Making the Dance I’ve Not Made Before

As an artist it is easy to explore and re-explore a structure, topic, theme, motif, etc.  And, there is tremendous value to this deepening of the creative experience surrounding a single concept.  When we dive again and again into the waters of a single idea, we see new light, new shade, new nooks and crannies of potential. It is a beautiful practice.  The challenge in the dance world is that our field has been consistently fascinated with that which is new.  Dance makers are often seeking something new and different from their work.  There is a common striving for continual reinvention of aesthetic.  And, yet, it is hard to escape ourselves.

And, we often end up making the same dance over and over. Maybe different costumes or music or lighting, but essentially the same thing over and over. 

Tough.

So, as I reflect on my newest creative endeavor, I am wondering do I try to create something new? Do I deepen something I have explored before?  And, more importantly, how do I know if I am doing what I set out to do?  Either approach is fine, but what I don’t want is to create the same dance again thinking that I am being innovative when I’m not. 

So what do I do? Where do I start?  I know some of my favorite choreographic devices. I know them well.  In fact choreographic structure, use of theme and form are strengths of mine as a choreographer. I like looking at the arc of a piece, the sense of wholeness, and the overall effect of the structure for a narrative or aesthetic purpose.  I notice that I like introducing dancers in the same way. I like grouping them on the stage in certain ways. I like balancing unison with counterpoint.  And, I love front facing and diagonal front facing (mostly for the narrative or human component of the work—after all, comedy doesn’t work quite the same when turned away from the audience).   

Now, what do I do with this information?  I want to make a new dance.  I don’t want to see myself pull out the old tricks again. At least, not this time.  So, I am dedicating myself to avoid these patterns at all costs.  I force myself to do something else. Anything else!

The dance I want to make next has the working title of Dances to Heal the Soul. Each section addressing a different style and aesthetic to serve a goal that touches the spirit, heals the soul, soothes the heart. 

Maybe, I will resort to my old ways. The comfortable habits of creation.  But, maybe I will find something new in the process.  Maybe the dance will root itself in a new value, in a new structure, or in a new aesthetic.  I can only hope. 

In the meantime, as I allow all of this to incubate in my brain, before I get into the studio, I will dream the new dream. 

Musing on being a dancing mama poetess

It’s been an exceptionally long time since I have posted.  I blame it on my being pregnant. That's right, in this time I have had a baby! And that. . .

Changes. . .

Everything.

While pregnant, it was tough to contemplate much else, and I was too superstitious to blog about my being pregnant for fear it might not work out.  Plus, it took all my energy to be pregnant and survive teaching a full load.  But, I made it through and even fulfilled my goal of performing while pregnant. Once at 4 ½ months and again at 6 months.  It was a hoot.

So, what did I learn during this past year, now that I have a 5 week old who is just learning to nap long enough for me to write this post?  I have learned that dance making (art making) can happen under all conditions and the artist never goes to sleep even when the body is transforming on a daily basis.  I danced through the pregnancy which joy and allowed myself to dance differently while experience the changes happening to my physically and emotionally.

In many ways being a pregnant dance maker was a piece of cake.  Now that the bun is out of the oven, I have many more challenges as my schedule revolves around caring for this new life I have created.  So when and how do I makes dances now?  Patiently, sporadically, theoretically while dosing off into a nap. I recently wrote a friend about dance making:

Dance making is a fascinating way of life. And, it is interesting who perseveres and how they persevere in the dance making process.  It seems that those of us who embed our lives and our learning in our art making seem to have a more sustainable time of it. . . Our creative energies have so many outlets and they all feed each other in the end as they all feed us. When we work honestly it flows out of us like a source energy.  That energy and our lives that swirl around it are the research. . . The journey continues in all conditions and we experience the ebb and flow as we ride the wave.   Mine includes the creative practice of raising a newborn.

