Spirit of Learning (Recent thoughts on Education)

(I wrote this for my students but it certainly applies to all of life.)

Go! Do! Be More! Faster! Harder! Aaaaaaah!

It seems the world is pushing us to hurry up and . . . what?  . . . be successful?
What does that even mean?

I have been reading a very interesting book called The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F---K, by Mark Manson. Despite its punchy title, it is a powerful little book that puts into perspective what it is we are here to do in this lifetime and what really matters. I highly recommend it.

The reason I bring it up is that I have found recently that many students have forgotten what it really means to get an education. News Flash: Education is not merely preparing to have a job.  If you are well educated it is more likely you will get a job, but education does not have the explicit goal of getting you a job. Training will get you a job. Education will give you quality of life. 

The Spirit of Learning is the spirit of real education. And, that is what I am most interested in as a teacher, as a human!.  What is the bigger picture here? So, when you submit an assignment (as crazy making as it can seem) it is not about the length, it is not about the number of sentences, words, characters. Everything you turn in for credit is an opportunity to show me that you are putting in the time to investigate the content of the course and most importantly how it changes you, your views, your appreciation. your world! This is the stuff that will enrich your life and make it meaningful.
Counting points to get that A (or B or C) will only torment you. That is not the spirit of learning.
I promise that if you do your best to communicate the spirit of your learning in each and every assignment the grade will follow. Because you will actually be learning.

Things that require you to work hard are thing worth having. Freebies are transient and disposable.  They may make you happy in the short term, but they will not make you happy in the long term.

Give yourself a chance to enjoy your education.

3 Tips for the Spirit of Learning

Ask yourself:
1. "What is the goal of this assignment?" "Why would my teacher assign it to me?" Answer those question within your submission.

2. "How am I representing myself in my work?" "Do I express that I learned something from the assigned reading?" "Do I honor the process with full sentences and grammar?" Ensure your submission reflects your mature thinking and values.

3. "Is there a way I could actually make this FUN?" That doesn't mean you have to spend MORE time on the assignment, it is about your ability to enjoy the challenge and/or process while you are working. (In fact it might actually take you less time working this way. . . just sayin')

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. 

How do we know we grow?

It was easy when all we had to do was stand with our backs against the kitchen wall where our mother or father would mark our height and date.  But, what happens after you max out?  In my case, at a hearty 5’11”!

Years blend into each other, and we often find ourselves time and time again in what seems like the same place or the same situation over and over again. How can we know we have changed? Grown? Learned?

Each year I attend the National Dance Educators Organization conference.  I have presented each year for the past 6 or so years—or more. I can’t really remember! But, what I do know is that each year I process through the conference ritual and each year I can see how I have changed and if I have changed over the past 12 months. 

The conference becomes a marker for me, an opportunity to notice what is different in me and in my approach to what I do and to those around me.  This year I find myself with a deep centeredness that I don’t recall in past years.  Often the conference is such a whirlwind. The preparation leaves us wind blown like leaves as we are swept into the official fours days of meetings, sessions, classes and panels.  Each day is packed full of events and there are always more people in attendance than one person could ever try to talk to.  This year over 700!

So, with such a large group in attendance and with countless opportunities for learning and conversing, it is tough to stay connected to oneself and avoid the hustle and bustle all around you.  So many wonderful dance education minds come together to share their stories during these grand conferences, yet we must trust that we will get what we need from this massive event. It will come to us just as we need it. In the package we need and at the time and place in which we are ready to receive it. My goal is to let the conference come to me as it may.  I want to soak in the experience without feeling flustered or overwhelmed as I have in the past. Most importantly I want to be fully present in the experiences and in the conversations. 

Personal growth means we get to revisit something familiar and do it “better.”  We get to be more mindful of our words and our actions, more compassionate for others and more patient with ourselves.  As we experience this we can feel ourselves growing, getting a little taller in spirit.

What annual rituals do you practice and how do you approach them each year?  Do you ever feel stuck in a rut or perhaps tired of running after new experiences?  How do you measure your growth? The holidays of course are right around the corner and they are always a chance for practicing balance. What are your plans for growth and change? How tall do you hope to grow this year?

Squint, and Remake the World

My colleague and friend Jessica Kondrath and I are pooling our efforts for a show to happen this weekend at ARC in Pasadena.  It all started when I commissioned Jessica to set a piece on my students at Moorpark College.  The piece, called Squint, and Remake the World was a great challenge for the young dancers who valiantly rose to the occasion and learned a lot in the process. 

But, there was something about the piece that made me want to dance it. And, not many pieces will do that for me.  So, I asked Jessica to reset it on my company. . . and, well, collaborating on the one piece turned into the production of an entire evening of concert dance. 

Once this idea was planted in my mind I started to work on a choreographic response to Squint.  I titled it Underneath Scattered Eyelashes.  A version of the dance was performed on Megill & Company's Gala performance late May.  I have never created a choreographic response to another dance, so this was a fun and interesting choreographic challenge.  I enjoyed drawing from some of the motifs of Jessica's work and using them as a spring board into a new direction.  Here is a little more about the nature of the piece and my thought process behind it. 


Underneath Scattered Eyelashes

 The title of the work comes from a little game I played when I was younger.  When an eyelash fell on someone's cheek we would get hold of it have the person make a wish while blowing the eyelash (and the wish) into the air.  Where are all those eyelashes? And, perhaps more importantly where are all of the wishes they represented?  Additional imagery for the piece is drawn from the beauty and timelessness of celestial movement as the home of our dreams. The use of arm circles in the piece represents the rotation of the planets.  The large sweeping circular pathways reflect the orbits of the planets around a star.  These grand images of the galaxy are contrasted with a gritty reality that is our life on earth shown in the position of one hand on the head and the other on the hip.  The piece ultimately asks an existential question about who we are in this world and in this lifetime.  Some of the movements are based in CFR lessons (Cortico-Field Reeducation) that I have learned as part of a Feldenkrais-based physical therapy that reintegrates the nervous system for greater ease and efficiency.  The paradoxical nature of the piece can be seen on a micro and a macro level in the design of the body in relationship to gravity and itself and the designs of the bodies in space in relationship to each other.  The heaviness of the piece comes from the existential crisis we all face as some point in our lives.  But, this is effectively balanced in the awe and beauty seen all around us.  The meditative quality of the piece invites the audience to come inward, to settle their energy into this moment and to bask in the complex paradox that is this lifetime. 


In addition to Eyelashes, I will be performing a structured improvisation I created last year called Inside the Vault.  This solo involves five audience volunteers who help me demonstrate the way our brains are able to make connections as we learn.  The piece came to me in a flash. I heard the Tom Waits song; I thought of the text, and I saw the volunteers and use of the yarn all in one moment of artistic connection.

