Working on my as yet untitled solo turned out to be an ideal way to process aspects of my Bates experience.  For three weeks, each weekday morning began with my own rehearsal.  It was challenging to spend the first portion of the day waiting for it, wrestling with it, avoiding conflict with it, having no clue which direction it might come from.  I looked at existing material from (re)Birth, the larger evening length work for five.  I spent time looking at the text I hid away on an external hard drive months earlier.  I videotaped my improvisations, sifted through the video, and relearned the useful elements.  And yes, I allowed the requisite time for laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. 

After sharing the studio with fellow solo-maker Helen Simoneau one Sunday afternoon, I realized I might be a bit more productive if I spent a little less time alone with the work.  So, I invited some incredibly generous people into the studio to witness the battle.  Donna Mejia was the first on that Sunday, July 25th.  It was all too unformed, but having discovered some shared history, Donna seemed an appropriate first witness. 

When Cynthia Oliver came in on the morning of Thursday, July 28th, Arthur Fink had already been photographing the mess I was making for an hour.  It was an unusually humid morning, and I was rolling around in puddles of my own sweat, mumbling text to myself and singing the same refrain  over and over.  By the time Cynthia came in, I had given myself over to my dehydrated stupor, was a little less afraid to claim the mess, and a little more physically invested.  I felt relatively safe sharing my text, movement, and voice with her after nearly two weeks in her text and movement class.  Along with other useful bits of feedback, she offered the following …  What would happen if, for a moment, you decided not to take care of other people and make them feel safe in the presence of  your power?  Good question.

I invited Vic Marks into the studio the next morning with far less fanfare.  In the moments before Vic’s arrival, Melody Eggan had been sitting along the back wall watching as I struggled to retrieve yesterday’s decisions.  We had an inspiring discussion about possible costume … a warmly hued tailored dress with a petticoat of unexpected color and texture.  There were no cinematic rolls  in puddles of sweat, no near heatstroke clarity.  In fact, some of the previous day’s clarity had evaporated as the humidity had.  Nonetheless, following my run-through for Vic she offered … who knows?  the suspense of performance, control of space and body, a woman’s body/women’s bodies, sometimes words and movement do the same thing. It makes me wonder about you, has she given birth? Another good question.

On Saturday, I shared the solo with the larger Bates community in an informal showing in the Alumni Gym.   I didn’t know how to make myself ready, but sharing provided great relief and more useful feedback.  double meaning/punning, how I hold something I know and don’t know, the child I was or have had … how about more labor/exhaustion?

Much of the last week was devoted to preparation for the Different Voices concert.  On the final Saturday morning of the festival, however, Helen and I decided to share our work one last time before leaving the incubator.  I hadn’t arrived at any new insights since the sharing from the previous weekend, but I hoped for the clarity which sometimes comes when people watch you work it out.  As it turns out, there were no new sparks of clarity from the doing, but the combination of pointed questions, admitted bias, and the inevitability of going home allowed for some serious soul stirring.  I don’t perceive a change in the movement vocabulary as the section progresses.  In her body she is in the same place.  I’m have a bias for movement invention.  The black body is marked. And having seen the piece in rehearsal three times in three weeks, Vic Marks asked, for the third time … What’s your perspective on this topic?  It’s complicated, but I answered.

It has turned out to be a risky business, this solo-making.  I’m probably too unresolved about the piece’s inspiration, my body’s fairly recent revolt … and have probably been approaching the material far too clinically as a result.  I have not yet moved beyond the relatively neutral reporting of facts, but there were glimpses of something else.  One particular assignment in Cynthia’s text and movement class allowed me to channel this something else through one small portion of text, and I have been trying to re-access it ever since.  It was as if the door had been cracked just enough to indicate the presence of a deluge just beyond.   But I guess it doesn’t all come at once, and I should probably be grateful.  In the meantime, I am interested in looking more closely at the movement, and the sensation of the experiences I am recounting as they live in my body.  In what cells are these memories hiding, why do these memories decide to sing/speak/move, and why have I invited other people into this retrieval exercise in the first place?

At this point in the festival I can already feel the end nearing and am desperately trying to make the most of the time I have left. I continue to make my way to the studio for daily class and rehearsals. The work is progressing and I finally have a clear idea of how I want it to take shape. With 2 videos projected on two different walls as well and three music tracks and four dancers framing the space, I realize that I cannot do this alone. I cannot dance it, run sound and projection myself. It is a humbling experience to realize that, yes, I need help. Luckily, here at Bates everyone is eager to participate and lend a hand. I have had to let go of my desire to keep things simple and have decided to make the dance that I want to make.

