Monday, February 21, 2011

17 Things

Tips for Surviving the Last Month (or more) 
(Notes to Self)

1. Trust your dancers.
2. Trust yourself.
3. Remember to breathe.
4. Ask for what you want.
5. Write down your to-do list.
6. Don't let the length of the list stress you out.
7. Remember to breathe.
8. Ask for help.
9. Ask your dancers.
10. Eat something.
11. Take a break.
12. Remember that small accomplishments count, too.
13. Don't let the anxiety cloud your vision--really watch your dances!
14. Remember to breathe.
15. Stop counting the weeks and days.
16. Trust your dancers.
17. Trust yourself.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Problems and Solutions

It probably goes without saying that putting a dance concert together is essentially one big problem-solving session. Or maybe endless smaller problems to solve. I've certainly had my share of creative problems in this process, questions and puzzles I've racked my brain about, stayed up late thinking about, solutions that just don't seem to fit, no matter how much I turn them around.
Lately, though, I've been battling a couple of seemingly mundane problems--not as creatively weighty as putting choreography together, perhaps. And yet, in their way, they bring up many of the same questions.

First, I've been frustrated, week after week, by a technical component in one of my dances: how to maneuver multiple long lengths of rope while maintaining the tension in all of them at all times, never letting them lie slack on the floor. We tried looping the ropes, we tried tying them to different body parts, we tried bungee cords. No luck. Finally, picking other people's brains in desperation, we arrived at a retractable mechanism (like one of those dog leashes that pulls out and winds itself back in). I ordered them, they arrived right away, we tried them out in rehearsal... Success! Whew. Although it may seem peripheral to the choreography itself, the problem was really mired in fulfilling my vision for the piece. If I couldn't find a solution, I would have to compromise the image I wanted to create, and I wasn't ready to give up on that image! Not so peripheral, I guess.

Next up, titles. In many ways, I love titles. I love the extra layer of meaning they can add to an artwork, and the ways they offer me to enter a dance. But choosing just the right title can be an agonizing process, for me, anyway. I'm generally pretty particular about how much I want a title to reveal (answer: just the right amount...whatever that means), and I like the words to be significant and true. It's kind of like writing a poem. And I do think I like a poetic sort of connection to exist between the title and a dance--suggestive, subtle, sensory, imagistic. Sometimes I get annoyed at myself for worrying too much about the title, since I don't usually feel that knowing the title is necessary for understanding the dance in some way. Anyway, I've been titling my dances this week and last, and finally settled on a title for the concert a couple of weeks ago. So far, all of the titles of the dances, except for one of them, are sitting well with me. They feel right.

Finally, I've been writing up the press release for the concert. This might seem straightforward, even easy for a writer who loves to write about dance, who has written numerous press releases before. But I've never written one about my OWN work, and that seems to make all the difference. First of all, what do you say about your own work? Do you talk about it the way you perceive it or the way others describe it? How do you refer to yourself in the third person without feeling ridiculous while doing so? ("Throughout the creation of this concert, Morris has been...") And then, there's the "just enough, not too much" problem like with the titles. What is the balance between giving enough information about the concert that people are interested in coming to see it, without telling them what the dances are "about"? I have been really resistant to put forward any interpretations about the dances, or even qualitative words, descriptive words that might overly influence a reader into seeing the dance a certain way. I want them to make their own meaning, find their own words to describe the dances. I opted to write mostly about my process in approaching the project, with just a very little bit about each of the dances. I didn't expect a press release to help me express my artistic philosophy! But it was actually quite helpful for me to write a bit about what the concert as a whole has become, not just what my ideas were going into it.

Wish me luck in finding solutions to the host of creative and production problems I'll be up against in the next month, as I get my dances performance-ready and deal with the logistics of the concert!

Oh, and here's the title I settled on for the concert: REcollection: anchor. drift. filter. frame.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Considering Re-: a list poem

redeveloping

revisiting ideas

recollecting the process

re-collecting dancers, sources of movement, original inspirations

remembering phrases

refining

reworking the work, what’s working, what needs work?

refinding my center, my way in

rediscovering what interested me in the first place

re-embodying the previously learned dance

re-envisioning the possibilities

redirecting

rephrasing words, instructions, movement

reorganizing

recycling ideas

reliving rehearsal through video and memory

relearning

rewinding

renewing

re-wondering, re-loving, re-entering

again and back again

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Magic?

