Dancers with Disabilities

By Mordecai Drache

Frank Hull:

Frank Hull’s motorized wheelchair hums to the other end of the dance floor. He rolls toward me at full speed, and slams on the brakes. His body is propelled forward, toward mine and then falls back into his chair with a grace that most people don’t associate with wheelchairs.

"I learned that in Cleveland," he said, referring to the Dancing Wheels company, where he received a week-long dance scholarship. Frank, who has cerebral palsy, brought the skills back to Toronto for his performance in October, 1999.

By choreographing dancers with disabilities and having able-bodied dancers dance in wheelchairs, we can incorporate movements only possible with specific disabilities. The grace and flow one expects from a dancer can be maintained and the social constructs of "ability" and "disability" do not just blur -- they disappear.

Debbie Wilson, Frank’s choreographer, makes clear why these goals are compatible with the art of contemporary dance. Contemporary
dance as opposed to classical ballet aims to choreograph in accordance with how bodies realistically and individually move, whether the dancers have or do not have socially defined "disabilities."

"There are many schools of contemporary dance," she says, which all developed through choreographers designing techniques to suit the abilities and limitations of different body types. Debbie Wilson is merely continuing the tradition, developing a technique that suits Frank Hull’s body.

Frank’s piece is an interesting one. He is the "Caretaker," which is also the title of the dance and seems to carry both a literal and figurative connotation. Frank’s partner, Tracy Patterson, plays the vulnerable role throughout the piece. The audience views Frank as his hand moves along the contours of Tracey’s body, while they glide across the stage, often on the floor. Later, Frank points to different positions around the room waving his arm in a circle. Tracy dances around him in perfect synchronization. Frank moves the chair rhythmically to the music.

The dynamic of their relationship can be interpreted in different ways: Tracy on the one hand takes a stereotypically feminine role; Frank is dominant, unexpected of a person with a disability of either gender. I remember that Frank took on a primary nurturing role for a friend who died from AIDS-related complications. When asked about this, Frank acknowledged that he does "draw from personal experiences... to add power to the dance." He adds, "the traditional relationship between a person who is able-bodied and a person who has a disability is that the
one with a disability is in need of care, we want to break the traditional view and try to reverse the roles."

When asked about using the motorized wheelchair, Frank answered, "bringing the chair into the dance was not something I was going
to do, but then I decided why not show both realities... (It) was difficult, because I had to time the chair... I have to balance my body with the chair to make it flow... How I control the chair becomes more important than the chair... When I use my chair, it’s like a glove."

Most would never think to compare something as heavy as a motorized wheelchair to a glove, yet Frank succeeded in making the connection. The audience seemed to stare in wonder as the motorized wheelchair was transformed into something as controlled as a dancer’s limb.

Spirit Synott:

Stand-up dancer Viv Moore is lying underneath Spirit’s manual wheelchair. Spirit rolls forward, oblivious to the existence of another human literally under her. Then Spirit runs into her. Viv grabs Spirit’s chair, and combat takes place. Spirit uses Wen-do techniques to defend herself.

Viv goes to the wheelchair and tries it out. As Spirit attempts to reclaim it she uses the handle to pull herself up and challenge Viv at eye-level. They then push the chair away and embrace. Viv climbs atop Spirit’s back and in wing-like motion spreads her arms and flies as Spirit plays the supportive one.

Spirit climbs upon Viv’s back. Both of Spirit’s arms flow out to the sides: it’s her turn to fly. Simultaneously, they give the audience coy smiles before the lights fadeout. The audience loves it, clapping wildly...or at least most of them. A woman with a disability leaves before the end.

This should not be surprising. Who has ever defined powerful art as something that does not provoke positive, as well as negative, responses? Spirit, who has spina bifida, speaks about this during an interview. "We can only speculate why she had to leave," but her exit leads Spirit to the topic that the performance can’t help but open: violence against women with disabilities.

Spirit is emphatic as she explains, "Women with disabilities are assaulted more than able-bodied women, and that’s something people just don’t want to talk about. I thought it was important to show that a person with a wheelchair could indeed defend him or herself, and this message is in the choreography."

Yet it would be inaccurate to portray violence against women as the central theme of Spirit and Viv’s piece. The combat in the dance represents part of a larger social phenomenon that the two dancers portray.

"The piece is about moving about in the world, and not being seen, like a shadow. You know (the shadow) is there, but you don’t pay attention... then you find someone who was experiencing the exact same thing. There was a struggle, then a coming-together that was mutual; we understood each other’s feelings and worked together."

