South Korea’s ChangMu Dance Company made its long-awaited debut last Wednesday, March 19, at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. An evening originally scheduled for April 2020 felt even more special because the pandemic delayed the performance for five years. ChangMu’s production, titled Here, was a mesmerizing experience lasting about an hour, defying categorization, and seamlessly blending the past and present in a hypnotic work.

Founded by celebrated choreographer Kim Mae Ja in 1976, ChangMu combines traditional Korean dances with 50 years of modern/contemporary dance movement research. The company integrates poetry, painting, and movement to explore the connections among shamanic, Buddhist, folk, court dances, and contemporary choreography. ChangMu aims to balance a deep reverence for the past and a fearless embrace of the new, bridging East and West cultural sensibilities.

On Wednesday, the company presented Here, which the program described as a work that “centers on the beauty and cultural depth of Ganggangsullae, a cherished Korean folk dance rooted in circular movements and collective energy.” The program also noted that this piece was a compilation of the company’s entire repertoire, featuring a series of seamlessly connected dances incorporating Korean traditional songs, dynamic percussion rhythms, and computer-altered Munmyo Jerye music (ancestral rites held at Munmyo Shrine) and Carl Orff’s iconic Carmina Burana chorus.

When I researched further, I learned that Ganggangsullae is a dance performed exclusively by women during the brightest full moon of the year to promote a fruitful harvest. It is known for its graceful and feminine qualities. The event also serves as a private space for women of all ages, allowing them to express personal hardships, relationships, and desires through the songs they sing. I love this idea! This dance is so special and culturally significant that it is recognized as a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage.

As I learned during the dance workshop taught by the company the day after the performance at Steps PDX, the Ganggangsullae choreography incorporates Korean children’s folk games, such as “bracken picking,” “herring tying,” “tile treading,” “tail picking,” “straw mat rolling,” “gatekeeping,” and “needle threading,” among others. These movements might seem abstract to the untrained eye, but they are rich in cultural meaning. When performed outside their original context, these games take on new life — emerging as patterns of movement and connection that invite interpretation. Reflecting on Wednesday’s performance, I recognized these games within the opening dance, deepening my understanding of the choreography.

The performance opened with a striking image: a solitary male dancer, half-seated at the far right of the stage in a pool of warm light, carving space with his arms. Behind him, a chain of dancers entered hand in hand, moving forward slowly, one step at a time, in perfect unison. The delicate interplay of their flowing, translucent white garments backlit by the moonlike lighting and their synchronized movements heightened the ethereal quality of the performance. The dancers’ long skirts and loose sleeves anchored us in time and space and created dimension, drawing the audience into the unusual and unfamiliar beauty.

From here the dancers, 14 in total, engaged in the games of Ganggangsullae, forming circles, snaking around the stage in a line, and spiraling toward the center. One striking image during this section featured a dancer slowly walking across the bent backs of a row of interconnected dancers, arms outstretched toward the light. This moment evoked a sense of ritual and spirituality and reminded me greatly of Martha Graham’s distinct aesthetic in the dancer’s pose and carriage of the torso.

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The remainder of the work evolved into a continuous, gorgeous, dreamlike composition that felt like a collection of distinctly different ideas beyond the initial concept of Ganggangsullae. Each section was differentiated by unique music selections, lighting, costumes, design, and mood shifts, making them different yet seamlessly interconnected.

One section of the performance felt darker and more confrontational, with the dancers’ movements grounded and purposeful. They began facing forward, creating an energy reminiscent of labor or work as their bodies moved with intent and power. In another section, each dancer entered the stage from the left one by one, moving in quick, scurrying steps. They held their hands at their lower abdomens while trailing behind them yards of white fabric draped over a Victorian-style bustle, creating an unusual silhouette that resembled both a human and a bug. Once they reached their designated spots, they held their positions until the last dancer joined them. Then, together, they began to undulate, moving their bodies and arms in a strong, smooth manner like ribbons being pulled through the air.

Another striking section was performed to Carl Orff’s iconic Carmina Burana chorus, a bold departure from the softer, more traditional Korean music and nature sounds that had accompanied the performance up until that point. In this section, a man and a woman took the stage, both evoking the imagery of birds. The woman wore a long, dark dress with an uneven hem, with layers of colored fabric peeking out beneath in the way that colored feathers overlap on a bird’s wings. The man, on the other hand, was dressed in a breastplate adorned with white ruffles, or feathers, I couldn’t tell, which enhanced the avian imagery in my mind. 

The choreography in this section was a striking departure from what had preceded it. It no longer looked culturally specific but had evolved into something reminiscent of movement from the early modern-dance pioneers. Lighting played a key role in this moment, too. A strip of light cut across the back of the stage, shooting up at a diagonal to the right, focusing the audience’s attention upward and out.

This combination of Lee Seung Ho’s artful, cinematic lighting, choreography, and music rooted in a culture unfamiliar to me, and the magnificent costume designs that enriched the storytelling, left me in awe. The juxtaposition of stillness with powerful yet soft, graceful movement created an experience both absorbing and deeply moving. The performance and the master class sparked a deep curiosity for me, revealing how much more there is to learn about dance, especially dance from other cultures, storytelling, ChangMu Dance Company and and the history of Korean culture. Now I think I want to go to South Korea and study with ChangMu Dance Company. Bye!