Butoh: Cradling Empty Space

By Vangeline

Approaching the avant-garde Japanese performance art form of butoh from a cross-cultural, gender studies, and scientific perspective, award-winning artist and teacher Vangeline brings a fresh look at this postmodern dance form.

 Butoh, a performance art form that grew out of the Japanese avant-garde scene of the 1950s

• Language: English
• Publisher: The New York Butoh Institute
• Release date: Oct 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735766034

Book preview

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New York Butoh Institute

a division of the Vangeline Theater, Inc.

494 Court Street

Brooklyn New York 11231

Copyright ©Vangeline

All rights reserved,

including the right of reproduction

in whole or in part in any form.

First Edition

Cover photograph: Yoko Ashikawa by Eikoh Hosoe

Cover design by Raffi Marhaba

Edited by Deborah Heimann and Sara Magness

Layout by Riverside Publishing Solutions

ISBN: 978-1-7357660-3-4

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Contents

Foreword

Preface

Notes to Readers

Outline

A Brief History of Butoh

The Most Mysterious Dance in the World

Man, Woman; East, West

Introduction

A Poison That Gives Life

CHAPTER 1.  Collaborations

A Story in Collaboration

Silent Partners/Gender Bias

CHAPTER 2.  Transmission

The Seminal 1970s

What is Butoh?

The Birth of a Method

Choreography versus Improvisation

The Father Must Be Killed

CHAPTER 3.  Memory

An Oral Tradition

Body Memory

The Dance of Memory, the Memory of Dances

Total Body Experience

Explicit Memory: History or His Story?

CHAPTER 4.  Commonality

Receptivity

Neuroplasticity

Mirror Neuron Mechanism

Methodology

Affectivity and Limbic Resonance

CHAPTER 5.  Consciousness

Altered States of Consciousness (ASCs)

Consciousness and Neural Networks

Mind the Gap

The Illusion of Consciousness

CHAPTER 6.  Embodiment

Bodily Awareness

Phylogeny

Image is Concentration

CHAPTER 7.  Action Potential

From Visualization to Motor Execution

Stop-Signal

Motor Imagery

As Above, So Below

Dance before Dance

Impulse Control

CHAPTER 8.  Sensitivity

Where Do Impulses Come From?

Deciding to React

Why Reactive Movements?

CHAPTER 9.  A Story in Stimuli

Butoh Image Memo

From Sign to Sensory

What to Do/How to Do It

CHAPTER 10.  Brain Landscape

Hierarchy of Levels of Information Processing

How Do I Look?

Brain Wave Activity

Butoh, Not Beta

From Verbal Thinking to Visual Thinking

CHAPTER 11.  How To

Deep Listening

Primary Techniques

Sound

Vision

Theta Healing System

CHAPTER 12.  Less is More

Noguchi Taiso

Muscular Engagement

CHAPTER 13.  Dual Ability

Motor Function in Altered States

The In-Between State

Crisis and Surrender

Vertical and Horizontal

Edge of Crisis

CHAPTER 14.  Skills

Achieving Proficiency

Learning Curve

Range of Skills in Butoh

Editing: The Final Stage

CHAPTER 15.  Challenges, Part One

Teachers and Methodologies

A Psychological Framework

Cross-Cultural Psychology

Physiological Cross-Cultural Differences in the Practice of Butoh

Cognition

Emotion

CHAPTER 16.  Challenges, Part Two

Methodologies and the Nervous System

Power Dynamics

The Human Stress Response and Memory Formation

The Dark Side of Leadership

The Impact of Violence and the Stress Response

CHAPTER 17.  Challenges, Part Three

Gender and Violence

Sexual Harassment

CHAPTER 18.  Bridging the Gap

CHAPTER 19.  Transformation

The Holy Grail

An Unconventional Dance

Light and Darkness

Shamanism

Compassion

Amaterasu

A State of Becoming

CHAPTER 20.  Cradling Empty Space

Empty Space

Quantum Physics

The Quantum Paradox

The Question of Time—Relativity Versus Quantum Mechanics

Parallel Quantum Universes

What is Butoh?