I was pleased to get back into the studio last week, a trial run for my body and for babysitting! It went as well as I could expect, and tomorrow I head back into the studio again. I’m not sure where the next stage will take me as I am living moment to moment, hour to hour, nap to nap.  But, I do so with hope and joy.  When things get tough, I surrender myself to the challenge, weep as needed and move on.  We can’t plan for perfection, and I believe it is a mistake to expect it.  Dancing and art making will happen.  It is meant to happen as it happens.  And, therefore, I will stay true to my belief and practice of making dance under all conditions. 

Dance Needs You! (Or, rather, you need dance?)

I have been thinking a lot recently about the nature of dance and its need for stronger community support.  And, I am not talking about TV produced Dance reality shows. Obviously. 

I am talking about the little fish in the pond, the smaller buggers that put their life and soul into their art and often receive little to no community support outside of their immediate friends and family. 

But, I realized that the issue is not that dance needs people, but that people need dance.  I need dance. You need dance. Our society needs dance. But, why? 

We are forgetting.

We are forgetting how important it is to be in communion with our fellow community members. We are forgetting what it feels like to dance in harmony, to dance in unison, as one body, with one common trust in our own humanity.   We are forgetting just how it feels to be present in the moment without competition, without an audience, without an applause meter or a phone line voting system.  We are forgetting how it feels to be in the body with others who are in their own skins, breathing, sensing, moving, relating.  Dance isn't just about moving to move.  It is about our ability to cultivate relationships in motion.  To release our own sense of identity in order to partake in a larger body. 

I learned just recently about a beautiful Global dance that happened today.  Initiated my Martha Eddy, the Global Water Dance is a dance in celebration for all beings, of all cultures, in all locations.  This is an example of how dance (and music) transcends all barriers.  How dance is a safe and open invitation for all people to simply participate in being human by moving together in harmony. 

I am tired of dance as spectacle.  I am tired of dance for the privileged.  Dance for the stars. Dance for competition. Dance can serve all people in increasing their quality of life, in their quality of being human. 

When was the last time you danced?  At a wedding? In your living room? In a dance studio?  Have you forgotten? 

 And, this is not to point blame at you.  I believe the active dance world is as much to blame.  I suspect that the dance world may have encouraged you to forget.

And, what I mean by this is the tendency I see for the "dance world" to make work that is either "light entertainment" or "inaccessible art."  What are your impressions of concert dance?  When was the last dance show you attended in person? Why did you go? What did you get out of it?  Please comment because I actually want to know!  I suspect that most people who attend live dance concerts go because they know someone in the performance.  They go to show their support. This is admirable and much appreciated, however I would rather people come to be inspired! To rediscover themselves through the experience of watching live dance. To be enriched as individuals making their ways through the world.

I am convinced that there is concert dance in this world that is both artistic and enjoyable. And, I intended to keep making dances until I find that balance.  Until the audience remembers that seeing dance can increase their enjoyment of life and the richness in their understanding of themselves as humans in this world. 

And, I will know I have succeeded when I see strangers take the risk to see dance performances in their local towns and return to their homes and friends with stories of how they feel more alive and more "inside their skin". . . and how they couldn't resist dancing in their hearts out in their living room.

Diving into the Experience

The art of craft of choreography is such an interesting practice of inquiry, trial, error and just plain old problem solving. 

After attending this year's American College Dance Festival Association Conference (ACDFA), I feel clear on the needed work for my choreography.  I need to dive in, to soak not only my feet but my entire self in the process. I need to walk straight into the waves and allow my clothes and self to be permeated by the creative waters. 

I have done this before, but it has been a long time since I have had the luxury of time, space and energy to invest to this degree.  Thinking back, the last time I got really soaked in the creative process was over ten years ago, in college and since then I have been progressively taking steps backward, away from the waves, until I now when find myself with only my feet and legs getting wet. 

Why have I refrained from the total immersion in the creative pool?

A few reasons, and good ones.  Practical ones. That should not just be tossed aside. 

