Embracing the Slow Rhythm of Change
Reflections on Vangeline [NYC] 3-Day Butoh masterclass and performance of "The Slowest Wave" in Singapore
I first encountered my teacher Vangeline’s Butoh in her performance of “ɪˈreɪʒə (Erasure)1 “ at the Theater for the New City in the East Village. Other events of the day itself elude me, but images of the performance are still seared in my memory, as vivid as the moment of witnessing. The theater was dim, shrouded in shadow, with a figure in red reclined at 180°, suspended in sleep. As my eyes adjusted, still the figure lay motionless, yet radiated an undeniable presence. Then, in a brief lapse of attention, my mind began to wander. I blinked, and an arm emerged, suspended elegantly in space. From the corner of my vision, I caught a flick of a finger and a slight turn of the wrist. My attention sharpened and my senses grew keen. I blinked again—her body floated at 45°, fast forward— upright at 90°, the red dress turned vengeful, like a gash against the black. What followed was a flurry of intense movement. Face twisted, mouth agape, from her body erupted screaming ghosts from decades past, pushing out through pale skin and pouring into the darkness. I remember veins tightening beneath an elongated neck and that spark of violence, dissolving away, receding into nothingness. The memory still loops silently—I do not remember the music.
Something about nature and time, the beginning being very, very slow and I’ve been interested for quite awhile in speed that is not recognisable to the eye. You know. In the same way that you can look at the sunset and then you don’t see it changing, but all of a sudden it’s dark and the sun is gone and you don’t know what happened.
Excerpt from Q&A, after “The Slowest Wave” performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
Vangeline holds a special place in my Butoh constellation as my first teacher, now a dear friend, and mentor—a grounding force in the complex and often overwhelming world of Butoh dance, which can be both rewarding and challenging to navigate for myself as a practitioner and now organizer. In our conversation after her performance of “The Slowest Wave” in Singapore, which you can listen to in it’s entirety via her podcast “Butoh Musing with Vangeline” in the episode titled “Butoh in Singapore: Butoh is Dance,” I introduced Vangeline to a Singaporean audience as my “bridge” into Butoh.
This connection began in a somewhat humorous way, thanks to the insistence of a disgruntled student I had met in my first Butoh workshop, who urged me to “go see Vangeline” after being completely unimpressed by our instructor at the time. This led me to her performance “ɪˈreɪʒə (Erasure)”, which I recount in the opening paragraph. It was possibly my first or second live exposure to Butoh, which completely reshaped my understanding of time and the potential of the body.
Vangeline was the first teacher to see and acknowledge my Butoh, offering a supportive and safe space for me to practice regularly during my time in New York. I still remember the warmth of her first hug and the clarity of her teaching, which tempered my own insecurities and ambitions as a young Butoh initiate—hungry, volatile, and impressionable. Many early Butoh enthusiasts become enamoured with the esotericism and aesthetics of the art form, making them susceptible to unhealthy power dynamics with teachers who adopt guru-like personas. Never pedantic or imposing, Vangeline simply said, “Come back; I’m here every Sunday.” True to her word, she held her Sundays for Butoh, and I returned.
I will always cherish my New York Sunday ritual of rushing out of my Crown Heights apartment, breathless with excitement, switching train after train across a maze of subway routes, knowing that at the end of my journey, I could surrender into the cool darkness of Cameo Studios on West 43rd Street, where under her watchful gaze I danced barefoot for hours in the twilight of a waking dream. Her Sunday classes were fleeting moments of refuge, before re-entering the frenzied streets of Manhattan, swallowed once more by the relentless ocean of traffic, bodies, and chaos.
I think it’s important to try to slow down and see what happens and maybe there’s some form of surrender that can come from that.
Excerpt from Q&A, after “The Slowest Wave” performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
It has been a persistent dream for Vangeline and myself to have her come to Singapore to teach a 3-day workshop intensive and perform. In hindsight, I realize that this simple desire to reunite with my first Butoh teacher and cultivate an awareness of Butoh in the local landscape, planted the seed for the founding of the “Singapore Butoh Collective.”
