Boom! . . . Flat on my back. . .

Well, in my last blog, I was my own personal champion for diving into the creative experience. And, I took the leap. . . and ended flat on my back. Literally.

Just as I was getting excited, ready to do the work!

I spent 3 days in bed with a horrible SI (Low back) injury, that kept me completely immobilized and out of work. Three whole days! I have never (ever in my 10 years of teaching) had to take 3 consecutive days off of work because of illness or injury.  It was a first, and it was hard for me to swallow.

The first day, I was ok. I thought to myself "This is what it feels like to take care of myself. I can totally do this."  The second day I said, "Well one more day won't be too bad, different classes will be missed. And, I just have to." Day three:  "What is wrong with me? Three days?  Oh no! What is everyone going to think?"

In many ways that sense of guilt hurt far more than the level 10 pain in my back.   I worried that people were going to think all sorts of ugly negative things about me.  I tortured myself about it for the entire time I was laying on my back, too injured to even hold up a book.  I was certain that people were going to think that I wasn't trying hard enough to heal.  That I wasn't being responsible and "pushing through" as truly motivated and reliable people do. 

But, this was of course all in my head. The reality was I couldn't stand up or sit without intense pain.  The reality was that no matter what anyone was thinking, I was physically unable to teach for three days.  But, I couldn't let go of it.  I was convinced of my doom and gloom as a professional dance instructor. 

But, by the end of that third day of rest, I was finally able to stand without muscle spasm.  On day four I gingerly went to teach, and everyone smiled, glad to see me, asked how I was feeling, expressed just how worried they were for me. One student even gave me a little Mexican incantation to help me heal.  People weren't upset with me for being injured, they were compassionate. Far more compassionate than I was to myself. 

A week later from the initial grab of injury. I am still healing, my pain has moved from a level 10 at the peaks to more of a constant 4.  It still requires me to lay down and rest my back for long periods of the day, allowing the muscles to undo and the joint to heal.  But now, I don't feel guilty taking that time to rest and heal.  I am comforted by the reminder that people have shown me compassion and support. It is my job to honor them by showing the same gentle nurturing to myself.  It doesn't have to be selfish; it doesn't have to be hurried.  As Soto Zen Buddhist Susuki Roshi said, it is just "Things as it is." 

And, I am worthy of healing just as I am. 

So are you. 


(PS The incorrect subject verb agreement in Susuki Roshi's quote is intentional. As a Budhhist he saw the multiplicity of the world as just aspects of everything as one. No duality. Hence we see plural, but the nature is singular. . . Pretty cool stuff).

Competition in Dance: Coming to terms with ACDFA

This week I will be headed to the American College Dance Festival Association (ACDFA) Baja region festival.  This is an annual festival that I have been to about 10 times, beginning as a student at UC Santa Barbara.  It is a four day event of dance classes and performances for college dance programs to share and enjoy the art of dance. 

ACDFA festivals are amazing, filled with interesting and stimulating activities, performances and people.  But, I would be lying if I didn't also share that these festivals have a tendency to activate me into a state of anxiety. 

But, this is my Year to Live, and the last thing I want to do is have a stressed out ACDFA experience!  So, I started to dig around to figure out what exactly was charging me up and ruffling my feathers.

"Oh! Hello, Ego! Funny meeting you here!"

Not so surprising.  A laundry list of things set my self conscious ego into a tizzy. Here is the short list:
1.  I'm not one of the crazy popular teachers whose class is overflowing. 
2.  I can't remember everyone's name from year to year.  (Badges help-- but still)
3.  My choreography/performance is generally not at the caliber of Research 1 institutions (even though I don't teach at a Research 1 institution-- my ego is that crafty!).
4.  All of the above makes me feel generally dumb and insignificant within my own profession and passion.

Funny, not one issue has to do with the fact that I am there to mentor students or guide them around the festival.  All that is actually rather comforting.  I believe and trust that I am helpful to my students.  I know that I have information and knowledge that is useful to them. I like being there for them and feel rewarded helping them decide on classes, prepare for performances and understand the diversity and detail within the scope of their festival experience.

But, being in a large conference environment makes me question what I am offering the larger dance community.  My silly ego wants something more!  

I am truly embarrassed to even share this, but it is the truth. And in my year to live, I can't waste time lying.  I see the favorite teachers and the favorite choreographers year to year, and I see that I am not one of them. And, that just plain sucks.

