Integrating East and West: A Personal Journey from Dance to Directing at the 2025 NIPAI Hungary Intensive

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 express my gratitude to Sergei and the NIPAI team. They are flexible and open-minded 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. He realized that many 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 we practiced were approached primarily as forms. They lacked the accompanying mood and spirit rooted in their cultural origin and sometimes had a different stress on tempo.

However, those gestures were created based on the daily activities of ethnic groups in China. They relate to traditional lifestyles and are shaped by the living environment. Studying the gestures in their 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 stages of creative study. However, I believe it matters when we just begin to learn it, especially after seeing the perplexed faces of my fellow participants.

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"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.",

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As a director and actress, I often wonder what sets my acting apart from others. My director friends enjoy using me as an actress. They find it interesting to see me perform repetitive, mundane daily activities. It becomes appealing in some ways. As a director, I have struggled to find actors who possess subtle yet intentional movements like mine. I look for those who can turn a simple action into an emotionally charged scene. To find such actors, I often sought dancers for my films. This was an intuitive approach based on my knowledge of Chinese acting education. Those trained as professional dancers were more likely to become phenomenal actors with strong sensitivity and nuanced performances, like Ziyi Zhang, known for Memoirs of a Geisha. However, this approach did not yield the results I expected.

European dancers displayed strong body control and spatial awareness. Yet, their stage presence often manifested differently—especially in moments of stillness—compared to what I experienced with Chinese-trained performers. When they had to act with minimal movement or remain still, their presence often lacked the strength to capture the audience's attention.

I noticed the same issue with my fellow participants in the NIPAI Hungary workshop. Without the option to see them in a close-up shot, as in film, this lack of presence became more critical. The slow movements we practiced lacked a sense of life. I intuitively thought the solution was to expand their physicality. Therefore, I incorporated various dance exercises into the morning sessions, using both Chinese dance and Western contemporary dance approaches.

I taught the Chinese dance elements through Meyerhold’s biomechanics. We tried contemporary dance exercises and camera acting exercises together. On one hand, Chinese classical dance set the frame, elevating simple gestures into dramatic aesthetic performances with its emphasis on gaze and head movement. On the other hand, contemporary dance training provided a channel to break free from rigid structures, loosen the body, and ground it back into a modern context that appreciates daily gestures, rough spontaneity, and direct, edgy approaches. Through training in both dance styles, the actors should have learned various body mechanics, the integration of breath and intention, principles for moving using momentum, and tricks for protecting themselves during drastic movements. Continuous practice would improve their physical range and the emotional impact of their performances.

However, I still felt something was missing in the final rehearsals after spending days correcting their movements. Maggie probably saw the look on my face and asked, “What was missing?” The best word I could find to describe it was: “Life. I don’t see the eagerness of acting, or the eagerness of living in your eyes.” This was an issue I struggled to solve during the intensive workshop. I attempted to describe the possible circumstances behind the gestures. It helped a little, but not much. I must admit that part of the reason I wanted them to wear masks for the peacock dance was to shift the audience’s focus away from their eyes and toward the overall movement quality.

After some research and intense reflection on my own acting and dancing experiences, I realized that I had never taught them how to send energy and intention from the core of the body to the chest and shoulders, to the arms, to the hands and fingers, and finally into the space while coordinating with head and gaze movements. In contemporary dance, a teacher usually asks dancers to imagine a balloon filling up in the center of their belly. This helps them grasp the feeling of sending energy, focusing on body parts. In Chinese classical dance, it is an entire set of training that integrates breathing, physical movement, and space through corresponding emotions. Additionally, head and gaze have specific ways of moving, incorporating with body movement. In Csurgo, we started each day with breathing exercises, following Sergei and Gennadiy. This also requires sending energy flow from the core to the fingertips instead of simply lifting the arms. I regretted not thinking of these exercises earlier.",

There is a strong connection between Meyerhold’s biomechanics and Chinese classical dance. At first glance, Meyerhold’s biomechanics may seem like another set of jargon expressing the same meaning as Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合). However, as I continued teaching Chinese dance using his terms, I realized there are significant differences despite the shared concepts.",

In Meyerhold’s biomechanics, the four principles of movement 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 movement in dance). In Chinese classical dance, the four principles of movement are defined as Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合).

