Integrating East and West: A Personal Journey from Dance to Directing at the 2025 NIPAI Hungary Intensive
- Xueni Yang
- Aug 11
- 10 min read
Updated: Aug 21
Bridging Meyerhold’s Biomechanics and Qi Cheng Zhuan He through Chinese Dance
— A Reflection on Movement Training for Stage Actors
Writer’s Note:
This reflection was originally written as a creative report for the NIPAI Hungary Intensive 2025, where I served as an assistant and contributed to the morning training sessions. I’m sharing it here as part of my ongoing documentation of movement research, intercultural pedagogy, and artistic practice.
First of all, I would like to begin this reflection paper by expressing my gratitude to Sergei and the NIPAI team who are flexible and open-minded as mentors and program organizers. I originally joined the workshop expecting to assist with logistics and documentation, similar to what Kseniia had done in the April Berlin session. However, Sergei encouraged me to lead the morning training after realizing a large part of Meyerhold’s exercises were adapted directly from my dance practices in China. Thus, I had the chance to fill in the missing context that I believed was necessary. Many gestures and steps that we were practicing were approached primarily as forms, without the accompanying mood and spirit rooted in their cultural origin, and sometimes with a different stress on tempo.
However, those gestures were mostly created based on the daily activities of the ethnic group in China, relating to the traditional life style and shaped by the living environment. Studying the gestures in its pure form leads to a change in the aesthetic of the movement. I do not mind this aesthetic change and separation from context in the later stage of a creative study, however, I believe it matters when we just begin to learn it, especially after seeing the perplexed face of my fellow participants.
Meyerhold's biomechanics: a system of physical acting developed by Russian director Vsevolod Meyerhold in the early 20th century — emphasizes intention, precision, and control in physical movement to train actors.
As a director and actress, I also have been wondering what sets my acting apart from other actors. All my directors friends like to use me as an actress. They think it is interesting to see me doing those repetitive mundane daily activities since it becomes appealing in some ways. Working as a director, I also had a hard time finding actors who have a subtle but intentional filled movement like I do, and who is able to turn a simple action into an emotional charged scene. In order to find that type of actors, I used to look for dancers to play in my films. It was an intuitive approach based on my knowledge in Chinese acting education — those who were first trained as professional dancers were more likely to become phenomenon actors with strong sensitivity and nuanced performance, such as Ziyi Zhang (known for Memoirs of a Geisha). However, it did not work well as I expected.
The European dancers showed strong body control and spatial awareness, though their stage presence tended to manifest differently — especially in moments of stillness — compared with what I had experienced in Chinese-trained performers. When they have to act with minimal movement or being still, their presence was often not strong enough to keep the audience attention.
I saw the same issue in my fellow participants in NIPAI Hungary workshop. Without the option to see them in a close-up shot as it is in a film, this lack of presence appeared to be more critical, making the slow movement we were doing lacking a sense of life. I intuitively thought the way of improving it is to expand their physicality. Therefore, I did various dancing exercises in the morning sessions, using both Chinese dance and western contemporary dance approaches.
I taught the Chinese dance element through Meyerhold’s biomechanics, trying the contemporary dance exercises and camera acting exercise with them. On one hand, the Chinese classical dance was the key to set the frame, elevating simple gestures into dramatic aesthetic performance with its emphasis on gaze and head movement. On the other hand, contemporary dance training was a channel to go beyond the rigid structure, loose up the body, and ground it back into modern context that appreciates more daily gestures, rough spontaneity, and direct edgy approach. Through the training in both dancing styles, the actors should have been able to learn various body mechanics, the integration of breath and intention, the principles to move using momentum, and the tricks to protect yourself during drastic movements. The continuous practice would improve the range of their physicality and the emotional impact of their performance.
However, I still felt something was missing in the very last rehearsals after spending days correcting their movements. Maggie probably saw the look on my face and asked me, “What was missing?” The best word I could describe to her was: “Life. I don’t see the eagerness of acting, or eagerness of living in your eyes.” It was an issue that I did not know how to solve during the intensive workshop. I tried to describe to them the possible circumstances behind the gestures. It helped a little, but not much. I have to admit that it was part of the reasons I wanted them to put on the masks for the peacock dance, so the audience’s focus would shift away from the eyes and toward the overall movement quality.