Last night, we performed in “Moving in the Moment,” a dance performance constructed entirely of structured improvisation. Led by Angie (Hauser) and Chris (Aiken), most of the faculty and guest artists danced together for over an hour to the amazing sound of the Bates Dance Festival musicians. To say that it was fun would be an understatement. I had a blast in performance but also in the rehearsals leading up to the show. What a wonderful way to get to know people! Moving together allowed us to meet on many different levels, which created an ease and a sense of community that transferred over to every other place in which we found ourselves together. I have never participated in anything like this and at first was a little apprehensive due to my lack of experience with improvisation. The generosity of the group, however, kept me feeling welcome and I knew that even though I may not know what I’m doing, they certainly do and I can thrust that.

Sunday August 8^th:

A day after the end of the festival and I am still transitioning. It flew by so quickly. In the last week, I also performed in the “Different Voices Concert” where many artists at the festival shared the evening. I showed a solo called “the gentleness was in her hands” which I created in 2009 and have performed quite a bit this past year, nationally and internationally. It was satisfying to return to this familiar piece in the midst of creating a new one.

The process for creating my new solo, which I think I will call “Flock,” was filled with exchange and discussion. In the last week, I was able to have Doug (Varone) come to my rehearsal and talk through the piece with me. He gave me some much needed perspective on the work and asked questions that will help me go deeper in my understanding of what I am making. It was amazing how much he was able to perceive in only one viewing. He asked questions about the journey of the work, my relation to the other dancers, and the integration of the videos in the context of the larger piece. This has given me much to chew on for the next few weeks/months. I plan on leaving the piece alone for a while and look at it again in a month or so with fresh eyes.

Deborah (Goffe) and I held one final showing on the last day in order to get more feedback and one more filming before we left. Although it was a busy day, enough people attended and participated in the feedback session allowing us to leave with more to think about.

I’m leaving Bates with a full mind, tired body, and a longing to return. My time here has been rich with creation, personal growth, meaningful relationships, and intelligent nourishing conversation. I am grateful that the festival is set up in a way that encourages meaningful mentoring on many levels. The communal housing and dining has resulted in so many valuable unplanned exchanges with the other artists here whether they are faculty, musicians, guest artists, staff, or students of the festival. The sense of generosity and love for the art form is palpable and vibrates through this community. The challenge now for me is to keep this vibration going at a distance. I am so happy to have been a part of this and now connected to these amazing people.

In the studio with my laptop, projector, and bed sheets on the wall

Working with more dancers

Video by Jose Luis Bustamante

Arriving to Bates a few days late, I felt that I had to hit the ground running but soon realized that running will not always get you to your destination and might just end up exhausting you. I can’t rush things and need to allow reflection to take its place in my process. Sharing will help too and I am hopeful that the showing tomorrow will give me the information needed to push through.

I find solo work to be particularly challenging, because it can be a lonely practice. I often end up prematurely judging the exploration at hand, wanting to fix it before it has a chance to be. Nevertheless, a solo is most certainly what I want to focus on during this residency. It is important to me to dance in my own work and I’m not comfortable placing myself in a group piece. Solo work is my chance to truly embody my process  and the pleasure of experiencing this physicality first hand cannot be matched. I remind myself of the agony of past beginnings and am assured that the process will gain momentum. Here at Bates, I am given precious time and resources to develop this work that I have wanted to make for a while now. With teaching and touring during the school year I have not succeeded in making it a priority. Here and now it is.

Deborah (Goffe) and I have talked about this shared loneliness and have decided to work in the same studio on Sunday, each with our own process but in the same space. Part of what is missing is simply another presence, which can offer support and a witness to the process. Witnessing from many perspectives so naturally happens in a group creation and I realize now that this is a big part of what I am craving. So, tomorrow I share and add witnesses to my process.

Tuesday the 27^th:

The last few days have been very productive and I feel that I have pushed through. The informal showing on Sunday night was a big part of that. Not only was it helpful for the feedback but also for the “mistakes” and the chance to just get the dance out of my head and into the space. I am working with projection for the first time and, yes; there is a learning curve. Dawn (Stoppiello) helped me set things up and I love that I can so easily have access to her whenever a question pops into my head.