Inside the Vault
This piece is about memory and memory loss.  Our brains have millions of nerves that connect and reconnect as we learn things and forget things.  As we age this process of connection can become difficult for many reasons.  The song Young at Heart performed by tom Waits includes the lyrics "Fairy tales will come true, it can happen to you, when your young at heart."  This reminds us to notice how old or young we feel.  What dreams have we forgotten and what dream to we still hold onto.  How do we interact with the world as emotional beings with our life experience affecting each decision at every turn? These type of questions are addressed in the spoken text from a book My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor in which she describes how our brain is structured and how the neurons connect to each other to create emotions that are the same at 10 as they are at 30 or even 77.  We are both old and young at each stage in our lives.  Our nervous system has no age, and yet we think of ourselves as aging, forgetting, and losing all that we are with the accumulation of years. 

If you come to the show, I would love to hear your thoughts on the work.  I decided to write this blog in response to a friend's request to know more about the pieces in the performance.  She finds the background knowledge provides a key to unlocking and appreciating the pieces on a deeper level.  This got me to thinking about the dance world and audiences and the common misperception of "not getting modern dance." I offer this blog to those who are interested in knowing more, as a sort of alternative to a DVD commentary you might have on a favorite film.  When we invest our attention into something, we are able to enjoy it on many levels from many perspectives.  I hope this blog gives the audience members for this weekend's show a foothold into deeper appreciation. 

-Beth

See the show? Share your thoughts as a comment below! Feedback is a precious gift!

Sabbatical - Day 1: Being Accountable to Self

I am a hard worker.  I always liked school. I enjoy investigating projects. I like finding solutions. I enjoy my work and I enjoy the people with whom I work. 

I am reliable. 

. . . to other people.

On day one of my sabbatical I actually set my alarm! Because I am using this year to learn how to be accountable to myself.  I have dreams and visions of how I want to lead my life, interact with others and change the world (one dance at a time).  I have always used my obligations to others as motivation for my work. And, this is not a bad thing. I have made great choices and accomplished a lot by living my life this way (See Blog post Healthy Obligations). 

What is new and wonderful (and scary) about this upcoming year is that I will have a chance to return to the childlike wonder I remember in my formative years.  I am a product of Montessori schooling (for my k-5 years).  I distinctly remember my classroom for grades 1-3 taught by Miss Susan Lindert.  I loved learning. I was allowed to love learning. I was given the space to discover, imagine, and play.  The Montessori classroom was based on the work cycle.  I had my own list of tasks each day-- reading, cursive/writing, math, geography.  I got to choose which to start with, and I was allowed to spent as much time on each of them as I needed, keeping in mind the goal of finishing all of the tasks.  I always finished my work cycle with tons of time left over.  And, it was at this point that I was set free to be anything, to learn anything, to play and discover. 

The Montessori classroom was covered in materials for discovery.  Displays on Egypt, waterways, farm animals, musical bells, books, and books, and books, plants, languages, etc.  And, I could do anything I wanted.  I often got sucked into my Laura Ingalls Wilder books or would dream stories in my notebook.

I remember wandering around the room and just looking at the possibilities. 

Looking back I see that the most important lesson was not the content I learned, but the sensation of free-form learning that I remember. I had hours each week in which I was only accountable to myself, my interests, my passions, my drives.   

I was never burdened with a feeling of "I have to. . . "

Waking up this morning, I felt transported to Miss Lindert's classroom again.  Excited to learn, to do the work, to discover.  These drives are part of my nature.  They are real, and they are wonderful. I don't need to worry about being accountable to myself.  I can trust my internal passion for discovery to move me forward.

Interested in reading additional posts related to this topic? Click below.

The Burden of Expectation (First day of Summer before my year long Sabbatical)
The Power to Choose
Time: Your Most Valuable Currency
Agency: Remembering You Have It 
Finding Success
Giving Yourself Permission
On Being a Better Over-Achiever

Translating Yield

The concept of yielding surfaces time and time again in modern and contemporary dance training.  When learning to roll the the floor, one must learn to yield one's weight to gravity in such a way that the descent is soft and easy.  When dancing with a partner in contact improvisation, one must learn to yield in order to feel support and offer support in return. 

I am currently teaching at a summer dance intensive in Puebla, Mexico and the idea of yielding came up in class today.  In trying to encourage the dancers to soften their legs into plié during a flexion and extension exploration, I discovered that it is not a matter of asking them to simply bend their knees, I wanted to them to feel the weight of their bones against the floor, to soften the joints and muscles so they become responsive.  I wanted them to yield.  But, I didn't know the word for it, and I couldn't come up with a clear explanation of it either English or Spanish that was understandable. 

I took a moment with a dictionary tonight after class to translate it. The best option I came up with was ceder (to hand over, to part with, to give up).  I will be sure to take this word into class tomorrow.  But, the word is not enough, there is something intangible and un-namable about the idea of yielding.  When we experience yielding we soften not only our exterior but our interior. Yielding is a process of allowing.  We allow gravity to work upon us.  We meter out our softness and our strength in response to the demands of momentum.  We must also soften our thinking, so we can listen with all of our senses (not only our ears).

Yielding is the experience of opening up our pores to the world.  We yield our grip on our sense of self. We part with our ego in order to receive the gifts around us.  But, in order to do any of this, we must find self trust.  We must trust our experience and our sensations.  For many dancers, technique class can seem like the exact opposite experience.  In technique we often desensitize ourselves in order to "work through it" or even better to "get it right."  In some cases we may have completely trained out our ability to soften, listen and yield to our inner experiences. 

A plié is not a mere bending of the knees. Plié is the experience of yielding. It is the place from which we can push off the earth with power and conviction.  And, this metaphor extends easily into all aspects of life.  How are we yielding to an experience?  Are we holding ourselves rigid for fear of crumbling?  Can we soften a little more in order to sense our surroundings, the place, the information, the people? What happens to our experience of life when we allow ourselves to soften a bit more?  What is keeping us from allowing this happen?

Yielding like anything takes practice. I too am practicing yielding in life and in dance.  If you like we can practice together. 

Notating my way through self trust

Hello from Ohio State University!

I have been here 3 days and my brain is officially fried.  Excited, inspired, curious and fried.

I am here for two weeks taking a Labanotation teaching certification course in which we will learn not only to teach dance notation theory, but practice integrating it into our various classrooms.  It is the perfect launching point for my sabbatical starting in fall. 

But, I am not here to write about my adventures in notation but about what it means to be ourselves and to trust ourselves in a learning process.  We hit the ground running. . . on day 2 we were asked to teach a 30 min sample Labanotation lesson!  Yikes! I ended up with circular pathways which is a huge concept that requires a lot of spatial and kinesthetic intelligence to get through the theory.  I taught my class-- and I pretty much bombed it.  It was good for me.

Ok. So, I didn't fall apart completely, but according to my standards of pedagogical perfection-- I was close. 

