February 24, 2025
By: Wendy Lubberding
Choreographer Krisztina de Châtel repeatedly has her dancers engage with the elements. Her minimalist dance performance Typhoon dates back to 1986, but in today’s (political) climate, it suddenly feels as relevant as it was back then.
Forty small lamps hang in eight rows of five above the dance floor. On the right side of the stage, three towering industrial fans stand. They are directed towards the left, where five dancers in black overalls stand in a line. With clenched fists, they extend their arms from their sides to a diagonal position in front of their torsos, slightly leaning backward. Then they move their arms behind them while tilting slightly forward. It’s as if they are adjusting to an incoming gust of wind. Then the piano tones of Canto Ostinato by Simeon ten Holt set in, and the first dancer takes a step to the right.
In a flat country like ours, the wind always plays with human activity. Krisztina de Châtel, the Dutch-Hungarian choreographer, already explored this concept in Typhoon in 1986. Now, she has restaged the piece with the dancers of Introdans. The fans were originally introduced by visual artist Peter Vermeulen, and their effect remains captivating. Not just because they physically challenge the dancers but also because the wind itself is such a constant force in life along the North Sea. Especially now, as climate change brings more frequent and intense storms. Figuratively, the idea applies just as well—there is a strong wind blowing from the right. The dancers’ bodies react to it just as individuals in society must: going with the flow if it suits them, or pushing forward with as much dignity and control as possible when it doesn’t.
Clenched Fist
The dance leaves space for reflection on such themes. While it is minimalist in style, that doesn’t mean there is little movement; the dancers follow a meticulous counting scheme to subtly shift their repetitive motions, making it easy to find oneself immersed in a different energy. Even something as simple as opening a clenched fist can create this effect.
At times, two dancers move in unison—head bowed, one arm reaching straight forward, the other stretched backward, sinking into a deep bend before rising again. Then another dancer joins in, forming a new pair, while the first dancer moves on alone.
De Châtel, now over 80, remains one of the leading choreographers in the Netherlands. Time and again, she has made dancers engage with the elements. It is both fitting and commendable that Introdans has included her work in its repertoire, ensuring that it is not forgotten.
