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Prince, peasant, artist, cad, student, swashbuckler – there’s no role Damien Welch hasn’t performed in his 18 years as a dancer. This Monday 30 November he’ll take his final curtain call as a Principal Artist with The Australian Ballet.

The son of Australian dance legends Marilyn Jones and Garth Welch, and the younger brother of choreographer Stanton Welch, Damien started ballet classes at the relatively late age of 15. He quickly made up for lost time, joining The Australian Ballet in 1992 and reaching the top rank of Principal in just six years. Dancing countless ballets both at home and overseas (often cast opposite his on-and-offstage partner, fellow Principal Artist Kirsty Martin), he’s worked with some of the world’s leading choreographers, and had numerous roles created on him, switching effortlessly between classical and contemporary works.

In recent years Damien has worked behind the curtain as well, restaging Stanton Welch’s masterwork Divergence and documenting new works. Earlier this year, he made his choreographic debut with a piece called Chemical Trigger for the Bodytorque 2.2 season, for which he also composed the score. The sight of Damien wandering the hallways of The Australian Ballet between rehearsals, guitar slung from his shoulder, will be sorely missed. He’ll return as a guest artist in 2010 and continue his long relationship with the company, but for now we bid farewell to an extraordinary talent.

Damien takes his final bow on the closing night of Concord in Sydney

Dyad 1909, which recently opened at Sadler’s Wells, was in some ways a more literal realisation of McGregor’s Antarctic preoccupations. Two dancers, dramatically muzzled in Swarovski Crystal masks, appeared alongside the fur-wrapped figure of an explorer. What unfolded was a dense and invigorating work, video, movement and music colluding to disarm and intoxicate. The lush and appropriately chilly score was composed and conducted by Icelandic prodigy Olafur Arnalds (snake-hipped, floppy haired, wearing a natty burnt-orange cardigan), who presided over a five-piece ensemble from his keyboard, occasionally unleashing a computerised vocals in the ‘Fitter, happier, more productive’ vein. Conjuring shifting icebergs, cracking glaciers and, occasionally, oblivion, the music was both beautiful and terrifying, the perfect accompaniment to the shape-shifting videos and the thrusting, seeking movements of the seven dancers from Random Dance.

Images:
In the Spirit of Diaghilev
A Sadler’s Wells Production
Wayne McGregor
Dyad 1909
Photography Hugo Glendinning

“Do I dare disturb the universe?” T.S. Eliot

Most dictionaries define art as the production, by aesthetic principles, of that which is beautiful. Trust a dictionary to be so curt and clinical. If I were to provide a definition, I would say that art is the expression of the human psyche. Art may express beauty but there will be art that disturbs, or challenges, too. By ‘disturbing’ I don’t mean alarming or upsetting audiences, but confronting and inspiring them with new insights, innovation of form and pushing social parameters. A fundamental element in art – and not just art, but good art – is that it should challenge the viewer.

As dancers we are extremely privileged to be able to use our bodies like a brush on canvas, if you will, as our creative voice. When you consider that we don’t have the assistance of our voices, we’re challenged to articulate in a strong and coherent manner exactly what it is that we are aiming to convey. I have had the good fortune to dance some roles by choreographers whom I admire for their understanding of the human body and its limitations and expressive potential. These choreographers have dared to reinvent classical technique and their works have challenged their contemporaries – namely George Balanchine and Graeme Murphy. And so I couldn’t believe my luck when Wayne McGregor chose me as one of the dancers he wanted to work with for his piece Dyad 1929.

I watched a whole bunch of Wayne’s choreography on YouTube and loved the way he seemed to push the dancers’ bodies to almost distorted extremes. It’s a fascinating juxtaposition of raw, fleshy, primal with creature-like ethereality. When we stepped into the studio with him on the first day, I was sold from the word … well, his first words were “Hi everyone, I’m Wayne”, so let’s go with that. He shook each of our hands and learned our names, initiating the feeling that this creative process was to be a collaborative one. While Wayne was definitely in charge and demonstrating ideas for movements through his own sinewy, eloquent physique, and vocal cues (from wooooaaahhh to zzyyyuppp and all in between), he still responded to the way in which we interpreted his choreographic language. We would rarely leave the studio without a coat of sweat, and perhaps a little bit of a headache – possibly from dehydration, yes, but more likely because Wayne was challenging our minds.