The negative hitch to ACDFA is the pseudo-competition element that is involved with the event.  During the festival there are 3-4 Adjudication Concerts in which pieces are performed (anonymously) for a panel of 3 adjudicators (more commonly known as "judges").  No score is given (thank God!), but after they have given verbal feedback for each piece (really these feedback sessions are the best and worst aspect for my ego) they pick a top 10 to perform in a final gala performance.  It truly is an honor to perform in the gala. And the piece that do are usually exquisitely crafted and performed.

Now, of course EVERYONE wants to be in the gala.  And, this is what sits so uneasily with me as a dance educator.  I understand the concept of healthy competition, but I don't think it is healthy for me (and I am guessing other sensitive types too).  Granted, I say all of this, and I don't even have a piece in the adjudicated concerts this year.  This is old muck that has been churned up just at the prospect of attending to watch! 

 I love feedback. I hate competition.  

It is part of the reason I don't watch any dance shows on TV (also. . .I don't have cable).  Trying to measure dance or measure art in order to be given value is counter to everything I believe in.  And, I think most of the faculty members who attend ACDFA festivals would agree with me. Probably most of the ACDFA board members would agree with me.  Hell, I bet many of the "Adjudicators" agree with me too.

And yet. . .

And yet. . .

We crave validation and approval so fiercely that we engage in this way.  That we swallow the poison with the medicine. . . and, hope it doesn't kill our spirit in the meantime.

My stomach upturns just at writing this blog.  And, my eyes well up. 

In moments, like this I feel ashamed for past beliefs and past behavior, and I remember just how much I love the art of dance.  ACDFA is not the villain here, our human frailties are.  We want so much. I want so much.  I wanted so much.

I am learning to want less. To rediscover my self worth in a smile and a plié.  

...just a plié.

Want to read more about my ego?  Try out this recent blog of mine.  Are you vain? 
Or check out this whopper question: Ego vs Artist
Wondering about my Year to Live?  Check out where this all started. A Year To Live- 323 Days Left
Want to imagine me in a totally overwhelming dance class situation?  Then this is for you:  On being "just ok"

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.)

Last Birthday in my Year to Live

Yes! I am 33!

And, I am still working through my Year to Live reflective practice loosely based on Stephen Levine's book.  

I am roughly on day 186.  Officially at the half way point week. And, it just so happens it is also my birthday.  Yikes.  That is a lot to take in.  

So, I asked myself what I want to do for my "last" birthday, and I decided I want to make a dance for myself.  A solo made for me right here and now, reflective of this time and place in my life. And, this time and place is not perfect as far as a dancer is concerned.

I have been working with a back injury for that past year.  I have had a history of back issues as I have blogged about in the past (see About the Back and How to Heal), but this one has been the same injury (on and off again-- but mostly on) for the past year.  Only recently, when I began a new mind body practice called CFR, have I started addressing the nature of my injury and the consequences of my habitual patterns.  It has been an eye opening journey.  

The cyclical history of my injury is such that I haven't created a dance for myself in a long time.  I create pieces for others, and I have created dances in which I also perform as part of the ensemble (often in a limited way), but I haven't created something just for myself in over a year.  And, primarily because of my back injury.  Every time I made an effort to create something or to "get back into shape," I would reinjure myself. This was the cycle.  So, I basically stopped making dances for me.  

This year to live has reminded me that I should not wait for "complete healing" or "getting back into fighting shape"  or "until I am able to recapture my lost technique."  I can't wait.  

The challenge is accepting the fact that this solo won't look like my former solos. It can't because my former solos in fact what lead me to injury (not them exactly but the former choices surrounding their creation).  Also, I won't look like I did in my former solos.  I have a different shape than I did before this sequence of injuries.  Those are the facts.  

The movement can't be the same. I am not the same.  Whatever ever types of movement and choreographic sequences I made before are basically out of the question now.  I can't wow people with my extension or leaps. I won't be able to roll and get up with speed or force.  I have to make different choices. I have to make the effort to break the injurious habits and form new patterns in my way of moving, in my way of working and most importantly in my way of thinking. 

I need to make a dance that will serve me now.  One I can perform now.  And, I have to trust that I can enjoy a dance created under these circumstances.  And, it can be worthy of being performed for an audience.  It is strangely scary. Like I am choreographing for the first time.  

