Interview with Israel Galván. Flamenco Dancer

Interview
with

ISRAEL GALVÁN

Text: Manuel Moraga
Photos : Rafael Manjavacas

Rejecting routine, Israel Galván is
a one-man think tank. Enemy of cliché, he directs
his energy towards developing concepts. His raw material
is flamenco, but his intellectual scalpel dissects the
essence. He descends from flamenco atoms to create a
very personal syntax. His stage personality has the
deadpan projection of Buster Keaton, and the dynamic
mobility of Picasso’s figures.

Making a parallel to cinema,
is what you do “author’s dance”?
I like films a lot. I don’t try to create any
style of dance or evolution. I am who I am, who I’ve
always been. It’s people themselves who, without
realizing it, look for meaning in my dance, but I’m
the same person I ever was. In any case, since I enjoy
“author’s cinema”, the comment is
flattering.

More parallels. Master chef
Adriá has a creativity largely based on the deconstruction
of traditional dishes and the establishment of relationships
between apparently opposing concepts. Does your work
follow a similar line?
I think you can squeeze a lot out of flamenco dance.
There are concepts that have never been used and what
I try to do is look for a place where I can feel comfortable.
And yes, I enjoy the art of surgery: taking the part
where the dancer dances, to the words the voice produces
to elaborate upon that. Just like in footwork…elaborate
upon it, not do a standard dance…which is fine too.
I carry out a small bit of surgery will the different
parts of a dance.

“Easy things
are the hardest”

For example, in “La
Edad de Oro” you don’t beat around the bush,
you just dig in to the cante or the guitar.
I see it as a direct line. I think you can dance soleá
perfectly in one minute. In a minute you can dance a
soleá that really communicates something, just
as if it were twenty minutes. That’s one of my
concepts in “La Edad de Oro”.

You create unaccustomed feelings.
Your audiences feel things that aren’t the usual
in flamenco dance.
Yes, I notice that. I’m not actually that conscious
of it, but it’s true. What I like to do when I
set dances is create a different ambience, and when
one thing finishes, change straightaway to another.
Maybe I deprive the audience of digesting the last closing.
It’s possible people are still thinking of the
last thing they saw when the next thing begins. But
I’m not really aware of it. What I really like
is to have a wide variety of emotions. For example,
there are spots in the show where people always laugh,
not to ridicule (or who knows, maybe that too), but
because flamenco is also very pungent and powerful.
From a perspective of sobriety I can see that that touch
of humor has to be first class, the irony of flamenco.

“I always have the
feeling I never reach a goal, nor do I really want to”

Speaking of feelings, on
stage you look like an actor, aside from being a dancer.
When you stand still, when you look out into space,
when you fix your eyes and ears on the singing, you’re
an actor. The theater persona is always activated, even
when there’s no movement.
In my current choreographies, the steps are just a vehicle
to create dance. No matter how many pretty steps, or
how complicated, you have to be dancing from the first
moment you step on stage. You have to be dancing without
actually dancing, at least that’s what I’m
thinking at this precise moment. I might change my mind
later. For now, that’s what there is, going out
on stage and already you’re dancing. There’s
a lot of dance in being still. Even more than in the
steps.

The uninitiated who watch
you, applaud. Those of us who analyze your approach
from different perspectives, applaud. But in between
there’s a large group of people, more or less
interested in flamenco, who don’t quite know how
to react.
Yes. Those audiences exist. There are people who like
to analyze things, they have that need. There are also
those who like flamenco, but arrive with a blank slate,
a clean hard disk, no prejudices. If you offer these
people a series of images, like in films, they can decide
if it’s good or bad. Then there’s the other
part of the medium. There are a lot of bad habits in
flamenco. Well, there’s everything, but what I
mean in this case is a kind of rut, an inertia towards
repeating structures, to such an extent that breaking
the mold, one way or another, can be an annoyance.