1.  Choreography for art and choreography for teaching:  Part of the reason I continue with my private company Megill & Company (MeCo) is because it is meant to be an outlet for my creative voice that is not affected by my pedagogical goals.  When I choreograph for my students, I create dances that have a strong nugget of an idea, but dances that are geared toward the learning process of the student performers.  In other words, when I choreograph for my students I practice the craft of choreography.  I understand the needs of the dancers and shape the piece around that.  I believe this is a noble goal and one that I feel is needed for maximal student learning. If my creative identity gets involved it becomes too messy.  But as a result, these pieces, while they get me marginally wet, still leave parts of me dry.

2.  Time and energy:  So, if I have a clear vision for the way I choreograph for my students, how then does my work with MeCo differ?  I have creative freedom, I know that intellectually. But, in my experience I find I am not going as deeply as I want.  And, the reason is a lack of time and energy.  The creative work I do for my full time teaching position, still taxes me creatively and energetically.  So, when it comes to Sunday (today) when I gear up for rehearsal with MeCo, I am often totally spent.  I manage to rehearse for 3-4 hours and then am done.  The cup has been emptied and I am dry. 

3.  Fear:  I realize that, if I really wanted to change I could. I could make more time for the gooey, amoebic, creative flow to come out.  But, something is keeping me from doing that. . . good ol' fear.  It is possible that I don't put the time and effort I want to put into the choreographic and rehearsal process, because I am afraid it won't be worth it? Because I am afraid that the piece will not be that good and that I will have failed as a creator despite my efforts?  I know that I can create generally interesting, entertaining and semi-provocative pieces without diving into the ocean, so I often choose to play it safe and do just that.  It is possible I don't put in the requisite time and energy because it gives me an excuse in the end (especially if it doesn't work out).  I'm safe.  But, I am also not living up to my full creative potential. 

At ACDFA, I saw over 80 dances and many of them used similar movement vocabulary, similar music and similar compositional structures.  This is not bad, especially when I look at the experience through the lens of a dance educator. These are needed experiences.  But, I feel a pull to do something else.  To find my voice, refine it and see what it can really sound like.  It might be the song of a nightingale; it might be the hoot of an owl, a caw of the crow, or the call of the morning dove, but it will be better than a fearful mockingbird. 

I need to set fear aside and take the leap, off the top diving board, into the pool.  Then swim like mad and hope I reach the edge before my limbs give out. 

Fighting Dance Discrimination with Dance Literacy

If you are a dancer, you know what is feels like to be a part of the "forgotten art form."

Granted, it is tough being an artist of any sort, but within the family of performing arts, dance has notoriously been at the end of the line.  Dance only recently graduated from PE (where is still lives for some dance departments) within the last 50 years.  Yes, we are more than exercise.  Gasp!

I teach within the California Community College system and am very, very proud to be a faculty member at Moorpark College.  I love teaching. I love it so much it hurts sometimes.  (Yes, teaching has made me cry-- more than once!)

And, it particularly hurts in times of budget cuts and "restructuring." 

Currently, community dance departments are under the gun to rewrite their curriculum in order to essentially "save" their departments.  This comes in the demand for leveled courses within each genre, with different learning objective and different content for each.

Hmmmmm.  A good challenge for this recently born area of academic study.  Because, of course the arts are ultimately immeasurable.  At least, not in the same way that you can assess a student's ability to add 2 + 2 (hint: it's 4).  In dance 2 + 2 might equal 5 or 6 or 0, depending on the aesthetic and artistic goal of the creator.  Soooo. . .

Tonight I sat down at my computer to decipher for the "non dancer" how I can determine whether a dancer is Level I, II, III or IV.  And, here is the hitch: It is not just mechanics.  It is not as simple as someone performing a single, double then triple pirouette.  Every dancer knows this, as does every audience member at a performance.  But, where is the language to effectively describe the difference?

I believe this lack of language, this lack of literacy within (and without) the field is what is ultimately holding dance back as celebrated field of academic study.  So, what am I going to do about it?

Well, shucks. I'm am going to find the words.  Then I'm going to use them, and then I am going to teach them.  I will teach them so often that they become household phrases!  I will teach them until they are used on billboards, in puns and as Facebook status updates!  Yes, the dance language will prevail!

But, back to the issue at hand. . . These d@mn course outlines of record. 