I have been pretty successful in my life and confronting moments in which I am only partially successful is something I am actively working on.  There is a great theory by Carol Dweck called the Mindset theory.  Her book on the subject basically explains the difference between people who believe they are born with or without talent/skill and those who believe it is something learned. 

While I believe that people can learn (I intellectually know that I am a person), I am still stuck with a heart-centered belief that if I don't do something right the first time, I am simply not good enough.  So, I am actively working on this issue.

Before I even went into the class I told myself, just do what you do and see what happens.  Yet, I got the dry erase marker in my hand, my computer hooked up and BAM! Total self trust panic!  While my head knew this was a learning experience, my heart wanted to be perfect.  More specifically-- I wanted these people to like me! My heart wanted validation that I have self worth through the opinion of the people in front of me. 

Now, if there are people whose opinion would matter,  these instructors are the ones.  These women are kind, compassionate and fiercely intelligent.  These are great individuals in the field of dance notation and in life.  So, I'm not crazy for wanting their approval and wanting their praise.  My feedback sheets from them directly reflected my subjective experience of mediocrity (not terrible, but with lots of room for improvement).  And, it was at that point that I crumbled emotionally.  *sigh*

I had tried so hard to trust myself in the process, independent of others (and their perceived expectations), but I had fallen into the pit again.  I panicked, and in the attempt to prove myself, compromised some of the skills I know I have.  I was trying to please and that was my downfall.

So, when it was all over, I was spent.  Spent from the effort of trying to change. Spent from the experience of panic. Spent from the emotional let down.

But, I recovered. And, that is the real lesson.  Beyond my circular pathways.  I am learning how to become a learner who trusts in the process of learning, who doesn't need to be perfect the first time and will not be crushed when confronting a learning curve.

And, next time my recovery time will be shorter. Then shorter again.  Then one day perhaps I won't fall into that trap at all.  Perhaps I will reach a place in which I can experience the learning process without a stitch of desire for unreasonable-immediate-perfection.  Learning is tough.  

But, if I can learn to treat myself with compassion with learning-- then I truly will be able to learn anything. 

How do you confront your learning?  What challenges have you faced in your learning?  When do you expect yourself to "get it right"? The first time? After three times?  What are your learning right now and how can you be more compassionate with yourself in the process?

Isla Vista Reflections - and Dance

UCSB is my alma mater.

I lived in and loved Isla Vista while I was there.  Unfortunately, IV is not a stranger to tragic deaths.  But, the recent mass murders shake me and my memory of youth, freedom and learning to the core.  When I heard about the tragedy and read the transcript of Elliot Rodger's declaration of war against people, the first thing that I thought of was the insidious and pervasive isolation that our culture has created for itself.  The mental illness behind this event and those like it is worsening as our culture continues to alienate and perpetuate instability, loneliness, and hate through a disconnected society.

Obviously, I enjoy engaging in social media.  I keep this blog among others, tweet regularly and post the usual pictures of pretty flowers from my garden to Instagram.  Last month I gave a talk to dance educators about the need to get onto social media in order for dance education to catch up with the rest of the online world. 

But, I am first and foremost a dancer, a dance teacher and an artist.  I love the performing arts in part because I love the community I feel when I engage in them.  My private dance company is special because we are all friends - we love dancing with each other as people.  Performing together is an act of community and reminds us of being human.  

Our increase in electronic connections have come at a huge cost to our physical connections. We have abandoned most of our outlets for heart-to-heart and hand-to-hand connection that comes with being physically together and interacting through movement and touch.  The computer screen and the internet offer us a lot for the mind and even some for the spirit, but we are human and we need to feel embodied to feel real. And, movement and touch is our best means to finding that. 

I wonder if Elliot had more social dance in his life if he would have felt a stronger connection to others (especially women).  Social dance classes teach so much more than steps. Have you seen Mad, Hot Ballroom?  If you not, put it it on the top of your list today! Social dance classes teach us how to share the space with another person, how to respect them and yourself as you join together for a human experience: dance. 

We desperately need the arts, and we need opportunities for individuals to feel connected in a safe (non sexualized) environment.  Going out to a club and jumping around in circle or grinding on someone is not clearly the same.  It is not altogether bad, but it has a different appeal and is so unstructured (and usually intoxicated) that connections made are fleeting and confusing.  If we lived in a culture where all people learned to dance together, we learn compassion for each other and our differences.  I mean, there have been people in a social dance class who I have not preferred dancing with, but when the time came and we danced together, I inevitably learned something about myself and that person that I deeply value.  Even if we weren't a great match for each other (temperaments, style, height - whatever) I had a chance to connect to feel that the other person is real, that they have a personality, complete with struggles and strengths.   

Dance has been used for millenia to remind people of their humanity.  After the rock era we broke away from partner dance and formalized group dance as the common method of social dance. Perhaps the terror of isolation endemic to our culture could easily be lessened if we took hands, found the beat and moved together as equals - as one. 

If you teach social dance, please share your thoughts and experiences in a comment below.  How have you seen social transform your students? 

The Burden of Expectation

Today is the first day of summer break. And, the first day of my year-long sabbatical.  Let's Party!

Or not. . .

Today already I feel the pressure.  How?!?


It's my first day off but I quickly realized how strongly I suffer from the burden of expectations. Of course I am excited about my sabbatical-- it promises a time filled with reflection, rejuvenation, possibility, and learning.  And, I know what is expected of me from others. I have a well defined project dealing with dance notation that is exciting and achievable.  (Expect more on this in the future)

But, what do I expect from myself during this time?

A lot.

. . and high expectations have been with me all of my life.  Occasionally people mistake me for a perfectionist.  I'm not. . . anyone who has seen my house or seen me in rehearsal knows that I enjoy improvisation more than controlled perfection.  But, I do have high expectations for myself. 

I have worked hard and achieved great things including a solid job (which has granted me a year long sabbatical), a national presence amongst dance educators and a rewarding marriage and home life. But, these self induced expectations follow me.  Today was my first official day of summer and my mind was reeling with the question "What should I do?" "What do I need to do?" and then I rested on "What do I want to do?"

This next year (essentially 16 months including both summers) will bring things I can't imagine. And, while I have some structure in place (with my notation project), I am not exactly sure what this year will bring. 

Of course, the lesson is that we can never know.  We encounter life moment by moment and expectations often get us in trouble because they so often closely align with assumptions.  I don't want to live this next year according to my expectations. My expectations are a burden that I no longer want to carry.  Instead I am ready to look toward intention.  Yeah, it's a somewhat corny (and über-trendy) way of talking about life.  But, living according to an intention is the only way to live without becoming attached to an outcome.  When we live by expectation we are bound to either exceed, meet or fall short of them.  But, when we live by intention we are bound to discover the unknown as it unfolds in front of us and better enjoy ourselves along the way. 

This year will bring the unexpected.  But, I intent to take advantage of all that comes my way. 

