At CNTRFLD.ART, we’ve been captivated by Bulareyaung Pagarlava’s work — not only for its striking movement and poetic use of space, but for the way it nurtures and celebrates the lives of his dancers. Born in Taitung and belonging to Taiwan’s Paiwan tribe, Bulareyaung’s heritage sits at the very heart of his artistic language. His relationship with land, ritual, and identity shapes everything he creates, and the Bulareyaung Dance Company (BDC) has become an extension of that lineage — a place where Indigenous knowledge and contemporary expression are given equal dignity.

BDC is more than a performance ensemble; it is a living, breathing community where culture, identity, and creativity intertwine. After our initial conversation with Bulareyaung, we found ourselves eager to explore further. BDC is so deeply woven into his artistic journey that it deserves its own spotlight, and our curiosity at CNTRFLD.ART simply could not be contained.

We returned with a second set of questions, hoping to uncover more about the rhythms, challenges, and inspirations that shape both the company and its dancers — a window into a practice that is as much about personal growth as it is about performance. This follow-up interview delves into the origins of BDC, the distinctive paths of its dancers, and the ways in which tradition, improvisation, and trust form the foundation of Bulareyaung’s work — offering insight into a company that moves with heart, honesty, and a profound connection to the land and its heritage.

CNTRFLD. Origins and Encounters

Many of your dancers come from tribal communities and may not have had formal dance training before joining your company. How did those first meetings happen — did you find them, or did they somehow find you? What draws you to certain people and makes you feel they belong in the Bulareyaung Dance Company?

BDC. A pure heart, an honest body, and a real hunger to dance.

We hold an open audition every year at the end of the year. Because there are no restrictions, the process is always full of surprises. From this wide range of people, we look for the souls who feel right to work with. So, it’s not necessarily the best technical dancers who join the company. Some are graduates from Taipei National University of the Arts; others are Indigenous dancers with no formal training. Apart from physical ability, everyone must also be able to sing — and that’s something not everyone can do. It’s this combination that has shaped our dancers’ distinct personalities and our company’s unique character of being equally strong in both singing and dancing.

CNTRFLD. Shared Journeys

Your dancers often speak of rediscovering their roots through your work. How do you guide them through this process — helping them translate memory, song, or daily life into movement?

BDC. I think it’s the environment in Taitung — the slower rhythm of life. It taught me not to force immediate results. I learned to slow down and spend more time with the dancers, letting them create and speak for themselves. Through that journey of self-exploration and self-questioning, they find their identity again and reconnect with their roots. Once the roots are steady, a unique flower naturally blooms.

CNTRFLD. Becoming Dancers

Some of your company members began with little or no professional training. How do you approach developing them as dancers — not just technically, but emotionally and creatively? What kind of transformation do you witness as they grow through the company’s work?

BDC. Daily morning training is essential. In addition to Indigenous traditional dance and music, we train in ballet, contemporary, street dance, yoga — building a strong foundation is important. Afternoon rehearsals are for exploring the body. There was a time when dancers told me: “Stop working with us using your Taipei mindset. Stop asking us to imagine. Take us to the mountains — let us do real physical labour. Only then can we develop the movement you want.”

So rehearsals began happening outside the studio — clearing land in the mountains, feeling the waves by the sea, letting real sensations settle into the body. This is rare in most dance companies.

For dancers with formal training, they were used to instruction-based work and were frustrated by how much time we spent outdoors — they thought it was a waste of time. Meanwhile, the non-trained dancers wondered why they still had to learn ballet or contemporary techniques. When these two mindsets collided, we had to find a new way of dancing.
So we asked them to become each other’s teachers. Non-trained dancers learned discipline and structure; trained dancers learned to let go of habitual movement and allow the body to be free.

By the third year, their attitudes slowly shifted. After five years, this way of working became natural. We broke conventions, learned from one another, and since everyone started from different places, we built a new starting point together — creating a dance language of our own.

CNTRFLD. Tradition in Motion

In pieces like <LUNA>, you draw from Indigenous songs and rituals, yet the results feel deeply contemporary. Could you walk us through how your dancers participate in shaping that process — from listening and research to improvisation and choreography?

BDC. The Bunun “Praise for the War Achievements” helped dancers find their own connection to tradition. As the Bunun elders said: “We never knew this ritual could be transformed in such a way. We can hear the dancers’ stories yet still feel the spirit of the tradition. It is truly moving.”