I sat down, I got quiet, and then I got honest and this is what I came up with.

Level I performance is about gross motor skills. Can you be on the correct foot at the correct time in the correct space?  If you can, then you are a level I dancer.

Level II performance is about coordination and increased complexity, strength, control and endurance.  Can you be on the correct foot at the correct time in the correct place EVEN when it gets tricky AND when it lasts for longer than 2 minutes?

Level III performance is about adding depth to your performance.  Can you do all the stuff you did before AND even more complex patterns WHILE modulating your dynamic energy so there is "texture" and "character" in your performance? Haha! That's the rub. 

Level IV performance is about doing ALL of the above AND helping others out in the meantime.  Can you do all that you need to do AND see the big picture? Take it for the team?  Make the whole better even if it means you may not get to be the star?  Can you do all of this, while still cultivating variety and subtlety in your performance?  And most importantly can you do this without acting like a jerk?

Of course, I couldn't put that last part about being a jerk on the formal state document (but I wanted to!). So there you have it. If you were to take dance performance 4 times from me, THAT is what I would want to see in you.  Of course. . . now I need to get the rest of the state on my band wagon.

Wish me luck!

(P.S. I realize that this post does nothing to address the fact that students learn dance and it various aspects (physical, emotional, energetic, character) at different paces-- but since the state budget doesn't care about that, I have decided to leave that topic for another time.)

Artistry in the Jazz Dancer

I had the lovely opportunity to meet and work with a phenomenal group of Jazz dance teachers and dance theorists this past weekend.  We were sorting out and preparing a presentation on Jazz dance technique and composition for NDEO this October.  Super exciting!

Since then, I have had a continued discussion with Paige Porter from Loyola Marymount University on the specific issue of artistry in Jazz dance. Very interesting and timely stuff for me,  and my mind is still whirling so I thought it was about time to put some of my thinking into writing to be shared with my dance interested readers.  So, thanks to Paige who asked this question and got me thinking!

On the first day of my level 2/3 Jazz dance class this semester, I asked my students:
 
What makes a good dancer? 

Their responses included naming things like dedication, technique, and expression.  Only 2 out of about 8 groups identified creativity as an essential component of a dancer.  Only 1 group identified musicality and no one specifically named artistry. 

Interesting.

… and good for me to know as a teacher.

Anyone who has taken a dance class knows how important it can seem to "get it right." 

"Step on count 2!  Leg at 45 degrees! Higher! Release your head!"

And, even in my classes, I stress the need for precision and accuracy in performance.  However, I don't want to do this at the cost of stripping the dancer of his or her sense of being an artist.

Like actors and singers, dancers are a living medium for art.  Dancers are not lifeless clay on a wheel, paint on a canvas, or musical instruments that can be manipulated without feelings or sensitivity.  The magic of being a dancer is that the dancer is both the medium and an artist.  The non dancing choreographer is just a visionary, an artist without a canvas or paint set.  Sometimes, it can seem that all the creativity is coming from the choreographer, but that is hardly true!  The choreographer relies on the dancer's artistry to bring to life his or her artistic vision. 

As an artist, the jazz dancer is a conduit, a craftsman, a technician, a medium, and a human. Sometimes dancers forget how important the human component is to being a true artist.  Dancers must challenge themselves to be authentic in their performance, to make the movements and expression true and real. They are honoring the choreographic vision, by bringing themselves to the table and putting more of themselves into the dance. (Side note: I very much dislike the song "Are we human? Or, are we dancers?" I want to shout at the radio: Dancers ARE human! That is what makes us special!)

It is still the jazz dancer's job to be precise. And, here is the dilemma for many jazz dancers I know. It can seem contradictory for a teacher or choreographer to ask a student to be specific in her performance and yet include herself in the dance. 

How can there be room for both precision and self expression?  

The artist hones the craft of dance, studying the movement in a clinical way at times to discover the palette of expression that lives inside her body.  In other words dancers must hone their craft so that they can work beyond the technique. 

