LET ME CHANGE YOUR NAME

AHN EUN-ME COMPANY (2010)

Choreography & CostumesEun-Me Ahn
MusicYoung-Gyu Jang
Light DesignAndre Schulz
PerformersEun-Me Ahn, Sally Blatchford, Matthieu Burner, Shinae Han, Wanyoung Jung, Hyekyoung Kim, Michael Loehr
ProductionAhn Eun-Me Company / Gadja Productions
Performance HistoryCenter Stage Korea, Teatro Nacional La Castellana, Bogotá, Colombia
Total Number of Performances5
Original Production

LET ME CHANGE YOUR NAME

ProductionAhn Eun-Me Company / Gadja Productions
World Premiere20 September 2005 – 5th Asia Pacific Weeks, Haus der Kulturen der Welt, Berlin, Germany
PhotographyEunji Park
Eun-Me Ahn appears as a sort of guide. Her long solo is striking. The movement is rare at first, but the choreographer vibrates with her whole being on stage. Her gaze is penetrating, seeming to search each member of the audience. There’s a bit of Carolyn Carlson in this long solo, a bit of Martha Graham, a bit of Tao Ye in this graphic work. And much of the undefinable that makes Eun-Me Ahn's dance something unique in its kind.
Let me change your name, a playful yet also unsettling piece. [...] Highly metaphorical, the duality of Let me change your name offers multiple layers of interpretation. Trance and shamanism extend a hand to festive atmospheres with techno music, like a wild fashion show where the dresses, identical except for their colors, pass from one body to the next. [...] A troupe of dancers with radiant personalities.
Let Me Change Your Name is a surprisingly flirtatious, provoking piece. Eun-Me Ahn works with repetition and strongly gestural language that allows the audience to recognise evocative phrases and to feel directly spoken to by the movement. [...] The way it is performed is sensual without being sexy. [...] Gorgeous, silly and gloriously performed.
"Let Me Change Your Name" [...] brilliantly demonstrated how Eun Me Ahn, through vibrant colors and the wild rhythm infused into her creations, remains steadfast in her societal inquiries. [...] Completely drained, exhausted, wholly swept up in this choreographic whirlwind, this wild and shared energy, the audience left the Carreau du Temple. Troubled, they were left to question their own identity, now suddenly uncertain.
Everything should remain in flux, which it did in an impressive way. [...] The attitude is playful and winking; time and again, the arms become windmill blades, and the entire ensemble bounces like rubber balls, jumping straight into the air. While the serious theme of identity may be addressed, the mood remains predominantly lighthearted. The ensemble exudes a captivating, self-assured charisma.
The opening of Eun-Me Ahn’s Let Me Change Your Name really doesn’t prepare you for what is to come – but then the distinctive Korean choreographer, known for her colourful clothing and shaven head, has a reputation for wrong-footing expectations. [...] It’s all about the sensory stimuli of action, rhythm and, most of all, colour.
It all seems so effortless as the dancers interact not only with each other but also with the audience, smiling and teasing as they flick their brightly-coloured skirts upwards to flash their knickers and wiggle their hips flirtatiously [...] No review can do justice to a production by Eun Me Ahn, so I’ll just stop here and say that, as expected, this evening’s performance is a contender for event of the year.
The company of Eun-Me Ahn [...] brought the clash of tradition and modernity to the stage of the Nikolaisaal on Friday evening in their piece Let me change your name, expressive and rich in imagery. [...] The audience celebrated with standing ovations this shimmering interplay between the speed of life’s carousel in the here and now and the repressed tradition.
Playing with ideas of identity and androgyny, Let Me Change Your Name is an irreverent and transporting piece that celebrates the different shades of diversity. [...] It is an inspiring choreography built on repetitions and contrasts, [...] a sensational showcase of great dance skills and fluid movements, enriched by Eun-Me Ahn’s occasional appearances on the stage.
Ahn uses the issue of sensuality openly; coyness is not part of her choreographic palette. Her dancers are all attractive and they embody and display this quality knowingly and with a flirtatious sense of humour. [...] The way the dresses are worn, slipped off, left off and thrown around in playful abandon is a joy to watch. The dancers share their physical exertion equally with indefatigable vigour, energy and virtuosity.