For the first three years of developing LUNA, I intentionally stopped the trained dancers from using their habitual movement vocabulary. Instead, I had them walk, stomp, crawl — very simple actions — repeated with traditional songs until the songs soaked into their bodies. Only when we began developing the “Praise for the War Achievements” section did I allow them to fully let their bodies dance. One dancer said: “All the movement that had been suppressed for years suddenly exploded during that section. What came out wasn’t the habitual technique from my training — it came directly from the sound. It felt incredible.”

Time matters. Waiting allows dancers to discover the transformation themselves — and that change is far more genuine than anything I could tell them.

CNTRFLD. Identity on Stage

Your choreography often touches on Indigenous identity — and sometimes sexuality — in ways that feel both intimate and brave. How do you create a rehearsal environment where your dancers feel free to express these personal and sometimes vulnerable stories?

BDC. I suppose it’s trust.

When we first founded the company, we rented a small flat and lived together — six dancers who had moved from other places. Life and work were deeply intertwined. We built a strong sense of camaraderie. As Indigenous people, we also naturally do everything together: eight hours of rehearsal, meals together, days off together. For the first five years, this was our life. We shared everything — joy, frustration, tears.

So, when it came to creation, we could catch each other instinctively. Improvisation developed quickly because of this trust. But when the dancers had to present these intimate stories to an audience, it became very raw, even painful. I act as the final gatekeeper. I give them the right to choose — once they’re on stage, they can return to themselves. They decide whether to reveal or to turn away. This is what built the company’s semi-improvised performance style, strong instincts, and deep trust in one another.

CNTRFLD. Resistance and Perception

Taiwan’s contemporary dance scene has evolved, but stereotypes still linger — about what Indigenous art should look like, or what masculinity should be on stage. How do you and your dancers challenge these expectations through your performances?

BDC. The company is what it is today because of each dancer’s individuality. I simply highlight their qualities in the work and encourage them not to fear showing who they truly are. Natural, unforced expression — that completes the work without losing themselves.

But this is still performance, and ultimately we face the audience’s criticism.

When Colors premiered in 2016, I was extremely nervous. There was none of the dance vocabulary audiences were used to — it looked like a group of boys playing by the sea. But after the performance, the enthusiastic response gave dancers confidence and opened a new path for us — with song, dance, laughter, and above all, humanity.

CNTRFLD. Language and Voice

Your dancers often sing in their native languages, and sometimes even transcribe oral songs to preserve them. How does this practice shape the rhythm of your choreography, and how does it strengthen their own sense of identity?

BDC. Honestly, our focus is simply to make good work — and the rest unfolds naturally.

Often, only after a performance ends do we realise how much more could grow from it. Everyone has different insights. We often sit together and share what each person experienced or discovered. Hearing others’ reflections also allows each dancer to reflect on themselves.

CNTRFLD. Life in Taitung

Your rehearsal space sits between the sea and the mountains — a place that feels both raw and sacred. What is daily life like for the company there? How does living and working together in Taitung influence your creative process?

BDC. There is nothing more comforting than going home.

Back in Taitung, I have more time to visit the mountains and eat with my family, and I go to the seaside far more often. Living in such vast nature opens the heart.

Life in Taitung is simple, so material desires decrease. You treasure what you have. This simplicity allows creativity to emerge from everyday details. Our works reflect this way of living.

A viewer once wrote after watching Colors “I saw the sea, I touched the sea, I heard the sea, I smelled the sea. When the blue-and-white tarpaulin brushed my feet, my tears fell.” I think that feeling comes directly from our life in Taitung.

CNTRFLD. Dialogue with Elders

Your dancers often return to their home villages to learn songs and stories directly from elders. How do they approach these exchanges — and how do you support them in ensuring these traditions are passed on with respect but also room for reinterpretation?

BDC. We’ve been lucky. Over the past ten years, so many elders have been willing to share their wisdom with us. Beyond the cultural knowledge itself, what moves me most is seeing the dancers’ desire to learn and the elders’ generosity. Whether or not these materials end up in our works, these exchanges are among the most precious experiences of our lives.

To me, tradition is the accumulation of past daily life. We carry forward what is good. The company is also creating its own traditions. Before each performance, we gather in a circle with a bottle of rice wine and two wooden cups. Each person speaks to their ancestors, asking for a safe and smooth performance. After the show, we do the same to give thanks.

