage of water streaming down from the top of the screen through a paddy and flooding across the stage, readying the earth for another planting, as a lone woman, bathed in blue sunlight, stands center stage, ready for another season.
Friday night’s show was more than just a premiere; it was a celebration of Cloud Gate and its history, and a thank-you to its legions of supporters. The evening opened with video feeds of the audiences in seven theaters around the nation as well as the huge crowd outside in Liberty Plaza who had gathered to watch a simulcast of the show.
The evening ended in sustained applause not only for Lin, the cast and design team of Rice, but for the dozens of former company members who were brought up on stage from the audience, including several from the very first years, as well as the troupe’s venerated tai chi master, Shong Wei (熊衛).
Almost from its very beginning, Cloud Gate has been embraced by the Taiwanese, who have shown a fierce national and family pride that is very rare for a dance or theater company, even in countries that have state-sponsored troupes. That love and pride was evident on Friday onstage and off — and it clearly flowed both ways.
Rice continues at the National Theater until Dec. 8 and then Cloud Gate begins a six-city national tour.
May 6 to May 12 Those who follow the Chinese-language news may have noticed the usage of the term zhuge (豬哥, literally ‘pig brother,’ a male pig raised for breeding purposes) in reports concerning the ongoing #Metoo scandal in the entertainment industry. The term’s modern connotations can range from womanizer or lecher to sexual predator, but it once referred to an important rural trade. Until the 1970s, it was a common sight to see a breeder herding a single “zhuge” down a rustic path with a bamboo whip, often traveling large distances over rugged terrain to service local families. Not only
Moritz Mieg, 22, lay face down in the rubble, the ground shaking violently beneath him. Boulders crashed down around him, some stones hitting his back. “I just hoped that it would be one big hit and over, because I did not want to be hit nearly to death and then have to slowly die,” the student from Germany tells Taipei Times. MORNING WALK Early on April 3, Mieg set out on a scenic hike through Taroko Gorge in Hualien County (花蓮). It was a fine day for it. Little did he know that the complex intersection of tectonic plates Taiwan sits
The last time Mrs Hsieh came to Cihu Park in Taoyuan was almost 50 years ago, on a school trip to the grave of Taiwan’s recently deceased dictator. Busloads of children were brought in to pay their respects to Chiang Kai-shek (蔣中正), known as Generalissimo, who had died at 87, after decades ruling Taiwan under brutal martial law. “There were a lot of buses, and there was a long queue,” Hsieh recalled. “It was a school rule. We had to bow, and then we went home.” Chiang’s body is still there, under guard in a mausoleum at the end of a path
Last week the Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics (DGBAS) released a set of very strange numbers on Taiwan’s wealth distribution. Duly quoted in the Taipei Times, the report said that “The Gini coefficient for Taiwanese households… was 0.606 at the end of 2021, lower than Australia’s 0.611, the UK’s 0.620, Japan’s 0.678, France’s 0.676 and Germany’s 0.727, the agency said in a report.” The Gini coefficient is a measure of relative inequality, usually of wealth or income, though it can be used to evaluate other forms of inequality. However, for most nations it is a number from .25 to .50