CHAPTER 21.  A Promise for Tomorrow

Empire of Signs

Embodiment and Culture

Universality and Difference

Every Rose has its Thorn

The Ongoing Experiment

Acknowledgments

Index

Gendered Index of Japanese Proper Names in Alphabetical Order

Bibliography

Additional Resources

The Neuroscience of Dance

List of Figures

Photo Credits

Ratio of Gender Representation

About the Author

Foreword

Alice Baldock | Faculty of History—University of Oxford

Coincidences can conspire to create meaning; I came upon Cradling Empty Space through a barrage of them. As someone who researches dance history, my image of butoh when I first discovered it was of a dance inextricably tied to history. When I first met a butoh dancer, quite by accident, I was astounded that there could be someone who was actually doing this kind of movement so close to me. Reading something that has a history can lead you to forget that it was also lived through, and that others might still be living through it. Receiving a jolting reminder of this led me to meet Vangeline and come to read Cradling Empty Space.

Marion D’Cruz, a dancer and academic of dance history, aesthetics and culture based in Kuala Lumpur, draws a distinction between kinds of dancers: ones who can dance very well and those who dance whilst thinking about why they do it. Butoh has the potential to encourage dancers towards a level of introspection, something that Cradling Empty Space does. It is an investigation into butoh that spans multiple approaches: history, gender studies, scientific analysis. Such a wide span also allows Vangeline to engage directly with taboo or neglected aspects of butoh specifically, and the dance world more broadly.

Providing a comprehensive account of the characters who were present when butoh was germinating allows us to interrogate the veneration of a certain shadowy figure. He is the male genius figure that appears in many sectors of many societies, including the butoh world. The dominant narrative, even as butoh continues to diffuse and diversify, is that it sprang forth from two men: Tatsumi Hijikata and Kazuo Ohno. Whilst these two figures were key to how butoh began and how it has developed, in Cradling Empty Space we see them alongside other figures. These include people who inspired them, and people whom they later collaborated with. These include women such as Tomiko Takai and Natsu Nakajima, who are less widely known.

Explaining butoh’s creation process as collaborative is incredibly important in a world where overwhelming attention is paid to individuals who are cast as exceptional. Without belittling the achievements of these figures, Cradling Empty Space explains how without interaction with others, it is difficult to generate new ways of moving. The detailed web of interactions of people and ideas within Cradling Empty Space helps us to understand at what moment ideas became important, or due to whom, and why. It enables readers to make connections between global arts development and butoh. Bringing women who were also influential into this picture helps to combat the illusion that only a handful of men contributed to this collaboration process, rectifying the image of the 50s and early 60s butoh, prior to Yoko Ashikawa’s arrival on the scene, as a time of male butoh.

The much-needed female perspective that this text is introduced to the readers as, not only helps in bringing attention to the women who have contributed and continue to contribute to butoh. It also brings attention to layers of corruption within the arts, the ways in which some people can achieve fame, whilst others are consigned to be forgotten, and how this often takes a gendered form. Women continue to come up against difficulties in many sectors, including arts, and, as Vangeline demonstrates, in butoh. This discussion indicates how deep this gender bias runs, even in a dance form that often appeals because it can be accessed by anybody.

However, this is not a story of dejection and failure, an underwriting of the butoh world as corrupt. Instead, it shows the capacity for practitioners, when they embrace butoh without bias, to make a transformative difference to themselves and those around them. Cradling Empty Space de-mystifies this process by giving a How To section explaining how the changes that happen to someone training with butoh may come about. Cradling Empty Space, therefore, reveals the potential of dance forms if we work to overcome the biases and corruptions that limit them.

In addition to grappling with the issue of gender, and the limitations faced by those who identify as women, Cradling Empty Space deals with another issue that most treat with caution: the universality vs. Japanese-ness of butoh. A feature of art forms that come from a non-Western world is that, whether exported to or imported by other places, they carry with them the sense of coming from the place they were made. In Western cultures, this visible origin gets obfuscated; dance styles like ballet are often portrayed as universal, yet they too come from specific cultural-historical contexts. The over-recognition of these origins in non-Western art forms raises tricky questions around how such art forms should be practiced, and even by whom. Cradling Empty Space deals with the nexus of interactions between East and West as butoh becomes a dance form practiced in more and more places.