After a couple of weeks without actively thinking about choreography, I'm back into these dances, watching the videos of the last showing, reading through my notes.  I think in some way I hoped that some time away from the choreography, some rest for my brain, some new and different kinds of input would magically transform the works into masterpieces.  The places I've been stuck, the sections I haven't figured out yet, would suddenly become clear, and the solutions would be brilliant and simple.
Well.
Not so.  It turns out that I'm still working with my same self, my same brain, my same habits of thought.  I still have to figure it out, in that real and laborious way, part obsessive imagining, part scribbling notes and diagrams, part trial and error with the dancers.  Luckily, after talking to my committee members following the showing, my mind was teeming with ideas, ways to fix, tweak, breath new life into the dances.  I wrote these ideas down before the holidays, and have been returning to them now to see what potential they hold.  Some of them seem rich.  I hope.

Maybe that was the magic transformation--the showing and then discussing the dances with others.  Somehow, my meetings with my committee members did seem to make the dances both more and less than they were before.  More, because suddenly the dances were not just something shared among the small cast of dancers in rehearsal.  Not confined to a studio, not just as much as we--my dancers and I--understood.  Suddenly the dances took on numerous interpretations, as many meanings and lives as there were viewers.  The range of comments from my committee gave me a sense of this expanding presence and purpose of the choreography.  It was a powerful thing.

And yet, the dances were also diminished in some way.  Suddenly, the dances were reduced to the moment of their performance for the audience, not the ongoing process, the hours of rehearsal, all the things the dancers have tried, the music we've chosen and not chosen, the conversations we've had about the works, the ways I understand the works, the ways I've decided to create them, all the thoughts I haven't even put into words.  And later, in my conversations with my committee, the dances were reduced even further, to whatever each person remembered, and what their memory had created to fill the blank spots.  

Both of these conditions, the expansion and reduction of the dance, are simultaneous and inevitable.  But it brought home in a new way for me the challenge of creating dance, or maybe creating anything.  The struggle of balancing the dance you create with the dance that each person sees, the transitory nature of dance.

What does it mean for me now?  How can I manage these slippery perceptions in a way that makes my art stronger?  That really does make it magic?

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Taking Inventory

46 Ziplock "Trace" bags plus assorted boxes and papers

9/7/10:
Craisins package
Clif bar--White Chocolate Macadamia Nut flavor
Plastic packaging from Sony Mini DV tape
2 film containers, one black, one gray
brown and white feather

10/7/10:
1 plastic fork

10/17/10:
Propel water bottle--Grape flavor
Plastic packaging from Sony Mini DV tape

10/31/10:
Many dark chocolate Hershey's kiss wrappers and Mint patties wrappers

11/9/10:
Thai Pavilion box: single serve Pad Thai
empty ziplock bag
Wheat Thins bag

11/19/10:
Birthday confetti

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

New Journal!

I've reached the end of my choreography journal, just in time for the end of the semester. My dancers probably think of it as another appendage, as it's rather omnipresent during rehearsal! I bought a new one the other day, bigger than the first. More space for thinking, mapping, a wider expanse to carry these pieces forward to the concert.
Some photo documentation of the original notebook (by Sinru Ku), and a photo of the new, still empty one:



Sunday, December 12, 2010

Post-showing Percolating

Sorry for the long silence--the end of the semester has overwhelmed me. Grades are nearly in, the holiday break is almost here, so I'll be returning soon.
For now, I'll just say that last Tuesday was my end-of-the-semester committee showing, where I showed all my work to my thesis committee and other grads. It was great to see the dances all together, and to get a sense of how much we've accomplished this semester. Since then, I've been meeting with my committee members to get their thoughts and feedback about continuing to develop the work. It's been both harder and easier than I expected to hear and consider their responses (more on that later).
And even though I'm looking forward to a break from the weekly rehearsal schedule, I've also been...well, maybe "haunted" is the right word...by these dances. I can't stop thinking about them as I fall asleep, as soon as I wake up, in the back of my mind throughout the day. Problem-solving, considering new possibilities, imagining what we might try when rehearsals start again. I don't really mind--I WANT to be thinking about them--but I do wish for a few more hours of sleep unsaturated by dancing thoughts!

Here are a few photos from the showing, taken by Sinru Ku.