Tag Archives: Dance

Closer Look: Jin Xing, China’s first transgender woman

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I was born in China. It is in China I must be reborn as a woman.

Jin Xing was the first transgender person to undergo sex reassignment surgery in China with government approval, and the first whose sex change was officially recognized by the Chinese government.

As a boy, Jin had an affinity for dancing and soon became a ballet dancer. At nine, Jin began performing in a prestigious troupe that was part of the People’s Liberation Army – ballet has long been considered a valuable propaganda tool – and serving as a soldier. By the age of 17 Jin was the number one male dancer in China, and had risen through the ranks to become a sergeant.

At the age of 19, she started set off to start from scratch as a dancer in New York. Jin, a major celebrity in China, was nobody in New York in the nineties. But that didn’t stop her. She studied modern dance with Martha Graham, Merce Cunningham and Jose Limon. News of her successes in New York reached Beijing, and she was promoted to colonel even though she was not serving. Her career took her to Rome, where she learned Italian, and she toured Europe before deciding that sex reassignment was the right thing for her.

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Jin Xing training as a PLA solder, age 9 | image from hollywoodreporter


When I was six years old, I thought I should be a woman. I myself knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what was wrong or what was mistaken.



 

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Jin Xing in New York in the 1990s | image from hollywoodreporter

During her years in New York, Jin began to explore gender and sexuality. She considered the possibility she was homosexual. But at that time, homosexuality was still illegal in China, and considered a mental disorder. Similarly, very few Chinese people had undergone any kind of sex reassignment and none had been recognised by the state. This was a new idea to Jin, but America had opened her eyes to new things:



I discovered words — transsexual, transgender. I said, ‘OK, I belong to that small island.’ Then I started researching.



Jin underwent three surgeries in 1995, aged 28. She emerged from the last surgery, which lasted 16 hours, to tell her father: “Your son has become your daughter.” In reply, he told Jin: “Twenty years ago, I looked at you and wondered, I have a son but he looks like a girl. So 28 years later, you’ve found yourself. Congratulations.”

Since her sex change, Jin has started a dance company in Shanghai, adopted three children, married, and begun presenting her own hugely popular television talk show, The Jin Xing Show, on the basis which she had gained the nickname “Poison Tongue”. She’s often billed as the Chinese Oprah. But she is so much more than that.

With her celebrity status, Jin Xing has brought attention to LGBTQ+ issues and the difficulties faced by the LGBTQ+ community, who struggle against social stigma and legal discrimination. She is loved as a beacon of hope by young people across China.



I don’t want to change the world… I just want to be myself.



Read on

Meet the Oprah of China, Who Happens to Be Transgender, THR

Jin Xing: China’s sex-change pioneer, CNN

Behind the Spotlights of Transgender China, Whats On Weibo

The Chinese New Year: Nutcracker, China style

National Ballet of China’s The Chinese New Year, a Chinese adaptation of the Christmas classic The Nutcracker, is without a doubt the most extravagant celebration of the national holiday that anyone could hope for. Using the original Tchaikovsky score, this version was choreographed in 2010.

 

One wonders how Petipa and Tchaikovsky would feel about The Dance of the Toffee Hawthorns or the Peg-Top, among others, but overall The Chinese New Year is an admirable ode to both a western ballet classic and to Chinese culture. Mostly, it is a fun way to spend a cold evening in the run up to Spring Festival.

 

N.B. This is just a 100 word extract from a longer review published by Bachtrack. Please click here to read the full review in English.

Please click on the images to enlarge. All images © Shi Ren

 

National Ballet of China: Preserving the Romance of Giselle (Chinese translation)

Unlike some contemporary Giselle being performed in the West, National Ballet of China’s version harks back to the delicacy and romance of the 1841 original. The choreography performed at Beijing’s NCPA last Friday was strikingly beautiful, wonderfully capturing the profound emotion of the piece.