The science sections may be somewhat surprising for readers expecting an historical, cultural, or dance studies analysis of butoh. There has been, as Vangeline asserts, a reluctance for dancers to engage with the science behind their movement. The two feel incommensurable, somehow; how can something that feels driven by impulses from the body be explained by neuroscience? Shying away from using one to look at the other seems somewhat redundant in our ever-connected world—we should be using all the data, from all sources, to understand what we do and why. Moreover, taking a scientific approach to understanding what happens as one practices butoh does even more to explain the benefits of the dance, as well as to de-mystify it.

The book, then, is a handbook for the butoh practitioner, the (art) historian, the dance critic, and the curious reader. Encompassing, and reconciling, problems of movement, gender, race and universality, Cradling Empty Space guides the reader through the many possibilities of butoh.

Preface

Born in Japan in the 1950s, butoh took the world by storm in the 1970s. Like most dance forms, it is ephemeral, transient and only alive in the body of its dancers for short bursts of time during live performances. Butoh is as powerful as it is enigmatic; the Dance of Darkness is challenging for critics, arduous for its dancers, and sometimes uncomfortable for its viewers.

The founders of butoh spoke in the language of poets, describing their work in allegories and metaphors. Tatsumi Hijikata and Kazuo Ohno offered their perspectives on butoh after decades of experimentation: a budding philosophy emerged from their writings, yet their poetic and cryptic commentaries never fully explained what butoh is. The daunting task was left to dancers and teachers from the lineage and has now become a question mark for future generations.

Surprisingly, today very little is known about the experience of butoh. This deafening silence persists, and the knowledge imparted to dancers remains a hidden treasure. Many butoh practitioners are skeptical that butoh should be explained. As a result, like a riddle in the flesh, butoh is forever shrouded in mystery and hides behind a veil, never to be lifted. But while easy formulas may not benefit the practice of butoh, at the very least, we can attempt to circumscribe its experience.

Today, butoh is at a crossroads. With the passing of many second-generation butoh masters, a process of inquiry into butoh is a logical response to the challenges of cultural survival. Keeping butoh chained to the realm of the ineffable comes at a price: the tendency to leave butoh open to interpretation also gives way to grievous misconceptions about the art form.

Ignorance has never been in man’s best interest. Ignorance has at some points in history led men to color science as witchcraft. And the concept of witchcraft will, inevitably, lead to witch-hunts. Perhaps worse, an art form that eludes definition may end up marked for extinction by natural selection, and artists who take secrets to their graves face the risk that their art form will die with them.

Today, the golden age of duality is slowly but surely coming to an end. The boundaries between art and science, body and mind, and East and West are becoming blurry. Globalization has profoundly altered our lives, facilitating an exponential exchange of information between people from all over the world.

For the past two decades, I investigated differences and commonality from within the art form. An interest in neuroscience, cognitive psychology and psychomotor research moved me to examine how butoh could benefit from a more systematic exploration of its various methods. I searched for cohesiveness and found a tenuous thread uniting different forms of butoh expressions.

I had already completed the first draft of this book when the #metoo movement broke out in the United States. This new feminist wave forced me to pause and examine my relationship with butoh as a woman. I realized that, like most women, I had ignored a significant portion of my own experience. This realization made me go back to the drawing board and investigate butoh’s history with its female dancers. Although this book primarily represents the viewpoint of a butoh dancer and teacher, I am also offering a much-needed female perspective on the art form.

During my research, I had the chance to interview important figures in butoh’s history. Their reflections are a wonderful addition. It is my intention that this book, including the featured testimonials, will help demystify this very misunderstood art form.

I hope that Butoh: Cradling Empty Space sheds some light on the Dance of Darkness: that it will initiate a process of scientific inquiry and spark a much-needed debate. Most of all, I hope that it will inspire readers, dancers and movers from all over the world.

—Vangeline

Notes to Readers

In Japan, Japanese surnames come before the given name. However, throughout this book, the Western order of given name followed by surname has been used in order to avoid confusion for non-Japanese readers (for example, Yoko Ashikawa, instead of Ashikawa Yoko).

I wish to apologize in advance to readers about the labels Western, Japanese and Asian. It is evident that there are as many significant cultural differences among Asians as there are cultural differences from one Western country to the next, just as there are differences between individuals. Additionally, there may be significant differences between individuals who were raised in Japan and individuals who grew up outside of Japan.

