Writings

When Barkas’ book “Archeology of Personalities” came out in 2016 I met him during a workshop and told him that I didn’t agree with some aspects he had written in his book. Upon asking him for a dedication, he then wrote into my copy of his book “For Anna, Have fun deconstructing my ideas. I’m eagerly awaiting your arguments…” I must confess that until this day I owe him my arguments and I can only apologise for having left this unattended. Now, years after the release of his book much has happened and not only in the “real” world but also in our tiny little niche of Japanese Rope Bondage. Attitudes have changed, knowledge has been reorganised and become accessible on a wider scope and in many more formats than was the case back then. I doesn’t feel topical anymore to deconstruct his interview metaphor and his attempt to define what Japanese rope bondage actually is. Instead I’m following his invitation “I welcome discussion, critique and contrasting ideas, because I consider mine to be just a starting point for a new understanding of what we call Kinbaku(…)” (Barkas 2016:17) with one tiny reservation, I actually don’t want to suggest a “new” understanding of what we call Kinbaku. I just want to give you an insight into my understanding of Kinbaku. To me Barkas’ interview metaphor doesn’t explain the eternal draw and magic that this practice seems to hold for people. Rather than the rigger being the interviewer and the model being the interviewee, answering questions, hence never going beyond the rigger’s or the model’s narrative, I think of Kinbaku as a dance within which the the rigger also holds properties of a choreographer and the model receiving and interpreting this choreography. In the power exchange happening, the model hands over the power of creation but in the interpretation of the creative act lies creativity in itself which only makes the riggers creation possible as in brings it to life in the real world. Together they are engaging in an act that produces something bigger than the sum of its parts, a universal wisdom that stands for itself. Something that’s tangible when it happens beyond the people tying. I’d like to argue that Kinbaku is a dance and I like to call it a dance of the soul, a form of spiritual dance. The medium of dance comprises five constituents: body, space, dynamics, action and relationships. Specifically the dimension classified as action includes closing, contracting; opening, expanding; gesturing; jumping; locomotion; turning; transferring weight; and stillness. Additionally, the rhythm dimension includes the impactive (speeding up); impulsive (slowing down); rebounding (bouncing) and sustained rhythm. These structural elements are always present and articulated in dance regardless of its actual conjunction with music. 
People who are familiar with rope bondage can probably see and may agree with me that these elements described above are all present in a rope scene. This 
manifests in the compressing of knots and frictions, the tightening of tensions, small as well as big transitions and position changes, micro and macro movements, the compressing of the body or parts of the body, the tightening of muscles all the way to the stretching of the rope as the tension and compression rises, the stretch of every fibre and molecule in the rope and in the body, while approaching the fullest expression, the noise rises, every fibre and molecule in your body speaking to you, the breathing and other expressions swelling up to the full expansion and expression. Expressions that could be considered offensive or objectionable in different contexts. It manifests in the rhythm of tying and in the change of this rhythm, the relationship with your rope partner. The quality of a dance as much as that of a rope scene can be still, quiet, receptive and reflective, as well as exuberant and celebratory. 
Some people have a larger movement vocabulary available and move through the space confidently, whereas others may be dancing inward, delicate and stationary, with possibly less variation in movement expression. The same can be said for tying. This may even vary from moment to moment for each individual, as a person’s process can change abruptly from quiet and internal to big and extrovert, and consequently influence their movements. Dancing is a ‘double act’ of moving and feeling oneself - being moved - at the same time, ‘Awareness of experiencing what one is expressing is the kind of somatic transformation that are frequently found in disciplines like yoga or breathing meditation. It is an ultimate intimacy, a doing while being with oneself’ (Sklar, 2000: 72). It is this intimacy that allows us to bring that which we embody in ourselves ‘into our relationships with others and into the world’ (D. Halprin, 2003: 79). This is also what happens in a rope scene. Just like dance or yoga, Kinbaku can be experienced as a somatic practice. Becoming body-literate deepens our experience of a rope scene and ultimately the “capacity to be in relationship with seen and unseen, known and unknown dimensions of the world around us.”(Kieft, 2014) Through our dancing bodies, we can partake in a dialogue between different forces inside ourselves and in the wider community, and we can dance or literally tie our souls back into the body. Many dance styles and techniques combine physical and emotional dimensions. Modern dance and butoh are just two. I’d like to add Kinbaku to the list. When done properly, all these dance styles - including Kinbaku - go way beyond mastering certain techniques and roles - they derive their power through “giving up the self.” The concept to enter a trance state, striving for a state of kenosis, emptying self-denial and standing naked in the emotional, conscious and existential sense. 
Grotowski specified it as follows: We arm ourselves to hide, sincerity begins where we are vulnerable. Such an approach brings the dancer closer to catharsis and as a consequence invites also the audience to participate this process. 

