DANCE CRITIC

Choreographers often have an easy time answering the first question: What do I want to say? They sometimes don't even bother to ask the second: Is dance an appropriate way in which to say it.

As piece followed piece over the weekend, through six different mainstage programs at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, Toronto's eighth annual fringe Festival of Independent Dance Artists exhibited a steady stream of choreography, conceived in evident sincerity and executed without sufficient attention to what ``reads'' kinetically.

In Sacrificio, a program note indicated that Mexican-born York University instructor Norma Araiza was responding to ``the metaphorical and literal sacrifice of innocent people'' in the Mexican government's treatment of the indigenous residents of Chiapas.

But aside from joining Sandra Larone in donning a pair of traditional- style head masks and army fatigues and striking threatening poses, what creative use did she make of the materials of dance? Precious little.

The same could be said of Jeffrey Chan and the Wu Ming Dance Project, whose work in progress, The Visitors, ostensibly examined the experiences of first-generation Chinese immigrants to Canada.

Yes, there were slides from the Vancouver Public Library; yes, there were props such as a hurled teddy bear. But without such visual aids and a program to indicate what was being depicted, the actual dance spoke in unhelpful generalities.

That's often the problem with the language of dance. It can speak powerfully to the heart and of simple basic situations, and it thrives on abstraction, but its narrative skills and its strengths in conveying complex thoughts tend to be severely restricted.

That is why dance is at its best when it is dancing, not when it is trying to do something better done in another art form. Political commentary, social protest, in-depth psychologizing can all be more legibly embarked upon elsewhere.

In her notes for Blue Jade, a solo strikingly performed by Susan Lee, Yvonne Ng declared herself interested in ways of seeing. ``I seek, '' she wrote, ``to illustrate polymorphous perceptual forms of reality. The situations that create the dance are inconsequential in themselves, instead I look for the commonality in human experience and poignancy of freedom even when things are all askew.''

Three free copies of Wittgenstein's Tractatus to anyone who can figure that out!

Would that more of her colleagues had seen Montreal's Mariko Tanabe, whose flamboyant solo, The Floating Heart, drew both on her cultural heritage (kimono, fan, etc.) and her theatrical skills (hysterical Samurai cries and histrionic gestures) but tied everything together with a powerfully controlled and focused movement vocabulary.

And then there was Richard Daniels, probably the oldest dancer in the entire festival, whose solo to the music of Beethoven's Op. 135 String Quartet, titled Ghazi (Turkish for leader, survivor of war) flowed right from the music with the utmost economy, as if every movement counted.

It does. Returning to performing after a 15 year absence, Richards moved with an HIV diagnosis hovering over his head. He was literally dancing for life.

CAPTIONS: MARIKO TANABE:
Montreal dancer's The Floating Heart draws on her cultural
heritage and theatrical skills.
RICHARD DANIELS:
Returns after 15 years with Ghazi.