Former Australian Ballet principal Robert Curran has moved from centre stage to the wings; but don’t for a moment think he doesn’t mean it anymore.

By Paul Ransom.

When you have dedicated the best part of your adolescence and adult life to dance what do you do when you slide off the tights for the final time and vanish into retirement? Former Australian Ballet principal Robert Curran didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Following his 2011 swansong, Curran was looking forward to a sabbatical. “I made the decision last year that I would take twelve months off just to get some distance between myself and performing, but I only really lasted about two months before I was desperate to get back in the studio and be part of the creative process again.”

Fast forward a few months and Curran found himself joining forces with one of Australia’s most recognised choreographers, Stephen Page, and taking on the role of Rehearsal Director with the country’s peak indigenous arts company Bangarra Dance Theatre.

It may sound less glamorous than dancing Siegfried or being an artistic director, but for Curran his new side-stage career represents a gilt edge opportunity to get to grips with the inner workings of a major, touring company. “My take on this whole situation is that I’m being given an opportunity to learn and observe,” he says, “and if I’m lucky transfer some of those learnings across to my own creative ambitions.”

But of course, Bangarra is not just any company, as Curran is quick to acknowledge. As a ‘white’ Australian, he is all too aware of the company’s pivotal role both as a creator of contemporary indigenous stories and as a guardian of first nation culture. “I’m facilitating something that is not my place culturally to interfere with,” he concedes, “and I definitely don’t think these things are over-played. There are cultural sensitivities. There are language barriers too. There are an enormous amount of aboriginal tribes and dialects and Bangarra can’t represent every single one of them – but they need to be sensitive. They need to do things correctly. They need to ensure that what’s put out there isn’t just thrown together.”

However, as Rehearsal Director, Curran’s role is more practical and personal than political. His dailies include scheduling, fitness training, working on technical strength and providing overall pastoral care for the company’s 14 dancers. It’s hands-on and can be quite intense.

“When you’re talking to a dancer about what they perceive are their weaknesses and what they need to work on, there’s really an enormous amount of trust that comes from that level of personal disclosure,” he explains.

Robert Curran with Lucinda Dunn, when dancing with The Australian Ballet. Photo by Georges Antoni.

In the physically strenuous world of professional dance the ‘welfare’ issues are mainly corporeal. “As the abilities of the dancers increase so do the risks to their physical well-being and health,” he notes. “Because we keep putting greater demands on dancers – everything has to be more exciting and interesting – that really takes it out of them.”

Now that he finds himself in the role of care giver, rather than receiver, Curran is able to reflect on his own career through a new prism. Looking back over his years with the nation’s flagship ballet company, he now recognises how well The Australian Ballet’s backroom staff looked after him as a dancer. As he recalls it, “They definitely got me into performances and into rehearsals that otherwise I would not have been able to do.”

Having once flirted with the idea of becoming a doctor, Curran is perhaps a natural caregiver. However, he is also a creative being with ambitions to front a company one day. For him, Bangarra is a port of the way to that destination. In the meantime, he admits, there is plenty for him to learn; not the least with regard to the company’s cultural mission.

Whereas some might consider Bangarra’s aboriginality a convenient marketing device, Curran argues strongly that the company is anything but token. “Bangarra is sooo not commercial and mass produced. This is a company that is so closely linked to their forty thousand year old culture; it’s just that they’re telling their stories today.”

Indeed, the struggle to keep history alive and relevant is not a new thing for Curran. “For me personally that’s a very valuable lesson because ballet has the same issues. For Bangarra the challenge is to overcome that touristy plastic token thing, whilst ballet is fighting the pointe shoe, tutu, Sleeping Beauty phenomena.”

On a recent trip to remote communities in Arnhem Land, Curran was able to witness first-hand the life of a traditional society. “I would daresay that most of the Australian community will never have the kind of experience I had up there,” he suggests. “It was incredibly special to be able to go out into the communities and witness ceremonies that no other white Australian would be able to see. It was incredibly nerve wracking for me.”

Meanwhile, back in the rehearsal studio in Sydney, Curran has his hands full with getting the company’s new show Blak ready for its world premiere season. In a sign of just how ground level his new role is, Curran reveals that his main job right now is working with Blak’s co-choreographer and dancer Daniel Riley McKinley. “Actually, that’s been my real focus; to make sure that he’s fit, that he does enough rehearsals and makes sure his body is ready.”

Whatever the cultural context, it seems, the dance must go on.

Photo (top): Robert Curran. Photo by Greg Barrett.

By Grace Edwards.

Drawing on the cumulative life experiences of the company’s fourteen members, Bangarra Dance Theatre’s forthcoming production Blak explores rites of passage – the rituals that mark the transition between childhood and adulthood.

Commissioning emerging choreographer and dancer Daniel Riley McKinley to work alongside him, Director Stephen Page continues his commitment to developing the next generation of Indigenous storytellers.

Both McKinley and Page take their initial inspiration for the work from past fascinations.  “For me, the initial idea came from Djakapurra Munyarryran, and the scarring he has on his chest,” says McKinley, “I have danced and shared a stage with him many times since I joined Bangarra and I was always intrigued by what they represented.” Page cites the influence of the earlier Bangarra production Skin (2000) which explored men’s and women’s ‘business’, customs and social issues from both the past and present and considered their status in modern society.

Daniel Riley McKinley. Photo by Jeff Busby

Both choreographers conceive of Blak as less anthropological essay and more personal inquiry. “As a young Indigenous male, I’ve started to question what my rite of passage is, or was, or is going to be,” says McKinley, for whom the broader themes of Blak resonate on a deeply personal level. “In traditional communities, the line between boy and man is so clear. Their level of responsibility changes, as does the way they are treated and looked upon within that community. I don’t feel it’s so black and white for us, as Indigenous males living in urban centres.”

