DCDanceBlog

on saturday night we wandered over to 14th street to see the show “chance,” a video projection of dance scenes that is being held around town this month. the dancers were folks i know and like, ginger wagg and jane jerardi and brian buck, and the scene was very cool. the video was being projected on a brick wall above a parking lot, so people were coming and going, trying to maneuver their cars through the waxing and waning throng of folks who’d wandered over from the restaurant, viridian, next door. i loved the fact that “average folks”–ie, non-dancers–were staying to check things out.

the video itself was really captivating. some of the scenes were shot at glen echo, in a beautiful huge hall. others took place near water, with shots of waves dominating the screen. and others were in a green meadow. the dancers were lovely and the camera shots were unusual and really made the film interesting.

i wonder if boris, for example, would ever think of taking the many films on his blog and somehow showing them in a more public way. blogs are one vehicle for communication, and they’re very effective, but they’re experienced in a personal way and therefore are quite distinct from performance, for better or worse.

i was impressed–as i have often been–with how well jane and her compadres were able to create a happening out of the event. i was once at a gallery opening where they were putting on a small show and remember what a big crowd they had gathered, and how hip everyone seemed. this recent show–the idea of doing 4 showings around town, in outdoor venues–is quite brilliant.

the day i saw “chance” on 14th street was the same day i saw maida’s piece at the warehouse. and i loved them both–not just the content and the quality of the art itself, but also the vitality and freshness of both events in their entirety. there is something i’m drawn to in art that i can’t quite explain; it has something to do with how the presentation or motive fits into everyday life, and it gives me a feeling that is the opposite of stale, of cliched, of stereotyped.

if i could have days like this saturday, seeing fresh art, once a month here in dc, then i wouldn’t compare this town to nyc. i would be happy and would agree with a comment on a previous post that the only difference between the two is one of size. for now, however, i’m not sure.

i saw a great performance this weekend and have been itching to write about it. i hope the zing is still with me.

it was called “second story–chapter one,” an improv piece orchestrated by maida withers and performed by her and john glenn and lotta lundgren. music by steve hilmy and peter fraize, and a video projection by jeannine mjoseth. it took place at the warehouse theatre, in an upstairs gallery.

it was terrific! i was enthralled from the start. i got there about 2 minutes late, and it had begun–there they were, already deep into things, intense, together, apart. what made it so compelling, i think, was the strong and clear focus of the dancers, their intent attention towards each other and themselves.

i have to break in with a disclaimer. lotta runs this blog with me and she’s one of my favorite people. and of course we don’t want this to become the mutual appreciation club. but, that said, i was astonished at how beautiful and compelling she was. we’ve danced together a lot, but i felt like i’d never seen that side of her before: focused, emotional at times, distant at times, sometimes struggling, moving clearly and strongly, sometimes big, sometimes small. with her faced flushed, she was just lovely and a complete gem.

john was an ideal partner. never competing for attention, the two struggled, hugged, held each other, imitated, complemented each other. he was solid and clear and quite lovely himself, showing a tenderness i don’t see often in him–or not often enough.

both of them also showed clear and admirable improvisation skills. at times they followed one another; other times they slowed down or even stopped for a while, or picked a movement and stuck to it until it grew into something else or drew others in. watching that was an education for me.

and maida was her own constellation. moving big, always active, sometimes she was with the other two, sometimes alone–and i found that very satisfying. maida is fearless and it is amazingly impressive to take in, esp in a small venue like this one. towards the end, she walked out in a sequined halter top under a zebra print bikini, and began shouting emergency instructions into a plastic shovel that had become her microphone.

and the music rose and swirled and became urgent, then dissipated again. and the projections changed from water, ocean themes, to geometrical designs and then videos of the performers. i rarely like video with dance, but this didn’t overwhelm the piece and so it was like a friend, something to look at now and then as another attraction.

i think what brought it all together, though, was the site. it’s a pretty spare gallery, but the light was great. and it was just small enough that the audience was able to be very close to the performers and watch everything up close–and sometimes to be part of the piece. at one point maida walked around whispering something to each of the people lined along the walls. i watched their faces after she passed. they were fascinated, shocked, surprised, laughing–it was a spectacle in itself.

mmm, a small space…i hadn’t realized it could be so powerful. at least one audience member–this one–was inspired. what more could the performers ask for?

boris, you are great.

can i say that?

it’s been a while since i’ve looked at dance-a-day or boris’s other blog, boris willis moves. but again i’m totally delighted and struck by how cool his project is and what a good vibe he gives off. all dancing, all dc, all the time! and he doesn’t seem to care what people around him think; that’s what i like the very best. more of that, people, please!

but it’s also nice, as nice, to read about his thoughts and activities and feelings about life. it’s in that way that i’ve come to find blogs rather delightful–how they can be lighthearted, not so serious, and yet very personal in a way that’s often quite touching.