“Before getting
into the studio with my dance boots, I need to have
a clear idea of what I don’t want to do”

Would you say that what
for some is a challenge, for you is a starting point?
I always have the feeling of starting from scratch.
When I finish something where I’ve been learning
and suffering a lot of changes inside my body (technical
changes, not evolution), I have the feeling that I never
reach a goal, nor do I really want to. I like the idea
of starting from scratch because it gives me freedom
and it’s like being purged. Although I think it’s
fine the way they danced thirty years ago, what I don’t
like is feeling bound to that structure, knowing I can’t
go on to do other things; I don’t like knowing
personally and artistically what my life is going to
be or what I’m going to enjoy dancing. It’s
suffocating to have a predetermined destiny. My goal
is always to start from scratch.

How do you go about putting
things together? Do you start with a basic idea you
develop searching for the necessary elements, or do
you work certain angles until you reach an idea…or
a little of both? What’s the creative process?
Lots of times you do something and then you find something
else, but before putting on the dance shoes, I tend
to have an initial reference point, although it might
come out completely different later on. But I don’t
like the idea of “I know what I’m going
to do”, but rather I try to have a clear idea
of what I don’t want to do. Before getting into
the studio with my dance boots, I need to have a clear
idea of what I don’t want to do”.

What maestros have influenced
you most? I don’t mean learning steps or techniques,
but getting into your head and influencing your approach.
The happiest I’ve been dancing is when I’ve
found my own self, although deep inside I don’t
really know if I’ve really found myself. But my
father taught me and afterwards, the maestros I’ve
spent time with and who surely left their mark are Mario
Maya and Manuel Soler, these are the people I spent
the most time with and they surely made an impression.

“It’s
possible you dance better if you don’t think too
much about it”

Where are you at artistically?
Last year we put two shows together and now is the time
to reflect and work on them. I think this cooling-off
period is necessary, when you don’t do anything,
you just dance what you’ve created, although you’re
always assimilating an influx of information. But at
this point in time I don’t feel compelled to create
anything new. I feel good, a maturity I hope will grow…although
maybe you dance better when you don’t think about
it too much.

What is your horizon?
I want to work the ideas that come into my head and
enjoy them. I don’t want to be the kind of dancer
who’s continually circling the globe in an airplane.
I’ve got more than enough if I just go out once
in a while and dance. Three shows a month is all I need.
And what I don’t want is to get bored of dancing,
I need to keep my spirit strong and well to feel alive
in my creation.

Do your works remain current?

They’re always changing. Even one I did a long
time ago, “The Red Shoes”, I want to go
back and rework it a bit, just like “La Metamorfosis”.
The years pass and I think shows become understood after
a time. You make them, and after ten years you say “Wow!
it wasn’t like that at all!” If they let
me interpret previously mounted choreographies with
a new take, I’ll do it. These works need some
down time.

“These works need
some down time”

What can we expect of “Arena”?
It’s a show based on dance and which is musically
very rich. There are six dances and each one has a different
musical setting. It all strikes me as very flamenco
and very profound. A lot of work went into it. Whether
or not anyone likes it, you can tell how much work there
is there. It’s based on the world of bullfighting,
but you won’t see a dancer dressed up like a bullfighter,
but rather there’s a somewhat more abstract or
profound perspective. I did it because I thought there
was a unifying concept between bullfighting and dance
which hadn’t been explored, or had only been superficially
dealt with, always from the viewpoint of the torero,
while I express the bull’s perspective. This show
has a lot of references from the world of bullfighting,
which is very rich, it’s a very complex universe.
Bullfight fans realize this. It’s a fusion of
dance, music and the bull.

You can tell there is a profound
respect for the singing and the guitar…
Even more so as time passes. The passage of time lets
you realize things you hadn’t realized before.
I think simple things are the most difficult to achieve,
and with a singer and a guitarist you can do endless
things, and go further with a diversity of elements.
Studying and searching for the way to make it all come
together, changing the concept of the shows, you can
create sensations that other shows with big budgets
might not allow.

More information:

XIII
Festival Flamenco Caja Madrid. 2005. Carmen Linares
– Israel Galván

XIII
Bienal de Flamenco de Sevilla. 'Arena' -Seis coreografías
de Israel Galván para el mundo de los toros-