The work is gaining momentum, I know that because ideas are rushing in and out of my head at all times of the day, especially when I am trying to sleep. I am thinking of adding another video and have begun working with four lovely dancers in order to add witnesses to the solo. Thanks Deborah (Goffe), Diana (Deaver), Meredith (Robinson), and Philip (Montana). Today, I invited Vic (Victoria Marks) into my rehearsal and was really excited about our conversation. I can’t wait to do this again. This process confirms that it is crucial for me to share while I am making, make then share, make again, share again.

Now I can add Chapters from a Broken Novel to that list.

Chapters began its creative life about a year ago at our annual Summer Intensive at Purchase College. In many ways, it has served as a conduit to explore all the different facets that intrigue me choreographically. I love creating dances that explore extremes: large and physical, minute and detailed, emotionally complex. Chapters is an opportunity for me to create an entire world of these dances under one cover. And the creative journey for the past year has been exactly what I needed as an artist; a way of delving into what I know, and ultimately finding new methods of exposing that.

Each of the 22 chapters is based on a short quotation or thought and each chapter has a title that is evocative of that quote. They range in length from 22 seconds to 7 minutes. Individually, most can stand on their own as separate dances and they were specifically made that way. When placed together, they have the potential to imply a narrative and for me this has been the truly thrilling aspect of the creation process.

This dance can be ANYTHING I want it to be.

How rare to make a work that can be accessed in a variety of ways and never lose its integrity. As a full evening length work, the dance runs approximately 80 minutes. It can be played with or without intermission. A 50-minute version can also be created that has fluid continuity to it; as well, a 30-minute version of selected Chapters can share the stage with other repertory works. Finally, many of these dances can be seen as separate units.

The past two weeks at Bates has been a great opportunity to hone the evening. I am continuing to make edits and give detail to each of the Chapters. I love this part of the process, as I generally work in outline for a majority of a creative process and wait until I am ready to craft the dance completely. More often than not, information later in the process defines ideas and motifs that I created earlier.

The days are long here but very inspiring, as always. I am teaching from 9-12:30 every day. Then I hop on my trusty Fuji bike and head off for a quick lunch. Rehearsals with the Company begin at 1:30 and end at 6pm. We are rehearsing in the gym at New Life, a Community Church down the road from the main campus. The space is incredibly generous and the creative vibe has been wonderful. Each day, we are visited by young children who have come to New Life to play at the Toy Library in the basement. I love watching their faces (and their parent’s) when they step into the room to watch the dance and dancers. There is an innocence and truth in people who are not regularly exposed to our lifestyle, and it reminds me daily of the unique role we play as artists.

We also get to play with Weekly, a year old Great Dane puppy that lives at the Center. He is the size of a small horse and has no idea he is that large. Lovely to watch him navigate.

My composer, David Van Teighem is still hard at work finishing up some notes I gave him this weekend. This has been an amazing collaboration and the dialogue of what is musically needed and when, has been a great learning lesson for me. The score he has written is incredibly diverse, each chapter sounding like a different world, and this has sent my imagination reeling.

As we head back into the studio tomorrow, there are at least three more sections that I want to strip away and clean out. Then we’ll show the work on Thursday evening.

More later.

Despite my gratitude for this amazing community I’ve been invited to infiltrate, I have chosen to face the emptiness of the studio alone here as well – a necessary evil. It’s been much needed medicine to return to the same room morning after morning, wait for the work to reveal itself in some small way … and then to listen for it in conversation or class or the fleeting thought caught in transit to and from the dining hall.

A promising Monday led to a seemingly unproductive Tuesday. Wednesday redeemed itself with improvisations caught on camera and divided into small clips. Thursday got me singing and dancing. There’s something’s due any day. I will know right away, soon as it shows.

The material I’m interested in making is still a little too close. I knew this would be the case. Only two weeks have passed since my Hartford-based dance company, Scapegoat Garden, performed the first incarnation of (re)Birth. Throughout the process of building that work, I have believed it could/should also have a life as a solo. Two weeks isn’t nearly enough time for me to gain adequate perspective … distance. But I’m choosing to process within a compressed timeframe, which has been an important theme all year. I don’t have attachments to this fast pace in the long term, but for now I am willing to put time to the test, meeting potential alone in the studio again this morning.