I established the Butoh collective to enhance our eligibility for public arts funding, aiming to support our Butoh programming and invite guest teachers. In Singapore, where we face a shortage of Butoh teachers and resources, funding for these programs is essential. The teachings and techniques of Butoh naturally integrate with the body through sustained practice; however, we still have a long way to go before we can have the necessary infrastructure for developing a thriving Butoh culture here. Unfortunately, despite gathering more than 30 signatories and naming the collective the “Singapore Butoh Collective” to appear more palatable to the government sector. My grant application earlier this year to bring Vangeline to Singapore was unsuccessful, relegating her visit to a distant dream. However, when the odds seemed fully stacked against us, the generosity and support of community members, along with immense hard work, sacrifice, and determination from the both of us, transformed her journey from New York to Singapore into a reality. Bringing my teacher to Singapore was no easy feat; the flight from one end of the world to the other is both expensive and punishing on the body. Vangeline was in Singapore for hardly a week; barely enough time to recover from jet lag nor the physical strain of the 24 hour long flight.
We decided to make this happen, because it’s always better to try and make things happen, regardless of whether there is funding or not.
Excerpt from Q&A, after “The Slowest Wave” performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
… the workshops are very methodical and intelligently built. Through very simple techniques we are led into very profound and deep states of mind. At the same time none of the experiences are mystified, instead Vangeline gives very sober and simple instructions. I find this a truly rare ability of a teacher to know how to handle both theoretical and experiential knowledge.
Ieva Miseviciute (Student Testimonial, from Vangeline’s Website) Source
The three-day Butoh intensive took place at the Intercultural Theatre Institute ITI (Day 1) and CHOWK (Days 2-3), a local contemporary dance company specializing in Odissi, which graciously allowed us to use their studio space. It was also a reunion with friends from Indonesia whom we met through our previous programs, who flew in especially to attend the workshop. During the sessions, Vangeline guided participants through Noguchi Taiso2 body relaxation exercises and movement improvisations, employing her signature style of succinct, concise, and anatomically informed teachings drawn from years of experience in Butoh, dance and other movement forms.
What I enjoy about Vangeline's instruction is that it is rooted in a deep appreciation of the body and its possibilities. While she requires a certain level of engagement and commitment from her students, she always invites this in a gentle manner. Open to all forms of movement and body types, she does not impose strict definitions of what Butoh should "look like." Instead, she creates a space for participants to tap into what is already alive in their bodies, encouraging a more exploratory and honest approach. Most importantly, Vangeline does not rush her workshops; she allows ample time for a thorough investigation of the body's interiority and sophisticated sensory faculties.
A key aspect of Vangeline’s method is her emphasis and knowledge of the nervous system, supplemented by her neuroscientific research. Her Butoh emphasizes the minutiae sensations and details we often overlook. To truly embody or be moved by something outside oneself, one must be able to inhabit and identify a spectrum of intensities. Even in partner work, she encourages us to be mindful of our bodies in relation to one another, to honour the energetic connection. Many newcomers attended the full course and were able to grasp the remarkable subtleties of her approach.
Our teachers say we have to have an outside observer, you have to stay aware. So you have to be in two places at the same time. So when we begin, when we’re a beginner, we’re either online or offline, and then you can see a lot of people take classes and they go into a trance, and if you ask them, what did you do? They’re like ‘I don’t remember” … But the skill is actually be present, be online and go this deep and eventually what happens is you go back and forth. So it’s a neural pathway, it’s a bridge that you need to build that takes time to build safely. Think of it like a toothpick, like you want to go through a mountain, not dynamite to create the tunnel, toothpick, grain by grain. That’s why it takes decades and decades to be able to do that, but eventually you do.
Excerpt from Q&A, after “The Slowest Wave” performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
In Singapore, where time is of the essence and everyone is constantly rushing from one place to another, the deliberate pacing of Vangeline’s workshop felt like a much needed pause in momentum. In our attention-deficit and profit-driven economy, where devoting time to a singular task has become increasingly difficult, her approach was essential for guiding us back to a fundamental baseline of concentration—crucial for dancing Butoh.