Scientific studies are not cited here with the aim of dichotomizing cultural differences but rather with the objective of fostering intercultural understanding, as well as overcoming potential cross-cultural challenges in our field. I also would like to add that science is not infallible and is constantly evolving; therefore I do not pretend to establish any truth in this book, but instead propose to use current scientific findings as a framework to understand butoh.

My theories are rooted in two decades of experience as a teacher and practitioner. There is little empirical evidence available in our field; my hope is that these theories will inspire butoh practitioners and scientists to gather more scientific evidence.

In this book, I will be making statements about butoh and butoh pedagogy. In the course of making these statements, I will be often using terms such as should and must. These statements are based on years of professional experience in the field. However, it is possible that other butoh practitioners might come to different conclusions or have had different experiences. I am sharing my perspective but respect all points of view.

The binary terms men and women are commonly used in this book. I recognize that gendered language can be problematic. It is hardly my intention not to be inclusive, especially because, historically, butoh has always been accepting of non-traditional sexual orientations and gender identities, including gender non-conforming and non-binary, as well as L.G.B.T.Q.I.A.+ individuals.

There can be vast differences between gender identity (a personal sense of one’s gender), gender expression (how one expresses one’s gender), and gender roles (social roles played in society based on perceived gender, or, to put it more simply, how society expects women and men to behave). More often than not, the division of power in butoh does run along a gender line, one that solidified around the social construct of gender roles. Consider my use of the binary terms men and women a reflection of this social construct.

Butoh was founded by male artists; in the interest of fostering a better understanding of this art form, I made the choice to include male voices. It was also important to me to honor all my Japanese teachers. To ensure balanced gender representation, an almost equal number of female and male experts, scientists, writers, teachers and dancers are referenced and cited in this book. Images of men and women were given near equal representation. For full transparency, a chart detailing the male/female ratio of citations and mentions is available at the end of this book.

Because Japanese names may be unfamiliar to non-Japanese readers, an index differentiating Japanese women from men is available as an addendum.

Outline

In order to understand what butoh is, we first turn to butoh’s history; a history built on collaborations, yet fraught with power struggles, that has historically been told through a male lens. The transmission of knowledge in butoh is examined: after the late 1960s, the art form split into two different branches of the lineage, ultimately giving birth to a multitude of methods and expressions.

Despite seemingly irreconcilable differences between practitioners, by turning to science, we can identify a thread of commonality between different butoh expressions and methodologies. Science can help us understand butoh’s unique characteristics; as a result, it can inform pedagogical methods, and also shed a light on how to identify and address potential problems from within the art form. Today, these challenges take place in the field, often in cross-cultural settings, and are particularly relevant to the condition of women.

Since the aim of butoh is transformation, it is particularly important to ask whether the art form itself is capable of transforming in the twenty-first century. The concept of transformation in butoh is examined; its primary objective is to lead practitioners to an empty space. To understand why transformation leads to emptiness in butoh, I asked practitioners to share their perspective, and turned one last time to science, approaching emptiness through the filter of modern physics.

Taking inspiration from quantum physics, a framework is proposed to answer the question: What is butoh?. This book ends by considering the future of butoh and asking whether butoh can truly become an international art form.

Synopsis Per Chapter

Collaborations.Revisits butoh’s history; establishes butoh as a collaborative art form and introduces the problem of gender inequality within the art form.

Transmission.Describes how butoh was transmitted after the split between choreographed and improvised butoh. Post 1970, butoh became a hybrid and evolved in a constant tug of war between tradition and innovation.

Memory.Butoh is transmitted through an oral tradition; therefore memory is an important tool in butoh. Definitions of implicit/explicit memory are offered and an explanation of how each relates to this art form.

Commonality.Investigates similarities between butoh methods: butoh requires a receptive state from its dancers. Like with other dance forms, learning in butoh is facilitated by neuroplasticity, and mirror neuron mechanisms. A comparison is made between periodic and immersive/intensive approaches in training. All butoh methods capitalize on limbic resonance, which would imply that butoh is an affective medium.

