The room is large.
Strips of red silk hang from the ceiling, forming a canopy over an expanse of black linoleum strewn with rocks. A man stands at the back of the room, his hands tied behind his back, his body tense.
Suddenly, a rock shoots across the floor; the bound man staggers under its impact. Then comes another and another until the room is filled with the thud and clatter of falling rock, the terror of a man being stoned to death, his mouth wide open in a silent scream. As he succumbs to his fate, his tormentors emerge from the shadows, lay down their stones, and make their way across the rock-strewn floor. They move unsteadily, one following the other, as they step precariously on, over and around the rocks. Some come alone, others are supported, all seem burdened.
Photo: Chris Taylor, Taipei Times
Tibetan Buddhist chanting fills the void of their silence. Slowly, their movements become lighter, more joyous. Soon they are twirling, hugging each other, running with carefree abandon through the debris. A pregnant woman emerges from the red silk drapes, walks with calm purpose through the melee, sits on a rock and raises her hands as if in supplication, gazing into the distance. The chanting fades to silence. For a moment all is still. Then a slight, spare man watching from the far end of the room, leans back in his chair, lights a cigarette, and announces: "This is the happiest moment of my life."
A millennial calling
Arriving at this moment has not been easy for choreographer Lin Hwai-min, founder and art director of the internationally acclaimed Cloud Gate Dance Theater. The journey began three years ago when he was asked by Taiwan's National Theater to create a performance for the new millennium. It triggered a personal crisis.
PHOTO: CHRIS TAYLOR, TAIPEI TIMES
"I thought, `Oh my God, what am I going to do.'"
The answer came to him last spring while visiting Cambodia, helping repair the classic dance culture all but destroyed by Pol Pot's murderous regime. He sat down to breakfast one morning, turned on the TV and saw that the US was bombing Kosovo. Unconsciously, the seed of a millennium work was sown. It grew through subsequent European tours and blossomed as Burning the Pine Branches, a prayer for the new millennium.
On this day, in Cloud Gate's Kuando studio, where all of Lin's compositions are rehearsed, the work has come to fruition: the missing links have been filled, the structure completed, all the problems solved.
PHOTO: CHRIS TAYLOR, TAIPEI TIMES
For Lin, this moment is more precious than a standing ovation at a premiere.
"The millennium is not going to be a rose garden as many people pretend," he says. "Look at Kosovo. That's exactly where the First World War started: the problems of this century are very similar to those at the end of the last century. I don't know who is right and who is wrong, but the scary thing is that the big powers can push the button at any time, and they have the ways and means to justify themselves. Maybe unconsciously they are creating a new Jerusalem for the next century -- right now, in Kosovo."
Hence the prayer. Based on Tibetan rituals, the work addresses the uncertainty of the future -- the dramas of humankind, joy and suffering, separation and togetherness, violent injustice and blessing, and the eternal quest for peace and happiness.
PHOTO: CHRIS TAYLOR, TAIPEI TIMES
In one way or another these themes have preoccupied Lin for much of his life. Certainly, they surface in his dance works, renowned not just for their technical perfection, their melding of dance techniques and theatrical concepts from the East and the West -- Tai Chi, modern dance, ballet, meditation and Chinese Opera movement all play a part -- but for their social relevance.
Lin founded Cloud Gate -- the first modern dance company in a Chinese-speaking society -- in 1973, at a time when Taiwan was under martial law and male modern dancers were unheard of in Taiwan.
"It was very, very difficult," says life-long friend Antonio Chiang, Taiwan's revered political journalist (and editor of this newspaper). "Taiwan was not a normal society at that time. Martial law was suffocating. There was no independent performance art at all. People had no energy, no imagination.
"I remember when [Lin] came out with Legacy, a performance about the history of Taiwan and how the Chinese first came here more than 300 years ago. He wanted to show that we are a kind of immigrant society -- that we are very different from China and that the reason we came here is similar to when the English went to America to find a new life for freedom and democracy. It's difficult to convey that in a 90-minute performance. And at that time it's sensitive too, so he was very brave and very imaginative."
The work deeply affected the island's people: Legacy premiered on Dec. 15, 1978 -- the same day that US President Jimmy Carter announced the US would cut diplomatic ties with Taipei in favor of Beijing. It brought the past into focus; it raised questions of identity for a society tossed about by a history of transition and cultural suppression -- first by Japanese colonial rule then by US-backed KMT nationalism.
From literature to dance
The roots of Lin's dedication to dance stretch back to childhood when as a five-year-old he saw the ballet film classic The Red Shoes -- 11 times.