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© Shi Ren

This performance resonated profoundly; National Ballet of China set the bar extremely high with their Giselle. Feng Ying’s adapted choreography preserves the beauty of the original while adding revealing touches of humour and emotion to several of the characters’ relationships. The overall performance was incredibly touching, technically impressive and incredibly memorable.

N.B. This is just a 100 word extract from a longer review published by Bachtrack, followed by the full review in Chinese. Please click here to read the full review in English.

中央芭蕾舞团:留住《吉赛尔》的浪漫

不同于西方许多当代版《吉赛尔》,中央芭蕾舞团的版本追溯了1841年原版的精致和浪漫。这部上周五在北京国家大剧院上演的舞剧有着惊人的美丽,巧妙地捕捉了作品深邃的情感。

2014年初,结合安东·道林1940年根据科拉里/佩罗(彼季帕改编)的复排版本,中央芭蕾舞团艺术总监冯英复排了《吉赛尔》,并进行了一些修改。在改编中,冯团致力于保留法国芭蕾原有的风格、唯美和浪漫。她的努力显然得到了回报。

王启敏扮演的吉赛尔生动而甜美。在马晓东扮演的阿尔伯特身边,她闪闪发光,引人注目——他们组成了非常俏皮的一对儿。 在双人舞中,女孩儿敏捷而细腻,同样地,男孩儿以有力的支持和轻盈的脚步回应爱人。很多编舞的细节允许他们有足够的空间进行丰富的情感交流,但并不拖延故事的节奏。

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© Shi Ren

一幕的一对独舞稍显奇怪。他们的动作一致性不错,但是对舞不够强。男孩儿扶女孩儿完成阿拉贝斯克时,他们的手臂明显地晃动——他们靠得太近了。张熙的手臂来回摆动像是脱离了他的身体,而且有些时候他好像跳得不够高(脚没有完全绷起来)。但是战薪潞独舞的时候非常美,她的足尖功夫清晰明了;舞姿虽有些许僵硬,但依旧优雅;她的手臂动作更是优美无比。

史丽旸出色地扮演了既具有权威又焦虑的母亲。在吉赛尔的两个求爱者企图进入房间时,她以不赞成的表情让他们回到自己的位置。母亲明显的担忧——检查女儿的心率,擦拭额头的汗水,并且反复提醒女儿不要跳舞——渲染了吉赛尔不可避免的死亡。从女儿和母亲的第一次互动开始,一切都非常清晰,女儿一直想要反抗自己脆弱的心脏,尽管她明知不该冒险。

吉赛尔的死亡因其合理性而更显悲剧性——回忆着他们的双人舞,她的头发披散着,眼神涣散,她看着阿尔伯特,却没有真的看见他。她强大的灵魂被脆弱的身体束缚,合理地促成了可信的死亡。

第二幕实在太棒了——我想不出比这更好的方式表现维丽幽灵。邱芸庭在舞台上来回飘过,在鬼王米尔达开场独舞中,她的足尖功夫非常完美。群舞小心翼翼地进入舞台,“僵尸”般的姿态看起来也非常恰当,身体前倾,低着头,被白纱覆盖。她们像一片美丽的白色海洋覆盖了整个舞台。

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© Shi Ren

启敏和晓冬更是一对有说服力的忧郁情侣。他们拼命地抓住爱情和生命;吉赛尔的脆弱在死后变成了力量,阿尔伯特通过诚恳的努力打动米尔达,他的傲慢也在舞步中消散了。一想到周五的演出是王启敏膝盖受伤复出的《吉赛尔》首演,这位首席完美无瑕的足尖功夫就更加令人印象深刻了。米尔达冰冷而令人生畏,在拒绝筋疲力尽的阿尔伯特时,平坦的手掌、伸直的手臂指向阿尔伯特,眼睛却看着另一个方向,精彩地传达出钢铁般的意志。

第二幕的两位独舞鲁頔和方梦颖,舞蹈都非常出色,从群舞中凸显出来。但是她们并不突兀——她们完美地融入了这一大群极为相似、整齐划一的维丽幽灵中(除了感觉上比其他人略高一些)。

