Anyone with a special taste for impenetrably abstract improvisational dance
should head to Whashang Arts District this weekend for Naked, the Fatalistic
State (裸宿命狀態).
The dance performance is so abstract that even the director Liu Mu (劉沐),
the dancers and others involved in the show aren't quite sure what it's
about. Some suspect it's not about anything.
No matter what it's about - and each show is never the same - the dance is
visually captivating. Ling Fan (凌凡), the man responsible for the trippy
visuals at the Channel V Christmas party, has provided computer-generated
graphics that are projected on the walls and with which the dancers
interact. Each night's projections are different, as are the lighting and
music. The dancers, according to Liu, are supposed to enter a trance, and
their inner selves are expressed.
At a show in Kaohsiung last weekend, one of the dancers emerged onto the
stage and began spinning in place, until most of the audience had left. Liu,
for one, thought the performance was great and that the dancer had reached
the special state he was hoping to bring out.
Very little concrete can be said about Naked, the Fatalistic State, except
that it is yet another dance show that seeks to challenge the audience's
perceptions of the medium.
Performances will be held tonight and tomorrow at 7:30pm and Sunday at 2pm.
Tickets cost NT$300. Whashang is located at 1 Pate Rd., Sec. 1, Taipei
(臺北市八德路一段1號)
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
Mongolian influencer Anudari Daarya looks effortlessly glamorous and carefree in her social media posts — but the classically trained pianist’s road to acceptance as a transgender artist has been anything but easy. She is one of a growing number of Mongolian LGBTQ youth challenging stereotypes and fighting for acceptance through media representation in the socially conservative country. LGBTQ Mongolians often hide their identities from their employers and colleagues for fear of discrimination, with a survey by the non-profit LGBT Centre Mongolia showing that only 20 percent of people felt comfortable coming out at work. Daarya, 25, said she has faced discrimination since she
RSS