In his 2014 work, The Dog Days Are Over, Belgian dance wild card and dabbling masochist Jan Martens asks his dancers to surrender to one thing: the jump.
For 70 gruelling minutes his eight dedicated dancers have no way out but up. But this is no limp-limbed gym class exercise – as their bodies begin to fail, the athletes strive to maintain complex geometrical patterns and stay synchronized. The fact that it's not possible does not deter them, although it often makes them laugh.
A young one to watch, Martens studied at the Fontys dance academy in Tilburg and graduated from the Artesis Conservatory for Dance in Antwerp in 2006. He would go on to perform the work of choreographers such as Koen De Preter, United-C, Mor Shani and Ann Van den Broek before developing his own choreographic practice in 2009. Since then, Martens has quickly made a name for himself in Europe, experimenting with existing dance languages and idioms to pose new ideas, and hitting high notes with the heartbreakingly beautiful duets Victor (2013) and Sweat Baby Sweat (2011) and the social-network skewering I Can Ride A Horse Whilst Juggling So Marry Me of 2010.
We caught up with the 31-year-old provocateur by phone at a tour stop in Ottawa to learn more about what he's bringing to town for his Vancouver debut.
KK: I watched the preview...It’s like a workout video; it looks exhausting! Why focus on the jump? What was the inspiration for this theme?
JM: The inspiration was actually a work of Philippe Halsman. He’s a photographer from the '50s, and he’s known for his quite iconic pictures of people jumping – like Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe. He made portraits and pictures for LIFE magazine, and he always asked the people he pictured to jump. I like very much his work but I like more what he said about it. He said, through the act of jumping I can see the real human being, because people are not busy with posing anymore. For them, it’s a strange question to jump, so they just jump.
He says in that way I succeed in capturing the real human being.
So when you ask your dancers to jump for this length of time, what are you revealing about them?
It is a slow process, which I like very much. It is revealing a sense of perfectionism that they want to reach. The fact that they go wrong, you really see that. But also that normally performers are made to perform, to act out, and by making this physically and mentally very demanding piece, what you see is their ambition and their focus to do it well. So they’re not busy with performing.
It’s one thing to do it well, but sometimes they start to laugh because it’s too much, or they see the audience, as well. There is a little light on the audience as well so there is communication going on there. It is through this that they’re not just a performer anymore – they become a human.
What affect does this piece have on the audience – are they left exhausted as well?
Some are, yes. Some are really tired of the show; some are really energized by it. Like, Ok, tomorrow I need to go to the gym. [laughs] I hear that a lot as well. But at the same time, yes, it’s an empathetic piece. You start to feel with the dancers, so you are also truly getting exhausted. That’s the main effect.
For some people it stays very entertaining; for others it becomes a bit too much. You really have a division.
Are you interested in pushing the human body at this point in your career because you’re so young yourself?
I don’t know if it’s an interest in pushing the human body; it is really a tool to get to the humanity there. I wouldn’t say it’s a goal but it’s a means. It’s something that I use to get somewhere.
But yes, I think we live in an era where we all need to work very hard and we need to establish more and more in less and less time. So it’s also necessary for that. It’s hard work and continuously pushing yourself.
How do these themes and building off such a singular idea compare to your previous body of work? Is it a continuation of something or is it brand new?
It is a continuation, but I think all my works are very different in the sense that I’m not looking for my own movement language. I try to see what exists and think about a theme and think, what is the best language to talk about this theme.
I think Dog Days is the most dynamic piece I’ve made. There is always what I call a “red thread” – a slowness or really taking the time to zoom in and look at the human beings is always there. But with Dog Days are Over it’s for the first time in a very dynamic vibe. Before it would be with slow motion or repetition, which is also in the Dog Days, of course.
Speaking of perfection, has there ever been a performance where one of the dancers has performed Dog Days from beginning to end flawlessly?
I don’t think so, but what is flawless? For me if it would be perfect, if they wouldn’t make any mistake, it wouldn’t be flawless because I think what is so good is that they make the mistakes. And the good thing is they don’t do it on purpose. If they were to do it on purpose then we would have a problem. So it’s just redefining what is perfection or what is interesting to watch. It’s not the "ultimate" or the "faultless", but trying to reach for that that is interesting.
Have you ever calculated how many times one dancer jumps in the piece?
No, but I think they do two jumps a second. In the beginning it’s slower but in the second half they go really fast. So they jump 60 minutes, it’s a 70-minute piece [does math in his head] so I that’s like 7,200 jumps per show per dancer.
Wow. Do they suffer? Is this physically very difficult for them?
Yes, it is. It is... It is a very strange contrast because they suffer and they enjoy at the same time. It’s not a healthy show but we try to make it as healthy as possible. It has a big impact on your body but also we take care. Today they all have a rest day and all go to see a naturopath. We make sure they have ice and can rest enough between shows. And on the other hand they also become stronger and stronger and stronger.
For an untrained body would be very difficult, but for them, it’s on the border but it’s ok. Sometimes they really suffer. When they have a bad day or if they go out too late the day after it can be, yeah...
Do the dancers need special footwear for this? High-impact running shoes…?
Yes, actually they all choose their shoes themselves. Some like more fitness shoes, some like more training shoes. It’s what is the best for them.
Are there any choreographers you worked with as a dancer that you feel inform your work now?
It’s not so much choreographers I worked with but things I saw that influence me, I think. As a teenager I saw Jan Fabre and that was really overwhelming. Like, I don’t like his recent works but the first thing I saw as a teenager was a work by him [As Long as the World Needs a Warrior’s Soul], which was really flabbergasting.
In The Dog Days Are Over, the footwork is obviously very rhythmic, but the squeaks and the breathing are almost musical. As a choreographer, when does the sound of a performance become important?
For this show it was really from the beginning. I knew that I had to create rhythms that would make the score, almost become a minimal music composition. Like a Philip Glass composition, but solely made out of jumps of the feet on the floor. So that was also what I was looking with in the dynamics of the jump. How would different kinds of jumps make a different sound?
So that dictates some of the motions?
For sure.
How has the piece changed or evolved since you first conceived it?
I think they get more relaxed into it, which is a good thing. By now they also found out it’s okay to make a mistake; they can let go more. The aim is that they just work with the circumstances, and if they have to laugh, they have to laugh.
• The Dog Days Are Over Runs Oct. 29-31 at the Scotiabank Dance Centre. Tickets $30/$22; for more info, go to TheDanceCentre.ca.