从无可挑剔的笔直后背,以及群舞场景中几乎与军队一样整齐的线条中,我们能够明显看出俄罗斯学派对这个中国舞团的影响。她们排练得那么完美,所有幽灵的高度看起来一模一样。即使在一些速度极快的舞段中,演员们的脚步仍然非常清晰,让人忍不住地只盯着他们的脚看。

这场演出引起了深刻共鸣;中央芭蕾舞团用《吉赛尔》标榜了舞团极高的水平。冯团的改编确实保留了原作之美,还加入了一些幽默和感情的细节来揭示人物关系。总的来说,整场演出感人至深,技术上令人印象深刻,非常值得纪念。

Translated by: Kejia Peng and Xian Huang

Header image: © Shi Ren

Snow Days

Last Friday, a first blanket of snow covered Beijing for a few hours. I was safely tucked away, out of the cold, in a classroom on the third floor, overlooking the university’s playing fields. The more curious of the class peered out of the windows at the heavy dollops of snow coming down past the silvery trees still displaying their yellow leaves. It seemed too early for snow. And it was. The snow began after I started teaching that morning, and had melted by lunchtime with no sign of the powdery sprinkling but the remaining chill.

On Sunday morning, the snow returned in earnest. Hauling ourselves out of bed and into the shower before a long working Sunday and after a long working Saturday, we didn’t notice it until moments before we left the house. The whiteness shone in at us as the morning light bounced of whitened hutong roofs.

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Throughout the day, my usual brisk walk to keep out the cold slowed gradually to a careful trudge, each short journey between subway station and destination getting more treacherous as the thawed, slushy snow refroze to form a layer of ice underfoot.

Across the city, pavements were covered in green slush puppy – apple flavour? – as the chlorophyll from unturned leaves crushed underfoot mingled with the white snow. I knew Beijing snow ought to be dirty, but green? This wintry snap was so sudden that most of the trees were still covered in hardy green leaves, all forced to fall with the stinging cold. Workers lined streets wielding straw brooms and spades, gathering snow and freshly dropped foliage into little piles along sidewalks.

It was bitingly cold but I knew the later I stayed out the colder it would get. I managed to curl up in bed before 10pm – which is a first in months – for a deep, snow-induced 12-hour sleep.

Monday was sunny. The temperature was not high but the brilliant blue sky cheered my otherwise low spirits. I had explained in Chinese just the day before why autumn is my favourite season. In the UK, there are days when the sun shines, and the sky is blue but the air is frozen. Plumes of dragon’s breath unfold on the walk to school, as I eat a newly ripe apple plucked straight from the tree before leaving home – I remember those days as clear as the sky itself.

I donned my fur-lined industrial-weight stomping boots for the first time this winter (I’m so glad I braved China’s August heat wearing those on first arrival in Beijing, they are 100% necessary if I want my toes to survive Beijing winters) and sung as I walked to my dental appointment.

 

Unable to talk (let alone sing) on my walk home, I was no less grateful for the huge coat I bought last February. I hadn’t needed it (or hadn’t realised I needed it) until after a late-January visit to Xi’an, Shaanxi Province. That week of outside activities in my woollen, double-breasted, mens houndstooth jacket was agonisingly cold. But last year, apparently, was much warmer than this. The blue skies we had last year confute the cutting chill of normal Chinese winters. Climate change finally appearing manifest, last year’s was a deceptively warm hoax of a winter.

And now, the thin snow is falling once again. Though it comes down in sparse little flurries, it is constant and soon covers the ground in a fine powder. The eerie white light spurs me on. The trees directly outside my north-facing windows are completely bare and leaf-free now. This is the freshest light I have seen in weeks.