We, dancers, can't let a lack of technique get in the way of our expression as artists.  Art exists in an artist's ability to choose.  A jazz dancer must make expressive choices in performance, thus embedding his artistry in the performance as well. We must enliven the dance with ourselves.  Our artistic voice is the animating spirit of performance. 

Now, where does musicality fit into all of this? Coming from a family of musicians, musicality lives in my bones.  I sense and feel music very intimately, and music is a strong influence in my performance quality.  However, I need to clarify what I mean by musicality.  In the music world, musicality refers to the artistic process of making music (producing sound that is expressive and artistic).  Musicality in dance refers to the dancer's ability to relate to the music in performance in an expressive or artistic way. 

These are not the same. 

Dancers need a word that represents their ability to infuse a dance with their artistry while they are dancing (just like musicians).  I suggest dancecality.  We need a word that reminds the dancer that he  or she is creating art in the specific and expressive performance of the choreography. Dancecality like musicality should refer to the performer's ability to bring nuance and expression to the performance, because that is the artistic experience of being a dancer. 

It is the artistic responsibility of jazz dancers to tell the human story through their movement.  The dancer is responsible for connecting with the audience and transporting them into the human condition.  There is magic in this process and no amount of "technique" can replicate it.  It must come from the artistic spirit of the dancer. 

Lastly, I need to address the Jazz dancer as a choreographer.  Jazz dance has not given itself a universal, useful framework for teaching young jazz dancers how to create jazz dance that is fresh, personal and unique while still remaining under the jazz dance umbrella.  Laura Smythe's (Laura was another participant in our jazz dance think tank weekend) Master thesis addresses just this, and I am so excited for her research!  Jazz dance is such a rich practice in American dance and dancers deserve to feel creative within their own art form.  My hope is to draw inspiration from Laura's work and implement a choreographic component into my classroom that feeds the dancer's artistic spirit from a compositional perspective. 

I want 100% of jazz dancers to feel creative and artistic in the performance of jazz dance.

I want 100% artist 100% of the time.   






Dance on.

Ego vs Artist

(I wrote the first draft of this blog 2 weeks ago while I was up in the Bay Area... I never actually posted it, so I am sharing it now with some current additions. Enjoy!)

I attended the San Francisco Zen Center yesterday evening.  I had a wonderful time sitting in the location where Shunryu Suzuki first established the Soto Zen practice in the United States.  I had read his biography over a year ago, The Crooked Cucumber.  It, in combination, of Natalie Goldberg's books (on Zen and Writing) were the two influences that prompted me to delve into Zen Buddhism. 

Now, I try to go to the Northridge Beginner's Mind Zen Center when I have time and sit occasionally at home or in other meditation groups some of which are not necessary Buddhist but fill my need for sangha (like minded community). 

My current question is centered around my experience as an artist and how to navigate the dance making process while not succumbing to the whims of the ego (a big No No in the Buddhist world).  This line of questioning actually started about a year ago, when I first created this blog.  The challenge of being a performing artist is inherent in the art itself. Dance is a live art form dependent on others.  If I were just a poet, I could feasibly write and write and write without ever having to show anyone and then allow my work to be found in a trunk after I am gone, not caring whether they publish a series of books from the vast amount of writing or simply stick it in the recycle bin.

Being a poet seems like it would be so much simpler in that way.  I wouldn't have to be around when others read it, I wouldn't have to worry about renting a studio or theater or gathering dancers to volunteer their time and talents for my vision.  A poet can work alone, at any time, day or night without hindrance. 

But, I am a performer and a creator of performance.  And, here is the crux of my suffering, I want people to want to see my work and (gasp) like the work. 

But, why???

I haven't quite sorted that out yet.  In the worst case it is because I am egotistical.  The best case is that I have a mission to bring joy and mindfulness to the world through dance.  The trouble comes when I can't tell which is the driving force. 

Trouble. 

Am I merely a self centered egoist? Or am I the ultimate altruistic artist? 

Why am I driven to do what I do? 

