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Soul stirrings: Craig Foster watches as Jazzart dancers put together sequences integrating ancient San and contemporary dance movements. Photos: Karin Retief
| Brothers capture the soul of the San on film |
| February 24 2004 at 07:30AM |
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By Dawn Kennedy
Dawn Kennedy visited them at their Cape Town studios for a sneak preview. "We believe we've found a way of telling the ultimate human origins story," says Craig. But what does the modern reader have to learn from cave-dwelling primitives? More than you think. As you turn the steak on the braai, and the dial on your stereo higher as your favourite trance dance tune plays, you are responding to primal pulls at the soul strings and re-enacting ancient rituals in a modern form. Our ancestors were hunters and gatherers; the braai is in our blood and bones. For 99 percent of our life on earth our survival depended on hunting animals and cooking their meat on the fire. Today's trance dance subculture echoes ancient post-prandial practice.
Trance dance was the fundamental healing agent for people on every continent: we would dance into the body of an animal, prowl on a tiger's stealthy feet, or put on eagle wings and fly, speak with the ancestors, heal and bring back messages for the tribe. Our bodies, left behind, would twitch, eyes rolled up in their sockets. Possessed with a superhuman force we would rub burning coals on our chest and remain unscathed. Leading anthropologists say trance is the origin of all artistic endeavour. On returning to waking consciousness we would carefully document our discoveries on the first travel journals - cave walls. These rock carvings enable scientists to establish that trance was a universal practice and not a random quirk of any one culture, suggesting that regularly accessing trance or altered states is part of what it means to be human - that spirituality is part of our blueprint. Ancient man left thousands of messages engraved on stone all telling the same story. The North American Eskimos, the Ubanga of Brazil, the Yoruba of West Africa, the Shango of Trinidad, the Voodum of Haiti, the shamans of Siberia, the Innuit, Celtic, and Aboriginal people all depict hunting and dance and show the people moving like the animals they worshipped. They all describe a boiling energy, a power in the stomach, a heat that rises up their spinal columns, similar to that described by yoga adepts and tantric Buddhists, and pointing to a culture incredibly attuned to inner processes. Ancient man knew that we ignored the spiritual realm at our peril. It is only very recently, since Western materialistic culture has become dominant, that the vast majority of the world does not have access to these healing states. And what kind of a state are we in? As we push our trolleys along supermarket aisles and worship politely in pews we imagine ourselves superior to men in loincloths wielding roughly fashioned spears. Our religion has become a joyless affair. We pay, slipping coins on to the church collection plate, for the dubious pleasure of listening to someone expounding the rules for enjoying ourselves in another life. We wear our knees out with pleas for forgiveness. Original sin has replaced original unity. Obesity overtaken hunting and gathering. We call ancient man's ecstatic twitching and dancing "mad", whilst popping pills to quell our mental malaise. "Dancing is one of the great pleasures of life. Using dance as a way to enter trance dates back 40 000 years to our shamanic and aboriginal ancestors," drones Frank Natalie in an American accent. Re-named Professor Trance, he is the so-called spiritual elder of The Energisers - a colourful tribe of neo-shamans who encourage the practice of trance dance. He argues that ecstasy is our birthright and that if we can't get it legitimately by practising trance then we will try and get it illegally through drugs. This explains the context in which the trance dance subculture has emerged as today's dominant youth and underground culture. Its existence would seem to support the view that dance and trance are an ancient itch we need to scratch. So. Loosen your tie and trance dance. Is it any less weird or primitive than going to war? Whatever conclusions we draw for our current society, the film's message - that to go forward we might have to go back - is not the random musing of two mad men, but the findings of an established research team that includes archaeologists, art historians, scientists, linguists and world expert on rock art, Jeanette Deacon. Boiling Point establishes that early people were much more sophisticated than previously imagined and not just savages concerned only about the next meal, but interested in developing their minds, wise about healing, skilled at living in harmony with one another and the environment, adept as artists and interested in recording and advancing their culture. The brothers are uniquely placed to make this film. Africa has the highest concentration of rock art in the world, but more importantly, they have privileged access to the San people of the Kalahari "the sons and daughters of the first people" thought to have numbered 100 000, 40 000 years ago. They were among the first inhabitants on earth and they are still practising the healing trance dance. As Craig says, "We have a unique and brief window of opportunity to work with the last generation of elders." There was a lot of interest in adapting The Great Dance to large format, but it has taken five years for the Foster brothers to develop a project specifically for that medium. Craig suspects that they are "trying to do a mad thing" since large format presents many constraints and technical challenges. The brothers, used to heading off into the bush with cameras slung over their shoulder, would have to adapt to handling cameras the size of trucks. The success of The Great Dance was partly due to the proximity the audience felt to the experience of hunting and being hunted. Not content to record the hunter saying he became the animal he hunted, they went to great lengths to convey what that might feel like to the audience. Damon's wife, Lauren, an occupational therapist, designed a special harness containing a miniature camera that they were able to attach on to a naturalised cheetah. You really get the sense of what it must feel like to be running on four legs. Sitting in their Cape Town studio I am privileged to see footage they shot of a local, contemporary dance group - Jazzart - who are currently working on a dance project inspired by The Great Dance. It is arrestingly beautiful. Special light shone on the dancers makes It look as though they are moving through both water and sunbeams and suggests they ethereal beings slipping effortlessly through different dimensions. With Boiling Point the brothers are going even further away from people's usual point of reference than they did in the previous two films. Conveying altered states to a broad-based, body bound audience, many of whom are sceptical about "other dimensions" is challenging and the brothers are ardent about not alienating audience with esoteric subject matter. They believe large format offers incredible opportunities for giving audiences an experience of the trance states they are attempting to explain. Craig and Damon have