As I write, I know the playground opposite is about to be flooded by children, who may or may not run around and play in the white cold a little while, depending on how strict (or cold) their waiting (grand)parents are. Perhaps the blanket will remain where it lies, undisturbed until tomorrow’s school day begins afresh, perhaps it will thaw and refreeze, rendering the play area unusable and keeping the children indoors all day as the rain used to do in my school – we had specific games especially for ‘wet play’ days.

Might their Headmaster organise a snowball fight? Mr Watkins, our Headteacher and everybody’s favourite, would announce the scheduled lunchtime fight at the morning’s school assembly. Year 4 and 7 against years 5 and 6, with respective teachers joining their classes. Mr Watkins was a devoted cricket player, who, during Monday assemblies in summer months, would recount stories of his Sunday afternoon matches – I was one of the few students on our cricket team, and therefore lucky enough to understand his love of the sport – so Mr Watkins had the best aim of all the teachers, and you’d always want him on your side for the snowball fights.

Somehow I doubt that is a popular policy at Chinese schools. I just hope the local kids get to enjoy the winter’s snow as much as I did as a child (and still do), and aren’t kept indoors by their guardians for fear of their having too much fun.

Chinese Dentist Time

What time is it?

It’s Chinese Dentist Time! 

When I was a kid, just as ten to ten became Cowboy Time (ten to ten to ten ten ten…, two thirty became tooth hurty – Chinese Dentist Time. It was years before I realised the racism of this joke. But it has nonetheless been circling my head for the past week.

I have spent months trying to find a dentist within convenient distance who I trust. I had two fillings by a friend of a friend back in June, the first of which still hurts. I trust her judgement on necessary treatment, just not so much the follow through. She spent several hours yanking on my friend’s wisdom tooth before they rushed him to hospital because she was both unable to pull the tooth and unable to staunch the bleeding…only about a month before his wedding.

I can’t say I have been able to get good advice from many people. Most expats, it seems, do not a) take care of their teeth, b) have bad teeth that they need to take care of, or c) feel safe enough to entrust themselves to a Chinese dentist. I don’t have much choice, unless I want to live with severe shooting pains through my jaw every time I eat until I visit the UK in July, at which point I would probably need six teeth removed through sheer neglect. I cannot believe it took me so long to actually see a dentist!

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X-Ray courtesy of Hengrui Dental Office

But this week, having decided I had to at least get ONE thing ticked off my to-do list, I walked into a Wudaokou dentist, and just happened to catch an English-speaking assistant before she left work at 9.30pm. So they X-Rayed me, had a prod about to discern where the pain was coming from and then gave me an appointment.

Tomorrow, I am getting a wisdom tooth removed. I am somewhat scared. It’s bad enough trying to communicate with a person when they have tools and their hands inside your mouth in order to cause you pain. This dentist, though, does not speak my language.

So, without further ado… Wish me luck!!

P.s. More on this to come, after the “surgery”…

 

Evolution: A dance where nobody’s watching

Dance is one of the major loves of my life. It is my therapy. It gives me focus and energy. It calms me down. It is always there when I need it. I can find the soothing power of movement within me wherever I have a little free space and time.

Thus I have long wanted to make a contribution to the dance scene in my local area. Living in London for 10 months in 2013-14, I wrote about dance week in, week out. I lived and breathed dance. But I lived and breathed dance vicariously. Yes, I watched wonderful live performances by some of the world’s major contemporary dance and ballet companies, I read articles, I wrote reviews, I met other writers and I met practitioners. But I did not dance. That’s where I was going wrong.

Beijing’s dance scene has taken me a while to get my teeth into. I spent months searching high and low for anything and everything beyond the National Ballet of China performances at the NCPA. I wanted to keep writing about dance but I needed to get involved, physically.

My first encounter was a little before my birthday last year. On the last Sunday of November and the first Sunday of December a pair of Contact Improvisation (CI) workshops, run by Irene Sposetti and facilitated by Beijing CI, took place at LDTX studios. It was something like 10 hours of dancing plus a live music jam session on the final evening. It utterly exhausted me. But there’s a reason it was my only birthday present from me – I needed it more than I ever had. It had a profound effect on my wellbeing.