But, this needs to be my birthday gift to myself.  Because in my Year to Live this is my last birthday, and it can't wait.  

Dancing on,
Beth

The Rentless Chronicals - short review

I love artists who make it happen. Whatever that means in their environment or circumstances.  I love artists who make the work because the work needs to be made. Because they are compelled to share their creative, philosophical and aesthetic voice with the world. Because the world needs them to share their voice and they create in response to that draw.   

Wendi Baity's work with her first two short dance films in an ongoing series called the Relentless Chronicles (Relentless Dance Theater) is soaked in this sense of mission and personal drive.  The films are short glimpses into Baity's view of the world, the human being and the dancer. 

The first film, Home is a State of Mind, features an exquisite trio of dancers who are powerful, expressive and personal in their performance.  I am by no means a film critic (so please accept my layman's vocabulary and understanding of film editing) but I am a student of composition, and I found this first film rugged and imperfect in a way that suited the material.  The editing was simple and clean, the imagery was strong, and the dance phrases were emotionally compelling.  The still images by Lisa Flory were stunning with rich portraits of these individuals. I was particularly impressed with the site specific dance phrases (both in unison and in solos), specifically the moments when the dancers were on the dusty ground and kicking up dirt with their boots. It felt dry and desolate. And, a deep sense of desperation welled up inside of me. 

The second film already possessed a more refined sense of imagery and screen composition utilizing more extensive camera movement and editing to create visual interest in the performance space which is a dance room.   This piece entitled Not a Number, deals more directly with the very sensitive dance topic of individuality in a very competitive dance world.  I have never attended a commercial dance audition-- in part because I was so invested in the academic world through my younger dancing years and in part because I was just too scared.  But luckily many dancers have the guts to put themselves out there, time and time and time again. The commercial dance world is an exciting and intoxicating place, but in those huge cattle call auditions (where hundreds upon hundreds of dancers come for their chance at a gig) you become girl number #147 with the red leotard and blonde hair.  Nameless and dismissable.  So, what does a dancer do?  The film suggest at the end, a dancer has to decide to either play the game or not. And, as the film finished I did get a sense that the dancers were choosing their own paths which left me nodding my head in approval.

Not A Number started out really strong for me.  However, I found was not as drawn into the film. The film as a whole seemed more sleek. The dancers were strong, each with stunning featured moments.  But, as a whole I didn't feel as strong of a connection with the performers.  I am not sure why. . . I think I wanted to know more of their stories.  Baity's chose to use predominantly strong and fast movement (punching and slashing action efforts) for this film, but because they all danced similarly I think made them seem more similar than different.  I saw the dancers as a unified group rather than independent individuals striving to be something different. 

Overall, Baity's efforts in these short films should be applauded. Not only are they engaging stories, but they prove that dance itself can have a message for social change that is meaningful.  Baity has already filmed 7 of these Chronicles which are now in editing and post production.  I honestly look forward to seeing these other films.  I want the world to see dance that is gritty and raw, passionate and personal. 

I hope you will take a moment to check out these films and see how they speak to you as a dancer as a human being.  If you have insights to film studies, maybe you can share your observations and insights into the pieces. 

Cheers to art being made because it HAS to be made!

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.

First World Problems: Stealing

Stealing sucks.  

Over the weekend, while I was in Fresno with my dance company, my car window was smashed and the thief took my backpack (containing my month old MacBook Pro, iPad, iPod nano and video camera) and my bag full of props (big bells, tap shoes, costume bits etc.) for our show.  

It sucked.  But, I found myself responding my repeating this mantra over and over:

 "It is just stuff. I am healthy and safe, my loved one's are healthy and safe and in general things are ok. This is just a first world problem not the end of the world"

I was on my way to teach a master dance class, so I actually went with a couple dancers while the others did costume and prop recognizance.  I was shaken, but I didn't cry.  I got to the studio explained why I was late and began the class. 

"Lie down on the floor and notice your breath. Arrive fully in this moment. . . "  

Admittedly I was saying it for myself as much as I was for them. But I did realize that in that moment everything was fine. I was safe and healthy doing something I love.  Yes, I was going to have to deal with the sh*tty aspect of filing a police report and getting a new computer and spending $3,000 more dollars to replace things I has just purchased in January.  But, in that teaching moment, everything was just as it needed to be.  The students were lying on the wooden floor, breathing, noticing, observing and experiencing.  