I need to spend a lot more time figuring this out and ASAP.  Because, in the meantime I am suffering. I suffer each time I feel a pang of envy, or a shake of insecurity.  I feel it when I bristle upon hearing of others success and in all the hours I plague myself with self doubt and dislike for the work I create.  I am suffering, and it is ugly.  I don't like admitting it.  I am embarrassed.  But, this is the truth, and I gather that this is the truth for many or even most artists. 

We may not know why we are driven to do what we do and I believe losing the context of why we create plays a large part in our suffering as artists.  I am fortunate that I make my living teaching therefore I don't have to make money with my art.  But, it still feels overwhelmingly important to me. And, I want to make sure it is important for the RIGHT reason.  Not to feed my ego but to feed my spirit and the spirit of the dancer and audience members (more on that coming soon).

Here is a list I have come up with to help me determine whether I am working from a healthy or detrimental place. Perhaps you will enjoy the list as well.

Beth


Signs that I am an egotistical artist:
-- Focus on the other:  sometimes I catch myself thinking too much about what other people are doing with their dances.  This should be irrelevant. It is one thing to observe and enjoy; it is another to use these opportunities for either self validation or flagellation. 
--Frustration with the product:  The product is irrelevant, art making is about the process. The dance should be nothing more than the residue of the creative experience. 
--Identification with the dance:  I am not the dance.  My success is not tied to the success of the dance.  There is no success to be attained. 
--Desire for validation/accolades:  This is a big one for me.  I want people to tell me it was good!  I want people to like it.  But, I need to rethink why I want a positive response. It is because I hope to create art that touches the hearts of the audience or because I want praise. 


Signs I am an altruistic artist:
--Enjoyment/witness of the other:  In watching a dance artist I am inspired to continue my path with the new insight from those around me.
--Joy of Process:  I know I am in the right place when going to the studio or rehearsal is fun! And, even problem solving is fun.
--Focus on the Message:  I create dances with a message (sometimes for me sometimes for the world).  When I am creating from this place, it takes ME out of the equation and puts the goal of the art at the forefront.
--Self care/ Self love:  I know I am working from a healthy place when I can offer myself deep compassion through the struggles that are inherent in a creative process.  When I forget to forgive myself/love myself/have patience with myself then I am in a fighting place.  I am fighting with my ego that has expectations that are unhelpful to the process. 


In short when I am creating from this place....

                                                       ... I know I am creating from the right place.

On Being a Razor Babe. . .

I'm not sure exactly how I fell into this group of people.  It all seems like a blur when I think back.  But, after tonight there is no denying that I am a Razor Babe.

I guess it started with Sandra Hunter and my need to do something other than dance.  But, I never suspected it to go this far.  I mean. . .  A poetry performance group?

I never dreamt in a million years. And, yet, here I am, having completed my very first debut performance as a Razor Babe. 

We performed tonight at the Artists Union Gallery in Ventura. You could feel the damp ocean air and smell the briny tide at the door only a stone's throw from the surf.  There we were, in our new Razor Babe t-shirts, with our Razor Babe Chapbook, and videographers and photographers and me!

Surreal to say the least.  Of course performance in nothing new for me, but this venue, this format is very different. I am used to a world of movement, music, lighting, costumes and dance. This performance was about baring you soul as is no persona, no illusions, no tricks.  Pure. Simple. Human.

Yes, we perform poems, but I learned tonight that we are more than poets, we are storytellers.  There was something about our performance that made me feel connected to ancient civilizations.  Just as the orators of ancient Greece and Rome told their stories, we were telling ours. Words put together to create new worlds. I felt the Razor Babes transporting the audience to and from these worlds of  hopes, dreams, desires, and tragedies.  Moments of hysteria, laughter, excitement and poignancy wrapped up into one amazing trip.

We were telling our stories, yes, but I couldn't help but feel we were telling everyone's story. The story of being human, one poem at a time. A kaleidoscope of images and sense memories.  This ancient art of storytelling, engaging in who we are what we share, intoxicates me. 

Standing at the back and looking at the group, in our matching shirts with the edgy razor blade logo, I couldn't help but think: what a motley crew we are.  A mishmash of ages, races, stories, lives.  But, we come together and all of that disappears as create a safe space to share our poems and stories with each other and with the world. 