Respecting tradition is essential. We never touch what must not be touched. But creation must be free — otherwise it loses meaning and value. Before the curtain rises, we make one final check. Only when everything feels right do we share it with the audience.

CNTRFLD. Looking Ahead

You’ve built a company that bridges ritual, modernity, and identity. What do you hope the next generation of Indigenous dancers in Taiwan will inherit from this collective journey — both artistically and in spirit?

BDC. This, I don’t know — I am, after all, a choreographer. My responsibility is simply to create good work.

But I’m fortunate to have a group of Indigenous performers who love performing and are willing to dream with me — to create stories that belong to us. I hope our stories move us and move others. I hope they heal, comfort, and bring a little change to someone’s life.

Every dancer’s time in the company is different, and eventually they all leave. My only wish is that when they do, they become better people — keeping a childlike heart, sharing generously, caring for their communities, and facing the wider world with confidence.

About Bulareyaung Pagarlava.

Bulareyaung Pagarlava is from the Paiwan tribe of Taiwan. He aspired to become a dancer when he was twelve. After he graduated from the Dance Department, Taipei National University of the Arts, Bulareyaung joined the Cloud Gate Dance Theatre. He was awarded a fellowship by the Asian Cultural Council to study in New York in 1998, and has created dance pieces for the Cloud Gate Dance Theatre, Cloud Gate 2, and the Martha Graham Dance Company.

His works are highly contagious, pure, and unique, and have received world recognition. Bulareyaung was selected as one of the Ten Outstanding Young Persons of Taiwan in 2012 and National Award of Arts presented by the National Culture and Arts Foundation in 2022. He went back to his hometown Taitung and founded the Bulareyaung Dance Company in 2015.

About BDC (Bulareyaung Dance Company).

Bulareyaung Dance Company (BDC) was founded in 2015 in Taitung by Bulareyaung Pagarlava, an indigenous choreographer from Taiwan. Creation of dance pieces and dancer training are accomplished by working in the mountains and singing old chants by the waterside. Dancers develop unique body movements and vocabulary by delving into their indigenous heritage and culture through regular field trips. 

Since its founding, BDC has presented several productions,including La Song (2015), Qaciljay (2016), Colors (2016), Stay That Way (2017), Luna (2018), #Yes or No (2019), Not Afraid of the Sun and Rain (2021), Rustling, Whirring (2022), tiaen tiamen Episode 1 (2023), and tiaen tiamen Episode 2 (2024). Stay That Way won the Taishin Performing Arts Award in 2018, and Luna further won the coveted Taishin Arts Award Annual Grand Prize in 2019. It is the first performing troupe to be awarded in two consecutive years.

BDC has been invited to various performances, and has also toured to Canada, Singapore, Japan, Malaysia, Australia, France, USA and Germany. 

With thanks to Yongwei Liao, Executive Director of the Bulareyaung (BDC) Dance Company for facilitating this conversation

Original interview in Chinese:

訪談：布拉瑞揚（Bulareyaung Pagarlava）談他的舞團與舞者

1. 起點與相遇

您的許多舞者來自部落社群，加入舞團前並沒有受過正式的舞蹈訓練。當初你們是如何相遇的？是您主動找到他們，還是他們找上您？當您遇見一個人時，什麼特質會讓您覺得「他屬於BulaReyaung舞團」？
有一顆純潔的心，誠實的身體，還有對跳舞的渴望。

舞者是透過每年年底的公開徵選，因為沒有限制，所以徵選過程非常精彩。我們就從眾多的人選當中，找到最合適可以一起工作的靈魂，所以不一定是跳最好的才能加入舞團。有臺北藝術大學畢業的學生，還有非科班的原住民舞者，除了肢體條件之外，他們每一個都必須能開口唱歌，這個條件就不一定是大家都有的，所以也造就舞團能歌能舞的特色，舞者個性鮮明的風格。

2. 共同的旅程

您的舞者常提到，透過您的作品重新發現了自己的根。您是如何引導他們完成這個過程的——幫助他們把記憶、歌聲或日常生活轉化成舞動的身體語言？
我認為應該是台東的環境，慢活的步調，讓我不再強迫一定要立即看到成果，學著開始放慢，花時間放在舞者身上，讓他們創作，為自己發聲，在自我發掘跟探問的過程中，找回自我認同，找回自己的根。根穩了，自然就能開出獨特的花。