The class went well better than I expected under the circumstances, and when I got back to the house at which we were staying, I learned my friend's husband had already taken my car to get the window fixed and the dancers had managed to find or purchase nearly all the needed props.  

The show that day went brilliantly. We rallied and the ensemble was the strongest it has ever been. It was a fantastic show and we managed to get it on tape so hopefully I will have something to post on YouTube soon!   

Of course, I was emotionally spent from the whole event and feeling awfully guilty and embarrassed for having left the computer and prop bags in the car at all.   But, I felt so honored that those around me came to my aid with such love and compassion  My dancers and my dear friend Cristal whose house we were staying at managed to take care of virtually everything.

I tried to leave money on the counter to pay Cristal and her husband back for all they bought and paid for, but upon leaving the city found the same wad of cash nestled in the center console of my car. Similarly, I was given an envelop containing another handful of $20's from the students and their families.  I was overwhelmed with their generosity.

I realize that I am loved.  

I have spent the last three days processing the whole event. Buying a new computer (which I am typing on right now), a new iPad and trying to reclaim data from my external hard drive. And, I keep repeating "This is just a first world problem. . . " 

 I feel like I am almost put back together.  Emotionally and logistically.  But I could not have done it alone.

With deep gratitude and appreciation to all who cam to my aid,

Beth

PS  The computer is now listed as "nando's macBook" in Selma on find my iPhone.  And, I tell you if my mom ever gets to Selma and find's "nando" that guy better watch out because my mom is raving mad and I wouldn't put it past her to do some serious damage. 

This picture is from "Belle of the Bowl". The crazy big ass bell was stolen in the prop bag and will be sorely missed.  I can't imagine what the thieves thought when they opened our bag and found that!  

All Riled Up and Ready for the Big Push

If I were pregnant, the title might mean something entirely different, but thankfully I am not pregnant and I am referring to the big push that happens twice every year. It is called "finals" time.

The "finals" themselves are not the problem, the problem is all the loose ends that have as of yet gone untied or un-severed and must be either tied or severed by the end of the next three weeks.  And, the process of tying and severing as it goes (even when it goes "well") just plain sucks. It the worst part of teaching as many teachers know and agree.

What happens is: all the students realize 3 weeks out that they are screwed, and they all want you to do something about it.  It is rough being the one to explain that they dropped the ball, that they did it to themselves and now they have to live with it. Not a fun conversation.

True, I am a softy. But, that is because I believe that I need a break every once in a while and therefore my students probably need a break too. I draw a hard line where it "matters."  but I am basic just too darn empathetic.  And, even if I don't give them leeway, I still find myself continually barraged with email or unsuspected visitors to my office hours who are desperate for an ear if nothing else.

I was a good student. Truth be told, I was an excellent student. I only ever got one B+.  Ever.  That is how determined to succeed I was. It has less to do with smarts and more to do with conviction. I wanted it, I wanted the information, I wanted to learn I wanted to grow and change and explore and write. So, the A was a natural result (most of the time).  So, when it comes time to give out my grades. It hurts me to give out B's in a tap I or a modern I class, but I have to get over that.  Not everyone tries as hard as I do, and frankly not every one gets the required results from their effort.  Not everyone is "natural" at math and not everyone is "natural" at dance.

What am I doing here?  You don't really care about this, or if you do (because you are a teacher) you already know exactly what I am talking about, and therefore I am preaching to the choir.  The reality is, that I am writing this for my own benefit. As I write this blog, I am trying to convince myself to let go.  To ride the last wave of the semester like a relaxed surfer instead of a nervous and rigid grandma.

I have a lot to do. And tonight, I calendared out the rest of the semester. Probably not the best thing to do right before trying to go to bed.  Now, I am all riled up.  Anxious to get the work done that has to get done whether there is time for it or not.

I tell myself: "Everything I do now, I don't have to do later." And, this motto helps.  But, at 11:30 pm when it is time to sleep, I shouldn't be considering going online to grade.  I just shouldn't. Those papers will have to wait another day.

But those days are running out.

Oh, the sound of the ocean.

Healthy Obligations

I have a feeling I might not get anything done if I weren't obliged to get it done.  For example, I am very lucky to be a part of the Language of Dance® family (LOD®). This group of amazing dance instructors and pedagogs have included me in their adventures toward changing the face of dance literacy.

