Student impressions

Self-research. I went there to see Ko Murobushi’s videos, books, and training room that Archive had prepared for us. There is one question for participant. “Why you dance?” I am ashamed to say that I had never seen his dance. I was surprised to see Murobushi’s body coming at me from the video. That back muscles, his voice or squeak, the sense of projection of the physical body, the body that is neither a representation nor a metaphor, but simply a body. To watch the dance is to dance. I was lucky enough to make this first contact, and felt like I had almost completed my self-research, but then Kimiko Watanabe, the organizer of the project, showed me a video of “iki-2.” Kimiko showed us the video quickly, saying, “I’m going to show this part quickly because it’s too long. But she got the point across, so it would have to be someone who had seen the film many times to be able to do that. The story of Ko Murobushi before his death and the pre-history leading up to their chance encounter were also very interesting. Finally, those who were present at the event performed an improvisation with each other. Seeing a single living body was a very enriching experience, and I could feel the sign from the video we had just watched together in the history of the dancer’s dance. In the video, Ko Murobushi was mumbling, yelling, and spitting out words like “Who are you?  Bloom bloom. Help!　Sound!　pas pas pas!
– Yuki Furukawa

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The Ko Murobushi Archive has consistently offered a welcoming and comfortable space for visitors. By temporarily relocating to a larger venue, the archive created an environment where one could experience it with their entire body. Ko Murobushi’s incisive words serve as a profound stimulus for those striving to explore the essence of dance. The imagery reconnects us with the physicality and movements that underpin his expressions.
A larger screen magnifies the depth and intensity of his words, aligning them intricately with the edges of the body. His movements are simultaneously supple, powerful, and untamed, creating a sensory experience akin to encountering the thoughts of the body itself. Although Ko Murobushi’s physical form is no longer present, his world materializes in this space, welcoming visitors to engage with him profoundly.
This unique illusion is made possible through the meticulous curation of his archive. The passion driving the archive mirrors the spirit of Ko Murobushi, ensuring his legacy remains vivid and impactful. I felt deeply that this fervor resonates with the vitality of Ko Murobushi’s own journey.
– Biyo Kikuchi

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I encountered a rare workshop initiated and organized by the Ko Murobushi Archive. There was no instructor to teach dance, nor a leader to seek guidance from. Instead, fragments of Ko Murobushi’s workshop memos—his pure words and video snippets—were present, along with an otherwise empty space. Neighbors gathered by chance, sometimes meeting, sometimes not, in this liberated zone open from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. over three days. The question posed was, “Why do you dance?”
We removed our lids, blindfolds, masks of obedience, and restraints, shedding the self-deceptions we’ve maintained, and began to breathe freely. I realized I wanted to escape society and continue a solitary, aimless research into pure existence. Participating for just a few hours each day was insufficient. Foolish me. I cursed myself for being unable to grant even 27 hours to myself, only capable of living within the herd.
Even with my incompetence and laziness, I immersed myself in the space where lives intersected. I deeply yearned to exist beyond the self and others, in the gap where things vanish and are born.
– Toru Komatsu

Videos viewed with participants “iki”

Handout – Ko Murobushi WS memo

Recommendation comment

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Taichi Yamagata – Actor, director, choreographer, dancer, novelist

I have recently read Mr. Ko Murobushi’s workshop notes for the first time. The numerous words that start from the body transform into various forms, creating and destroying multiple bodies, engaging in an endless exploration of what occurs inside. External factors, easy approaches from external enemies, and formulas that do not rush for answers are subtly adjusted daily by changing oneself and the surrounding environment. Having less confidence can bring one closer to oneself than having more.
What I have written so far is strongly reminiscent of a piece I wrote earlier, inspired by Ko Murobushi’s notes. The words that naturally enter the bodies and daily lives of those who read and touch them. I hope they reach many people, imagining the joy of touching them.
In the cold, snowy New York, while smoking together, Ko Murobushi found my method interesting and remarked, “Yamagata’s thing is difficult, isn’t it?” I was truly happy. I will continue to think and move until I can no longer move.

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Mina Nishimura – Dance artist

Mr. Murobushi, who can so thoroughly observe and dissect his own corpse, capturing even the exterior within and articulating it coolly into language, is indeed a genuine mummy. His words, where his thoughts, philosophy, images, and movements (and even his grumblings!) are intricately intertwined, pierce through his tangible body and resonate like an echo. I realize that Mr. Murobushi has always been in such dialogue with his own body and mind… In my twenties, I found Mr. Murobushi’s intensive workshops so rigorous that I thought they might be training to become a ninja. During the time we spent together in Vienna and New York, when I confided my trivial concern, “I want to become a mummy too, but I lack the concentration and patience to focus during the intensive workshops,” he told me, “You’re always so open and lack tension; you’re not a mummy, are you?” But it’s okay.
Mr. Murobushi, I will tear apart these workshop notes, chew them, swallow them, and aim to become a zombie!

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So-shi Suzuki – Writer, French literature scholar

I was eighteen years old. Over half a century ago, I had no way of knowing who Ko Murobushi was among the members of the Great Camel Corps, nor did I understand what Butoh was. I despised the world, and I wouldn’t let anyone tell me that it was the most beautiful age in a person’s life.
In his later years, Mr. Murobushi’s bronze body was covered with a raincoat. When he left, white pants were visible beneath the coat. It seemed as if the pants were disappearing. But there is something immortal. His stage. His works and their absence. That white, compressed space, those ghostly convulsions, those falls, that unsettling stillness, that overlapping paranoia! I feel that from within that, Mr. Murobushi’s powerful thoughts were born. His poetry, his violence, his conviction, his death.