I am a member of a precious tribe of artists. 

I am a Razor Babe.

Here is our write up in the Ventura County Star:
http://m.vcstar.com/news/2012/mar/29/razor-babes-present-an-evening-of-interactive-3/

For more on Sandra Hunter's Workshops and Razor Babe events:
http://www.sandra-hunter.com/

If I were a poem. . .

If I were a poem I would probably not rhyme
not even slant
because its just too much work to give up the right word just so the sound can rebound
But I might have a groove, a rhythm of sorts.
Long short long,
short short short long,
long, long, long
Whatever it would be, it would most definitely be awesome.

If I were a picture, I would probably be in color.
Frustrating for me because
My most favorite pictures are in black and white.
This would bum me out because I would never be able to live up to my own black and white standards
Still, I might be a landscape, with tall trees
Or I might be a portrait of a girl on a swing.
it's hard to tell. . .

If I were a film, I would 100% be a short.
Even though I am tall, I know for sure that I would be a short
Maybe as short as 3 minutes.
20 at the max
I would be filmed in long steady shots, maybe even one shot.  One long image developing its way across the screen and into the hearts of the audience.
People might marvel at my beauty, but the key to me would be the poignancy of it all.  Some might call it elitist, erudite or pretentious. But,
It would undoubtedly be powerful and people would notice. 

If I were a postcard, I would be sent from Australia,
Not that I've been to Australia, but the dry earth and clear sky would mimic my fair, sensitive skin next to my blue-grey eyes
Plus, it seems like a jovial place, and I like being jovial.
Also, I love space and from what I have been told, there is a lot of it there. 
I would read G'Day and include an image of a rocky land formation
I would be sent overseas, to Spain or Germany

If I were a dance, I would mostly likely be an unpredictably eclectic blend of Modern and Jazz
People wouldn't know what to call me. 
So they wouldn't, and instead they would describe me as charming and fun.
Or they might say they liked the humor (aka complete ridiculousness of the whole work) and the costumes. 
I would wear sneakers or go barefoot unless the floor had splinters.
However, if at all possible, I would spend a good portion on the floor
rolling about in ways that were essentially meaningless and largely uninteresting to watch but were fun to do.
People would sit through these patiently, waiting for me to get on with the theatrical, funny stuff.
I would take my time rolling but feel guilty about it the whole time

If I were a short story, I would have only 4 characters, a girl, a boy, an old man and a dog.
The dog would go with the boy.
Most likely.
Or the girl, if she had short curly hair and went by Jo

If I were a house, I would be two stories, and spend all my time upstairs where the warm air collects on cooler evenings. 
I would have a garden, but feel sad when the alternately hot summers and cold winters burned the edges of the plants.
I would beg for new paint, but miss the paint chips that had collected at the corners
and the relocated family of Opossum that have been living below me happily for three seasons.  They are a sweet bunch, quiet and nurturing to each other.

If I were a piece of furniture, I would not be a couch, nor an ottoman, nor a rug, nor table, nor lamp, nor coffee table.  I would have to be a outside rocking chair because I love the flow of going back and forth and back and forth until I fall into the mists of dreams and memories, or fantasies of my life. 

Tech Week Tantrum

Part of my job at Moorpark College is directing the fall dance concert.  As with most projects, I love-love-love the creative process. The brainstorming of ideas and excitement of new creative possibilities.  I love the promise of potential that fills the air at the inception of a project or concert.  I dream big.  I like to revolutionize myself and the process each chance I get.  I can't help but want to push the envelope, push my limits and try something I have never done before.

But, this stage of the concert process is long gone.  And, when I reach this point of no return (7 days before the concert) I can't help but think.  "What was I thinking?"

This concert I have choreographed a fun and ridiculously fast tap dance, a physically demanding and powerful modern dance trio and a crazy, large ensemble piece (complete with strange walks, trench coats, boots and screaming). 

Did I mention I dream big?