After some research and intense review of my own acting and dancing experience, I realized that I never taught them how to send out the energy and intention from the core of the body, to the chest and shoulders, to the arms, to the hands and fingers, and finally to somewhere further into the space while coordinating with the head and gaze movement. In contemporary dance, a teacher usually asks dancers to imagine a balloon filling up in the center of the belly, so they can quickly grasp the feeling of sending energy, majorly focusing on body parts. In Chinese classical dance, it is an entire set of training that integrate breathing, physical movement, and space together through the corresponding emotions. In addition, head and gaze have their specific way of moving, incorporating with the body movement. In Csurgo, we started the day with breathing exercises every morning following Sergei and Gennadiy. It also requires sending the energy flow from the core to fingertips instead of simply lifting arms. I regretted not thinking of these exercises earlier.
There is a strong connection between Meyerhold’s biomechanics and Chinese classical dance. On the first glance, Meyerhold’s biomechanics seems to be another set of jargons to express the same meaning of Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合) to me. However, as I continues teaching the Chinese dance with his terms, I realized there are significant differences despite the shared concepts.
In Meyerhold’s biomechanics, the 4 principles of movements are defined as otkaz (the preparation for action), pocil (the action with intention), stoika (the end of the action) and tormos (the brakes or control of an action; in other words, the resistance applied during the movement in dance). In Chinese classical dance, the 4 principles of movements are defined as Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合).
Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合）: Although I am discussing the concept of Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合） in the movement context, it is an aesthetic that is applied to various art forms in China, including music, calligraphy, poetry, and films. They are principles for not only movement, but also music and dramaturgy. It provides a guide to create pure emotional arc without story, a framework for creating contrast and dynamic in both short and long forms. To shape a longer form of performance, choreography, or narration, a creator can design compelling dynamic by matching the dynamic of multiple small segments of Qi Cheng Zhuan He together to form a bigger dynamic of Qi Cheng Zhuan He. Its alternative Japanese name, Kishōtenketsu (起承転結), may be more widely known in the western community, although often mistaken as a pure non-conflict storytelling structure while it can be totally incorporated with conflict-driven storytelling and applying to multiple art forms.
Qi (起) means the beginning of the action, the rising of intent, the awakening of the emotional core. It often begins with a breath before movement, and corresponds to Meyerhold’s otkaz (preparation of action).
Cheng (承) is the development and continuation of the movement. However, besides the physical development, it is also a “stretch” of the emotion, deepening the established state more than pushing the story forward. It corresponds to Meyerhold’s pocil (sending the action, moving with intention) and tormos (the control during movement). While moving, a performer needs to send the intention through every single movements using breath, head, fingers, and gaze.
Zhuan (转) refers to a change in rhythm or perception. In movements, it could mean Meyerhold’s tormos (the control during movement) to some extent — when a dancer applies control or adding resistance to his movement, it will slow down the movement or create a quick, light pause in the middle of a smooth movement. It creates the similar effect as creating a change, a Zhuan, and introduces more dynamic in the rhythm. However, the usage of Zhuan is more versatile. I will return to this topic later.
He (合) means ending of the movement by gathering the energy, a return with transformation. It is also the preparation for the Qi (起), so it is never a complete closure or stop of movements. It corresponds to Meyerhold’s stoika (stop).
The difference in the specific approaches of conducting movement results in difference in aesthetics. Firstly, there is more emphasis on the completely stop and stillness between each move in Meyerhold’s biomechanics. In contrast, in Chinese classical dance, there is never a complete stillness. While the physical movement itself has stopped, the body continues the intention to move — the arms and legs keep stretching further, the breath keeps the energy flowing around the body. Thus, the gesture itself feels continuously alive in motion even if it seems to be still. This nuanced state keeps the performer ready to jump into another movement with another breath. Metaphorically, the overall movement aesthetic feels like a feather that never completely lands on the ground. A wind will always pick it up into the air right before it lands completely and sinks into dead stillness.
Secondly, the concept of Qi Cheng Zhuan He is based on circular motion. It starts, expands the energy, turns it around, and gathers it back to the original point to complete a circular motion. Thus, the entire movement has a relatively smooth natural transition. Once you begin the first step, you can smoothly flow into the second step following the circular momentum. Alternatively, you can set the intention for the next move before the end of the previous movement, your body will find the circular path to connect them with little effort. In Meyerhold’s biomechanics, the movement dynamic feels more linear and separated since the flow will be completely interrupted at stoika. The change in directions feels more like a sharp divergence from the initial path than a smooth natural transition.