How do you intend to spend your summer? Your year? Your life?

What just has to go?

Today was a big day. And, an unexpected day.

I love to garden. I like the sensation of having my hands in the dirt. I enjoy pruning and replanting.  Today my "gardening" consisted of an unexpectedly satisfying task - sycamore leaf removal.

I live under a huge sycamore tree.  Thriving in the wilderness of Brandeis, this tree is formidable, despite the continual pruning we do and the occasional branch break due to high winds and rain.  It is  glorious and makes excellent shade come summer time, but it drops massive amounts of leaves. Huge leaves. Everywhere. All year long. The endless summer of southern California means endless leaf fall.   And, being the less-than-diligent yard worker that I am (I said I loved gardening, not that I did it often), these leaves get wind swept into every crevice and corner of the garden around my house. 

The leaves don't just sit on the ground, they manage to embed themselves in the other plants in such a way that you can only remove them by hand.

So, while having my morning cup of tea. I for some reason decided today was the day. I swigged the last of my tea and got to work.  Sweeping up leaves, pulling them out of the crevices, unloosing them from the grip of the jasmine vines.  Leaves leaves leaves.

And, what I noticed was that my garden is quite nice.  There are some sweet plants that are very charming, even a few volunteers that were blossoming in the spring weather.  I discovered that I had a nice garden all along, I just needed to unmask it.  The leaves were suffocating the beauty that always existed underneath. 

The metaphor slapped by in the face.  The idea that we have all that we need right here in front of us, and yet we can't always see it because it is being muddled up with the excess surrounding it.  I am in a place where I don't need to plant more, I need to care for what I have, nurture what is already growing and give it the time, attention and space it needs to blossom.  

As I raked the ground and pulled out the lodged leaves, I found beauty all around me. 

There was such satisfaction in this process that my one hour stint turned into three glorious hours of unveiling the potential around me.  And, with each sycamore leaf the reality of this process became more and more profound as a metaphor in all aspects of my life.

This was confirmed later in a discussion I was having with two students about their choreography.  I asked them what have you put in your piece that is diluting the power and beauty in your choreographic vision?  What movements are just sycamore leaves clogging up the garden and disrupting the beauty that is already there? 

I knew it before, but now I feel the gravity of this idea in my core. I now want to go back and ask the same question of each and every one of my previous dance pieces.  But, the most profound effect might be in my everyday life.

       How am I cluttering up my vision?
       What is diluting my essence?
       What is added on in such a way that it is covering up the beauty/core/root of what I want?
       How are things suffocating me and keeping me from being my clearest self?
       What just has to go?

Simple and clear.  Keeping what is vital and growing.  Discarding the excess, the weight of last season's commitments.  I am at a place right now where I am redefining what is enough and how I know I have enough/am enough.  In the case of my garden, I had life at my finger tips, but I just couldn't appreciate it with it being visually swallowed up by dry, dead leaves.  I am ready to take the time I need to give to the things that are already growing in my life. The things that are beautiful but can be easily forgotten when piled high with the excess surrounding me.

It may not be an easy process. It might be as tedious as picking the leaves up by hand. But, I can see now that this is the next step for me.  Clearing out.

Revealing lush beauty all around me.

Pacing Your Day: Pacing Your Life

I have often been surprised by my need for rest.  Most people who know me know that I nap most everyday, and, only with exceptions (and often an extra bit of caffeine and adrenaline), do I get through my day without a rest period-- if not a whole 90 minute sleep cycle.

It seems not everyone "needs" this rest in the same way.  At least, many people I know express that a nap would be nice, but never actually take a nap.  This is interesting because I nap in response to an intense need to reset all of my systems.  When I am fatigued I feel absolutely crummy and my productivity is hopeless.  If I have to, I can generate enough stress induced adrenaline to get through a day of go go go, but that comes at a cost to my health and energy level the next day.

I have had a tough month with sickness. First a stomach bug then an upper respiratory infection.  Basically, I was sick for about 4 weeks straight.  And, I felt like I couldn't get better.  I would try to take an extra rest here and there. Extra hour of a nap. Getting to bed early. Sleeping in.  But, I was still ill and my productivity was shot.  I felt useless.  

Enough was enough, so I spent two days in bed.  Not because I had a fever of 102, but because I couldn't kick the fatigue bit my bit.  I needed a huge rest or, rather, a huge reset. 

So, despite my intellectual desire to get work done, I could do none of it.

During this time, I felt like I would never feel better again. I felt like I had never been productive or never had enough energy to get through teaching a dance class.  I was consumed by the present experience of being ill and completely spent.  

And yet, after those two days of pure rest (relief from a standing expectation to produce), I started to feel better. First 70%, then 85% and now I feel at about 95% which is such a relief!   The little nagging cough is nothing compared to the overall incapacity I had experienced.  And, these past two days I have been hugely productive.  Catching up on a pile of paperwork that had been looming on my to do list for over a month!  It felt to so good to sent off that email, follow up on that phone call, clean up that mess, file those papers.  Oh, the joys of feeling the power of productivity!

But, in reflecting on this past week, having felt so ill just 7 days earlier and only having felt marginally better 3 days ago, I am taking this moment to notice and observe that there is an ebb and flow to the way I do things. And, that is ok.  Not everyday will feel as productive as the past two have, so I must remember during those dreary sick days that I will recover, that I will heal and return to the high point -- and that high point will eventually turn downward again. 

I will always be changing, and I want to remember the nature of the natural rising and falling at each stage in the ebb and flow.  It is impossible to be hyper productive 24/7 for 365 days a year.  I know this intellectually, yet I was still holding myself to a ridiculous standard of high output each and everyday. 

Perhaps as I become more honest and self accepting of my rhythms (as different as they seem from the people around me) the amount of energy I will increase. But, in the meantime, I am learning that I get to rest.  That I get to change my pace as life comes at me.  

Have you rested lately?

For those who must know: An insider’s look into Dance Adventures in Dots and Stripes

For those audience members interested in the “back story” to Megill & Company’s latest show, Dance Adventures in Stripes and Dots, this one is for you.

When I started creating this work, I knew I didn’t want a narrative, but I knew I wanted a theme. I wanted to create a world that was fanciful, colorful, exiting and quirky.  I don’t remember exactly when I hit on the idea of stripes and dots, but it was long before I created the first dance phrases for Dance Adventures.  I have no other great explanation for the dots and stripes except that I like them. I like wearing them, I like seeing them, I like mixing them in my outfits. 

So, this world of dots and stripes developed out of that love.  I then picked songs that I made me want to dance- to groove, to play. I picked songs I felt encapsulated the timelessness and playfulness that I associate with dots and stripes.  From there I started making the dances, phrase by phrase week by week.  Usually I create 1-2 minutes of choreography each week.  Each week I picked a song from my list and experimented with movement.  The music evokes a quality that I associate with an emotion or a character, and I do my best to bring that to life. 

