As a young boy, he
was terrified of dance classes because he was the only boy in a class
of over 90 girls. Years after overcoming his fear and marking time on
Wall Street and in journalism, Ronald Brown has stayed true to Dance,
his first calling. This year, his company ‘Evidence, A Dance Company’
celebrated 25 years on stage.
The award-winning
dancer/choreographer and his troupe were in Lagos in March to perform
and teach dance classes as part of a trip facilitated by the Public
Affairs Section of the United States Consulate General. The spiritual
Brown spoke about the story behind the troupe and what influences his
craft.
In the beginning…
As a twelve year
old, he was on his way to an audition with his pregnant mother when a
mild drama occurred. “When we got to the door of our apartment, she
went into labour and I was like, ‘Oh forget it, I’m going to be a
writer now.” He focused on journalism and got a scholarship to study at
university, graduating a year early from high school. “I thought I had
a bargaining chip,” he said.
His mother ordered
him to “Get a job.” He would spend the following years in the
cheque-processing department of JP Morgan Guaranty Trust. During this
time, he managed to attend “like five classes, got this scholarship at
this school, and danced all day.”
And still, he
thought he would be a writer. He joined a circle of writers where the
convener constantly asked the audience, “Are you doing your work?”
After conferring with a mentor, who asked him, “Who’s going to tell
your grandmother’s stories?,” Brown realised his calling was in Dance
and established his company.
“In the circle of
writers, they say you have to leave evidence that you were there. That
was what their work was about, ‘Identity’. I said okay, Evidence.
Evidence, A dance Company,” he said.
No regrets, no apologies
Brown formed the company in 1985 as a 19-year-old. He admits to no regrets so far.
“I’d be a writer if
I wasn’t a dancer and if things were rough, my joke with the company is
I could open a health foods store or sell oranges on the street. And
because of these dancers, a friend of mine says, ‘you won’t give up
because what would they do? Who would have them, where would they do
this kind of work?’
“Again, it’s
because of the kind of work we do and the initial idea to make the
pieces. When I make a piece like ‘Order My Steps’, I’ve got to
understand my purpose and not that I’m trying to give up. How do I make
a piece called ‘Grace’, saying God has given me another chance, and I
want to give up? It doesn’t make sense,” he said.
The
dancer-choreographer infuses modern dance with traditional Latin,
Caribbean, and African dances. “You have to look at me as a man of
African descent. My great grandfather came from Liberia. Western dance
is abstract, I can’t do that,” he said.
He gives no
apologies for anyone who might question the relevance of
African-American dance. “I understand that (the pioneers) were fighting
against that, but I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to apologise
for it. I can say this is me, this is my history too.”
Creative protest
He shakes off any
political intonation this might carry. “If you’ve heard anyone say that
they are a black man, it feels like a political statement. Because
everyone wants you to be colourless, they want you to be American, to
talk American. But when I show up they want to treat me like, ‘Oh, you
grew up in BedStuy (short for Bedford-Stuyvesant), what’s that like?’
“So, how do you want me to be on this fine line? That is how they encourage you to be weak.”
He brooks no debate
over his dance pieces being slave stories or not. “When I talk about
struggle, it’s a slave story? No, my work is about liberation. All of a
sudden, that’s a political statement, but for me, it’s life. Billie
Haliday is singing ‘Strange Fruit’, a song about lynching. In the 40s
or 50s, a woman is choreographing a dance to it. That’s a political
statement, but I would call it creative protest. The liberation I’m
talking about is in the dance because I feel like dance is one place
where the spirit is free.”
According to Brown,
the existence of abstract dance can be blamed on separating “your life
from the political dynamics of what is going on. When I go to the
theatre, I want you to share something with me.” “Evidence,” he said,
“should be a reflection of the audience, a reflection of the human
condition, a sense of tradition and history, and an individual will to
represent our families, our ancestors, and our teachers. The dance
company is a collective to do that same thing.”
The Nigerian experience
“It’s important for
me, anywhere I live and work to meet the young people and the elders
and the folks in between. My work is also about teaching and learning
from people,” Brown said about his trip to Nigeria.
Not a few of those
who encountered Evidence in Nigeria expected the group to do some break
dancing or tap dancing. But the Company was living up to no
preconception. “That’s amazing for me because they thought I was going
to bring them Brooklyn.” The troupe as well did not get away without
some shocks. In a class where the group was teaching the rhythm of Ogun
and Elegba, one member of the class asked Brown why he was teaching
them what they already knew. His approach to the dance steps, however
won him some fans.
“What I think my
work is specifically is to show the spiritual connection between the
dances. So, dances from Cuba and Senegal, for instance, are similar
rhythmically, but the difference is where the downbeat is.
“I like to play
around with rhythms. Orisha from Brazil and Orisha from Cuba are
different, but I like to show them side by side and the way I
choreograph is try to choreograph the image and the story.”
Making the right moves
The audience gets a
feel of this spiritual connection and liberation at Evidence’s
performances. This might explain why his dancers are always seemingly
airborne.
So what’s his
creative process? “I just have the idea of the piece. I want to make a
piece about brotherhood, like unconditional love between men; like my
two-year-old nephew or my 85-year-old grandfather and how they love me.
I look for the music that’s going to help me dance that out, and I just
build it and try to cut out the excess.” Not surprisingly, late
activist and choreographer, Alvin Ailey, is one of Brown’s greatest
influences. While still in primary school, he made his first dance
piece in a chair after a school trip where he’d watched Ailey perform.
He got to do some
work for the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater in 1991, and in 2005,
he made ‘Ife/My Heart’ with the company. His first dance piece ever
featured in the second part of this routine. Brown continues to
collaborate with the Ailey Company and also counts legendary
African-American dancer, Katharine Dunham, amongst his influences.
Brown, who is a recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship, has also
choreographed for the Cinque Folkloric Dance Theater and Jeune Ballet
d’Afrique Noire.
