“We gathered here tonight not only to celebrate the dance, but to celebrate a visionary person,” said Davidčervenka, the Czech ambassador to Norway. He stood in the sun-drenched foyer of the iconic Oslo Opera House, next to Ingrid Lorentzen, artistic director of the Norwegian National Ballet, at the opening ceremony The Wings of TimeThis is the most comprehensive collection of works by Ji Hong Kylián, a world-renowned Czech choreographer and multimedia artist. “Culture is often used to build bridges,” Červenka said. “Giy Kelion is the bridge.”
Kylián, 78, joined the platform without hesitation in a black leather jacket and jeans. “I can't speak,” he said. “It was a very unique experience for me. I'm very modest, a happy boy.”
Later, Lorentzen, a former main dancer in the ballet, told Kylián: “You won't like the word, but when I first met you, I felt like I was in front of God.” He just shook his head and smiled. Later, Kjetil Trædal Thorsen, Norwegian architect and co-founder of Snøhetta, praised the festival's entire iceberg-like building, from sloping glass curtain walls to walking rooftops to its three theaters and three theaters and backstage. “What is life? This is where my body is. Always.” “Your work is constantly related to space.” Kylián replied: “everything About time and space. Time will never stop, space will never stop. ”
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These conversations took place for a few days, but they all happened on the bright oak barriers of the Opera House and merged into my memories. During my three days at my festival in Oslo, time did a fun thing, bent down before it was crucial. At the opening ceremony on May 29, Kylián concluded his speech to hundreds of international audiences, saying: “In this difficult world, it is amazing to be able to do what we do here and what kind of thing is extraordinary. Abnormal. We deserve it. The spirituality we deserve it. The culture we deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it. We deserve it.
The Wings of Time Its breadth and executions are extraordinary. It celebrates Kellyn’s impressive artistic legacy by showing his seven greatest ballets along with his films, sculptures, photographs and installations.
Kylián was born and raised in Prague, Czechoslovakia. His mother, a dance prodigy, instilled in him a love of action and music and took him to see his first ballet when he was nine years old. He began to study dance at the Prague Conservatory and then met John Cranko at the Royal Ballet School in London, who invited him to join the Stuttgart Ballet. He soon began choreographing his own ballet and was invited to serve as artistic director of Nederlands Dans Theatre, where he stayed from 1975 to 1999 and then left to focus on his art projects. Throughout his career, he has created nearly 100 dance works.
So why did the Norwegian National Ballet organize a review of a Czech-born Dutch artist? Kylián has a long and loyal relationship with the company. They performed twenty-seven of his works over nearly 40 years, and it was his job when the Oslo Opera opened in 2008. The world transcends the world. The Norwegian National Ballet is to some extent the artist's house.
Ballet
Kylián's seven ballets (spanning 1978-2008) as part of it. The Wings of Time In the main stages of the two programs: The day before tomorrow and The day after yesterday. (I admit it took me a minute, but they both mean “now.”) Before each show, the audience was invited to witness an excerpt of a group of Norwegian students dancing Chap (2005) On the roof of the opera house. With colorful, shiny top hats and jazz kicks, you can take place on the Prince's “works” and it's the perfect apéritif for a hearty meal.
The day before tomorrowWhat I saw at the premiere is composed of three recent works by Kylián, each of which is a beautiful beast, and is even more amazing than the last one. exist Waffle wings (1997), a tree is inverted in the center of the stage. Eight dancers moved in classical ways, then disconnected, and then separated from Heinrich von Bieber, John Cage, Philip Glass and John Sebastian Bach. They flew slowly, waving their feet, swarming with their V arms, and then split into pairs. I thought of Icarus and Daedalus, flying and falling, and swaying lights on the stage – the cycle of darkness and light. God and the Dog (2008) is very different. Set as Ludwig van Beethoven's “String Quartet No. 1 in F Major” (interrupted by an electronic composition by Dirk Haubrich), the eight dancers use a more modern, rooted action vocabulary to explore their animals and sacred sides. Someone slid down the stage and reappeared from under the back curtain. Another crawled over a lit candle. The video projection changes from an amorphous white lump to a large dog, opening its mouth, running towards us, and then a man lights up like his body is made of stars. Bella Figura (1995) closed the program, cutting the space with enclosure and opening, falling curtains, blocking and amplifying the dance in ways I've never seen it.