For instance, the Amy Winehouse trio called Every Town’s Got a Hot Mess was directly inspired by the musical qualities of that song. While I don’t choreograph to lyrics, the sentiment of the song comes through because of the quality of the jazz rhythms, instrumentation and vocals.  In this case, the piece is about three jaded cougars who live in DotsTown and are tired of the “scene.”  I drew out the components of apathy and boredom in Winehouse’s vocals, and paired it with contemporary dance vocabulary and sultry jazz qualities. 

On the other hand, I also created some of the work from concept.  Inside the Vault is a structured, improvisational solo that I perform to a combination of Tom Wait’s “When You’re Young at Heart” and Text from the book My Stroke of Insight as well as stream of consciousness text of my own.  The concept of this piece came to me in a flash. The idea of being young and growing old, of cognitive processing, and making memories, of forgetting events, words, ideas, and names, and yet always feeling the emotions of life.  This piece is about dementia and the reality of our nervous systems being both tremendous and fragile. 

First Step Again is a solo performed by Karissa Smith, and is a great example of a piece that started with concept and grew into its own over time.  Set to another Tom Waits song “Walk Away,” this solo was always about the challenge of breaking habits.  I choreographed 85% of the dance before I realized that the 2:30 minute song wasn’t what the solo needed. The story of breaking habits is not a short one, but a tedious and often painful one.  In the music Waits sing of walking away to “start all over again.”  And, that inspired me to make a play on words, that breaking habits often forces us to start all over again, even if we don’t want to.  Thus, I broke up the choreography into chunks, having Smith repeatedly perform the material with varied intensities and emotional content and the two minutes and thirty seconds piece became a six minutes and thirty seconds piece in the course of an hour rehearsal.  

The group piece Tequila and Chocolate, set to Regina Carter’s Jazz violin performance in "Mojito," is a more abstract dance work, based purely on the joy of moving.  This piece is not about story as much as it is about the craft and design of the composition. The Latin rhythms provided a fertile ground for me to play with syncopation and accents and each phrase became a nugget of complex rhythm that demanded hours of rehearsal and cleaning.  The joy of this piece lies in the company members’ joy in dancing together. We love to make visual rhythms with our dance and there is nothing better than coming together on stage with a group of your best friends to dance together. 

The goal of Megill & Company is two-fold. First, we dance because we believe the joy of dance can be found in the pursuit of high quality dance composition rooted in rhythm and character. Second, we dance because we love it, and we love sharing our joy with others.

To all our MeCo fans, old and new, thank you for your support!

Awakenings & Beginnings 2014: Review

Tonight I enjoyed an easy drive into Los Angeles to the Diavolo performance space to see the evening performance in the Awakenings & Beginning Dance Festival 2014, produced by Rubans Rouges Dance Company.  The audience was willingly packed in the small space to see some of the top contemporary dance groups perform their work. 

The show opened with a visually elegant work entitled Phoenix, by Michael Nickerson Rossi of Nickerson Rossi Dance.  This ensemble piece included sweeping port de bras, as the dancers adeptly moved through the space with turns, extensions, floor work and more. The imagery of flying surfaced at times throughout the dance which included well crafted and technically demanding modern dance phrases performed by beautiful movers.  The performance possessed a hypnotic quality as the dancers organized and reorganized in various pairings and designs in the space sometimes feeling like one bird sometimes feeling like many.  

The second piece in the show, Winterreise, was a classically based pas de deux choreographed by Judith FLEX Helle of Luminario Ballet.  It was so refreshing to see the simplicity of the classical ballet line included in this show.  Both performers were excellently trained with solid technique and a convincing ballet demeanor.  I was pleased with the German title (Winterreise means Winter Trip), because it allowed me additional insight into the narrative of the danseur who slowly goes insane over a lost love.  The shining moment of this work existed in the first few moments in which the ballerina was lifted and turned as she gestured with her leg in perfect timing to the musical phrasing.  Such manifestations of the music are gems for the audience member. 

The first act of the show closed with a piece choreographed by Deborah Brockus of Brockus Project Dance: RED.  Excerpted from an evening length work, Quest, this selection was titled Famine Solos and was beautifully performed by three dynamically different females who were deeply connected and passionately invested in the narrative of moving on from the pain of loss, grief and war.  The variety in the selection of performers had a profound effect on the nature of the work, one was young and played her part with both sensuality and ferocity.  The second soloist embodied a maturity in her opening moments of emotional collapse before she powerfully moved through the space.  The last soloist had a quieter essence, that resided in her stable presence. 

Act two opened with Noelle Andressen's company, Rubans Rouges Dance Company.  This was also a short series of dances excerpted from a larger work about her battle with cancer, Let This Be My Last Battleground. I had seen the original solo, STORM, last year and was interested to see the next stages of the story being told.  With a brand new set of company members, the work is representative of the continual growth seen in Andressen's work.  The intermittent video projections included photos of other cancers survivors as well as cancer victims and added a reality to this social issue that has or will effect each and every one of us in some way. 

Ken Morris presented a sweet duet, Conflict/Resolved, in which these young lovers experience their first fight, but manage to resolved their differences as they find each other rhythm and mutual balance.  The rhythm driven music was a refreshing shift from the more minimalist scores of the former pieces. In addition, the West African, Samba and playful club-dance vocabulary changed the tone of the evening at just the right point. The audience was able to laugh at the couple's follies and smile at their reunion.

The final work of the evening was Waiting at Home for the Witches, by Invertigo Dance's Laura Karlin (in collaboration with dancers). These powerhouse male performers stole the show!  Zsolt Banki, Chris Smith and Cody Wilbourn, jumped, rolled, floated, lifted and inverted their way into the hearts of the audience with this dance theater work inspired by the opening scene of Macbeth that answers the question: What toil and trouble is going on at home with the husbands of Machbeth's Weird Sisters?  The humor of the work was balanced with the sheer brilliance of the dancers' technical and dramatic performance.  The audience participation and beer bottled were just added bonuses to the satisfaction found in the piece due to Karlin's intelligent craftsmanship of this dance.

I overheard an audience member say (and I paraphrase) "There is a ton of great dance going on in LA this weekend." And, she was absolutely right. A sold out performance such as this should inspire you to get out an see what is available in the upcoming weeks.  Discover the work that moves you and then do all you can to support it!  Our LA dance community has everything to make a concert dance scene a real part of LA culture.  Now, we just need to make it happen, together, as a community. 

Did you see the show?  Share your thoughts in the comment box below.

Leaders, Titles, and Britches. Oh My!

I made an amazing discovery this week about my understanding of leadership and leaders.