Thirdly, the use of Zhuan (twist, change) in Chinese classical dance seems to be a distinctive principle that determines the aesthetic of the movement by distributing time unevenly. Often, the application of Zhuan results in uneven elastic tempo in dance movement and music — Qi (start) is very fast and short, Cheng (develop) is slow and long, Zhuan (twist, change) is fast and short again, while He (end, gather energy, return with transformation) can be either shorter, becoming a part of Zhuan, or be slow and long again, providing an aftertaste of the major movement. It sounds like a stretch on the first beat before giving a quick knock on the following one or two beats. This elastic tempo is a crucial element to keep audience interested even if they could not comprehend it intellectually .
In addition, Zhuan has a wide range of application. It can be a change in directions, movement quality, pacing, musical or visual texture, and dramaturgy, etc. It can be as small as a change of the direction of head or hand in a continuous movement sequence, or as big as the change of the entire atmosphere of the performance. It may happen in just one aspect, or it may happen in multiple aspects based on the choice of the creator. The ultimate goal of Zhuan is to create contrast by introducing variation to what was established before — it can go against the previous tone, or keep developing it by adding more layers of elements, deepening experience to a new level.
The reason I draw this close comparison between Meyerhold’s biomechanics and Chinese classical dance is not because I want to discuss which is better or more advanced, although Chinese classical dance and Qi Cheng Zhuan He will take longer time to learn because of their complexity and ambiguity. It is worth noting that Chinese classical dance only begins to emerge and develop around 1980s, after China has learned the ballet training method from Soviet Union. The first systematic study and organization on Chinese dance styles happened around 1950s. Chinese dancers not only borrowed the movements from Chinese opera, martial arts, but also borrowed the training method from ballet, which was brought to China by Soviet dancers. To stabilize the style and aesthetic, separating it from other dance and theater forms, they invented a
specific training on Shenyun (身韵), or body rhythm, which incorporates breath, the direction of force and energy, rhythm, intention, emotion, and spatial awareness together into simple movement training. When the economic struggles and political chaos eventually resolved in 1980s, this Chinese dance style surged into development in China. From the historical perspective, Chinese classical dance was invented after Meyerhold’s biomechanics. They share the same root, as both drew inspiration from the ethnic dances of China, martial arts, and Chinese opera, and invented two distinctive aesthetics and movement styles to suit different performers.
Chinese Dance: Usually, the word “Chinese dance” includes Chinese classical dance, ethnic, and folk dance. Chinese ethnic dance draws from the traditional movement vocabularies of China's 56 ethnic groups, though in practice, the training system focuses on a selection of major styles such as Tibetan, Mongolian, Uyghur, Dai (peacock dance), Korean-Chinese, and Han folk dance. As far as I know, Meyerhold adapted Dai dance into the biomechanics basic training exercise.
In some ways, Chinese classical dance could be seen as a continuation of Meyerhold’s approach in certain conceptual aspects, with additional consideration of breath, energy, space, and emotion. It also incorporated dramaturgy of movements by applying Qi Cheng Zhuan He in each movement and in the entire performance piece. Thus, after studying Chinese classical dance for many years, dancers usually have an intuitive understanding in musicality of the movement and their spatial relationship with the audience and the stage. They know how to play with tempos to deliver their movements in different mood, or simply to make it more enjoyable and attract the attention. They also know how to position their body, arms, and head for the spectators (or the camera), making sure they reveal an interesting, emotionally-charged shape.
As a director, dancer and teacher, I would teach some of basic concepts in Chinese classical dance — Shenyun (身韵), Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合), Chinese 8-point direction — as a supplementary training for Meyerhold’s biomechanics to help actors improve the effectiveness of the gesture and movement through the use of breathing, rhythm, and space. These elements are the key to connect with the audience, to create the illusion of emotion, and to portray characters. These methods are foundational yet versatile that they can be adapted across a wide range of creative contexts—from stage performance to music, film, and commercial storytelling.
Written Aug. 1st, 2025
Comments