We were joined by the incredible Rod Harris on 10/26/16 who carefully captured some gorgeous moments, documenting one of our very last light-filled rehearsals at Studio @ 550. The piece, featuring Katie McGrail & Katharina Schier, will debut Nov 11&12 at the Boston University Dance Theatre as part of Luminarium's Portal: Stories from the Edge.
A few strung together journal entries in attempts to find an ending to my newest performance-based creation.
Some time around the end of spring 2016 I decided I wanted to make something based on communication. I had a visual in my head of two active figures moving amidst a group of maybe five passive individuals that would serve to occupy space and observe, but not interact. Since August I've been working with Katie McGrail and Katharina Schier - both incredibly engaged performer/participants - to make this come to life.
As these things do, my thought has been evolving and deepening since August as the piece decides where it wants to go.
8/27/16
I’m making a piece for a November production that will be built on the idea of two dancers communicating and interacting through various movement vocabularies and physicalities. The work is currently about communication and its difficulties, as well as the management of personalities and relationship. In my thinking about authenticity, artifice and spectacle I’ve been intrigued in exploring the use of the word histrionic and its identity as a label in various contexts over time. I’m even more interested in exploring what a ‘histrionic’ movement vocabulary might look like. The work will feature two performers utilizing solo work and partner-heavy duet work in addition to an ensemble that serves mainly to watch the piece onstage since listening and observing (or lack thereof) are a huge part of communication. -From my MFAIA Study Plan
9/31/16
In rehearsals and my own thinking I am digging into how the two active performers, Katie and Katharina, are connected. On a basic level, what would happen if the only other person that you can communicate with was someone you loathe or someone with fundamental differences of opinion? Yes, we have to work to understand each other, how far should one go? How do you act when you aren’t heard (if you act)? I’m also considering communicative ulterior motive, manipulation in communication and as a device, and fluidity in self and relationship. I communicate as the person I am at present, a different person than I was in the past, so what happens if we speed transformation up onstage and the feeling between the two individuals is allowed to evolve? I realize there is a lot here, but as I explore with the dancers I think we will isolate what’s most important to the specific statement we end up making.
Since this is a nonverbal piece, amusing since it’s about communication, instead of words I am building a language from movement and interaction. Yes, dance-makers do this in most every piece we build, but I'm treating this instance differently. It’s very important that both movement and interaction are very authentic— genuinely conceived and executed with minimal superfluous choreography. Throughout the process I've made some material for Katie and Katharina that requires some form of decision making, be it in how they interact with each other, how they choose to physically absorb the material, or how they outwardly present the movement they possess.
Rehearsal footage demonstrates our beginning efforts to make movement that speaks. In Manipulation Sketch 1 I tried to make the movement dependent on the genuine interactions; the phrase can only really advance with the moments of touch and those instances are real reactions instead of purely choreography. Manipulation Sketch 2 lets the dancers rotate through a pattern of floor work, the dancer not completing the choreographed movement acts as a manipulator before rotating into the set movement, at which point their roles switch. The floor work is set in advance, the counterpart-reaction is purely impulse based. Solo Phrase 1 is an attempt at setting movement that speaks. It isn’t as partner dependent as the other two rehearsal videos, but I tried to give each action cause for happening and gave the dancers autonomy over delivery of the movement.
10/12/16
Last week’s rehearsal primarily consisted of discussion. I tweaked one small moment that was bugging me, and we joked that was all we were able to accomplish, but it was great to sit with Katie and Katharina and get their feelings, input and opinions about the piece and process. Ideas of importance are considering ways to keep the movement present and how we can prevent the pathways of risk taking from becoming stale or comfortable. Another concept to keep present are the idea of the observers joining them on stage, what does that entail and ultimately mean. The themes of surveillance, observation, and power mentioned in group study are intriguing, as are the noted moments of resonance (such as the chin tap) in comparison to their physical experiences. We danced the work one more time to cap off the rehearsal and I feel like it gained both a new dimension with additional understanding and also a sense of clarity.
The first six minutes of this piece have presented a consistent feeling through struggles with power dynamic, all considerations of relationship and tempo and I feel that it’s due for a shift. Compositionally I feel that Katharina has been pushed a lot in the beginning segment of the work and her presence needs to change. I feel a sort of defeat coming for her, a withering up of sorts, so that Katie can discover that there’s no interaction or communication without someone on the other end. Perhaps stripping some of the communication back to find vulnerability before building back into a duet will be the direction I go.