Consciousness.Butoh’s special relationship to consciousness is introduced. Altered States of Consciousness (ASCs) are defined. A scientific protocol is proposed to study butoh’s ASCs empirically. Butoh dancers concentrate on the interval between impulse and action: in butoh, movement and origin of movement are linked.

Embodiment.Butoh is bodily awareness leading to embodied unconsciousness (or an exploration of body memories). The relationship between DNA and instinct is examined. Butoh dancers also use visualization to unlock the unconsciousness of the body; butoh’s unique contribution to the field of dance is to have solidified a range of techniques exploring the space between real and imagined movements.

Action Potential.This chapter explains how we move, from firing a neuron in the brain to actual movement. Three different techniques emerge in butoh—from visualization to action. Butoh is characterized by its unique relationship to motor imagery and inhibitory control.

Sensitivity.Where do impulses come from?—sensitivity is posited as a key butoh technique. Differentiation is made between external and internal stimuli, and between voluntary and reactive movements. Butoh favors reactive movements, and butoh dancers cultivate the ability to decide to react, or self-induce stimuli (much like trained actors). Once they master this skill, they also make decisions about the execution of their impulses, further differentiating beginners from experienced dancers.

A Story in Stimuli.Description of butoh image memos and a comparison between choreography and improvisation are offered. Visualization techniques are explored from the perspectives of motor behavior and cognitive psychology.

Brain Landscape.Discusses the hierarchy of information processing in relationship to butoh; introduces the critical difference between verbal thinking and visual thinking, and discusses brain wave activity in butoh.

How To.This chapter explains how to reach a state of deep listening. Primary techniques are defined: sound techniques in butoh, and a modified use of vision, leading to visualization. The possible role of the pineal gland in butoh is explored, and the theta healing system is described.

Less is More.Noguchi Taiso, a basic butoh technique of surrender and muscle activation, is explained.

Dual Ability.Butoh is characterized by motor function in altered states. A number of dual states characterize the art form: crisis/surrender, verticality/horizontality, and expansiveness/containment. Oscillating between states is a common butoh technique, which leads the dancer to an edge.

Skills.Why butoh, even when improvised, requires skills. A range of skills needed in butoh are described, and a model of skill acquisition is introduced.

Challenges, Part One.Potential challenges in the field are examined through an examination of psychology/cross-cultural psychology. This chapter also looks at how scientific findings about cognition and emotionality can apply to butoh.

Challenges, Part Two.The relationship between methodologies, the nervous system and power dynamics is examined.

Challenges, Part Three.The topics of violence and gender, and sexual harassment are explored.

Bridging the Gap:Conclusions from Chapters 15, 16 and 17, and pedagogical recommendations.

Transformation.The recurrent butoh concept of transformation is examined from a biological, social, psychological, shamanistic, spiritual, mythological and philosophical standpoint.

Cradling Empty Space.Traditionally, transformation in butoh is a means to an end; the ultimate goal in butoh is for practitioners to reach a form of emptiness. But what does emptiness mean in butoh? Several definitions of emptiness are offered by practitioners, and the concept of empty space in butoh is further explored through the spectrum of modern physics. This leads to a proposed framework to answer the question: What is butoh?.

A Promise for Tomorrow:This chapter asks the relevant question: Is this art form predicated on the precept of transformation, itself capable of transforming in the twenty-first century? The subject of international butoh is explored; this chapter attempts to reconcile geopolitics with the various scientific theories and frameworks proposed earlier in this book. Possibilities for the future of butoh are put forth.

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A Brief History of Butoh

The Most Mysterious Dance in the World

In 1949, a very young Tatsumi Hijikata saw Kazuo Ohno perform for the first time in Tokyo. At forty years old, Kazuo Ohno was returning to dance for the first time in nine years, having served his country during the war and lived as a prisoner of war in New Guinea for two years.

Hijikata, who was visiting from his native Akita prefecture in the north of Japan,¹ was enthralled by Kazuo Ohno’s performance, which he referred to as "geki yaku or deadly poison." Ohno’s dance was to stay forever branded in his memory. Many believe that this powerful encounter planted the first seed for butoh and determined its course for years to come.

At the time when they met, Tatsumi Hijikata was only twenty-one years old. The young man studied modern dance, while Kazuo Ohno was a student of Baku Ishii and Takaya Eguchi, both pioneers of modern dance² in Japan.

