出自“大野一雄生平紀年 1906-2010”(2010)
作者 Eugenia Casini Ropa Bologna大學教授
“你不會是指他一直都還活著吧?”大多數人六月初在報紙上讀到日本現代舞宗師大野一雄去世的消息時，嘴邊都會冒出這句話。
在這個由匆忙和速食化所支配的世界裡，新聞與事件都在瞬息間被混淆和消費，印象必須長時間地反覆重現才可能在我們的集體記憶裡留下些許痕跡。於是像這樣一位年邁的，遠在亞洲的舞者，他緩緩凋零的最後歲月自然不被認為具有報導價值。就好像他早已不在這世上一樣。即使是許多圈內人，舞評，劇場導演，以及那群熱情的觀眾，對於不久前才熱烈鼓掌過的人的生命結尾，普遍反應出令人難過的不明確心態，甚至可直接說是冷漠的。雖然在他一百歲生日時，義大利以及全歐各個地方舉行了各種活動，尤其在學生和文化圈裡短暫恢復了他的知名度，然而這些慶祝活動幾乎就像是他棺材上的最後一根釘子。隨後大野一雄就變成了歷史且不重要了，成為一位只能在檔案中找到的藝術家。
從大野一雄最後一次在義大利的威尼斯公開露面至今，大約有11年了；即使在那次的表演場合，許多人也未必有幸看見他在舞台上的演出。舞踏表演，在歐洲和大野一雄的名字總是會聯想在一起，近來已經很少見了，尤其在義大利。今日，它已成為一種特定形式，年輕舞者視為一種可提升個人的，詩意的，和技巧的方法來練習，也是某種形式或美學的呈現。對於那些不到四十歲—-或者即使是很多年紀更大—-的人而言，大野先生的存在已經被歸類為朋友間會談到的懷舊話題，或者是翻著書本時所看到的令人不知所措的圖像，總是為一個遙遠的文化增添更多模糊印象。
雖然重新喚起潛藏的好奇心，大家好像還是沒注意到他突然的死訊，最主要是因為所有人都被認為他早就過世了。而且命運的安排使大野先生的逝世就緊隨在另外兩位二十世紀後期舞壇「偉人」離世之後：摩斯‧康寧漢(Merce Cunningham)，以及令人哀痛，早逝的碧娜•鮑許(Pina Bausch)。在他們之間，這些舞台的傳奇產生了最震撼人心的創造經驗。但他們的消失是有刺激作用，再度引起人們的慾望去瞭解一位訃聞裡提到是獨特且無可仿效的藝術家，至少透過其他人的經驗。每個學生，舞者，朋友，研究者的第一個問題總是：「作為一個看過大野一雄表演的人，對妳而言，他在舞台上如何呢？」
他們真正想知道的是大野一雄怎麼舞蹈，在舞台上怎麼動作，特別是這樣一位老先生如何把他的觀眾迷到這種程度，以致於他們眼睛看到他的表演就為之一亮，甚至連回憶他在舞台上眼裡也能閃著光芒。由於這一點，那些見證過的人就變得勇敢起來，覺得自己享有殊榮，但也有責任為未來的世代，以最適宜的方式，傳遞與留存關於一位藝術家的記億。他是如此珍貴且獨特，他的舞蹈是他整個存在與哲學的基石，他那小小的，年邁的身軀奇蹟般地展現出宇宙蓬勃的能量，而且直到人生的最後一刻他都準備好徹底蛻變。現在大野一雄已快樂地安頓在死神的寂靜國度裡，責任是落在我們身上，確實地把握住他在人類歷史上的真正分量，好讓一位藝術家的奧秘能夠永垂不朽。
And how was he, Kazuo Ohno?
excerpted from “Kazuo Ohno Chronicle of a Life Time 1906-2010” (2010)
by Eugenia Casini Ropa Professor of University of Bologna
“You don’t mean to say he was still alive?" was the phrase that sprang to most people’s lips on reading the newspapers’ announcement of the death of Kazuo Ohno, the grand master of modern Japanese dance in early June.
In a world governed by haste and immediacy, where news and events are confused and consumed in a flash-second, where images need to be obsessively repeated in order to leave the slightest trace in our collective memories, the slow, silently wasting away final years of an ancient, Asian dancer were not deemed newsworthy. It was simply as as though he was no longer alive. Even among those many insiders, dance critics, theatre directors and impassioned theatregoers reigned a sad uncertainty, even a certain indifference, regarding the fate of somebody who until not so long ago, they enthusiastically applauded. While the various events held to mark his 100th birthday in Italy, as well as in other locations throughout Europe, fleetingly revived his popularity, notably in student and cultural circles, these celebrations were almost like the last nail in his coffin. Kazuo Ohno subsequently became history and devoid of significance, an artist only to be discovered in his archives.
Some eleven years have passed since Kazuo Ohno’s last public Italian appearance in Venice; even on that occasion not many were fortunate to see him perform on-stage. In recent rimes, Butoh performances, with which Ohno’s name has invariably been identified in Europe, have become noticeably all-too-rare, particularly in Italy. Nowadays, it has turned into a specialised form, practised by young dancers as a means of personal, poetic, and technical enhancement, as well as a form or aesthetic representation. For those under forty, — or even for many of those older — Ohno’s existence had been relegated to nostalgic phrases uttered among friends, or disconcerting images seen while browsing through a book, all the while somehow underpinning vague impressions of a distant culture.
Reawakening a dormant curiosity, his unexpected death took everybody unawares more so for the reason he was presumed already dead. Circumstances were such that Ohno’s passing came in the wake of the departure of two other ‘greats’ in the dance world of the late 20th century: Merce Cunningham, and the painfully premature death of Pina Bausch. Between them, these stage legends engendered some of the most striking creative experience. Their disappearance acted as a stimulus, and renewed the desire to get to know, at least through the experience of another, an artist, whose obituaries referred to as unique and inimitable. Invariably everybody, students, dancers, friends, researchers would follow the first question with: “For you, as somebody who saw Ohno perform, how was he on-stage?"
What they really want to know was how Ohno danced, how he moved on-stage, and particularly how was it possible that such an elderly man could fascinate his spectators to such an extent that their eyes twinkled on seeing him perform, and were to twinkle yet again as they recalled witnessing him on-stage. At this point, the eye witnesses become emboldened, feeling themselves privileged and yet responsible to hand-on and transmit to future generations, in the most convenient form, the memory of an artist so cherished and unique, of a man whose dance was the cornerstone of his existence and philosophy, and whose small, ageing body miraculously manifested the universe’s vital energy, and until the last moment of his mortal existence was ever ready to metamorphosize. Now that Kazuo Ohno has happily taken his place in death’s silent realm, the onus falls upon us to correctly grasp his true measure in the history of mankind, all the while perpetuating the mystery of an artist.
合藏舞踏苑 