I sat on their panel at NDEO (National Dance educator Organization) and presented my findings, focusing on using dance theory and notation in an online dance appreciation course, with humility as I was surrounded by these women of profound knowledge, passion and dedication to dance and dance research. I am honored they consider me a colleague. But, this honor is the best motivator for work.  In being included on this panel, I have become obligated to them.  I feel a duty to them because they believe in me. They push me to make steps in my thinking and research that I otherwise would not take. 

I am very fortunate to have tenure at my job, and, because I am not at a research institution, I don't have to publish or present at conferences in order to keep my job.  But, these women motivate me to keep going. I want to make advances in dance research and dance literacy, and the best part is that I am not obligated by survival but by an inner sense of duty and obligation. Clearly there is no money to be had from these hours of pouring over a computer. But, there is honor.

I enjoy being obligated to them, because they challenge me to be the best I can be.  In the past two days I wrote up my portion of the panel presentation and it turned out to be 8 pages single spaced (about 3,000 words) plus graphics.  I would never have done that if I weren't obliged to do it.  Trust, me, my crochet project, tv and latest book are all calling my name right now!  But, I am glad I put in the work, ook the time, thought through the ideas, made something out of nothing. 

It feels good.

I am similarly obligated to my dance company (MeCo), (again NOT for the money-- no money there either-- do we see a trend developing?!?).  I am obligated by my fantastic dancers, their dedication tot he projects and their unending trust in me. I won't let them down because I am honored to work with them each week.  In a similar way I am obligated to my students (but that gets messy because that is my job-- but still, I am obligated and committed to it heart and soul so it too pushes me to be better).

People talk about "self-motivation," but I am not quite sure there is any situation that solely allows for self-motivation.  I think it is healthy to be obligated to others.  If I waited to do things out of self motivation, I would get half as much done.  It is easy to waste away the days. 

So, thank you to everyone to whom I have been obligated at one point or another.  You have pushed me to become a better person, to do more than I thought I was capable of and grow in ways I never expected. 

Still, obligations (good or bad) can make you sleepy, which I am right now. So, it is time for me to say goodnight!

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.

Trying out that Twitter thing. . .

It's true. I now have a twitter account and plan to use it. And I am certainly having mixed emotions about it all. One thing I do know is that this social networking stuff is hard work! Time consuming and mentally taxing if nothing else. And, I have the feeling it is harder at the beginning before it becomes a more self perpetuating mechanism. It is like having time for your friends. When you move to a new place you have all the time in the world but no friends to hang out with. But, once you get embedded in a group of friends, then your hanging out perpetuates itself and if anything you don't have enough time to see everyone you want to see.

But, I have to believe that this work will be worth it. My dance company Megill & Company takes my breath away. The dancers are unbelievably beautiful, passionate, easy to work with, funny. . . the list goes on. Bottom line is they need to be seen. They deserve to be seen and enjoyed. The more I see what is happening in the dance world the more I see that we fill a particular niche. Dance theater. Not quite Bill T. Jones. But in concept not too far. We enjoy being playful, making commentary, challenging the line between entertainment and art but working on the other end of the spectrum from the entertainment industry. We tell stories through movement (and sometimes words). Those who have seen us seem to like us. At least that is what I have heard so far.

So, I need to make the effort. Twitter here I am. Subject to your madness and hash tags (also known as a pound sign by the way for the rest of us who are not up to date on the twitter lingo). I want to get the word out, because the work is being made; it is coming together, and before we know it, we will need an audience. Someone to listen to our stories and see us give away our hearts in movement.

Dance, like ensemble music, is a communal phenomenon. It was born out of people coming together and sharing; it thrives under those conditions. Dancing can't be written down in a journal or book to be discovered posthumously. A choreographer can't lock herself up in her room to make dance after dance without any one knowing. Such dances would be lost to the world. Even a video of the dance would be a shadow of its real effect and power.

Dance is a living art and a performance art that is still largely passed down orally, an oral tradition that needs to be seen and experienced in the flesh. Where you can feel the music from the speakers, hear the breath of the dancers, hear the sound of their skin on the floor, and see the beads of sweat that even HD can't fully capture the way it really is.

So, now I tweet. At least I aspire to tweet. And if you would like to follow then I will know that all this Social Networking madness does have a purpose and will pay off in the end when Megill & Company gets to thank its audience with a bow.

twitter: BethMegill
MeCo on YouTube