He cites 14 as the "crucial" age, however, when the money he received from the publication of a short story enabled him to pay for his first ballet lessons, and when he saw modern dance master Jose Limon perform in Taichung, opening his eyes to the craft's possibilities.
"But even at 14 I was not happy with my future," says Lin. "I was not a social animal. I didn't go out much, I was always brooding, always reading literature -- and so the writing developed. I thought I was too old for dance."
And yet he still made time for it. Says Chiang: "I remember when we were in junior high school -- I went to his house one day and he performed Swan Lake for me, the entire ballet. It was the first time I'd seen it; it was beautiful."
For a while the writing predominated. By the age of 22 he had written two novels, one of which, Cicada, became an all-time bestseller in Taiwan. The turning point came when he went to the US to complete an MFA at the University of Iowa's prestigious Writer's Workshop. His second academic major -- modern dance -- reasserted itself as his primary passion during intensive summer courses at the New York school of modern-dance pioneer Martha Graham. On his return home, he founded Cloud Gate.
"It's very lonely, very precarious to pursue that kind of career," says Antonio. "I think, in the beginning, Lin was not so sure himself. But he was forced by a kind of compulsion, an emotion or drive."
Part of that compulsion may derive from a subject on which Lin, after small consideration, is dismissive: sexuality. Being gay in family-oriented Taiwanese culture no doubt added a deeper dimension to the thoughtful young man in search of his place in the world.
"His parents used to be so worried about why he didn't get married," says Antonio. "His father was always asking me to introduce some girlfriends. I suspect it [Lin's sexuality] was a powerful motive for his devotion to dance."
The son of art-loving, intellectual parents -- his father was a government minister, his mother cultivated his passion for literature -- Lin had good prospects for a career in politics or law. When he announced his intention to start a dance company, his parents' reaction was one of cautious support.
"My father said, `You can do whatever you like, but you need to be aware that having a dance career is like having a beggar's career'," Lin recalls.
"Then they held their breath and crossed their fingers."
At first he relied on government support to keep his fledgling company afloat, but there were many small dance groups jostling for portions of a fairly small pie. He realized he needed to approach business groups for sponsorship -- and that prompted him to take Cloud Gate to the world. The applause from audiences in Asia, Europe and the United States was deafening. Success overseas gave the dance company the sort of international profile which big business adores.
The money followed. So did the awards: Lin has been the recipient of almost every major arts award in Taiwan, an achievement crowned by his recent winning of the 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award -- labeled by some as Asia's Nobel Prize -- for journalism, literature and creative communication arts. Then came Cloud Gate's selection to perform during the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney, an honor shared by just four other world-renowned dance troupes, from Germany, the US and Britain.
Lin always intended Cloud Gate to be a dance theater for the Taiwanese people. That it has far exceeded its original brief is due, Lin says, to a process of evolution.
"The direction of the company, the content of the work is beyond my control," he says. "I always learn about my work during the process of creation. I can never tell you what I'm going to do next. But it's true that in the latter part of the 90s the compositions are more spiritual.
Asian inspiration
In particular, it was his "discovery" of Asia in the late 80s and early 90s that proved a most profound influence. He recalls a trip to Bodh Gaya, the northern Indian village where Buddha is believed to have attained his enlightenment under a huge Bodhi tree. The tree is still there and Lin sat beneath it, meditating.
"Somehow I think my life was changed by that tree," he says.
The experience inspired one of his most powerful works, the 1994 Songs of the Wanderers, and Bodh Gaya became his spiritual home, the place to which he continues to make an annual pilgrimage, to recover from the ordeal of creating and to find renewal for the works to come.
"I talk to Buddha as a friend," he says. "At Bodh Gaya I discovered that Buddha is not a god; he's a human being, and he's fragile like a human being, and that's why he's great."
Lin's willingness to search, to question, to dance in the dark has the force of inspiration, especially with those whom he works closest.
"He's very tough to work with because his standards are so high," says Lo Man-sei, artistic director of the newly formed Cloud Gate Two, established to take a scaled-down version of the company's repertoire to Taiwanese grassroots audiences. "But the effect of his teaching lingers in you for the rest of your life. You develop as a person, you stretch your boundaries.
"It's not just about the dance, he exposes you to the process of growth and development. He makes you see who you are, as a Taiwanese person."
But the person now sitting in the Cloud Gate studio, basking in a glow of completion, makes no great claims.
"I just enjoy working with my dancers. It's very important to me to make people happy -- in the sense that during the performance they forget about their problems and get inspired. I want to bring peacefulness, because I think we need it."
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