Budding Choreographic Stars: A Dancer's Retrospective of the Bloom Prize Finalists

Although the Rose and Bloom Prize performances ended two weeks ago, I find myself still thinking about two pieces in particular for their brilliance: Maldonne, by the French choreographer Leïla Ka, and Beings, by the Taiwanese choreographer Wang Yeu-Kwn. Coincidentally, these two pieces were both finalists for the Bloom Prize (the younger sibling of the inaugural Rose Prize for international dance), which focuses on choreographers with at most 10 years of experience. Maldonne and Beings struck me as incredibly mature and fully fleshed pieces of art, something that I was not expecting from such young choreographers.

Despite not winning, they both deserve much more attention than they are being given. I must note that I did not see Stav Struz Boutros’s winning piece Sepia, so this is not an argument for why Maldonne or Beings should have won. Instead, this is simply a personal reflection on the beauty of each choreographer’s vision. 

Dancers performing Maldonne, choreographed by Leïla Ka. Photo supplied by the production.

Maldonne, choreographed by Leïla Ka

This piece marked Leïla Ka’s first full-length group piece – her inexperience is completely unnoticeable to the audience and her perspective on a full-length piece is rather refreshing. Maldonne explores facets of womanhood; it is albeit not the most creative concept, but here it is executed to perfection. 

A notable particularity of her work is the costumes, comprising 40 dresses from second-hand shops. In an interview, Ka explained how each dress has its own story, belonging to a different woman whom the dancers try to embody each time they wear a different dress. She also mentioned how each dress is given a name by the dancers, cementing a bond with women from the past. The cast also features women of different ages, something unusual in the dance world that I found deeply touching. 

Dancers performing Maldonne, choreographed by Leïla Ka. Photo supplied by the production.

The ballet is split into several ‘tableaux’, each centering around a different aspect of femininity. 

The first scene that stood out to me was the opening tableaux, where the dancers used body percussion and their breaths to create a soundscape that they moved to. The syncopation and cannon effects of the choreography were particularly well executed and effective in their message about ceaseless and continual domestic violence towards women. This scene was reprised in the finale to grand classical music; the women, this time, wore all of their dresses on top of each other and took them off layer by layer to finally expose a simple white nightgown each, reminding the audience that beneath all of the roles women are assigned, they are, at the core, women and human beings. 

Set to jungle-evoking music, another scene that I appreciated followed the five women, wearing long animal-print dresses, exploring the ‘primal’ or ‘natural’ roles of women: scrubbing the floor, moving from one sexual position to the next, and swatting flies. Along with the animalistic noises made by the dancers from time to time, this scene was extremely effective in showing the ridiculous expectations set on women, often leading them to be treated more as pets than people.

Dancers performing Maldonne, choreographed by Leïla Ka. Photo supplied by the production.

The penultimate ‘pantomime’ scene was one of the most striking. To a Vivaldi-like violin-heavy classical piece of music, the dancers became classic feminine archetypes, such as the naggy woman, the loving woman, the pregnant woman, and the innocent woman. In these roles, they performed comedically, running around the stage, screaming at each other, fighting, using the dresses as props, and falling dramatically. As an audience member, it was evident that the dancers were enjoying this section, and it felt very liberating to watch: when women are often reduced to these archetypes, they can't form a complete sense of identity. 

Overall, this is truly a wonderful, thought-provoking piece that is not overly complicated and remains easy to understand on different levels. This is a perfect example of how a simple set, simple costumes from second-hand shops, and pre-existing music can be united through dance to tell a story. While at times the different tableaux felt a little disjointed, it was in general a very cohesive piece with a wonderful energy.

Dancers perform Beings, choreographed by Wang Yeu-Kwn. Photo supplied by the production.

Beings, choreographed by Wang Yeu-Kwn

I was mind-blown by Wang Yeu-Kwn’s ‘Beings’, a piece exploring connection and support. I have a strong attachment to the Chinese culture, having spent the majority of my life in Hong Kong and travelled extensively throughout China, so I will admit that the cultural elements spoke to me more strongly than to the average viewer. However, I think that this piece will leave its mark on any audience, as the choreographer uses these elements to tell a story of humanity and connection. 

This piece is one that I can only describe as visual calligraphy. This beautifully poetic piece was for two dancers, but it felt like three: Wang used a large square of rice paper in the performance, which had a life of its own.  The rice paper at times was folded to resemble a beating heart; elsewhere, it acted as a canvas for the dancers to draw on details, and finally, it acted as a stage for the dancers as they left ink-stained marks. This style of painting with feet is something that I’ve seen many times on social media, and as fun as the idea sounds, the final product is often quite ugly and childish. Yet, Wang expertly breaks the mold, with his piece executing this technique very tastefully. The ink seems to drip down the leg of the male dancer, leading to him leaving ink strokes rather than full footprints. 

The choreographer, in his insight video, described how rice paper is extremely soft and fragile and how the piece completely alters the paper at the end. He also explained how, as human beings, we use paper to remember our existence, by writing diaries and taking photos. I found this to be a very interesting use of materials and something that is rarely seen on Western stages. Wang managed to take the seemingly unrelated art forms of traditional Chinese calligraphy and dance and fuse them beautifully, with both art forms complimenting each other throughout.

Beings explores the Chinese character 人 (translated as person, or quite literally, being) visually, with its two strokes connected at the top, to bring out its meaning: the dancers often dance together by connecting necks, arms, or heads, making a shape extremely similar to the Chinese character. I thought this was extremely creative and touching, as the dancers seemed very intimate in this arrangement. Accompanied by classical music and silence at times, the movements flow wonderfully, resembling character strokes, showing elements of a relationship between two people, and perfectly bringing the character 人 to life.

Dancers performing Wang's other choreography. Photo supplied by the production.

This piece is nothing short of brilliant, once again using simple sets, costumes, and pre-existing music to deliver a strong feeling of humanity. I was deeply touched by the simple movements and steps that were meaningful in their delicacy, and the cultural elements that Wang brought in to create a meaningful piece that was accessible beyond his own culture. 

With a 30-minute run-time, this piece was the shortest of the finalists for both the Rose and Bloom prizes. In the dance world, short pieces are often seen as worse, the short length as a sign of an inexperienced choreographer lacking ambition. However, I don’t think that a short piece is necessarily bad, just as I don’t think length makes a piece good simply. I, and I think most audiences, would much rather be dazzled by a 30-minute piece than be utterly bored by a piece lasting over an hour with no breaks, during which the dancers repeat the same movements throughout (yes, this is a jab at the Rose Prize winner LARSEN C). 

The most admirable thing about young choreographers is that they will give their pieces their all. Both Maldonne and Beings were crafted, adjusted, edited, and perfected with an attention to detail that some veteran choreographers (in particular, certain finalists of the main Rose Prize) have lost over time. This loss of attention to detail can come from creative burn-out, demands for commissioned pieces to be ready under harsh timeframes, choreographing with dancers unfamiliar with a particular style, pressure from directors to create pieces in a certain manner, and many more reasons. 

It is extremely exciting, therefore, to discover a choreographer when they are just starting in their creative journey, when they are creating (mostly) free from the burden of the commercial dance world, and when a piece gets credit not because the choreographer or principal dancers are famous, but because the piece is truly excellent. Both Leïla Ka and Wang Yeu-Kwn are talented choreographers whose work I look forward to seeing evolve over the years.