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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 context of movement, it is an aesthetic applied to various art forms in China, including music, calligraphy, poetry, and films. These principles guide the creation of pure emotional arcs without a story, providing a framework for creating contrast and dynamics in both short and long forms. To shape a longer performance, choreography, or narration, a creator can design compelling dynamics by matching the dynamics of multiple small segments of Qi Cheng Zhuan He together to form a larger 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 it is often mistaken as a purely non-conflict storytelling structure. It can be incorporated with conflict-driven storytelling and applied to multiple art forms.

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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 for action).

Cheng (承) is the development and continuation of the movement. However, beyond physical development, it is also a “stretch” of the emotion, deepening the established state without merely 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 intention through every single movement 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 adds resistance to their movement, it can slow down the movement or create a quick, light pause in the middle of a smooth motion. This creates a similar effect to a change, a Zhuan, introducing more dynamics into the rhythm. However, the usage of Zhuan is more versatile. I will return to this topic later.

He (合) means the ending of the movement by gathering energy, returning with transformation. It also prepares for the Qi (起), so it is never a complete closure or stop of movement. It corresponds to Meyerhold’s stoika (stop).

The differences in specific approaches to conducting movement result in differences in aesthetics. Firstly, there is more emphasis on complete stops and stillness between each move in Meyerhold’s biomechanics. In contrast, in Chinese classical dance, there is never complete stillness. While the physical movement itself has stopped, the body continues the intention to move. The arms and legs keep stretching further, and the breath keeps the energy flowing around the body. Thus, the gesture feels continuously alive in motion, even if it appears 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 is completely interrupted at stoika. The change in direction 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 appears to be a distinctive principle that shapes the aesthetic of movement by distributing time unevenly. Often, the application of Zhuan results in uneven elastic tempo in dance movements 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 part of Zhuan, or be slow and long again, providing an aftertaste of the major movement. This elastic tempo is crucial for keeping the audience engaged, even if they cannot comprehend it intellectually.

Additionally, Zhuan has a wide range of applications. It can signify a change in direction, movement quality, pacing, musical or visual texture, and dramaturgy, among others. It can be as small as a change in the direction of the head or hand in a continuous movement sequence or as significant as a change in the entire atmosphere of the performance. It may occur in just one aspect or multiple aspects based on the creator's choices. 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 continue developing it by adding more layers of elements, deepening the experience to a new level.

The reason I draw this close comparison between Meyerhold’s biomechanics and Chinese classical dance is not to discuss which is better or more advanced. Although Chinese classical dance and Qi Cheng Zhuan He may take longer to learn due to their complexity and ambiguity, it is worth noting that Chinese classical dance began to emerge and develop around the 1980s, after China learned the ballet training method from the Soviet Union. The first systematic study and organization of Chinese dance styles occurred around the 1950s. Chinese dancers borrowed movements from Chinese opera and martial arts, as well as the training method from ballet 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, direction of force and energy, rhythm, intention, emotion, and spatial awareness into simple movement training. When the economic struggles and political chaos eventually resolved in the 1980s, this Chinese dance style surged into development. From a historical perspective, Chinese classical dance was invented after Meyerhold’s biomechanics. They share the same roots, as both drew inspiration from the ethnic dances of China, martial arts, and Chinese opera, creating two distinctive aesthetics and movement styles to suit different performers.

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Chinese Dance: Usually, the term “Chinese dance” encompasses Chinese classical dance, ethnic, and folk dance. Chinese ethnic dance draws from the traditional movement vocabularies of China's 56 ethnic groups. However, 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 basic training exercises of biomechanics.

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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 incorporates the dramaturgy of movements by applying Qi Cheng Zhuan He in each movement and throughout the entire performance piece. Thus, after studying Chinese classical dance for many years, dancers usually develop an intuitive understanding of the musicality of movement and their spatial relationship with the audience and the stage. They know how to play with tempos to deliver their movements in different moods or simply to make them more enjoyable and attract attention. They also understand how to position their body, arms, and head for the spectators (or the camera), ensuring they reveal an interesting, emotionally charged shape.

As a director, dancer, and teacher, I teach some of the basic concepts in Chinese classical dance—Shenyun (身韵), Qi Cheng Zhuan He (起承转合), and the Chinese 8-point direction—as supplementary training for Meyerhold’s biomechanics. This helps actors improve the effectiveness of their gestures and movements through the use of breathing, rhythm, and space. These elements are key to connecting with the audience, creating the illusion of emotion, and portraying characters. These foundational yet versatile methods can be adapted across a wide range of creative contexts—from stage performance to music, film, and commercial storytelling.

Written on Aug. 1st, 2025