The Beijing CI group run weekly Sunday night workshops in Beijing’s Chaoyang district, (6.30-8pm) followed by a free-form jam (8-9.30pm). I see it as a chance to get in touch with my body and focus on the connections between my inner and outer selves while I build relationships with dancers around me. Returning to CI workshops after a long dancing hiatus has flooded my soul with relief.

Most recently, though, I have become involved with Pojie Arts, a Beijing-based organisation that runs transformative and therapeutic dance workshops for people with disabilities. Introduced to Pojie’s co-founders by a mutual contact, we gathered in October to work together towards an event to be held early in December.

I’ve now worked with Pojie participants, founders and volunteers on three occasions. It has been the easiest imaginable creation process – the participants are energetic, intriguing movers while the Pojie facilitators are brimming with fantastic ideas. Needless to say, I am incredibly excited by this project, and so happy to know that our event will raise money to enable Pojie to continue their brilliant work. So, without further ado:

 

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Evolution: a dance where nobody’s watching

Ever wanted to dance like nobody’s watching?

Transmigrant Flow has teamed up with Pojie Arts to hold a night of dance and merry-making. Pojie Arts runs transformative and therapeutic dance workshops for children and young people with disabilities. 

The night will showcase video and photos taken by Michelle Proskell, a participatory dance performance by Pojie’s volunteers and dancers, and a free-flowing, no lights dance party we’re calling Dance in the Dark. 

All proceeds will go toward enabling Pojie Arts to continue providing their beneficial workshops for free.

8pm Thurs December 10th 2015 at Modernista, 44 Baochao Hutong, Beijing

Tickets: 50rmb (on the door)

Please contact me for more information about the event.


 

Check out Beijing’s Contact Improvisation group  on Facebook

CI Workshops and classes take place at Capoeria Mandinga Beijing, a ten minute walk from Chaoyangmen Subway station  (exit A).

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Room 801, JiQingLi Community (Above UBC Coffee), Northwest corner of Chaowai North Street and JiShiKou East Road.

 

北京市朝阳区朝外北街和吉市口东街路口西北角(吉庆里),上岛咖啡楼上801室

 

 

Beijing Dance / LDTX premiere Yang Wei’s evocative Earth / Quake

Beijing Dance / LTDX premiered Earth / Quake, a contemporary dance work by well-known traditional Chinese choreographer Yang Wei at the People’s Liberation Army Theater last week to a noticeably mixed and highly enthusiastic crowd of foreigners and locals alike. This is the first time Yang has done a modern dance piece, announced good-humoured Artistic Director Willy Tsao before the show, ‘so even if you do not like it, you can appreciate the effort that she put into this trial’. The Beijing Dance / LDTX dancers could not have disappointed their audience had they tried.

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© Yin Peng
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© Yin Peng

Watching a piece by an Army choreographer is a pretty special experience. For Yang’s very first venture into the world of contemporary dance, she created a piece that explores the depths of imagination and fantasy. Countless metal chairs and a white bathtub hung from the ceiling above the dancers – the literal suspension of day-to-day reality. Jemmy Zhang’s costumes pushed the bounds of contemporary dance costuming with oversized formal wear hanging off the dancers in swathes at odd angles – Tang Ting Ting wore a  jacket as a skirt. She climbed into it, one leg and one arm in the two sleeves, and played with the range (or restriction) of movement this allowed.

The piece ultimately centred around a romance between the dreamer (Adiya) and a veiled beauty (Gong Xing Xing), who seemed to be protected by a horde of strangely clad beastly creatures.

Gong trailed lengths of white gauzy fabric everywhere she went, looking like the dreamer’s ultimate damsel in distress. Adiya darted about, hopelessly in love and helplessly unable to make any progress with her.

This post is a combination of 100 words from a longer review and additional thoughts thereafter. The official review was published by Bachtrack on 6th November 2015. Please click here to read the full review.