In 1949, much of Tokyo was still in ruin, having been devastated by air raids during the war. Food had become extremely scarce—Kazuo Ohno remembered this era as a time of perpetual hunger (Fukui, 1993). It is against this background of devastation that these two dancers met: one young, the other his senior, both looking for ways to find meaning through dance.

The Allied Forces still occupied Japan, and American culture had infiltrated every aspect of Japanese life. In the 1950s, many young Japanese artists were drawn to the West, yet in search of Japanese identity. The rise of butoh between the 50s and the 70s parallels the economic reconstruction of Japan, as well as its Westernization. Numerous Japanese artists found themselves on the side of a burgeoning protest movement opposing the increasing presence of American military bases. These were tempestuous times in Japan, coinciding with a germinal era of cultural redefinition.

Hijikata moved to Tokyo in 1952 to further his dance studies.³ The young man lived on the edge of poverty in Tokyo’s poorest quarters, yet found a way to study ballet, jazz, modern and flamenco dance. In June 1956, while dancing with Mitsuko Ando’s dance company, Hijikata met choreographer Hironobu Oikawa during the theatrical presentation of Carmen.

Later that month, Oikawa invited Hijikata to dance in his newly formed company Ballet Tokyo. Oikawa, who was a very accomplished dancer, had spent two years studying in Paris (1954–1956) and brought back to Japan the art of classical ballet, French corporeal mime techniques and a keen interest in the surrealist poet and playwright Antonin Artaud.⁴ In the mid-1960s, Oikawa founded La Maison d’Artaud in an attempt to teach movement based on Artaud’s philosophy.

Artaud had proposed in his 1938 manifesto The Theatre and Its Double to bring back into the theater this elementary magical idea, taken up by modern psychoanalysis, which consists in effecting a patient’s cure by making him assume the apparent and exterior attitudes of the desired condition, and to return through the theater to an idea of the physical knowledge of images and the means of inducing trances, as in Chinese medicine which knows, over the entire extent of the human anatomy, at what points to puncture in order to regulate the subtlest functions (Artaud, 1958).

A highly intelligent, generous and educated artist, Oikawa introduced various aspects of French culture to his students. Passionate about Artaud, Oikawa spoke extensively about the French playwright and shared the specific techniques that he had learned in France while studying extensively with actor and mime teacher Jean-Louis Barrault (1910–1994), and more importantly, with Étienne Decroux (1898–1991). Often called the father of modern mime, Étienne Decroux was an actor who had developed the art of corporeal mime (also known as mime corporel dramatique or mcd).

In the 1930s, Jean-Louis Barrault and Étienne Decroux collaborated with Artaud. Both artists, who also acted, directed and were involved in movies (most notably Marcel Carné’s Children of Paradise—Les Enfants du Paradis [1945]), followed Artaud’s belief in a total theater, which had no value if it did not change the lives and attitudes of those who came to it (Calder, 1994).

Unlike pantomime, which substitutes gestures for speech, Decroux’s corporeal mime aims at making the invisible visible and creating presence in the mover. Techniques invented by Decroux, such as the use of disequilibrium, instability and isolation, can be found in butoh and have trickled down the lineage all the way to my own teachers. Much to my surprise, when I watched the films of Decroux, I saw elements of techniques I had learned from or seen in the bodies of Japanese butoh dancers. Upon watching Decroux’s performance, Japanese Butoh Master Tetsuro Fukuhara wrote that he was very surprised that Decroux’s movements were almost butoh (Fukuhara, 2017c).

Decroux’s corporeal mime also relates to butoh because of the depth of feelings contained in the mover. Corporeal mime relies on genuine sensations and emotions inside the mover, as well as a precise technique sometimes called the grammar of the body. In Decroux’s performances one can already see techniques typical of butoh: a strong inward concentration, waiting or listening in order to build an internal presence and connection, fluidity as well as abrupt changes, and a condensation of energy and feelings inside the body, which only escapes through movement by following internal impulses.

In contrast with traditional pantomime, Decroux was not performing for the audience but instead seemed to be solely concentrating on his instrument, his sensations and his own experience. These techniques represent a shift from earlier Western theatrical forms of expressions based on mimicry, and searched instead for the embodiment of a genuine experience.

