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Oceans Apart

Waiting in the theater, the first unhurried trickle of French composer Erik Satie’s piano variation barely registers amidst the house chatter. Sparse and minimalistic, swelling with silences, the striking keys eventually conjure up a dancer. Top-hatted in matching black tails, holding an black umbrella incongruously aloft, choreographer and director Jo Kanamori glides silently through the aisle. It takes a few minutes before the far-side seats catch on and the murmuring chatter recedes. The lights dim as he finally reaches the stage. More enigma unfolds as the curtain rises on an identically-clad dancer and umbrella, mirroring Kanamori’s pose. Upstage, dancer Sawako Iseki undulates, her body unfolding like a red wave in her slinky dress. A beat of stillness, a surreal painting of dance. Thus starts Kanamori’s newest work for Noism, “I Want to Be Holding the Sea,” inspired by the eponymous short story by Niigata-born writer, Ango Sakaguchi. 

Performance

Noism: “I Want to be Holding the Sea” and “The Rite of Spring” by Jo Kanamori

Place

Saitama Arts Theatre, Tokyo, Japan, July 25, 2026

Words

Kris Kosaka

Noism in “I Want to be Holding the Sea” by Jo Kanamori

As Iseki exits, a large square of light spreads out from where she stood, a smaller square of light opening on the floor between Kanamori and his doppelganger. The dance sequence begins as the first two dancers act as a doorway, opening up to the repeated entrances of more umbrella men. At some point, Kanamori exits and an identical dancer slides into his place. The men partner each other into the larger square of light, a surreal progression of movement and pause. Soon after, a female dancer enters opposite, clad identically to Iseki. The umbrella men exit, sans one—now without an umbrella. A male and female pas de deux follows, but the sequence overlaps again, as another couple enter, and then another. Each successive pas de deux feels fresh, despite the repeating motifs, where hats are exchanged, women dragged, embraces made and broken. 

What sets Kanamori’s work apart is his uncanny choreographic oneness with the music. Coupled with his exciting staging, it’s hard to blink, as every note is seen. Here, the tension of each slow piano key is translated to subtle but striking motion. Every step or gesture feels organically natural, precisely effective in tone and emphasis. 

The work was commissioned to honor the 120th anniversary of Sakaguchi’s birth, and in researching Sakaguchi, Kanamori discovered the author’s affinity for Satie. The story itself is a rumination on the repetitious cycle of an unfulfilling, erotic relationship where the narrator’s intense physical desire for his partner, a former prostitute, cannot surmount her barriers to emotional closeness—or his own. 

With its looping repetitions, Kanamori’s work captures the waves of yearning and retreat in any relationship. The cycles hit a crest on his re-entrance as a dancer. The minimalistic backdrop changes to a view of the sea as Iseki too returns onstage. Artistic director of the International Activities Division of Noism, Iseki is also Kanamori’s partner in life. Their final pas de deux tops a work of searingly raw honesty—and delivers a clever surreal twist to end. 

Jo Kanamori and Sawako Iseki in “I Want to be Holding the Sea” by Kanamori. Photograph by Shoko Matsuhashi

Jo Kanamori and Sawako Iseki in “I Want to be Holding the Sea” by Kanamori. Photograph by Shoko Matsuhashi

The second production in the double-bill is a reworking of Kanamori’s “The Rite of Spring,” created in 2020 and here pared down from 21 dancers to only 12 dancers, intensifying the emotion. Musically, Igor Stravinsky’s clashing dissonance, the layered, polytonality of the rhythmic score is the opposite of minimalistic Satie, and emphasizes Kanamori’s versatility as a choreographer. 

In Kanamori’s hands, a clear story unfolds. The stage opens on all dancers, Iseki in the center, each framing a white chair. The dancers are dressed in the same simple white button ups, shorts, and white sneakers. As each awakens to movement, they stare out at the audience, seemingly frightened of some “other,” looming in front of them. 

Noism in “The Rite of Spring” by Jo Kanamori. Photograph by Shoko Matsuhashi

Noism in “The Rite of Spring” by Jo Kanamori. Photograph by Shoko Matsuhashi

Some use their chairs as a weapon; some hide behind it for a shield. Eventually, dancers and chairs unite against the threat, in a representation of society’s solidarity when facing danger. From there, Kanamori explores fear and threat, ostracization and banishment, in an insightful, consistently surprising staging. Chairs become safe havens or borders, walls to protect or to exclude. Formations are created and broken, lines of connection or claustrophobic circles formed as borders or prisons of space. As the music intensifies and complicates, so does Kanamori’s choreography. Never predictable, it is such a constant delight of steps and staging that renders Stravinsky’s driving rhythms new. 

Kanamori’s a definite force, armed with minimalistic staging and propulsive creativity, meticulously aligned with his musical universe. European audiences will have a chance to see Kanamori’s choreography in action as his 2023 production for the Tokyo Ballet, Kaguyahime, tours Teatro Regio Torino, Italy in early December and at the Paris Opera House’s Palais Garnier in May of 2027. 

Kris Kosaka


Kris Kosaka is a writer and educator based in Kamakura, Japan. A lifelong ballet fan and studio rat in her youth, she's been contributing to the Japan Times since 2009. She writes across culture, but especially in dance, opera and literature. 

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