Spirit met her dance partner, Viv Moore, at a workshop put on by the Toronto Theatre Alliance (TTA). Spirit says that she would not have been as interested if the participants were only performers with disabilities. "My life isn’t about being disabled, but about integration, and that’s why I dance with able-bodied partners. I think integration is important so that we can work together and create harmony... The responses to the power of the piece from people of all walks of life were refreshing; it showed me there is room for this kind of work."

In addition to dancing on stage, Spirit also danced in a film entitled In Search of Joy to the improvised music of a drum and a fiddle; dance, however, is not the only talent Spirit showcased in the performance. She has also taught Wen-do, a martial arts program for women’s self-defense and empowerment, and adapted the course to suit the needs of women with disabilities.

Audience members allowing their eyes to search the stage would see a painting by Spirit in the background. Around the edge is a circle in a square and inside it are two sets of legs. Both partners are sitting, and one is massaging the other. Spirit reveals that the hands providing comfort represent a relationship she once had with a partner who died.

In Spirit’s words, the painting is, "tangible evidence of someone accepting and loving my body just as it is."

When Spirit performs, painting, dance and music form a separate world, rich in tones, nuances and meaning. Definitions blur; full
possibilities come to the forefront as the lights fadeout.

Mark Brose:

Bluesy guitar music accompanied by occasional harmonica resonates across the theatre as Rachel and Mark dance. The piece alters
between various emotions and head spaces, much the way a relationship does, especially once partners evolve from idealized figures and exhibit qualities such as helplessness and vulnerability. Mark is the dancer with multiple sclerosis but Rachel portrays helplessness and the barriers depicted often seem insurmountable.

Later in the dance, with the two of them on the floor -- the wheelchair unused in the background -- Rachel and Mark lie isolated, away from one another, their bodies curled in the fetal position.

Somewhere along the line -- several times in fact -- the role of the wheelchair changes from being an obstacle, to a prop, to having no role at all.

Rachel, lying on her back, places the soles of her feet under Mark’s stomach. They hold hands and Mark’s legs reach out. The move is awe-inspiring for its sheer beauty, but this specific move, which Mark calls "aeroplane, is all about fun and freedom, encountering a space where, before this dance, I had not been since I was eight years old. It s a beautiful moment, which unfortunately did not read to the audience (the first time we did it), because their perception of disability... was that I would fall. Whoever in the audience reads it as a scary moment --
that’s fine. And whoever reads it as a joyful moment -- that’s fine too."

Throughout the piece Mark and Rachel’s characters explore insecurity, comfort and sensuality in each other. Towards the end, an overhead image of a canoe subtly flashes across the background. Moments later, as lights fade, the dance ends with Mark Brose in a canoe and Rachel Gorman leaning against him.

"The story," Mark explains, "is about a couple who are learning about each other... and discovering what freedoms and limitations they each have. We’re also dealing with common perceptions of couples where one person uses a wheelchair."

Dance for people with physical disabilities is starting to develop in Canada. It has already gained momentum in the United States under the leadership of Mary Verdi Fletcher, a dancer with spina bifida, who founded Dancing Wheels in 1980, with the support of the Cleveland ballet. Recently Frank Hull received a week-long scholarship to take a Dancing Wheels workshop in Cleveland. In Frank’s word, he "fell in love with Dancing Wheels."

But dancers with disabilities wishing to study in Cleveland face many issues. It is hard to get permission for foreigners to work legally in the States. Frank Hull, being part Aboriginal Canadian, had no legal problem working there; however he did have problems with accessible housing and health coverage which both represent significant challenges to people with disabilities in the United States.

As for the theatre scene in Toronto, there are very few accessible spaces. Artword Theatre and Betty Olliphant where these performances took place are among the few. Spirit Synott and Mark Brose developed their techniques at a dance workshop at the Toronto Theatre Alliance. Perhaps the biggest barrier in Canada, like any issue related to disability, has to do with attitudes. Dancing is not a gentle art. Dancers with or without disabilities get injured regularly: pulled muscles, dislocated shoulders, charley horses... they are all part of the job. The
tendency in our society is to be overprotective of people with disabilities. As with anything else, there is a balance that needs to be made, where all dancers can make individual decisions about which limitations can realistically be challenged.

"I’m proud of my rug-burns. I’m proud of my injuries," Frank Hull boasts.

"The chair’s not so fragile and neither am I," Spirit says matter-of-factly.

"I’m just having a great time," Mark admits.

With time, dancers with disabilities will develop an audience in Canada. Spirit and Mark performed their pieces with the Fringe Festival of Independent Dance Artists; the responses were incredibly positive. As new possibilities emerge for people with disabilities in the workforce, why shouldn’t professional dancers be a part of that?

Mordecai Drache is a freelance writer living in Toronto, ON.