Philly dance scene gets an Asian influence

In recent decades, the Chinese and Taiwanese have entered the world of modern dance in a big way, twinning Eastern theatrical disciplines with Western innovations.

Yet in Philadelphia, despite its large Asian population, both modern and traditional Asian dance have been underrepresented. The city has needed something permanent as an anchor, a physical space where dancers interested in Asian techniques and fusion forms can explore freely.

Enter Kun-Yang Lin - theatrical visionary, sensational choreographer and compelling performer - who on April 26 opened Chi Movement Arts Center in a converted warehouse deep in South Philadelphia, a few doors south of Pat's Steaks. His company, Kun-Yang Lin/Dancers, will perform there Saturday.

Lin was born in Taiwan 40 years ago to a Chinese Catholic father from the People's Republic and a Taiwanese Daoist mother. He moved to New York in 1994 on a scholarship from the Martha Graham Company and relocated to Philadelphia in 2003 to teach at Temple University.

Lin and Ken Metzner, the company's executive director, bought a house near the Italian Market two years ago - "It reminds me of home," Lin said of the sidewalk stalls - and since purchasing the Ninth Street property last year, they've received warm support for their project in the South Philadelphia community, already home to scores of local dancers.

"Of course you cannot please everybody, but I think that over time even those one or two who are opposed to our presence will change, because there is a personal connection that we are making here. The neighbors want classes for their kids," he said. "They want them to be associated with a professional company."

The handsomely renovated center introduces a new accent to the multilingual neighborhood. Containing offices, a wood-floor studio, and two apartments, it will be home to Lin's seven-member company, relocating with him from New York.

During the center's April grand opening, the company provided a glimpse of its repertoire to an audience of neighbors, dance colleagues, and state and local officials, including State Rep. Bill Keller. Keller was among those who admitted to being unfamiliar with modern dance and found it a stunning introduction to Lin's Asian-inflected fare, and stayed after refreshments were long gone to discuss what they had seen.

Later, Lin talked about the development of his work and about finally having a place to call home. "This will be a laboratory for me to expand my technique," he said, "but most important is having a physical space where we can work, experiment and teach."

With rehearsal space, plus dance and exercise classes designed to serve both professional dancers and the community, the center has the potential to transform its stretch of Ninth Street the way another New York dance transplant, Jeanne Ruddy, has brightened the block of Brandywine Street between 15th and 16th Streets with her Performance Garage.

Said Lin, "I met Jeanne at Graham" - Ruddy was a Graham principal dancer - "and developed my technique with influences from my Graham training. I totally gave up my own training and became a sponge for all the American, British and French dancers I studied with before I inserted my own voice again."

Dance has the power to stir the viewer's innermost longings and outermost visceral reactions, and few choreographers reach into those sensibilities as effectively as Lin. With quiet power, he arrives at the essence of an emotion - humor, spirituality, anguish, ecstasy - extracts it raw, and then, with quicksilver speed, subtly refines it.

As a dancer, he can make your hair stand on end with one ripple of his back muscles. His form of expressionism goes beyond modernism - "I call this technique 'chi awareness,' " he said, "a way of using the breath or internal energy to impel movement."

Rather than search exclusively for Asian dancers, he looks for those who can work within his discipline of breath control and intense focus. Can his style be compared with the serene yet energizing beauty of the tile and river rock in the studio's foyer?

"Hmm. Perhaps," he said. "My dance is often like a quietening of the body."

Unlike New York-based Chinese choreographer Shen Wei, whose large-scale works were presented at the Kimmel Center in February, Lin focuses mainly on small, human-scale dances. Though a retrospective of his work could fill, say, the Wilma Theater's stage for a week, the show on Saturday, sans theatrical trappings, is more suited to his studio's salon-sized - 32-by-42 feet - open space.

"In anticipation of the Beijing Olympics," he said, "I've titled Saturday's concert

Prayer for Peace

. It will feature his signature work,

From the Land of Lost Content

, inspired by the struggles and enduring strength of the Tibetan people. He will dance his profound trademark solo,

Dedication

, created after his father's death. The company also will perform

Emptiness of Snow

, inspired by the Southeast Asian tsunami and global warming.

Lin's prayerful, meditative dances are antithetical to hate and negativity, opening doors to hope, inclusion, and the kind of beauty that triumphs over malevolence and the destructive forces of nature.