Throwing these contrasts into greater relief, no doubt, was Bangarra’s recent weeklong fieldtrip to North East Arnhem Land. During their stay, men and women were given space to focus entirely on each other and ‘country’. Blak will consequently feature a distinct men’s section choreographed by McKinley and a women’s section under the direction of Page. “Our trip has definitely refuelled and reinvigorated us all,” says dancer Waangenga Blanco, a descendant of the Meriam Island people and of the Pajinka Wik, Cape York.

“After last year’s production of Terrain, which was primarily based on land and spirit of land, the edginess of Blak will stem from the land’s people…our experiences as Indigenous people in this day and age,” adds fellow dancer, Jasmin Sheppard, herself an Aboriginal woman with a mixed heritage of Irish, Chinese, Jewish and Russian descent.

Connecting old and contemporary generations within the Indigenous community is a responsibility the company takes seriously, and balancing this with the competing demands of mainstream audiences is no easy task. “We are the care-takers,” says Page. “Our challenge is keeping a respected relationship with traditional clans and maintaining the integrity from living stories, song and dance, generously passed down to the company as inspiration for our contemporary expression.”

Jasmin Sheppard performs in ‘Riley’. Photo by Andy Solo.

“The spirit of traditional rites of passage is passed down from generation to generation,” Page informs us. “Time and evolution have influenced the spirit of that passage. Blak will explore the spirit reaction those influences have had on us and we hope the audience can connect to that spirit.”

McKinley is excited to be working with his mentor to make that happen. “Whenever Stephen and I have been in the studio together, mainly him choreographing on me, we always seem to connect so easily,” he says. “The process has never seemed forced, and we seem to connect on the same movement and choreographic level.”

He added, “I have always felt that there is an unspoken connection between our creative minds. I am greatly looking forward to being in the studio together and seeing what we can collaboratively create on the fantastic dancers.”

Though Blak is only McKinley’s second work as a choreographer — his first was Riley for Bangarra in 2010 — he has been with the company as a dancer since 2007. He has toured and performed both nationally in the company’s productions Clan, True Stories, Mathinna, Fire – A Retrospective, of earth & sky and Spirit, and internationally in True Stories, Awakening and Spirit, as well as Stephen Page’s Warumuk — in the dark night as part of The Australian Ballet’s 50^th Anniversary celebrations.

Stephen Page and dancers in a rehearsal for ‘Blak’.

Helping bring to life the inspirations and shared vision of the company is composer David Page. Page created the musical soundscape for Bangarra’s of earth and sky in 2010, and also composed for the company’s productions Belong, Terrain, choreographed by Frances Rings, as well as Stephen Page’s Warumuk — in the dark night.

Together with Paul Mac, he has already begun working to bring Blak’s soundscape to life. Of his creative process, he says, “The spirit of the work comes initially from the story tellers, who in this production are Stephen and Dan. As soon as I have that, I start to create sounds and compose music that supports the movement.”

“Apart from being inspired by the story, I begin resourcing and listening to a vast library of instruments, sounds and other recordings. I then slowly create the music for each dance section, keeping close communication with the choreographer. The music must resonate with Bangarra’s unique way of showcasing contemporary Indigenous dance, but also embrace the present, creating a new work that can inspire and last always.”

Together, the artists and indigenous consultants will continue their cultural journey over the next few months as they work to make Blak an innovative and poignant contribution to Bangarra’s already highly-acclaimed repertoire. Though still in the early stages of its creation, Blak promises to carry on Bangarra’s tradition of marrying the urban and contemporary with the traditional, speaking to a variety of audiences whilst remaining deeply personal and spiritual, and helping us see with new eyes the relevance of the lessons of old in our own lives.

Tickets for the world premiere season at Arts Centre, Melbourne, 3 to 11 May and the Sydney Opera House, 7 to 22 June are now on sale. Tickets are also on sale for limited seasons of the Blak national tour at Illawarra Performing Arts Centre in Wollongong, Canberra Theatre Centre and Queensland Performing Arts Centre. To book tickets visit www.bangarra.com.au.

Top photo: Bangarra Dance Theatre’s Daniel Riley McKinley and Waangenga Blanco. Photo by Greg Barrett.

Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne
July 5 2012

By Paul Ransom.

It is obvious that Briwyant has been thought about long and hard. The sheer number of ideas and motifs running through the contemporary work prove that.

However, for all that layered complexity, Vicki Van Hout’s exploration of meaning in traditional indigenous painting and the place of ancient clan knowledge in the context of urban Australia comes across as somewhat academic. The ideas crowd out the passion and at times there is so much happening (between the dancers and the video screens) that it’s hard to know where to look.

That aside, Briwyant is a highly textured piece; complete with compulsory video, dialogue and cleverly employed soundscapes. In its blending of traditional (and tribal) forms with the vernacular of contemporary dance it finds its place between the meaning of ceremonial practise and the aesthetic of the black box. The movement here is much more than mere stylised prettiness; it has intent.

On the whole it would have more compelling with more energetic performances. The seven strong ensemble (which includes Van Hout herself) bordered on lacklustre at times; perhaps weighed down with too much conceptual baggage.

Having said that, Briwyant is scattered with highly watchable tricks and moments, and is often quite funny. The almost audacious use of silence is notable, as is the ingenious employment of silhouette. There is also a courageous complexity happening here. Vicki Van Hout is clearly not afraid to be running several parallel threads. When it works it’s really good; when it doesn’t, it’s a little overcooked.

For Australian audiences who are used to the notion that Bangarra are the only indigenous contemporary dance outlet, Vicki Van Hout may well provide an alternative and sharp choreographic and intellectual vision.