I grew up in a very supportive and trusting home environment. My parents were and still are role models of compassion, frugality, understanding, logic and enrichment.  In school I had the same experience with my teachers, Ms. Lindert especially, who greeting us in the morning in a variety of languages, encouraged us as individuals and supported us in our unique journeys through the Montessori system.  In the dance classroom, I was under the tutelage of strong ballet dancers who cared not just for the performance but for our well being as individuals ("Have you eaten today?").

In short, the leaders in my formative years were: AWESOME!  

And, thus began my aggrandizement of all leaders.  I didn't know that leaders are people who have problems. I didn't know that leaders make bad decisions. I didn't know that leadership is an imperfect practice.  It just seemed so easy from the outside as a child that I didn't think twice about it.

But, now, I am in a leadership position, and I am scared.

I don't feel like I know enough to be a leader. I don't feel like I have enough presence to be a leader.  I don't feel like I have a pass into the "leader" club with the swanky leather chairs and cigars.  I don't feel like anything other than Beth, trying to make her way through the world. 

And, yet, I am realizing: This is it.  This is what I get. This is what I have to work with. Being a leader is about surrounding yourself with people you trust, gathering as much of the (inevitably) incomplete) information as you can and then following your gut. We talk about leaders being too big for their britches.  Well, I had sewn my britches for a giant who doesn't exist, and there is no way I will ever fit in them.  So, I guess I continue to wear my dance leggings. 

On the other hand, I am slowly learning that the leaders I had placed on the pedestal of perfection, wisdom and power are just a pair of skinny legs too (figuratively speaking).  These people I had placed in the "Leader Club" with the velvet curtains and brandy decanters are just people.  And, there is no reason I (or anyone else) can't have a place at the table.

Titles are words. Labels are not power.  Leaders are just people and people will never be their labels or their titles.  What's that children's book? Everyone Poops?  Well, whatever it is, it helps me humanize those with whom I need to work on behalf of the future of dance and reminds me that I too am a simple human being who will make mistakes, feel small, suffer doubt and ultimately endure.

I have a feeling this isn't going to be pretty. But, I hope my journey will be effective. 

Pep Talk for the Teachers

Welcome to the crunch time.  

If you are like me, you too might be wondering: How am I going to finish this semester?   

This happens to me most every semester. I start off strong, hopeful, excited (possibly deluded), and about 5 weeks from the end, I start to wonder what have I done? I am tired, overwhelmed and worried that time is running out.  Plus, my students are tired, overwhelmed and worried that time is running out.  A clear recipe for disaster.

I started explaining to my students the nature of an instructor's thinking process.

Optimistic Teacher experience:

 

Weeks 1-4  The teacher is filled with hope. She feels patient when students stumble because it is the beginning of the semester and they are "still learning the ropes," and everyone needs a break now and again when they are learning.

Week 5-9 The teacher is in the meat of the content, tons of information is coming out and the students are still grasping at straws trying to figure out what is expected of them.  Patience it still present because the students still have a chance to catch up!

Week 10-13 The teacher is feeling the pressure. The students need to learn this! Time is running out!  Patience is running thin.  The students should know better at this point.  

Week 14-18 The teacher is disappointed.  The students are making the same mistakes and the teacher’s patience has run out. Have they learned anything?  There is no more time to save this ship. Despondency hits.

Combine that with the Struggling Student experience:

Week 1-4 The student is filled with hope, ready for a fresh start.  The teacher is so nice and so patient.  I can do this!

Week 5-9  The student is settling in, but this is way more work than expected. But, it's still the beginning of the semester! What?!?  Time for midterms?!? We just started school! I haven’t studied. But, it is ok, I can make it up.

Week 10-13 The student is tired. The student has a hard time focusing because they caught a cold, and they have so much to do, they don’t know where to start.  Mountains of homework have piled up and the teacher is so demanding! She has no patience anymore! I am stuck!

Week 14-18 The student notices just how far behind they have gotten.  This is serious! They go to the teacher in hopes of figuring out how to put a semester’s worth of learning into 4 weeks.  She explains that is not how it works, and: no, she will not give you the notes from the lectures.  Student: I am screwed. The world is against me.

Somehow, I think I can change the nature of the student/teacher experience. But, I am realizing that maybe that is simply the inherent nature of the student teacher experience. 

 

But, the reality is that for every difficult student there are actually 10 lovely students who have learned so much!  Just this week I received this note from a Modern I student’s journal entry:

“Taking a dance class has completely changed my views on the activity of dancing, as a whole. "

However, we as humans are biologically build to remember and focus on the challenges. It is part of our survival biology. So, it is easy to forget the success of the many, when faced with the struggle of a few.  It is particularly hard for me to accept that students have the right to fail. I want them to succeed so badly that I forget that I actually have NO control over their choice making.  Those who want to learn will, and those who haven’t put in the effort will not.  No amount of convincing will change it.

And, remember that we are doing something right. We do care. We have given them tools.  We have shared information.  And, some have learned lessons that have nothing to do with the content, but have everything to do with their future lives. 

To all teachers: This is YOUR pep talk.  We give pep talks all the time, but around this time, it is we who need a little uplift to keep us in good spirits. 

Learning takes time. And, a semester will never be enough time to learn it all.  And, that is ok.  Students will struggle because humans will struggle. My Zen teacher reminded me today that “We are all ordinary.”  No one is better or worse. No one is closer to enlightenment than another.  We are all simply ordinary.  We learn the lessons as they come to us and as we need to learn them. Students and teachers: we are all learning life. 

As instructors we get to be reminded of this every semester. 

Learn and let learn.

Beth

Time: Your Most Valuable Currency

I have recently become extremely interested in how we document all that we do. 

I am fascinated with our current cultural practices with social media in which we continually post pictures of our experiences, achievement, and questions. And, I have noticed a new practice for the way I post.  I ask myself: what do I value and how is my post supporting the things I value?  

For instance, I recently attended a beautiful dance concert in at ARC Pasadena. It was important to me to come home and immediately write up my review.  Even though I wasn't feeling particularly prolific at the time, I wanted to demonstrate just how valuable I felt the experience was by using my time and skill to support it.  The blog post offered the community two things: the face value of the performance review as documentation, and, on a more general level, proof that this event was worth writing about. In other words, it was worth my time.  By giving my time and attention to the art (in the form of a review), I was modeling how dance is worth putting in the extra time.

As tempting as it is in the blogging world, I try not to use my reviews to elevate myself or my opinions. Instead, I am concerned with the documentation of current dance practices in LA (and beyond) and how written reports and reviews support current dance artists.  Speaking as an artist, I can share that the post show stream of "Great job!", "Fun show," and similar comments of Twitter or Facebook feel good. They feel good because it is feedback that someone took the time to give.  But, they do not offer the much needed reflection dance deserves.  In fact, much of a dance performance's value could come from the discussion and sensations afterward. If we only experience dance for two hours and then leave the theater without a second thought, have we really gotten all we can out of the art form? 

