This dancer’s life
The first time Lin Hwai-min came to the Philippines, there was a typhoon. The Taiwanese choreographer, founder and artistic director of Cloud Gate Dance Theatre recalls mounting a performance at the Folk Arts Theater during a serious downpour in 1979. “It was fun,” says the always-smiling Lin. “Wind and rain were coming into the theater, and there was a little flood at the entrance, so everybody had to fold up their pants to get in. But it was a full house, and everybody went home happy.”
Water, coincidentally, plays a key role in Lin’s latest visit to the country. In town for the 50th year anniversary celebration of the Ramon Magsaysay Awards, Lin (himself a 1999 awardee) and Cloud Gate will perform Moon Water — perhaps the most important production of his career and one which the New York Times declared in 2003 as the best dance of the year. For the first time in the Philippines, Moon Water is being performed on Aug. 30 and 31, at 8 p.m., at the Cultural Center of the Philippines.
Inspired by the Buddhist proverb, “Flowers in a mirror and moon on the water are both illusory,” Moon Water achieves “reflections upon reflections,” says Lin, thanks to mirrors mounted above and on the back of the stage, and water — three tons of it, in fact — which is critical in the dance’s dramatic finale. More than these elements, however, is Moon Water’s unique form of dance, one performed with select music from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cello Solo Suite, and one that has bowled over audiences across the world. “So touching that one cannot help but cry tears of joy from such a great theatrical experience,” Oslo’s Aftenpoften reports. “Cloud Gate leaves you sitting breathlessly on the edge of your chair,” said the San Jose Mercury News. Lin, who nervously presented Moon Water before a German audience in 1999, was shocked when the crowd of 3,000 got up from their seats and gave the Taiwanese dance troupe a rousing 25-minute standing ovation.
A production that marries Western choreography with Eastern disciplines such as meditation, martial arts, qi gong, and even calligraphy, Moon Water, says Lin, is both highly intense and serene — and apparently more meditation than performance. Clad in white, the dancers do not project to the audience the way most dancers do. Instead, and with their eyes downcast, “they are engaged in an inner dialogue, communicating with their inner self. It’s almost religious,” explains the artistic director.
A combination of philosophy and aesthetics led him to embrace what was truly meant for the Asian body and mind. “In 1967, my friends and I saw the first production of Swan Lake in Taiwan,” he says. “Coming out of the theater, we were all excited until a lady announced that we would never be able to do it ‘because our legs are too short.’ Of course, I was young and cocky, so I said, ‘Oh, just wait and see, if we work hard, we’ll make it.’ But as I grew older, I realized that what she said was gospel truth,” he says with a chuckle. “Ballet is an art form about lines; longer limbs are better. So why should we imitate? Why don’t we train ourselves in disciplines created, evolved, and passed down to the bodies with shorter legs?”
Lin was five-and-a-half years old when he decided that a dancer’s life was for him. “I saw the post-war movie The Red Shoes 11 times,” he says. Still, he had to wait till he was 23 to undergo formal training. After studying Chinese opera in Taiwan, modern dance in New York, and classical court dance in Japan and Korea, he founded his dance troupe (named after the oldest known dance in China, a ritual dance that dates back some 5,000 years ago) in 1973.
Today, the 200-member Cloud Gate is as well known in its native shores as it is internationally. While the dance troupe performs regularly throughout Taiwan (August 21 is in fact, “Cloud Gate Day,” and its office on Fu-Hsing North Road, Lane 231 is now known as “Cloud Gate Lane”), the group accepts invitations to perform in Europe, Asia, the United States, and Australia. November will find Lin and his dancers in Germany for a festival hosted by Queen of Dance Pina Bausch, while in 2009, the group will entertain eager audiences in Moscow for the third time.
A lean and youthful 61, Lin no longer dances (“People would want their money back,” he adds self-deprecatingly) and no longer misses the dancer’s life, finding pleasure instead in “seeing my dancers at their best. I’m here to serve them. I truly feel that way.” Nevertheless, the man who put the spotlight on meditation, martial arts and other Asian disciplines remains a star in his people’s eyes. Recognized on the streets of Taiwan, Lin is often greeted by strangers when he’s on the subway or waiting for a cab. “I didn’t expect a life like this,” he says with obvious gratitude. “It’s not necessary, but it’s nice to see people happy to see me.”
