Dance review: In I remember..., Joe Laughlin takes a personal look at the march of time and the ephemerality of dance
The uncategorizable new work at the Firehall Arts Centre feels by turns like an intimate conversation, an ode to Vancouver’s dance history, and a guide to life
Joe Laughlin dancing with a film of his younger self in I remember… Photo by Michael Slobodian
Joe INK’s I remember… is at the Firehall Arts Centre to January 18
VANCOUVER DANCER Joe Laughlin made his debut at the Firehall Arts Centre in 1984, and an incredible 40 years later he is back on its stage with an intimate, first-person look back on those decades.
On one level, Joe INK’s I remember… turns out to be an offbeat hybrid of spoken memoir, TED Talk, yoga affirmation, local-dance-history lesson, and even documentary screening, with choreography flowing throughout. But on a more amorphous level it is a moving meditation on aging—especially within our bodies. Even when our minds and hearts feel young, we grind down physically, a fact heightened for dancers. On another level, I remember… is also a reminder of the ephemerality of dance and the legacy of some of the pioneers here.
Off the top of the show, the affable artist gets the audience moving, encouraging us to breathe, to balance, and to centre ourselves. From there he performs a dance ode to the circle—a perfect symbol for the way life has brought him back to the Firehall at 64 years old.
Laughlin plays storyteller for much of the show, sharing personal reflections on mentors like former National Ballet of Canada dancer Earl Kraul, and brilliant dance-theatre pioneer Lola MacLaughlin. The fun is in the details here: Laughlin cleaning the studio to pay for Kraul’s lessons, say, or MacLaughlin hiding behind Laughlin in dance class. In both sequences he moves in response to their images projected on a big screen at the back of the stage; you can feel the late artists’ presence in the room as their faces appear in grainy closeup. For older Vancouver dance fans, it is a poignant tribute to two icons who are gone, and for younger ones, it’s an important reminder that today’s thriving, internationally recognized scene did not emerge out of nowhere.
From here the piece transitions into a screening of an edited version of the documentary Sonke Sisonke/Every Body, about Laughlin’s life-changing late-1990s work in South Africa to collaborate with Moving into Dance Mophatong.
Joe Laughlin dancing in front of an image of Earl Kraul in I remember… Photo by Michael Slobodian
In the final third, the artist loops back to breathing, James Proudfoot’s effective lighting suggesting a blue “river” of life that Laughlin moves along. The show’s most profound emotional moment comes when he dances a response to a film projection of his young, vital self performing—at one point, the former gymnast pulls off a front flip that turns into the splits, a feat that’s clearly out of reach for someone in their 60s. It is a duet that crosses time and space, the Laughlin of today not so much confronting the years but expressing gratitude for this ghostly, extraordinary younger self, as well as philosophically accepting the eternal march of time.
Laughlin’s gift is to keep all this feeling selfless in a way that celebrates his colleagues and connections over the years. Before temporarily heading offstage, he acknowledges that he can’t even watch the South African footage with his audience because he might break into tears. Often, I remember… feels like such a casual, intimate conversation that you forget it’s a performance.
Ultimately, this uncategorizable piece may work best as a guide for life. It’s a reminder to get up and stretch, to breathe, to be grateful for the past. To accept and see yourself as a small speck flowing down an infinite river. And, above all, to keep moving forward. 