When we see a movie, we often deepen our experience when we then discuss it with our friends afterward, or read reviews of it by trusted sources, or watch the feature commentary by the director and actors.  In other words, our post-show time is important.  It gives value to the art experience.  And, this is what I am coming to realize is lacking in the dance world.  We see a show and often we don't have post show experiences that take us deeper into the art work.  Just as sport show commentators break down all the plays to better understand the twists and turns in a game, dance critics should be breaking down a dance work to identify its inner workings, strengths and weaknesses, innovations and traditions.  This can afford those interested but unfamiliar with dance an inside look to the dance experience, while challenging veteran dance patrons to pin point the value of what they love so much. 

As I wrote my recent review, I was concerned with three things. 
     1. How can I deepen the experience for someone who has seen the show?
     2. How can I document the experience for posterity?*
     3. How can I best convey the reward of the dance experience?

I gave my time, because my time is the most valuable currency I have.  It is a limited resource that I am very aware of day in and day out.  If you haven't guessed already, I am pretty busy, some might say over committed (haha!).  I don't have a lot of "free time," that time is precious to me. 

So, what is worth my time?  What is worth taking my time to document and reflect. What is worth your time?  How are you canonizing your life? One Instagram at a time? One twitter post? One Facebook update?  What is that affording you? What does documentation afford us?

Are your giving your time and attention to the things you truly love? I find that scrolling through my Vine feed (for instance) affords me little more than a distraction.  I have also noticed, my quality of life seems to go down when I get too invested in following my Facebook news feed. Not because I don't have good friends with interesting posts, but because ultimately, very little information is life changing.  And, it uses up my most valuable resource all too easily. 

I understand that you are taking your time to read this blog post.  And, I am honored by your choice.  I hope that I afford you something that you will take with you as you go along your day or week.  I hope that this read is ultimately worth your time because you either love dance, the arts or entertaining vague questions about time and value. 

There is a great book by Tim Ferris called "The 4 hour Work Week." While I am not interested in changing my life to that degree, he does bring up some important points about time management and the value of our time.  Perhaps reading that book last spring planted the seed for this blog.  But, in the end, Ferris is right about one thing.  We choose how to use our time.

So, are you using your time for the things your love? To support the things you love? To honor and deepen your understanding of yourself and the world? Or are you getting caught in the white noise of empty information?

Beth


* Side note: the definition of posterity is "for all future generations."  What are we giving our next generation?  How are we making real what we experience as life through our documentation of it?  Are we getting to the nitty-gritty of it all?  What will people know about me when they look back at my Twitter feed?  Am I giving them a complete experience of who I am? Or would entering my world be like entering a house of hoarders? 

Review: Pennington Dance Group presents BLOW

Last evening I attended a lovely modern dance performance at A Room to Create (ARC) in Pasadena.  This studio/performance space is owned and run by John Pennington and home to Pennington Dance Group.  The show was sold out, with patrons eagerly waiting to see if additional seating would become available.  Pennington means a lot to the LA dance community, not only because of his beautiful dance space, but because of his openhearted and supportive energy for many modern dance companies in the area.  The warmth of the audience emphasized just how beloved Pennington is.

The show opened with a reworked quintet from 2005, entitled OUT OF, choreographed by Pennington.  The five dancers dressed in all white and moved through the space in sweeping patterns that balanced an ethereal quality of beauty with a grounded earth energy. Pennington tied these dynamics together in stunning designs through space that covered the entirety of the performance space with grace and ease.  The piece also incorporated five floor length banners by artist Susan Rankaitis.  These seemingly Japanese inspired panels, set the stage for some of the more Asian stylings in Pennington's choreography.

The show continued with three pieces performed and choreographed by PDG company members.  Tomas Tsai performed his B-boy-meets-dance-theater solo, MEAN.  Li Rothermich performed with Travis Richardson in her impressive and almost acrobatic duet, ECLIPSE.  And, Michael Szanyi captured the audience with his larger than life solo, DESCENT.  This last piece was particularly interesting for its use of theatrical design.

Szanyi stood perched on a box, dressed in a deep red taffeta skirt that cascaded from his corsetted waist down to the floor where it spilled out in all directions.  Set to a piano score by Rachmaninov, Szanyi performed facing upstage the entire time, staying perched in the air as he gestured with his torso and arms in slow, sustained time, never breaking the spell of the piece.  The play of the light on his back and the fleeting glimpses of his profile added to the mystery and magic of the piece.  The moment in which he reached out with a pointed finger reminded me of Michaelanglo's  Sistine Chapel in which Adam is created by the touch of God.  This imagery added a huge layer of meaning in the work, as it immediately opened the door for questioning the nature of man, and more specifically of a gay man, as he stands larger than life, perched on a pedestal in his blood red skirt reaching for the finger of God.

After intermission, Pennington premiered his newest work, BLOW.  This piece opened with the company of eight dancers exhaling and blowing out in all manners possible: sighing, lip buzzing, shushing, whistling, coughing.  The ridiculousness of this situation added a quirky levity to the show that had not yet been incorporated and was refreshing for the audience who now had a chance to laugh.  The opening scene moved into a series of duets, in which the dancers manipulated each other with their breath, inhaling to suck them in and exhaling to send them away. Each couple was unique and playful, moving through the space in unpredictable bursts.  These duets ended with the dancers moving to the walls of the space which were covered in sound-proofing material (black egg crate foam), and against which the duets could interact by pressing and climbing the wall with the help of their partner.  This offered a rich visual experience for the audience who could look between the duets and the four different areas on the wall to choose which moment was interesting and which drew their attention.  However, it was at this point in the work that the connection to the idea of BLOW became muddy.  Nevertheless, the duets were a visual feast as the dancers related to each other with a variety of emotions including suspicion, aggression, play, and curiosity. 

As most of the dancers exited the space, two men were left to perform a duet that was sensitive, patient, and powerful.  The dancers moved through the space with speed and agility that was never forced or awkward. These dancers floated through the huge performance space, covering ground in a way that was extremely satisfying for the viewer.  The immediacy of the duet was palpable for the audience, and yet, the design and precision of the movement was never lost.  Pennington clearly has a way for creating movement that is exuberant, free and visually stimulating. 

The piece then took an unexpected turn, when out of the sensitive moment, in walked Li Chang Rothermich in high platform heels, a pencil skirt, blouse, sunglasses and red designer bag.  It was immediately evident that this woman owned the stage.  Her presence just standing on the stage and looking outward was riveting.  Her put-together affectations contrasted the somewhat disheveled young man in the suit with awkwardly short pants and sneakers who occupied the other side of the stage.  The energetic and qualitative differences between this well-kept women and gangly young man made for a strange and laughable comparison.

But, nothing compared to the next choreographic moment in which two young men dueled with leaf blowers.  Yes! My life in now complete! This outright, obvious interpretation of BLOW was nothing short of hysterical and spectacular. This quirky moment (like the opening) is where the heart of the piece really lies.  Smart and funny.

