Àngels Margarit is moved when she assures that if the work of Lucinda Childs (New York, 1940) had not existed, she would probably not now be the director of the Mercat de les Flors nor would she have created many of the most iconic choreographic pieces, as she was discovered in the archives videographics from the Lincoln Center the work of the pioneer of postmodern dance which nurtured her creatively for dance.

The person in charge of the Barcelona theater received this Wednesday the figure who “is at the origin of much of the contemporary choreographic creation of the last fifty years”. “All minimalism in dance can have the conceptual positioning of Lucinda Childs as a reference,” says Margarit, who finally -and after her plans for the 2018/19 season were canceled- can dedicate a constellation of almost ten days to the legendary choreographer, performer and dancer: a small festival with conferences, exhibitions, dialogues, projections and, of course, choreographic pieces (from March 2 to 11) that cover her more than half a century of experience. “Childs was a great void within the programming of the Barcelona dance house and within the city itself,” she warns.

In this constellation, it will be possible to discover everything from the first works that Childs produced in that effervescent New York of the sixties, when he was part of the Judson Dance Theater together with Steve Paxton, Trisha Brown, Deborah Hay or Yvonne Rainer, to other current ones, since At 82 years of age, he is still fully active. And in various formats. They will see themselves, for example, played by his niece, the dancer Ruth Childs, with the characteristic handling of objects that characterized the revolutionary ideology at Judson Church. But also the recent Actus (2022).

Work from when he left the group and began to define his own conceptual and aesthetic bases, in the seventies, will also be shown: Childs did not agree with the idea that non-danced dance was the solution to all the ills of literality and opted for a conceptual dance that explored the space/time relationship in a very particular way. A singular work, very topical as well as classic, which at the Mercat will be assumed by the Dance On Ensemble, that Berlin initiative that celebrates the artistic excellence of dancers over 40 years of age.

All in all, the highlight will be the recovery of the mythical Dance (1979), a group piece in which movement and music flow hypnotically. Considered the pinnacle of postmodern dance, this collaboration of Childs with the composer Philip Glass and the visual artist Sol LeWitt is already part of the annals of contemporary times: a group of dancers coexist in perfect synchrony with their alter ego reproduced in a video creation, achieving an unexpected visual split between real dancers and projected dancers.

The Lyon Opera Ballet, which in 2016 took on the challenge of reviving it, disembarks at the Mercat with an extra element: it is the first time that the current dancers are also those of the video. The French troupe has recorded it again so that the original effect can be appreciated.

“We reproduced LeWitt’s design frame by frame, following all his notes,” enthuses Lucinda Childs. With her elegance and her magnetic beauty, it is difficult to suspect that this great lady of postmodern dance continues to be misunderstood by the great public of her country. And especially on the part of the administrations, for which it is difficult for her to get support, she assures her.

But the reality is that the lucid Lucinda cannot afford to maintain a company that exceeds a dozen dancers, who also come and go, nor exceed twenty working weeks a year, “which is very little,” she says. He was trained in the studio of Merce Cunningham – “when I discovered it at the age of 19 I quit my acting classes, I didn’t want to do anything else. Until I met Bob Wilson” – and he was also educated in the teachings of John Cage. It was her collaborations with Philip Glass and Bob Wilson, who had counted on her as a performer ever since they made the opera Einstein on the Beach (1976) together, which allowed her personality and her incorruptible creative breath to emerge.

Being a star does not seem to be a guarantee of financial support in the United States… What do you think of the commitment of politics to culture?

We do not have great support that allows us to maintain adequate conditions. It’s hard. In those years of censorship, having commissions from Europe has saved me, because in the United States they told you that if you didn’t like their policies, you shouldn’t ask for subsidies. And to me, the truth is, I’m terrible at fundraising, I’m not interested, I want to dedicate myself to my work. With what in the end you feel lost. We artists wonder what we can do. But doing what we do somehow manages to keep a little flame alive somewhere that hopefully matters. It matters to me to have that flame inside and to continue giving what I can give.

A whole generation of postmodern choreographers immigrated to Europe in the Reagan era. You, for your part, have donated your archive to the Center National de la Danse de Pantin, near Paris. Is it because you feel that your work has not been understood in your country?

My first trip to Europe was with Einstein on the Beach in 1976, produced by the Avignon Fall Festival. That was a great moment: it was amazing to see that our work was so appreciated here. They immediately invited me back as a soloist, because apart from being a choreographer and performer in that opera, I already had my own company. Certainly, in Europe we have been very supported, let’s say that we have crossed the Atlantic more often than the Hudson River to travel through the United States. Just so you understand what I’m saying, Einstein on the Beach wasn’t seen on the West Coast until its third revival. And the funny thing is that, indeed, it was the right time. It is after time, a long time, that people are prepared.

Dance arose out of that opera. Glass suggested that you work with a visual artist like LeWitt who did what you do: conceptually approach space. But you came from applying the Judson rules… The silence and all that.