The thing that I am learning is that my creativity is in some ways its own vice.  I can't help but get excited about new ideas, creative trains of thought, and potential "awesomeness" in general.  I love to generate ideas, ways of working, aesthetic systems, choreographic projects. 

But then it comes time to do it and actually make it happen.  And, I find myself here in "Tech Week"!

For those of you outside of the performing arts, Tech Week is the time the production uses to move into the theater, set lights, practice with costumes and generally go mad from fatigue at that same time.  

Admittedly I write in anticipation.  Tech week technically starts tomorrow.  But, as always, it promises long hours in a dark theater, after which your butt is numb, and you can't quite remember what day it is, if you need to eat, nor if you went to bathroom in the last 5 hours.  It is not all that terrible. It can actually be fun. But it is (or at least has been) always exhausting.  Imagine functioning on adrenaline and caffeine for 12 hours straight but not being able to go any where or see the light of day for three days straight. 

And, who am I to complain? The technicians do this all day long each and everyday, project and project, production after production.  But, I am to a point in my life where I have become more protective of my energy and health.  I am less willing to burn myself out the way I used to.  I guess I have learned that the production "hang over" just isn't worth it.

Life goes on after a dance concert just as it did before.  Yet, the show will not make itself.  It takes time and energy, focus and patience.  It takes hope, creativity, and diligence.  Perseverance perhaps most of all. 

I want to find a way that I can enjoy Tech.  Am I crazy to think it might actually be possible to put on a dance concert and not lose my mind or sacrifice my physical health?  I have reached a point where I no longer want to push through. I don't want to just "make it happen."  I don't want to live my life wishing these next two weeks were already over, when this is what I love to do.

I want to love it while I am in it.  Not just before and after. 

It is time for me to make some changes in how I work.  I want to teach the dancers that it feels good to work, create and perform (and it feels best when you don't kill yourself in the process).  The reward needs to be in the process.  My students run themselves so ragged that I am afraid they miss the entire experience.  Sure they always "get through."  But they are sleep walking through it all. 

I know because I was too. 

It is time to wake up.

Stress or Depression or Both

I am feeling (to say the least) overwhelmed. Since returning from the National Dance Educator's Organization Conference last week, I feel like I can't catch up.  This is the time in the semester when all the "good" ideas are coming to a head, and it is time to pay up. 

But even that isn't entirely true. I don't have THAT much to do. I certainly could achieve most of what I have to get done, but the truth is I am feeling spent.  I was so careful during the first part of the semester to take care of my time and energy, but this still happened.  I still ran out of gas.

I am griping. I guess I am in the mood to gripe.  I am bitter because I have so many ideas going around in my head. Creative ideas that are full of potential. Dance ideas. Teaching ideas. Writing ideas. But I don't want to do the work. I don't want to take the time and energy to actually put my pen to paper or fingers to keyboard.  Even this is feeling awkward. Mostly because I feel like I have some very cool experiences from the NDEO conference which are great blog material, but instead I am caught in this cloudy mess of fatigue, apathy and dejection. 

The stress (which apparently snuck up on me without me knowing it) is taking its toll.  I am feeling depressed.  And, that is the crux of all of this.  I have great things to do, great insights to share, ideas to follow, but I am anchored to the typical symptoms: fatigue, sorrow, obsessive thoughts, anxiety dreams, the desire to just sit for hours on end, preferably with a stream of movies going on end to end to end. 

In the scheme of things, the symptoms are not terrible and will hopefully go away soon. But it is a reminder that even when things are good, stress takes it toll, and for me stress results in depression.  I think it is a chemical thing because there is really nothing wrong. I just feel bad.  Sub-par. 

Good times and a stable life, and I can still get caught in the cloud.  It happens less and less.  But it is a reality for me. Chronic depression doesn't just disappear when things are good and you have a good week, or two or three.  It is a constant practice. 

Side Note:  It doesn't help that my office printer is broken.  It is throwing of my groove and making everything harder.

Perhaps tomorrow the cloud will lift like coastal fog that finally burns off after you have given up on a sunny day.  But at this point I am still hoping for sunny skies.