Interview with Jin Xing
Biennale Danza - Venezia 2006
The closest – The furthest
Jin Xing has had an illustrious past arriving at this remarkable point in her career. Born a boy to Korean parents residing in China, Jin Xing discovered his love for dance when he was 6 years old after watching a dance film. He was determined to dance and came to a compromise with his parents where he agreed to joined the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and the army’s dance company- then China’s best as only a handful of revolutionary propaganda operas were permitted during Mao Zedong’s reign. There, he rose to the ranks of Colonel of the army continuing his passion for dance. He went on to become China’s best dancer and was awarded a scholarship to study in New York. Some years later, he set out to Europe. He became increasingly sure of his desire to become a woman. At 27, he underwent 3 operations to become a woman. She hasn’t looked back since. Today, Jin Xing has published an autobiography, is happily married to German, Heinz-Gerd and has adopted 3 children as she continues her passion of dance
Where did you get the inspiration for this piece?
In modern days our daily life is stressful and constantly occupied: we need to find a way to calm ourselves down. I know that for me yoga isn’t relaxing so I tried learning how to play the Chinese traditional instrument that I used in this choreography: the Gu Qin. I was always fascinated and interested in it. I started taking lessons and studying the history behind this instrument and I felt that it could be the perfect drawing from Chinese culture. While I was learning the Gu Qin, my 6 year-old son was learning calligraphy. It all came together and I decided to combine both elements in my piece because they were both deeply connected with Chinese culture.
Why did you select this theme for Underskin? Was there a particular connection or did you just create it?
When they asked me to perform for a solo work this year at the Biennale, I could have perhaps drawn from my previous performances and reworked it, but I wanted to create something new. For me, ‘Underskin’ is a theme that has a lot of connotations and there is a lot to tell about that. For us dancers, we’re dealing with our bodies every day. We sweat a lot and our pores open and close. We’re very comfortable and aware of our bodies but we’re less sensitive with our skin, because we overuse it.
There are at least three layers of skin: the texture of the body, the clothes, the environment. Skin is whatever information exchanges go through. This is what I thought about before creating my performance.
Why did you add some narrative, and a strong layer of theatrical elements, in the performance?
This piece is very personal; it wasn’t something that I just simply put together. I expressed everything I feel aloud as well as physically through dance. I wanted to communicate to the audience, to connect personally with them.
I need to express whatever I feel. This is why in this performance I’m always walking around. In Shanghai, everyone is always in a rush; there is no opportunity to stop.
I draw a lot of ideas from my daily life and put them together, so every night at the performance, I am saying different things. Both movement and narratives are different every night as I improvise, getting inspired by what I’ve done during the day.
The title ‘The Closest- The Furthest’, seems to refer to multiple elements in your performance. Aside from Chinese history and bodily expressions, your acting brings you closer to and further away from the audience. How does this work?
The piece starts from the formal setting of a storyteller and I’m sitting in the traditional clothes before I shed the costume and dance, start speaking to the audience directly.
Sometime I break the performance screen talking to the audience as if to a friend and sometimes I am acting. This in-and-out role-playing is very interesting for me, it’s like giving the audience a direct experience of the closest and the furthest.
This performance speaks a lot about China: deeply traditional and ancient, yet very modern and contemporary. How do you think these two souls of your country can match?
Modern and traditional, in China, are two things happening at the same time and influencing each other. I am living in the modern era, but I am also in touch with my roots. The traditional history comes from a culture that we don’t recognize today.
I am interested in working on the past influence on the modern time: that’s why I chose the Gu Quin and calligraphy. After this piece, I would like to work again with ink and calligraphy, analyzing the daily rhythm of life reflected in writing in difference spaces and eras. I find handwriting very interesting: from that you can tell a person’s character, while there’s no feeling in typewriting. In the way we to write today there’s no personality at all.
You said that you only conceived the performance here.
All the ideas, music and concept were created in the studio but we had no lights, no time. My lighting designer, who I’ve worked with for a long time, conceptualized the lighting so that the stage would have been divided in different spaces. I’m used to work with her, we communicate and interact with each other: I take charge at first and in the later half she takes charge by dictating which light lights up on stage. We both want that the audience is made aware of the space, not just sitting to watch the performance.
Have you created pieces on the spot? Does it make it more immediate when you relate to the audience?
Yes of course. With my instincts, before the performance, I get different feelings and I make changes to adapt to the space.
Any new projects in the pipeline?
I’m thinking to work on the circle of reincarnation: the previous life, this life and the next life. People often talk about it, whether you’re superstitious or not, it exists whether you go to a fortune-teller, read horoscopes or astrology. This circular structure fits in perfectly with Chinese beliefs; everything has to be full and whole, rounded.
Written in collaboration with Juliana Loh