Yes. In the seventies we worked without music or decoration, we explored movement outside the vocabulary of dance. The decisions were made out of your personal choice, that’s where the Nothing personal exhibition that is presented at the Mercat comes from, with all the learning of the philosophy of John Cage. Glass was my first composer and his work has been very important to me over the years. We still work together. At that time he proposed to me to do something with Sol LeWitt, the great visual artist. And I clearly saw that the scenery had to be the dancers themselves. And well, I have no words to describe the filming that he did: the editing is fantastic and the dance that we see from one part in the film added to the one we see on stage achieves a very exciting effect. People wondered… “What are they doing? They are repeating the same thing all the time!” But the conception is to see what is done with the material, and not only the material as such. Perhaps the importance of conception is appreciated more now than then.

How does your own work age for you?

The mere idea of ??revival inspires me so that dancers incorporate my work into their collection. When Balanchine’s dancers arrive, they don’t watch videos or notes, it’s all in their head. That is important. Not just to come and do a piece, but to make my piece come alive in them and for them. I learn by going back. I recognize that there are things in there that are still essential to me. For example, the axis of the work in the Judson period was to get out of yourself. Making those decisions are no longer personal. And that requires enormous discipline to find the when in time, the where in space, the how in movement… Learning from Cage and Cunningham how to get out of those decisions is what I have taken with me, what I have processed over the years. Let that not go from ‘oh, today I like blue’. No no. There are many colors you can think of.

When you left Judson Church, what did you want to be free of?

From the idea that everything had to happen outside of dance, that we were pedestrians, of manipulating objects, of improvisation… I was influenced by the minimalism of LeWitt or Robert Mars, which by the way was part of Judson, and I decided that I wanted to get out of those concepts and work on movement based on very simple, geometric patterns. I founded the company much later, in 1973, but I had already been working on my own for some time on the simple ideas of simple movements and structures, walking patterns, turning patterns, no diagonals.

And at that moment when you were beginning to become independent, how was your relationship with other members of Judson, such as Trisha Brown?

Oh, Trisha found an amazing building in Soho, with a pillarless studio that suited us wonderfully. She called us to join, so some of us were neighbors. Not Yvonne Rainer or Deborah Hay or Steve Paxton, for example, but the rest. And I’m very grateful to Trisha because at that time we had nothing. And having a space like that for me was fantastic. At first not even Cunningham was recognized. And there was a time when I quit. Because financially it was unviable. Back then she was reading Margerite Duras and looking to be independent. I didn’t want anyone to support me. As a woman, at that time it seemed very important to me. Although I didn’t last long. I returned.

Clear.

It happened that there began to be scholarships from a national organization. Before, with the Kennedy administration, I didn’t exist for anyone. And suddenly I could professionalize and employ dancers. It totally changed my attitude about choreography.

And you didn’t have family support? His father a doctor, her mother her model, residents of the Upper East Side in Manhattan…

No, they didn’t come to see anything. Later yes, but I don’t think they enjoyed it. Imagine, that Cunningham thing, the Judson thing, Bob Wilson… it wasn’t the right thing. They were better at home.

Well, after a few years, they would find you directing operas on stage. How did this facet start?

Luc Bondy invited me to do Salome, the Dance of the Seven Veils and stuff. I thought, ‘I dance the seven veils?’ But it was very interesting to work with him and other directors. Luc and Bob Wilson would be the most important in my career. And then came the invitation to do an opera, Mozart’s Zaide. I loved. It’s different from working with dance, there are a lot of dialogues, it’s not about moving from here but wondering why you have to move from here: a whole psychological world that’s underway for singers.

And he worked with Mikhail Baryshnikov, just in case there weren’t any glamorous reasons to come to see his work…

We worked on the occasion of the ‘Past Forward’ program [of the White Oak Dance Project]. I don’t know if he invited all of Judson’s choreographers to do a new piece, but after that he wanted me to continue working for the company, and I did a solo for him and a piece for the company. And it was fantastic. He is fantastic.

The exhibition of documents that the Mercat will house these days will show diagrams, which are essential in their way of working.

Those drawings that summarize the action and interaction of the dancers on stage. They are very useful for training other dancers and for having a global and overhead view of the relationship they have with each other as with music and space.

Has the way you indicate your creation to your dancers so that they reach that level of synchronization has it also evolved?

I hope so. Now I am recovering a piece from 13 years ago in Mulhouse, and I feel a lot of responsibility towards the performers, because I believe that it is not just about them learning the technique, but about finding their way within the music, that they get inspired so that they can project themselves. in the work I never tell them to smile.

Do you find a spirituality in your way of understanding the concept of movement?

There is a certain feeling that I don’t like to call spiritual because I don’t believe in the afterlife, but there is a certain quality that we need in life: the spirit, a positive spirit that leads us to find solutions. Right now, the earthquake in Turkey is a tragedy, and there is beauty in the way people look at surviving. The same as in Ukraine: it is very moving to see how that spirit that makes you capable of doing things is found.