‘Dance or Die’ — To Minneapolis Choreographer Mathew Janczewski, Biology Is Not Destiny

The inspiration — well, part of the inspiration, the juiciest, most wet-edged, eureka-esque chunk of the inspiration — came to ARENA Dances founder and artistic director Mathew Janczewski while he was receiving treatment for leukemia.

“I was in a steroid fever high, sitting on my sofa,” he recounts. “I had this most amazing book that was given to me by a friend.”

The book was “Matthew Barney: The Cremaster Cycle” by Nancy Spektor (with a glossary by Neville Wakefield). Matthew Barney is a contemporary artist whose variegated artistry in sculpture, film, photography and drawing might make its consumers feel like they’re experiencing a fever high without the steroids. And a cremaster cycle? That’s … ahem … well …

“The cremaster is actually the muscle from which seven or eight weeks, when you’re in the womb, the testicles drop,” Janczewski reports. “[Barney’s] whole life and his whole work have been interrogating the binary, masculinity, what it means to be a man, all of that.”

“The Cremaster Cycle,” a series of five feature-length films, together with related sculptures, photographs, drawings and artist’s books, challenge all sorts of societal mores, some of which can even be described within the pages of Lavender Magazine.

“He’s a very interesting artist, a fascinating mind,” Janczewski observes.

Barney’s fascinating mind fascinated Janczewski’s mind.

“I was fascinated by Matthew Barney’s world, his book, and his film and the similarities of what he was investigating: Catholicism, small-town thinking and moving through different orifices into different worlds,” the choreographer testifies. (Yes, you read that right.) 

Janczewski notes that the cremaster cycle and his own cancer epitomize biological processes which might cast limitations on the physical body, limitations which, in their turn, might be resisted, even rejected.

This insight will be brought to life in a major, new dance work entitled “Only the perverse fantasy can still save us.”

“That title was from Matthew Barney’s book which kicked off this whole damn thing,” Janczewski notes wryly. 

The meaning of the title’s first part is especially personal to Janczewski. 

“For me,” the maestro confesses, “[the title of the dance work means] ‘How perverse would it be to actually love yourself?’ That’s one take on it.”

But the universal definition of that operative word wasn’t lost on Janczewski … and that universal definition gave him universal pause.

“As a gay man, I was worried about the word ‘perverse’ — is that going to turn people off in the wrong way?” he fretted. “But I want for the mind to be free with no box and no categorizing, no ‘Well, this is what you do.’”

Conveying that air of boxlessness made Janczewski willing to take the risk of leaving the possibly offensive word within the work’s title.

“I’m from a small town — Round Lake, Ill. — I always knew I wanted to dance, but I wasn’t ‘allowed’ to have that desire,” Janczewski says. “That’s why I’ve never wanted to be put in a box.”

And from what is “us” being saved? The depressing, empowering answer is “ourselves.”

“Stripping away that binary thinking, opening up your mind to listen and to know that everyone has a story,” Janczewski asserts. “It’s being present within yourself and that acceptance of yourself. It’s the most basic thing we’re all searching for. It’s a lifelong journey.”

The accompaniment on that journey between Matthew and Mathew had started before Barney’s book invaded his fever.

“I originally saw Matthew Barney at the Walker,” Janczewski remembers. Describing the art exhibit presented, the Minneapolis choreographer recounts with a grudging laugh, “I didn’t really care for it.”

Three TV sets presented a loopy film wherein two barnyard animals moved from backseat to trunk in ways that seemed more suited for Xtsy than the CTV Nature Channel.

“There was a super-strangeness to it,” Janczewski says. “I feel like I already knew about ‘The Cremaster Cycle’ series, but that was my first experience directly with him.”

That experience will express its meta-shape as a kind of cremaster cycle of its own, being born where it was first conceived, the Walker Art Center.

Proclaims Janczewski: “They’re really connected to the local art and dance community, so I felt comfortable enough approaching them and saying, ‘Hey, I think this thing needs to happen at the Walker.’”

The venue agreed … and provided support that goes above and beyond.

“Philip Bither, Walker Art Center senior curator of performing arts, is very involved,” Janczewski gushes. “He’s very communicative — we’ve had several check-ins: ‘How’s the work going? Are we providing you everything you need?’ As an artist, he asks, ‘How can we help you fulfill the vision you have?’ It’s been really nice.”

Like the inspiration that led to the work, the inspiration’s (partial) delivery system has proved persistent … but not oppressive.

“I’ve still got cancer, but it’s very low,” Janczewski reports. “After two years of in-and-out of the hospital for treatment, I can’t complain.”

Just as Barney’s work inspired Janczewski, the scrappy choreographer hopes “Only the perverse fantasy can still save us”will inspire — or perhaps even redeem — others.

“I feel the importance of this piece, I think that the queer community will enjoy it,” Janczewski predicts. “For me, the crux of the work is about transformation and change and the loving of yourself, and I just really want to spread that message.”

arena-dances.org/only-the-perverse-fantasy-can-save-us/

This article was updated May 16 to correct paragraph 27, which originally erroneously referenced Matthew Barney instead of Philip Bither.