The piece closed with all eight dancers in black recreating the sensation of being blown across the stage in waves of arm gestures and running patterns that transformed the space into a kinetic playground.  The strongest moment came near the end during which the dancers lined up across the length of the performance space and moved upstage and downstage in gusts of action that reminded me of the unpredictable and immense power of the Santa Ana winds we know so well here in Los Angeles. 

Overall the evening of dance was a notable success. The audience was extremely receptive and gracious. The dancers' chemistry as a whole made clear that they enjoy performing together as a company.  Another special aspect of the performance was original music scores for the majority of the works.  Edgar Rothermich and Tom Peters each provided scores for this performance.  In addition, as a dancer watching this performance there was something extremely satisfying.  Pennington's movement looks like it feels good to dance.  The traveling through space, the smart designs in the use of gesture, and the luxurious and graciousness of the movement quality all add to the kinesthetic appeal of the performance. I know Pennington offers weekly class, and after seeing the show tonight, I am tempted to make the drive to Pasadena!

Musings from NDEO in Miami

I am nestled into my Hyatt Regency bed (quite comfortable) and thinking it is a good time to check in and share a little about how I got here.

It all boils down to dancers with brains.

And, starting tomorrow I will be conferencing with about 400 of them at the National Dance Educators Organization Conference.  Trust me. . . people who can kick overhead and quote learning theory are intimidating!  This annual event is a chance for dance teachers to come together and share what is working in the field, what is not working, what needs attention and what needs to be forgotten.

The National Dance Educator's Organization is a a large and vibrant community of dance educators from across the country (and beyond), serving the needs of dance education and supporting best practices in the field. This year's conference is on "The Art and Craft of Teaching."

But, this post actually isn't about the wonderful aspects of NDEO. If you are interested in the organization, you should look it up and become a member (plus, if you live in California, you become an automatic member of the CDEA-- of which I am cool enough to be called co-president).

The real reason for this post is . . . Twitter.  Huh? Schwat?  Whatchu talkin' bout?

Tonight I had the pleasure of training two of the smartest, most beautiful, most embodied women I know in the art of microblogging.  And, I realized that they are representative of so many of the dance educators of today.  Yes, I have my working group of dance-twitter-peeps, but as a whole, dance organizations are not so hip to the social media trends.  In other words, our branding and buzz making pretty much sucks.  Over the course of the next few days, information will be flung in heaps across panels, workshops, paper presentations and dance floors. The participants will be saturated from the diversity of ideas being tossed around the hallways, in elevators, over coffee and on the sidewalks.

But, who else will know?  Well, at the rate we are sharing on twitter, about 3 people.

So, I am calling dance educators to the twitter campaign. Tweet and twitter about all the ideas you encounter, ask the questions, share the answers, retreet and favorite until your heart's content!  We need to let the world know how much energy there is in this building. How we see a brighter future for generations through moving, feeling, experiencing, learning, knowing, and embodying.

Other fields have figured this out. They have learned how to create the buzz surrounding what they do and love. We need to give an in road to dance today and social media is the best possible way we can get the word out and reach as many people as possible.  It feels good to be a part of something that is alive with energy of a group that is rich with life and ideas.  Twitter is just one platform for us to create that buzz potential, to create a world that anyone who loves dance can find a home, find kinship and find support.  This is our chance to move the experience we have at the conference beyond the walls of this building and into the world at large.

So, go forth, download the app, set up an account, or revive the one you created and forgot about!  Tweet your love of dance!

. . . and don't forget to hashtag #NDEO2013

and I promise I will follow back @bethmegill

Beth

Can you see the big picture?

The more I am getting to know about in the ins and outs of the California education system, the more I am realizing why the arts feel so forgotten.  The biggest problem I have noticed is that in general artists do not become administrators.  In much of my experience, the musicians, directors and choreographers are the last ones to volunteer for administrative positions or school-wide tasks.  This is causing a rift between the needs of the performing arts and the people making all the decisions. 

Of course there are exceptions.  I feel very proud to say I trust my dean to fight for the performing arts across campus. I also know a few artists who double as arts advocates in positions across campus, in unions and in state organizations.  But, these champions of the arts are few in number and  in many cases feel like David against Goliath. The irony is that everyone loves the performing arts.  I am sure most schools have featured their performing arts programs on the covers of their school catalog, schedule of classes or introductory brochure.  The arts are the glamorous poster children for personal growth and enrichment.  And, a good portion of the school funding often goes to theaters and arts programs in order to maintain these attractive faces of the college.  And, yet we feel the squeeze: fewer classes, fewer faculty, restrictions on repeatability, concerns about academic integrity.

Despite the general love for the arts, there remains an imbalanced perception of the intrinsic value of the performing arts.  We must be better advocates beyond the classroom if we hope to make changes beyond the safe zone of our rehearsal room, theater or dance studio.  We need to be firmly planted in the conference rooms in order to explain the value of our programs at every turn, or rather, in every campus, district or state wide discussion and vote. 

But, few of us want to step up.  Face it, as artists we like to spend our time practicing our art and teaching our art.  It is much more fun to be in a rehearsal than sitting in a tiresome meeting about budgets.  But, therein lies the problem.  Our desire to be in the creative fray is keeping our time tied up and keeping us out of the board rooms and off the decision making committees. 

Most dance programs at the California community colleges have 1-2 full time faculty. That means the success of the whole program relies on one or two problem solvers who have to make all the decisions and attend all aspects of getting the programs running and functional.  No wonder dance instructors struggle to find time to be on district boards. Directors and conductors probably feel the same way.  When you are prepping for a show, it is easy to feel that the committee meeting is little more than an irritant.

Plus, I am arriving at secondary conclusion that I feel might play even more firmly into the nature of performing artists not moving into administration.  Try this rationale on for size. . .

A dance instructor leads a personally rich and satisfying life.  We get to make meaningful art on a daily basis.  Our practice challenges us to grown as individuals and also gives us the pleasure of entertaining others.  We already have a strong sense of personal power and significance.  Performing artists exist in a world of creative power.  Therefore, we don't feel the need to exert ourselves beyond our domain.  We are already kings and queens of our world.  We don't need to be on a committee to feel like we can do something.  We are already deciders and producers. 

But, there is the rub. 

Our worlds exist in these little bubbles and risk imploding if we can't externalize their value to a wider audience.  If we don't transition (even part time) into advocates, we are doing a disservice to the future generations of performing arts education.  When I think about it, we are really, very lucky that people love the arts as much as they do.  Staying on the covers of catalogs and brochures is part of what is keeping us going.

Are you an artist who has moved into administration or advocacy?  Do you know someone who has?  What problems to do see for performing arts in making this transition?  
How might the performing arts education look different if we did have a conductor, choreographer or director at the helm of the division? The school? The district? The state?