3. 成為舞者

有些舞團成員起初幾乎沒有專業舞蹈背景。您如何培養他們——不只是技巧上的訓練，還包括情感與創意上的成長？在他們參與舞團的歷程中，您看見了哪些轉變？

基本上，每天早上的基本訓練是必須的，除了原住民傳統樂舞之外，還有芭蕾、現代、街舞、瑜珈等等，把基礎打穩是很重要的。下午的排練，就是身體的自我開發訓練，曾經有一次排練，舞者直接跟我說：「不要再用台北的腦袋跟我們工作，不要在叫我們想像了」「你帶我們去山上，真正的去勞動，我們才能發展出你想要肢體」。後來我們的排練就不只是在排練室，可能上山除草整理農地，很多時候就到海邊感受海浪的拍打，把真實的感受留在身體，這在一般舞團是很少有的經驗跟機會。
對於科班生的舞者來說，他們已經習慣指令式的工作方式，習慣在排練場發想動作，認爲我們花太多時間外出，覺得這些都在放費時間。而非科班的舞者來說，為什麼還要練芭蕾、現代舞，這些學院的技術，當時看到兩種思維的碰撞，那麼就必須找到一個新的跳舞方式，所以要求他們成為彼此的老師，非科班舞者要學習學院的規範跟自律，科班生舞者要學習放下身體的習慣，讓身體自由。創團到第三年之後，舞者的心態才慢慢的好轉並接受，直到五年之後，這樣的工作模式才變得自然。所以打破常規，教學相長，既然我們的起跑點都不同，那不如我們找到新的一個起點，一起創造屬於我們的舞蹈。

4. 傳統的流動

像《LUNA》這樣的作品，取材自原住民的歌謠與儀式，卻又帶有強烈的當代感。能否談談舞者在這個創作過程中的參與——從傾聽、研究，到即興與編舞，他們是如何一同形塑作品的？

布農族的報戰功讓舞者找到自己跟傳統的連結。如布農族的耆老說的：「原來傳統的報戰功也可以這樣被轉換，不但可以聽見舞者的故事，同時也保留了原來傳統的精神，讓人特別感動」。

《路吶》發表的前三年，我刻意不讓科班生使用他們熟悉的身體，而是透過大量的踩踏，走路，爬行，非常簡單的動作，配著傳統歌，不斷重複，讓歌吃進他們的身體，直到報戰功的段落發展，我才允許他們放膽用身體去舞動，其中一個舞者說：「原來這些年被壓抑的身體，瞬間在報戰功爆發，而展現出來的肢體，不但沒有過去學院時期的慣性，而能直覺得從聲音中看見身體，跳起來特別過癮。」時間的等待很重要，等待是為了讓舞者自己發現這個變化，這個變化遠比我直接告訴他們來得更真切。

5. 舞台上的身分

您的編舞作品常觸及原住民族的身分議題，有時也探討性別與身體的表達，既親密又勇敢。您如何營造一個讓舞者能自在表達這些私密而敏感主題的排練空間？

我想應該是信任吧！

創團初起，租了一間小公寓，跟著外地來的6位舞者一起生活，生活跟工作特別緊密，特別深的革命情感，加上原住民的特性，所以做什麼事情大家都要一起，排練8小時，吃飯要一起，假日出遊也要一起，創團的前五年大概都是這樣生活。所以彼此好像沒有什麼秘密，喜怒哀樂都一起度過。所以到了創作的時候，總是能接住對方，即興的時候，也能很快的發展延伸。不過當他們要呈現給觀眾的時候，又顯得太過赤裸，所以對舞者來說也是一個非常殘忍，所以我就是最後把關的那個人，也給他們最後選擇的權利，上了台，每一個人都可以回到自己，想不想說，要不要轉彎，都自己決定，也因此造就了大家在台上半即興的能力，良好的默契跟對彼此的信任。