At its core, Butoh is a brilliant form of bodywork that fully engages the body-mind system, and Vangeline’s teachings addressed the conscious bridging of both these dimensions. In her class she also emphasized the importance of accountability and being responsible for oneself, encouraging participants to take charge of their own experiences. This sentiment resonated deeply, fostering a serious atmosphere around the work at hand.
… there’s a feeling of like virtuosity of, of having the really small ability to kind of like modulate and choose when you want to pay attention to what’s outside of you.
Excerpt from Q&A, after “The Slowest Wave” performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
The Slowest Wave is named after the delta brain wave, which is the slowest brain wave activity that we can have. That’s the one we have when we’re actually asleep and not even dreaming. It’s dreamless sleep because the wave that we are in when we’re dreaming is still down.
Excerpt from Q&A, after ‘The Slowest Wave’ performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
“The Slowest Wave” was initially designed by Vangeline for a neuroscientific study of Butoh conducted in 2023, involving five dancers. Notably, this study marked the first time in neuroscience that brainwave activity was measured simultaneously and wirelessly among a group of Butoh dancers during their performance. The piece was specifically choreographed by Vangeline for research purposes, with an onus on incorporating as many Butoh techniques as possible. This level of specificity was essential, as the performance would later be analyzed through video footage and data collection. While initially built as a research protocol, interwoven into the work are also themes that have been prevalent across Vangeline’s Butoh practice. I wonder if the work could be considered her magnum opus, as it integrates her entire repository of Butoh knowledge accumulated over decades. Over time, she began touring it as a solo work across the United States and internationally. For its debut at Dance Nucleus space in Singapore, “The Slowest Wave” was restaged with a minimalist setup and simple lighting.
Now I want to add, although the piece was choreographed for the study, obviously it’s a theatre piece, it’s a dance piece. It has you know, for me, images and themes and the theme of the wave being one of them, of the body. The female body is a landscape of femininity, of sensuality.
Excerpt from Q&A, after ‘The Slowest Wave’ performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
Watching Vangeline perform “The Slowest Wave” transported me back to the first moment I first saw her at Theater for the New City. A solitary figure lying on the ground, her movements initially indiscernible to the naked eye. This time, she appeared less human, more ethereal—a mandala turning on its own orbit. The flowing lines of her costume accentuated and marked the contours of the body, transforming it into a wave. Watching her move made me marvel once again at how Butoh settles deep within the body over many years of practice.
And I’ve felt for a long time, for the past 10 years, that I, I can sort of tune in and feel, move with the rhythm of the planet shifting.
I don’t know if it’s true, I haven’t exactly timed it. It’s not like, scientific at all.
But I feel a very deep resonance with these slow rhythms, you know, and I always wonder why we move so fast and what happens to us because we move so fast.
So I don’t know if it’s just arrogance, but it’s kind of like a forgetting about an essential part of ourselves because we are ruled.
Excerpt from Q&A, after ‘The Slowest Wave’ performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
Vangeline performs this work with her eyes closed, a departure from the norm in Butoh, where dancers often adopt a glassy-eyed or vacant expression (at least in my experience of watching other Butoh performances). The sensitivity she has developed through her Butoh practice allows her to discern her position onstage simply by tuning in at a cellular level. “I got pretty lost in this one,” she admitted in the post-show Q&A, and I had noticed it—a single moment when she landed slightly at a diagonal, like a clock hand spinning in disarray. It was a beautiful instance of disorientation; of being taken by the unknown. An audience member watching the performance also noted that the glacial pacing of the work made them acutely aware of the various registers of time present in the room. Vangeline at the center of the space was like “a windmill making the energy thicker and thicker.3”
In this piece, Vangeline was tasked not only with holding the distinct shapes in the choreography but also with maintaining her balance; each limb and joint needed to be perfectly placed, making every transition a gamble. Any slight miscalculation could result in a fall. Ever sensitive to the central axis and her own weight distribution, she displayed expert motor preparation, adjusting herself with lighting clarity, optimizing her body for stability. Those rapid manoeuvres were breathtaking to witness and imbued her dance with an undercurrent of fight, creating sharp ruptures in the clockwork fluidity of the movement.
The geometry of my body in space is completely intertwined with the journey, the inner journey.