The second program, The day after yesterdayfeaturing four of Kylián's early ballet, all of which will host Live Orchestra: Forgotten land (1981), No more playing (1988), Petite Mott (1991) and Symphony of Psalm (1978). The ballet on the show is more traditional and works with the music in a very good way. When the music brings out the action, the movement seems to bring music. Together, they are more than just the sum of the various parts, even though their parts themselves are masterpieces. exist Petite MottWhen I saw it on May 31, it was my favorite, six men dressed in striptease dances, with their backs to us, wielding swords. They pose for one of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's piano concerto and Preen, then grab six short clad women, who rush out, gush out and collapse as if they were dead, or could not wait to die, and then rise again. These pairs quickly split into duo, and that's where Kylián's talent lies. He is a master of his partner, and his emotionally honest, evocative supply of choreography seems bottomless in the two.
Movie
It turns out that Kylián is not only a master choreographer, but also an excellent filmmaker. Emotional picturesintroduced four of his films in Phase 2 of the Opera House. Although classified as “dance movies” (they are choreographed and have no dialogue), they are different from the type I've seen before. Kylián's style returns to Czech Surrealism and Ingmar Bergman's existential cinema. They are fantastic, ridiculous, occasionally humorous, and sometimes painful.
The wife of the four-movie star Kylián and longtime Muse Sabine Kupferberg, who is as talented as a dancer, is still a dancer and still loves his life very much. (On a news tour, Kellyn said: “She stood with me at the beginning of her career and we might end our career together, preferably dying at the same time.”) Two movies, two of them, Between the entrance and exit (2013) and Auto Man (2006) was produced in collaboration with director Boris Paval Conen. These two are narrative and character-driven. The first is a profound psychological study of the omnipotent love and sadness of a couple. The latter is a quirky recap of Georges Bizet Carmen Set in desolate waste. Schwarzfahrer (2014), the historic Prague tram setup starting in 1930, is a humorous glimpse of the imagination or memory of two passengers, Scalamare (2017) is a visual exploration of a couple on the 40th anniversary of their honeymoon, on the steps of the monument Ai Caduti in Ancona, Italy.
When I participate Emotional picturesthe great Liv Ullmann attended. In the post-show Q&A, she stood and said watching these movies has always been one of the most important artistic experiences of her life.
Install
Kylián is also a master choreographer and excellent filmmaker, and an extraordinary visual artist.
still It is a sculptural installation depicting the bodies of his eight dancers (138% of 3D printing), which is on the facade of the Opera House. The body seemed to pass through the glass wall, half outside and half in the foyer. “Flight between one being and another,” Kellyn said. “Between life and death.”
In the background space, Free autumn It is an immersive photography study by Kupferberg, written by Bach. “We are all over one person,” Kelion said of the device. “And we're all in a free fall state until one day we'll definitely land.” From there, the audience can walk through keep goingdeliberately imperfect mirror corridor. “In life, you think everything is straight, but never.” That road leads to Ensōa large device with sand and a rotating mirror set as the “Spiegel im spiegel” by ArvoPärt.
Here, there Ensōthe festival climaxed for me. The device encapsulates everything I've experienced – Kylián's use of beautiful music, his obsession with light colors and darkness, and the cycle of time. The night before I left Oslo, I went back to watch the piece alone. I stood there for a while, listening and not seeing the sandy Zen Buddhist symbols of eternal life, watching the huge mirror reflect and turn, reflect and turn, I know that I saw the work of an artist at a high level of ability. I have never understood time, space, and life and death before. I'm very modest, a happy girl.