Preparing like an Olympic diver in New Hampshire dusk, really just squaring my toes to an invisible line in the grass. The grass is anything but lush, clunky sandy anthills spanning the distance between brittle stalks of formerly-green blades - it’s even sharper at the bottom. I fill my lungs, feeling foolish and amused as Russell stands all-too-close, recording with one of our phones. Observations before I depart, despite and in accordance with my attempts to be present: my mom standing in a golden-lit window, unaware and accepting of my strange backyard actions while washing dishes from the hissing faucet before dinner, the familiar pace of my dad’s dense footsteps before the creak of the basement door hinges. All of it is familiar; being ridiculous in the backyard with my now-husband, the noises created by my parents, an infrequent bark in the distance, the slope of the hill.
Lowering my body towards the ground, letting body weight take over, forcefully rolling down what used to look like a mountain. I’m aware of the edges of my body, the outsides of my arms striking the dirt over and over again, just like the small tidal wave my sister created when she burst our small pool in the mid-90s. Rolling out of my tumble at the bottom of the hill, parts of my body still pounding from the inside out, I walk out of the performance, smooth dust from my dress, and join everyone for dinner.
View full video here.
For the last several years I’ve been quick to state that I hate performing, though I love dancing and moving. Growing up taking dance class after dance class I was always the blank-faced kid on stage, feeling openly resentful towards the artificiality of ‘pulling face’, but so eager to take on the physical challenge of dance. (Spoiler alert: I still feel that way - even as a choreographer that asks for facial involvement in some of my work - more power to those of you who enjoy that sort of thing.) In college I was really aware of my imperfect technique and lack of natural flexibility and a ‘dancer’s body’ and with the beginning stages of a hip injury that followed me through the past decade, my distaste for the ‘being on stage’ part of dance grew and grew and was easily justifiable in my own thoughts. Honestly there was nothing to miss by taking myself out of the performance equation; I’ve always wanted to create, never perform, and I find no greater personal satisfaction than in developing new work on a group of performers and watching it become their own physical and mental property - magic.
This year something happened.
A month ago I found myself in the midst of an hour-long solo performance, engrossed in what I was doing and truly enjoying it. Yes, it was a safe space and I was surrounded by peers. Yes, I had created the work from a completely genuine place with a collaborator I trusted. But… I [think I] was performing. And enjoying it.
I’m curious about everything - especially the inner workings of the brain - and have the tendency to crave the search for ‘why’, we can blame this on being the offspring of a therapist. Of course my brain jumped on the task of determining how and why this shift snuck up on me. I could track threads back to fall 2014, when I was participating in a choreographer’s residency at Green Street Studios (immediately after hip surgery) and had to share work that I was exploring with outside eyes. I remember being slightly terrified and equally thrilled when Karen Krolak and Lorraine Chapman pushed pushed pushed me one weekday morning just to be real, to be present, to deliver the movement I made as my own impulse dictated at the time. What felt right? Where did my body want to pause, and why ignore it? Karen, who I consider a great mentor, spent a few more mornings on the hunt for the identity of this phrase, continuing to (delightfully) challenge the process. Another evening Andy Taylor Blenis pushed me through that same phrase focusing on owning the physicality in the present. Real… present… These were things I totally stand behind as a human, and my conception of a performer based outside of one’s own true self started to melt. I’m not sure any of these wonderful women artists know what they jumpstarted, as they kindly shared their time, compassion and thoughts, or that it took me a full year and a half later to find the depth of my gratitude!
Another opportunity to be grateful for and the point of this entry... through the entire fall I was fortunate enough to work with a friend and fellow artist, Wolf Luman, and to sustain a deep dialogue through music and movement. He would communicate through brilliant sound that streamed into my ears, I would answer by following what my body needed to say in honest response. We never met in person, but kept a steady flow of tracks and filmed rehearsal sessions volleying back and forth. A few months later, Wolf had created an entire new album and without knowing it I created an hour of movement, obviously the fruit of both of which was a stand alone performance piece. And when you create such a beautiful performance piece, you have to perform it! And we did. And it felt incredible. And the audience was enraptured. There’s more to explore here about creating such a personal work through organic mediums (body and sound) with completely digital communication, but I’ll save it for another day.
I think the greatest takeaway is that a performance experience doesn’t necessitate ‘performing’ if you’re simply being authentic and present in live movement research. During each second of my hour long performance/sound exploration I was making choices - to move or not to move, if I decided to move what did my body need to do to fulfill my internal needs and the needs of the relationship between music and myself at that split second in time? What was I feeling at any given second and how could I merge that with what I wanted to say with my body? Yes, I recognized the fact that I was being watched and yes, those individuals viewing the performance shifted the goal ever so slightly just due to the fact that they were present in the space and all focusing their energy on the same subject (me!), but it was ok.
Looking ahead, where does this new found intrigue in exploring movement in front of others lead? Perhaps for me, a performance that is enjoyable and satisfying will always be improv so I can be absolutely authentic in any given split second of movement. In any case, I’m happy to have the beautiful ability to evolve, grow and see where the self exploration takes me.
Image from performance at Goddard College, Feb 1, 2016. - Photo Credit: Dan Goldman