so how was the Metro DC Dance awards ceremony on monday night?? in desperate need of free time, i decided not to go, but i’m sure it was fun. it always is. anything happen that was particularly interesting, notable, gossip-worthy?

i’m standing in the studio with my friend, who has ideas about what we are trying to create.
i don’t have any ideas right now.
i had some, and presented them, and now i’m about tapped out.
sometimes i’m not great at creating on my feet.
and i’m feeling kinda insecure.
she’s talking, showing, correcting.
and i’m feeling a little more insecure.
and a little defensive.
i hate not having anything to contribute.
it makes me worry that i’m being a dead weight in this collaboration duet,
and she seems so clear about what she wants.
my defensiveness develops into a sharpness, an edge
and of course nothing’s flowing for me now.
in fact i’m starting to wonder if she’s simply more sophisticated than me.
do my ideas seem juvenile to her?
am i boring her?

this was yesterday in the studio.
but somehow, we got past it.
we talked about it.

what i’m thinking, though, is that i don’t have to get past it.
i don’t have to find a way to feel “great!” about myself.
maybe i don’t have anything to say today.
that’s ok.
maybe this session is just for learning.
i think that’s ok too.
and maybe i will look like a fool
to her, to myself.
is that so bad?
do i really care that much what someone else thinks of me?
does it matter?

i went with some friends to see the citydance performance this weekend. it was interesting. sarah kaufman reviewed it in today’s post, here. there are many points to her review that i completely disagreed with–completely! but the one thing she did get right was that it was great to go see a sold out show of local, professional dance smack downtown in a beautiful theatre filled with nice-looking, cultured folks who weren’t all over 60. it felt like a night out, not to the hinderlands of brookland or bethesda but one of the areas in dc that i like the best.

and at first, i was very impressed with the show. the first piece was boring but solidly performed, the second and third were interesting and appealing, and the fourth was, again, professional, though not inspiring. the performance quality of all of them felt quite high, at least for dc.

but the 2nd half was a complete departure from that. a couple of the pieces were virtual disasters, one was way overdone, and only one–a doug varone piece–had some nuance to it. it was really an unfortunate arrangement of the evening’s pieces; my friends and i went from feeling optimistic and interested in the company to, by the end, being a little bit embarassed.

that said, there are some great dancers in the company. in particular, a woman named kyra jean green was terrific. clean movements, beautiful and compelling presence.

one of my friends was more disappointed than the rest of us. a european, she felt wary of being called a snob but couldn’t help herself. “the quality of dance in this country is just so low!” she said. the good pieces were not great, not extremely interesting, not seriously original–and even the ones i’d felt were half decent were overwhelmingly conventional, she thought.

it was interesting. again, it’s that criticism of one’s home, which i know not everyone’s open to. but i can’t turn a blind eye to it, b/c it’s something we can learn from. why, then, is modern dance here less advanced and less challenging than in a number of other places, namely europe? is it just b/c this country is more materialistic, less cultured, and a lot more commercial than europe?

it’s funny, i almost became defensive for the US during our discussion, but that’s dumb. i’d rather figure out if she’s right, and if so, why.

we got into the studio yesterday, three dancers, one musician and one visual artist. it was mad. in the greatest of ways. again, i found myself in a group of people trying to create, using a collective creative eye, and the creative eye being on the inside of the piece.

and yet, again, i found myself wondering about creating from the inside verses the outside. being a performer in the piece, verses being a choreographer on the outside. in school, they said, pointing with the finger, you have to step outside, you have to become the eye from the outside. there was not really an option. if the choreographer was in the piece, it was usually because a dancer had been injured or was sick. but to not even have an understudy that wasn’t the choreographer was a no-no.
this is something i’ve been thinking of for awhile, mostly when seeing dance where the artistic director also is involved in the piece as a performer. is it possible to be in a piece and still get a sense of what the piece is, what it “looks” like, what it is, from the outside? or is this even important? are we maybe past a time when we need that control? does it matter what it looks like? or is all that matters what we do, no matter what it looks like to others than those who are performing?

people i discuss this with talk about the inner voice, and feeling certain ways as the performer. not so much about how things come across, what impression it gives. many times we don’t have a choice, we have to create on our own bodies because of lack of funding and lack of time with other dancers in the studio. it’s hard to find ways to step outside, to get your dancers together in order for the choreographer to solely be the the creator, as opposed to the creator and the performer.

but then again, i don’t know where the difference is. is it a strength to allow yourself, if you can, to step out? is this a trust issue? do you trust your dancers to carry your piece without your own voice as a performer in the piece? or is it a strength to trust your language so much that you skip the observation from the outside?

i wish there were more dance classes that were genuinely welcoming to non-serious dancers, or even non-dancers. i was talking with some coworkers the other day about this. one of them was dancing around while talking, and i made a joke about her being a dancer at heart. she responded by saying that while she loves to dance, she can’t really enjoy classes because she “doesn’t pick up movements easily.” the other one chimed in and said “yeah, i’m not good at that either, so it winds up being a bummer because the class then becomes about me feeling like an idiot because i can’t do the moves.” or something like that.