6. 抵抗與觀點

台灣的當代舞蹈已逐漸成熟，但仍存在一些刻板印象——關於「原住民藝術應該是什麼樣子」，或「男性舞者該如何表現」。您與舞者如何透過表演挑戰這些既有的觀點？

其實舞團會走到今天，都是因為舞者的個人特質，我只是有意地，把他們的特質放在作品當中，鼓勵他們不要害在呈現自己真實性格，也鼓勵他們勇敢地在作品中，把自己的樣子展現出來。不張揚，自然流露，完成作品的表達，但又不失自己。

雖然很鼓勵他們做自己，但畢竟這是表演，最終還是要面對觀眾的檢視跟批評。

2016年的時候，《漂亮漂亮》的首演，我特別緊張，因為這個作品沒有大家熟悉的舞蹈，看起來像是一群在海邊嬉鬧的男孩們，直到演出結束，獲得觀眾的熱烈喜愛之後，不但給了舞者信心，也讓我們打開了一個新的可能，有歌有舞，有說有笑，最重要的是還有人。

7. 語言與聲音

您的舞者經常以母語歌唱，有時甚至將口傳的歌曲記錄成文字以保存。這樣的實踐如何影響作品的節奏與編舞？又如何深化他們對自身文化與身分的理解？

實話，只要好好的把作品做好，剩下的就讓它自然發展衍伸吧。

很多時候，一直到演出結束之後，才會發現，原來還能有這麼多的後續發展，這是當初創作的時候沒有想過的。每一個個體都有不同的體悟，因人而異，所以我們常常圍坐在一起分享彼此的看見跟感受，有他人的經驗跟體悟之後，也可以想想自己。

8. 台東的日常

你的排練場坐落在山海之間——一個質樸又神聖的地方。能否談談舞團在那裡的日常生活？在台東一起生活與創作，如何影響你們的藝術節奏與靈感？

沒有什麼比回家更幸福的事

因為回到台東之後，我有更多的時間可以回山上跟家人吃飯，也因為回到台東，去海邊的次數也更多，在大山大海的環境生活，人的心胸也開闊很多。

台東生活簡單，所以物慾減低，更能珍惜擁有的，所以在創作時，也就更能從簡單的日常裡發現小驚喜，創意也比以前更廣，而台東的簡單生活，都體現在作品裡。

我記得一位觀眾看完《漂亮漂亮》之後回饋：「我看見海，我碰到海，我聽見海，我聞到海，當藍白帆布打在我的腳上的時候，我的眼淚就流了下來。」我想這就是我們在台東的生活創造出來的感動吧。

9. 與長者的對話

您的舞者常回到家鄉，向部落長者學習歌謠與故事。面對這些文化交流，他們是如何進行的？您又如何引導他們，在尊重傳統的同時，也保留重新詮釋的自由？

我們是幸運的，這10年間，遇見這麼多長者，願意分享他們的智慧跟經驗，在每一次對話的過程中，除了文化知識的傳授之外，最可貴的是看到舞者的求知慾和長者的無私分享，這樣的傳承真的讓我很感動。無論最終內容是不是放在作品當中，這個畫面都會是我們人生中最珍貴難忘的經歷。

對我來說，傳統是過去的日常累積而成，把好的建構起來，延續下去，而舞團也在創造屬於我們自己的傳統，演出前我們會圍一個圈，一瓶米酒，兩個木杯，每一個人對著自己的祖先講話，告知希望演出順利平安，演出結束，同樣圍一個圈，謝謝祖靈，讓我們演出圓滿。

尊重傳統是必然的，不該觸碰的絕對不會觸碰，但創作必須是自由的，它才有意義、才有價值，所以在演出大幕升起之前，我們會做最後的檢視，一切就緒完好才能分享。

10. 展望未來

您建立了一個在儀式、現代性與身分之間穿梭的舞團。對您而言，台灣下一代的原住民舞者，能從這段集體旅程中繼承什麼——不論在藝術上，還是精神上？

這個我不知道，畢竟我是一名編舞者，我的責任就是把作品做好。

只是我很幸運有一群喜歡表演的原住民願意和我一起造夢，一起共創屬於我們的故事。我希望我們的故事可以感動自己也感動他人，可以洗滌心靈，撫慰傷痛，同時還能對生命有一點點影響跟改變。因為每一個舞者在舞團的時間有長有短，最終都會離開，我只期待在他們離開之後，都能成為更好的人。保有赤子之心，樂於分享，關懷社會，然後更自信去面對更大的世界。

感謝廖詠葳（Bulareyaung 舞團執行長）協助促成本次對談