come a long way from the swirling mandala imagery used in the 1960s to express "cosmic" experiences but they are still addressing the same question confronting all artists: how do you make an inner experience visible? When it comes to the ineffable, words are wasted! As Craig says, "It always sounds like crazy stuff." He believes that cinema can best document altered states, because it speaks "the language of expanded consciousness". Ironically, the most modern equipment is used to take us closer to ancient man. Craig and Damon, who refuse to use cellphones, relish the technology available. In Damon and Craig's hands, the camera becomes a sorcerer's tool. We don't just watch, but are lured into leopard skins. "It's a wonderful tool to play with," agrees Craig. Craig - Cape Town's very own Carlos Castenada - explains trance as "the death of the ego" that involves "huge visual and auditory experiences that allow you to look back at yourself and your own drama". "It can be terrifying," he admits, "ecstasy or hell". Kids, do not try this at home! Damon, more Camel man than cosmic man in appearance, says "everyone's got their way" of connecting with God or feeling a heightened sense of being alive. He lived with his wife on a remote island for six months and relished the fact that finding food from the ocean was the focal point of the day. Both Damon and Craig have experienced altered states through sensory deprivation in the wilderness and both share a passion for survival from the land. Part of the brother's brilliance must be attributable to their harmonious synergy. They work together and share almost identical interests outside work. Both are experienced scuba and free divers and Craig credits their "real heightened connection" to hunting in the sea with just a mask and a knife - something they've been doing since the age of five. They explain the magic of hunting a fish and eating it immediately on the rocks. They describe this as "a full in-body experience" that they say is in many ways more powerful than any out-of-body experience. But despite their similarities, they are very different personalities and believe this benefits their work, as each brings their unique talents to bear on any given project. The deep knowing between them is like the silent hand gesturing that goes on between the San hunters. They have never had an argument as far as they recall and "are always trying to see the others point of view". "You think you understand the environment and then you meet the masters," says Craig, when asked what it was like to interact with the Bushmen. For all their experience in the ocean and on paradise islands, the brothers felt themselves lost in the Bushmen's environment. Then, "the Bushmen opened up a world we could understand but couldn't see", explains Craig, and "awakened a sense that stops a person viewing nature as separate from man". They often found themselves in altered states, and the intensity of the experience erased large chunks from their memory. They were often surprised to find footage that they had no memory of filming. Making a film is a group effort. Ensuring these projects get off the ground is producer Carina Rubin of Aland pictures who has created an alliance with the brothers since Cosmic Africa. "At the moment we don't have any funding earmarked for these films," says Rubin, her feet firmly on earth at present, but she is confident the projects will go ahead. She stresses that while large format films are a niche market, with only 350 theatres in the entire world, the films have a high educational value that makes them relevant beyond the film circuit. Through exposure in museums, schools and scientific exhibitions, the films can ultimately influence hundreds of thousands of people. For example, the new history syllabus created by the department of education used Cosmic Africa as a chapter in the Indigenous Knowledge section. We are in the process of rewriting history and it is deeply gratifying for films like Cosmic Africa to be part of that re-education process. Craig finds this "terrifying in some ways" - especially with Boiling Point that intends to further our understanding of human consciousness. He is aware of his responsibility as a filmmaker who is attempting to affect people's beliefs and perceptions. He realises "you can't just light a flame and leave it at that" and intends to create a web page as a forum for ideas their films spark. In September, Cape Town is opening the Origin Centre - the largest rock art museum in the world - to celebrate South Africa's position as the birthplace of humanity. The project has cost R35-million, 75 percent of which has come from local government funding, and Rubin hopes Boiling Point will be included as an audio-visual component. The Foster brothers go to extremes to record a way of life that is constantly being eroded. The life of indigenous people, whether the Dogon of Mali or the San Bushmen of the Kalahari are precious to us. Psychiatrist Ian MacCullum, commenting on The Great Dance says "soul is the price we have paid for our civilisation". He argues that the Bushmen's lives, whilst wretched in many ways by first world standards, offer the soul society is lacking. This manifests in a deep sense of relatedness to one another and the environment. The sharing of knowledge that is critical to their survival is antithetical to western reality where exclusive possession of knowledge is power. Craig states, "In many ways the people who represent the first people represent the future of our survival. They leave us with one last gift. True wisdom of who we are and who we want to be." If the first people possess the gift, we need people like the Foster brothers to bring it home. What makes them so successful as filmmakers is their genuine attempt to communicate to a wide audience. They skillfully navigate navigate the rocky road between informing and entertaining and avoid the didactic pitfalls that many non-fiction filmmakers fall into. The Great Hunt appeals to children, nature lovers, activists, and most importantly, the Bushmen themselves who felt their lives enriched by the film. Profound political messages penetrate subliminally, wrapped in lush visuals, superb soundtrack and strong narratives. But it has been the unique access to remote places, people and events that has made their films, and lives extraordinary. The climactic end of The Great Dance was when the hunter Karoha attempts, and manages, to run down an eland - the mythical and most difficult hunt by running. Craig describes the excitement of bearing witness: "Karoha set out on this mass of Kalahari flatlands. This tiny human moved very slowly and these animals just moved at high speed off the horizon and he's attempting to actually run them down. It's ridiculous. It just took me back. The tingling, the fear. I felt I was witnessing something no-one else apart from the small group of people in the tribe have ever seen. This is something that is so ancient and so sophisticated. "Just filming him and seeing his intent was amazing enough. I never even believed he could do it ... This thing that we thought was almost legend ... we were just lucky to be there at that extraordinary time." The North American Indians have a beautiful word for photographers - shadow catchers. Craig and Damon are soul catchers.
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