what struck me was that both of them thought they just happened to be, unfortunately, the type of person who’s slow to remember choreography. i’ve heard lots of people say that, actually–as if they have some defect so that only they aren’t able to get the phrase quickly. but of course, they’re totally wrong: very few people are able to quickly remember movement and repeat it. most of us have to learn that skill the hard way, through lots of time and practice.

people like my colleagues, however, don’t particularly need or want to spend all that time learning how to pick up choreography; they just want to move. i think this is especially true for guys, who don’t seem to enjoy all the small details that go into a technique class and all the things they have to keep in mind. my question is, why aren’t there classes out there that are clear enough that anyone can follow, help people get in touch with their bodies and allow them to feel good about what they’re doing?

maybe it’s not possible, somehow. but i think it’d be a worthy thing to try to develop; it would give truth to the phrase “dance is for everyone.” right now i recommend contact improv to a lot of folks, since you definitely don’t need to be a “real” dancer to do it, but contact isn’t actually for everyone, unfortunately.

nurejev was on tv. is it just me or is there something very erotic about him?

so i watched him. and it made me think of what it is that i like about movements. because i kept looking right next to his moving body. not at it. not at the muscles and limbs and hair and head and all that. but right next to the crazy complexity of his moving body. right next to where the body parts where swishing around in the air.

and i sort of know why i do that. because that’s where i feel the movement is. right next to where the body just moved. in the air that has just been pushed to another place.

funny. now one of the people that they interviewed in the documentary talks about nurejev’s dancing being erotic. as i understand it, she’s talking about the execution of his movements and his persona on stage being erotic. to me it just always seems that he had that horny look in his eyes.

but he was amazing. and i ashamed to say it, but the whole ballet dancer/russia exile thing is so romantic in the stupid artsy way. it’s just so hard to resist the heroic story of nurejev and baryshnikov. and white nights didn’t get any worse by throwing in the destiny of gregory hines character either. gosh… i miss movies with isabella rossilini.
———————

(old post about what i think is the same thing as what i was thinking of when i watched nurejev:)

i realised the other day that what i am attracted to in dance and
choreography is the movement. the very actual movement. the body that
moves.

not the body in a shape, a form, a pose, a formation.

but the body that moves between shapes, forms, poses and formations.
what i can’t touch. the movement that is gone once it happens. the
body that moves between and through shapes, forms, poses and
formations.

it’s the between i like.

the form is necessary. but it’s the going to it and from it that i like.

that’s why i can’t love ballet. or paul taylor or petipa or
cunningham, or any dance that strives for a form, a pose.

and that’s why i love the dance that doesn’t treat the pose as the destination.
that’s why i love the dance who’s destination is the path to and from.

——-

i have never thought about this before. it’s crazy.

———

wait, i take it back, i take it back. i should say: that’s why i can’t
love ballet or paul taylor or petipa or cunningham, or any dance that
strives for a form, a pose, AS MUCH.

because ballet or cunningham’s stuff travels. a lot. and it has
elements that isn’t pose oriented. but it definetely goes for shapes
in a way that in turn shapes the dynamics of the overall movement of
the choreography. it many times feels as if the shapes are the whole
point of travelling in space at all. this makes me think of what
cunninghams pieces would look like if the still shapes (the “breaks”
in the flow of the movements) were taken out.
also, it makes me think of how this is one element that is very hard
in terms of technique. meaning, it’s the moving parts of movement that
is hard. not the arriving.

and to never arrive, never go into shapes, is the hardest.

i saw gesel mason’s performance, whose body is this?, at the millennium stage yesterday. i really enjoyed it. it contained a variety of dancers, a spoken word artist (who may also be a dancer), a live musician, text by the dancers, and video.

one of the things i loved about the piece was that gesel used the space in a very novel way. instead of putting the whole performance on the stage, where practically no one can actually see anything, she added a second, smaller, platform about 30 feet back, and then split the chairs so that they were on either side of a walkway between the two stages. it meant that just about everyone could see, and it added an intimate and playful feel to the space that changed it completely. usually i find the millennium stage to be sort of awful, almost like the kennedy center doesn’t care enough to make it user-friendly, but this arrangement fit perfectly with a performance that was emotional and very varied.

gesel’s dancers were great and it seemed that each one’s personality was able to shine out. i liked the choreography, as well as the text spoken between two women who were just being themselves, not playing roles.

another thing i really noticed was how wonderful and captivating it was when the spoken word artist piped up. she seemed to be trained as an actress, and her voice resonated with meaning and emotion and irony. i must say, she made it immediately clear why certain dance pieces that contain text are more effective than others–so much of it is in the presentation! and most dancers are simply not trained to speak…though i’m sure that can be overcome.