All around the world, at the beginning of the twentieth century, artists such as Étienne Decroux and Konstantin Stanislavski were searching for new ways to reach an authentic expression. With the rise of cinema, these new techniques, which represented a radical departure from conventional theatrical performance styles, proved instrumental to actors working on camera. Oikawa wrote: I am grateful to Decroux: without him, it would have been difficult to develop my movements from traditional art forms (Oikawa, 2008). This new, modern type of mime was instrumental to the creation of butoh and led Oikawa, who shared this newly found technique with his Japanese peers, to state that mime and dance combined led to present butoh (Oikawa, 2008).⁵

As early as 1956, Oikawa started incorporating mcd and Artaud’s techniques into his classes. Butoh Master Isso Miura and renowned critic Kyo Hoshino emphasized during our July 2018 meeting in Tokyo that an impressive number of butoh dancers from the first to the second and third generation of butoh studied with Oikawa, who therefore played a supporting role in the development of butoh, not only by sharing these specific techniques but also by encouraging dancers and giving them a platform to perform. This opinion is corroborated by other butoh dancers and experts (Osanai, 2017, 2018; Miura, 2018; Lloyd, 2004).

Hironobu Oikawa’s teachings paved the way for Mitsuko Ando (Tatsumi Hijikata’s teacher), Kazuo Ohno, Yoshito Ohno, Isso Miura, Mitsuyo Uesugi, Ko Murobushi, Sumako Koseki, Saburo Teshigawara, Mitsutaka Ishii, Mitsuru Sasaki, Hiroyasu Sasaki, Yumiko Yoshioka, Mari Osanai and many others. Oikawa produced performances for prominent butoh dancers such as Min Tanaka, Koichi Tamano, Masaki Iwana, Tatsumi Hijikata, Mitsutaka Ishii and others. He remained intimately connected to the butoh world throughout his life and became ballet and mime teacher to Yoshito Ohno, Kazuo Ohno’s son.

However, in the course of one generation, a systematic loss of information took place along the butoh lineage. Second- or third-generation butoh dancers often call their workshops making the invisible visible⁶ (Wakamatsu, 2019). These teachers have often no idea who Hironobu Oikawa or Étienne Decroux are, and do not know that mcd was so instrumental to butoh’s development.

In our 2017 interview, Yoshito Ohno discussed the origins of mcd’s influence on butoh:

Then what happened was that Marcel Marceau happened to come to Japan to perform. I went to see his performance with Hijikata-san. And we talked to each other that it was so strange that we could see the unseen. That’s what we did not have in butoh. Wow! So I told him, I’ll go and learn how we can make the unseen seeable, Hijikata-san! Then, luckily enough, Hironobu Oikawa just came back after learning classic ballet and also mime at Étienne Decroux’s studio in Paris. So I told him, Ok, I’ll go and learn it and went to the teacher Oikawa. I learned classic ballet and the basics of mime there. (Ohno, 2017)

Ballet/pantomime performances were very popular in Japan in the 50s. In 1960, Oikawa created the Japan Mime Association⁷ in Shimbashi (Tokyo) and invited Kazuo Ohno to teach a class every Saturday. Kazuo Ohno, who had also seen French mime Marcel Marceau perform in Tokyo in 1955, was enamored with the ethereal French performer. Though Oikawa found Marceau’s approach too theatrical, he respected Kazuo Ohno’s approach to dance and movement.

Oikawa described Kazuo Ohno’s classes in minute detail in his journals; evidently, Kazuo Ohno already brought a unique sensitivity to his teaching. Kazuo Ohno’s 1960s teaching methods (as described by Oikawa) already show the hallmarks of butoh and provide us with important clues as to butoh’s development as an art form; they also position Kazuo Ohno as a true pioneer, who, by synthesizing various dance and movement techniques, influenced an entire generation of dance artists.

In a most unlikely fashion, Oikawa, an accomplished dancer and a teacher himself, took Ohno’s class regularly, challenging the rigidity of the teacher–student relationship. Characteristic of this age of redefinition was the openness of its participants, who freely shared infor mation with each other. In fact, Oikawa did not like the hierarchy typical of the dance world but instead cultivated an open mind and a fluid