Behind the Scenes with Alonzo King

“The body is the arrow, the spirit is the bow. You must learn to use the strength of the spirit.”
—Caine, Episode No. 52, Kung Fu, ABC 1972-75

King of Kings
by Austin Buchholtz

Alonzo King is a rare bird: part wizard, part guru, part diplomat. Not many choreographers possess the patience, perseverance, or interest to work in collaborative partnerships, much less with artists as different as earthly possible. With his series of exchanges with groups from backgrounds as varied as (among many others) the BaAka tribe from Africa, a top tabla player from India, and now Shaolin monks from China, King is quietly and methodically teaching us something.

Choreographer Alonzo King with White Bird Board Member Neil Matteucci.

At the welcome dinner in the warm home of White Bird board members Doctors Norm Kalbfleisch and Neil Matteucci, the dancers of the Alonzo King LINES Ballet and the Shaolin monks are at ease with each other even though the monks speak very little English. The monks have been living near San Francisco for about two years helping establish a monastery and teaching Kung Fu to lucky locals. The dancers tower above them physically but the monks each possess a solid balance seldom felt in men in their twenties.

I ask dancers Laurel Keen and Ashley Jackson what it was like to train in martial arts with ballet bodies. They agree: planted movement lower to the ground, different muscle groups, and sore backs.

I find out from designer and manager Robert Rosenwasser what the most surprising aspect of working with this group of monks is: their leader is a very hard bargainer. He says too they laughed a lot when first learning movement from Alonzo.

The dinner climaxes with group pictures, the monks readily strike striking poses.

Striking a pose with the Shaolin Monks.

Then local choreographer and Reed professor of dance Mihn Tran laughs shouting for all the white people do Kung Fu poses too.

Austin renders Paul King as a kung-fu master.

The sold-out crowd the next evening at the Schnitzer is full of faces both familiar and fresh, craving the alchemy only Alonzo can bestow. Ah, the spectacle of internal battles and external liberations. And the variation in styles! Sunburst limbs as delicate as porcelain; explosions from the gut and high-flying leaps destroying unseen adversaries. A monk flips over forward and into a seated praying position. Another performs a hand-free cartwheel using instead his head. Dancer Corey Scott-Gilbert (who appears to be seven foot five), stretches from stage right to left in a flawless grand jeté. Rounds and rounds of expertise embodied. After a heartfelt standing-o, the audience shuffles out hypnotized and happy.

The next day I get my hair cut, pondering the essence of what Alonzo was trying to say. I ask my stylist to help obscure the thinning hair on my head. Without hesitation she says: "disrupted pattern." My quizzical look prompts her to explain she once watched a program in which predators have difficulty perceiving zebras clearly while their lines are shifting, in movement. Creating such a "disrupted pattern" allows for their survival. And the survival of my ego?

Austin poses with members of the company.

That’s it! The shifting combative lines of the monks and the calligraphic lines of the dancers leave us the impression of human presence. But permanence is illusory. Instead, we are watching light, light, and more light. Differences between people are smoke and mirrors. Nirvana is right here right now on earth, if we are alert and hungry enough.

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Austin Buchholtz is a graphic designer, writer, and certified instructor of ballroom and latin dance. Austin was White Bird's Director of Audience Services from August 2001 to December 2003.