Inside the model’s mind emotions are moving from one state to another; emotional qualities such as ‘sad’ or ‘playful’, ‘inspired’, ‘bored’ or ‘angry’ often leave an impression of archetypes in the scene. From a perceived disconnection to an experience of connection within the self and/or between the self and the rigger. From isolation to unity from merged to distinct, from contracted to expanded, from internal to external, and from homogenous to diverse, from duality to oneness. In the climb to the peak of this mountain life is mirrored, the die and arise. Jung (1993 [1953]: 338) described this stage of the hero’s journey as being swallowed up in the belly of the whale. Rigger and model keep dancing through fear, the unknown, anxiety, avoidance and resistance, and eventually come out ‘on the other side’. The dance as much as a rope scene is a tool to face life even when it appears unbearable. The physical challenges, the rising to the peak lay bare the self, we can’t hide in ropes, we are vulnerable, we are sincere. 
Within this vulnerability and sincerity lies the opportunity to see further. This dance or rope scene can create an increased awareness of mortality and the vulnerability of life resulting in increased feelings of tenderness. There is a wide agreement among dance researchers and dance therapists that dancing, and possibly even watching dance, can reshape practices, behaviours, world views, beliefs and ideas. It can revolutionise psychological perceptions, ways of being together in the world and one’s outlook on life (Buckland, 2002: 181; Cohen Bull, 1997; D. Halprin, 2003; Hanna, 1988; Rill, 2006; Williams, 2004). In other words, vocation, visions, inspiration, and individuation, can be accessed, which can lead to an attitude of love, kindness and gratitude. Tying holds a truth. The practice mirrors the fabric out of which our reality, our universe is woven. An intention created in the mind translates into movement - physically as well as emotionally - that constantly oscillates between small, compressed squeezing the room out of structures - realising and experiencing there is endless space in even the smallest of gaps - to stretched out structures at their fullest of expression, tensioned to the tipping point, bent to the full - to the point where the the fullest extension collapses into the point of tightest compression and both merge into one. This is reflected by the shapes and figures that are so distinct to Kinbaku. Compressed bodies with suspension lines radiating out or stretched out bodies with lines accumulating in a single point, with spirals woven into every aspect, from the twist within a rope to the torsions the body is put into, to movements of tying, moving a body on the floor or in the air. Often these shapes remind of an hour glass or one half of an hour glass, every tiny piece on the one side expanding, falling into a singular point. Infinite expansion cumulates in a single point of compression and back out again. A tie compresses the body part mostly at the very point when the rope is under most tension and stretched to its fullest. One causes the other. The same can be said for the mental state, finding infinite freedom in restriction, peace in the emotional turmoil of the journey, kindness in acts of hurt and patience in feelings of urgency. Out of this arises the realisation of non-duality. And it’s in this realisation where the truth lies. In that realisation everything merges into one and rigger and model and often the audience, if there is one present, experience a common sense in its truest meaning.

Unlike Barkas I don’t think Kinbaku scenes are unpredictable because they are shaped by the conditions, questions and answers and the interpretation thereof by the participants, they are unpredictable out of a common sense. Rigger and model don’t know what will happen next, because the mind and the body drop into simply being present from the first movement on, focusing with one’s entire being on opening, calling, connecting and remembering. During the scene they fall into singularity to find each other parting inevitably in the very end. The falling from paradise, when the last single column tie is untied and the last rope is gone, you are parting back into duality, a moment that holds immense sadness as many rope bondage practitioners will be able to testify. As a linguist, like Barkas I agree with Waclawik, one cannot not communicate. But the question is who or what are we communicating with. And as a dancer and rope practitioner I think we don’t simply communicate with each other, we communicate with whatever you want to call the life force or spirit. And that seems to me the draw and magic that Kinbaku holds. And that’s why to hold it with Einstein “we dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”