Of course we have to challenge our minds as dancers – we are in the studio every day fine-tuning our bodies. But we also need to go beyond ballet technique and discover our body’s expressive capabilities, whether we’re preparing for an abstract contemporary piece or a classical story ballet. It is just that Wayne was asking us to explore our mental and physical capacity to the extreme and challenging our cognitive skills at the same time. It was an epiphany of sorts for me. I had discovered, in those weeks we worked with Wayne, muscles I had never been in tune with. I pushed my body to fill negative space like a broad brush painting oil on canvas – or a fine needlepoint etching – or the breath of an acrylic spray-can on a wall. This was the result of challenging my thought process, stepping back and asking my body questions and eking out really surprising answers. I guess, you could say, I was disturbing my body. This, I thought after one rehearsal, is what art is about.

And the discovery won’t end after the last rehearsal. It will continue with each show of Dyad 1929. The work is inspired by the enormously significant work of Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes’ as well as the exciting technological innovations of the period between 1909 and 1929. Wayne’s choreographic juxtaposition is consistent with honouring Diaghilev’s tradition of innovation, and presents a challenge not just for the dancers – especially classical dancers, using centuries-old technique to convey totally modern themes – but for a ballet audience as well.

Long may artistic innovators like George Balanchine, like Graeme Murphy, like Wayne McGregor, disturb the universe.

Concord opens this Wednesday 11 November, and runs until Monday 30 November.

Photography Jim McFarlane

“The dancers are at peak energy, seemingly hungry to embrace rarely performed choreography.” Sunday Herald Sun

This November in Sydney The Australian Ballet presents Concord, three works by three of the most daring choreographers in the world. Take a peek at Nacho Duato’s Por vos muero, Alexei Ratmansky’s Scuola di ballo and Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929 in our latest gallery.

More images of the Concord season can be viewed on our Facebook fan page

Concord runs in Sydney 11 – 30 November

Por vos muero returns to the stage alongside Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929 and Alexei Ratmansky’s Scuola di ballo as part of the triple bill Concord. Concord runs in Sydney 11 – 30 November.

First up were the mysterious velvet tones of Spanish choreographer Nacho Duato’s Por vos muero (For thee I die). This Spanish Renaissance-inspired work uses light and shade, tragic poetry, and Spanish and Catalonian music from the 15th and 16th centuries to unveil the conflict of love and emotions trapped in a renaissance world. Duato’s sensuous choreography conveyed the timeless gestures of ancient masks in a darkened amphitheatre, while the cast delighted the audience with intricate modern ballet routines influenced by courtly traditions. Rich glossy silk dresses caught the moody lighting in shades of silver, midnight green and ultraviolet, adding brightness to the ballerinas’ tranquil yet troubled personas.

Scuola di ballo had exploded since I saw it in dress rehearsal just a few nights earlier. The ballet school comedy has become kaleidoscopic in nature – swirling, beautiful and sharply observed. The archetypal characters were played with a satirical, mischievous edge that was largely reminiscent of the tomfoolery of a French Parade. The cast’s mercurial performances and fast, sharp footwork blended populist comedy with the weightless effect of classical ballet. Jane Casson was wonderful as the clumsy and bow-legged Felicita who danced like she was stuck in mud. Ben Davis (ballet professor Rigadon) and Damien Welch (impresario Fabrizio) were hilarious with their exaggerated air kisses and egotistical altercations – a furious blur of gold brocade and peacock-coloured waist coasts. Phillipe Starck’s Louis chairs were used to great physical effect amidst all the tantrum throwing. The final tableaux had the whole cast flung together in preposterous positions that summed up the ultimate frivolity of Alexei Ratmansky’s fresh interpretation.

Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929 completed the trilogy with a physical tour de force of human virtuosity. Steve Reich’s Double Sextet dictates the elaborate and insistent rhythm of the piece, which is like a ballet equivalent of Woody Allen‘s Manhattan of the late 1970s and 1980s. The choreography is jolty, frantic, neurotic and minimalist all at once. In my mind the ballerinas were dodging big yellow taxis in peak-hour traffic while contemplating the nature of existence. They had a strong sense of ownership of the stage, commanding McGregor’s challenging choreography with confidence. Bodies twisted, contorted asymmetrically and realigned into classical poses with staggering dexterity. Lucy Carter’s lighting and set design shone down like a beacon in a blizzard, and the costumes were navigational tools in a surrealist fantasy of tightly sheathed flesh.

Concord’s opening night performance revealed the dedication and remarkable display of talent I have been witness to behind the scenes. The three works use homage to honour ballet history while modernising the form. The result is a testament to ballet’s creative scope and its relevance to both established and new generations of ballet lovers.

There will be much to be celebrated when the gold curtains of the State Theatre close for the last time next Tuesday night.

Image: Andrew Killian, Lana Jones and Daniel Gaudiello in Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929. Photography Jim McFarlane