Excerpt from Q&A, after ‘The Slowest Wave’ performance in Singapore. (Vangeline)
In watching the performance, it struck me how radical it was to have staged this work in such understated conditions, placing the body at the forefront. The Singapore debut of “The Slowest Wave” revealed Butoh in its most unadulterated form.
Vangeline recently told me that I don’t need to show my Butoh because I am Butoh. In watching her perform this work, I fully grasped this, Butoh as the truth of the body, the result of abilities coalescing over time and practice.
During the post-show discussion, the perennial question arose: "What is Butoh?" Vangeline nailed it when she responded, "Butoh is an experience."
There are many ways to approach an understanding of Butoh; as Vangeline pointed out, numerous perspectives must be considered. What does Butoh mean for a beginner? What does it signify for someone who has practiced for 20 years? What does it represent for the viewer or the dancer? Experiencing Butoh also involves not just the dance itself but also engaging with its fascinating history, practitioners across different generations, and communities.
Ultimately, beyond all the literature and discourse surrounding it, Butoh is something to be experienced directly, transmitted from one body to another. This notion aligns with the aspirations of its two founders, who delved deep into their own bodies in search of a dance that would transcend all pre-existing forms of dance. By reimagining the body as a revolutionary material, they pioneered a whole new form of expression.
Butoh has continued to evolve since its inception, from the shocking and absurd provocations of the early postwar climate to the finely-tuned choreography of Hijikata Tatsumi, and now through a global network of teachers and practitioners, each bringing their unique contexts and subjectivities to the art form.
Vangeline: It’s an experience for sure. Don’t you think, for you watching and practising, first and foremost, it’s an experience.
XUE: Yeah, Butoh is an experience, and it’s an experience that I think many of us in Singapore don’t get to experience often.Excerpt from Q&A, after ‘The Slowest Wave’ performance in Singapore — addressing the question “What is Butoh?
During her brief time with us, Vangeline reminded me of why I love this artform so much. Butoh embodies a special and inimitable quality of movement that arises from an embodied understanding of time. I hope we do not forget this as inhabitants of an accelerated city, where time often feels harsh and devouring. Let us celebrate the moments we have dancing together and continue to dedicate ourselves to this practice, allowing the seed of Butoh to take root slowly but surely in what little remains of the true earth of this concrete island.
This collective has been around more than this one year. You know, it’s basically just people who have been showing up for Butoh practice, who touched Butoh in some way or another, even if they didn’t always come regularly for classes or workshops. And yeah, I guess that’s why you know, after like a couple of years of seeing the same faces like over and over, it felt right to call it a collective, you know, also because I’m trying to get government funding. So that’s why we are the Singapore Butoh Collective. Yeah, because you know, it has to benefit the state in some way.
But really, it’s for us right?
That’s what it’s for.
Excerpt from Q&A, after ‘The Slowest Wave’ performance in Singapore (XUE)
About Vangeline:
Bio: Read Here
Website: vangeline.com
Instagram: @vangelinebutoh
Purchase: Butoh: Cradling Empty Space
Venue Support:
Intercultural Theatre Institute
Chowk
Dance Nucleus
Photography:
Nic Wong (@uroboreal)
Note: Some images of the performance have been cropped by XUE.
Special Thank You:
Sharon Shum + Family
Agatha Socool
Blanka Palamós
Sanat Mehta
Rudi Osman
Sonia Kwek
ɪˈreɪʒə (Erasure) is the second instalment of a performance triptych by Butoh artist Vangeline. The 60-minute solo is a contemporary take on fairy tales Sleeping beauty and Rumpelstiltskin and explores the phenomenon of female erasure taking place in our society. Themes of female surrender, awakening and rebellion are interpreted through Butoh techniques (extremes in movement speed, from the extremely slow to the fast and furious). The rehearsal process is scientifically recorded with the help of MUSE 2, a device capable of recording brain wave activity. The recordings are used to create fluctuations in lighting throughout the piece. (Source)
Japanese gymnastics method developed by Michizo Noguchi
Excerpt from Q&A, after ‘The Slowest Wave’ performance in Singapore (Vangeline)
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