Refusing to tell a story
Choreographer Bouchra Ouizguen discusses “Corbeaux,” her open, evocative work of sound and movement
by Pooja Singh
The choreographer Bouchra Ouizguen doesn’t want to explain what the performers in her piece, Corbeaux (Crows), are chanting as they belt out piercing guttural chants while jerking their heads back and forth. There’s no narration in the Corbeaux, which was presented at the Brooklyn Museum’s Beaux-Arts Court as part of this year’s Crossing the Line Festival. Standing in a criss-cross pattern, some 30 women dressed in black tunics and white headscarves, croak those mystifying yet moving sounds for 20 minutes. There is no specific beginning and no definite end to their action. Observing them feels like being caught in a storm that arises out of nowhere, expends its energy, and moves on. Are the women crying for help? Laughing? Letting out a big sneeze?
“I don’t know,” says Ouizguen, shrugging. “My work is never to tell what a performance should be like. I don’t like telling stories. I want my performers to bring their own feelings and experiences. It could be sounds of happiness, sadness, or even experiences of childhood. Who knows?”
Ouizguen first presented Corbeaux at the 2014 biennale in Marrakesh, the Moroccan city where she and her dance company, Compagnie O, are based. Since then, the piece has travelled across Europe, playing at Cour Carrée in Paris and Serpentine Pavilion in London.
Alongside Compagnie O’s dancers, each performance includes women of the city where the show is presented. In New York, about 10 women were chosen just a week before the performance. “We put out information on various websites, calling for applicants,” says Ouizguen. “We don’t look for trained people; anyone can come. They can be 10 years old or 65, it doesn’t matter. The important point is that they should enjoy what they are doing.” Ouizguen, who is 37, shortlists final participants on the basis of her “intuition.”
The presence of local women, she explains, “allows for a beautiful blending of different cultures. It creates something uninhibited and makes room for spontaneity, the same way I started dancing.”
On her own path
Ouizguen never received formal dance training. “Dance is part of our Moroccan culture. My mother, my sisters, our neighbors — we used to dance all the time. We would even wait for the weekend to come so that we could watch Indian and Egyptian films and learn choreography from them,” recalls Ouizguen, shimmying her shoulders.
She started participating in concert performances at the age of 14. “My family had no clue about my ‘secret’ dance life till I was 22. I liked the reaction of strangers. Family members would have been an easy audience so I never bothered telling them,” she says with a laugh.
After working with a dance company in Marrakesh for a decade and collaborating with established French choreographers like Alain Buffard, Boris Charmatz, and Mathilde Monnier, Ouizguen established Compagnie O in 2010 to develop the local dance scene. That same year she received the new choreographic talent award from France’s Society of Dramatic Authors and Composers. A large number of her dancers are women who have retired — some used to work as musicians in bands, as singers, and as dancers. Ranging widely in age, some had no background in dance at all, but Ouizguen reached out to them. “It’s always a good idea to choose people who have life beyond dance, otherwise it can get boring,” she explains.
Her interest in the richness of Moroccan culture tied together with feminist overtones is reflected in her productions. Two previous works, Madame Plaza and Ha!, which were presented at the previous editions of Crossing the Line, showcased the aita cabaret tradition of singing and dancing in Morocco. But Corbeaux is different, she insists. “There’s a bit of Afghanistan, a bit of Africa, a bit of the Middle East, and even India. Having said that, the core is Moroccan because that’s my vocabulary. I won’t do Samba! I’m trying to cook with ingredients that I have and that I love. But it’s definitely not an archaeological piece.”
Nor, she says, does the Corbeaux performers’ attire refer to Muslim women’s garb. “These are normal clothes that everyone wears, and the scarf is a very Mediterranean thing,” she says. “I wanted black because I wanted to focus on the neck, the hair, the head, the throat, the eyes and the face of a woman.”
Then is Corbeaux a tribute to women?
“Let the audience work on the meaning.”
