Good Questions

Recently, after reading some of my previous blog entries, I was asked some great questions by "Shems" about this work. So, I'm going to take a moment to respond to them. Here is part of her response,

"It sounds like a fairly demanding project you are working on. As an artist, I can't help but ask, how do you keep from getting lost in the abstactness of the practice of making your art? Also do you ever have moments when you suddenly can't take yourself seriously? and not to be too inquisitive, although it seems too late for that, do you ever feel obligated to include some kind of hook to sell the project to the public? I ask this last question, because if I understood the description correctly, you will be performing your piece, every hour on the hour for 24 hours and I'm wondering why you would want to do that? What does it add in value to the artistic merit of the project?"

Yea, she certainly goes right to the heart of the matter. I'm not going to answer them in the order she asked, but will jump around alittle bit.

Firstly, I don't really think of a "hook" to sell the project to the public when beginning a new work. The idea for doing the work for 24 hours came directly out of the exploration of what this work is exploring - pushing ourselves in new direction, to new edges, to new discoveries. For a couple of years I've been interested in doing a 24 hour performance as an exploration in endurance and how that can lead to transformation. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to go for the 24 hours because the work seems to welcome it as does the venue and context - being in the Capital Fringe Festival. It feels like a good fit. Now, saying that, yea, it is a good "hook" and it is the one that pops out at everyone. Most people respond by saying something to the effect like, "are you nuts?" It gets them thinking, and wondering why the hell we'd want to do that. Hopefully at that point it will bring them into the performance and see that the 24 hours is not the main focus of our exploration, but a by-product, if you will, of this journey. I do think we could do this work without doing it so many times in a row, but it does add a sense of commitment to being in this performance/world in a significant way.

In regard to the abstractness of the work, I would say that that is a concern, but not a major concern. When Jonathan and I take the time to focus on what we are doing - and this includes the structure - the inner life of the work is present. We do work with different source material (words, phrases, photos) to cultivate connection between us and a larger context outside the parameters of the piece. I think both Jonathan and I work from structure alot of time, so it feels very natural. For many people this seems too abstract and they want to focus on the "personal" or "emotional" connection in the work. I experience structure as both personal and emotional. By establishing a clear structure I am more able to let go into my emotional/intuitive self without going into an indulgent or self-centered performance mode. At the same time we have been working with asking ourselves the question, "What's next?", as a way to keep pushing ourselves further and deeper into the work. I think this is an acknowledgement of our desire to stay, or even increase, that connection to the emotional/intuitive, maybe even, spiritual self. I would say that structure and discussions about structure are not a means to abstract the work, but a way to find the space for the personal selves to have more room, to be safe to expose oneself, to be vulnerable.

And, I would say, that Jonathan and I rarely take ourselves very seriously. But, we do take our work seriously. It is the way we make sense of the world, the way we communicate with our community, the way we delve into ourselves and our potential. And, we have a pretty good sense of humor regarding just how odd most people find what we do.

A Light Grasp

It was a couple of days ago that Jonathan and I last rehearsed. We rehearsed in a much smaller dance studio than we had been and I think that's good since our stage isn't going to be very big. Jonathan said he liked it because there was less pressure to move around the space as much - he was somewhat able to let go of worrying about using space because there was less of it. If you've been reading this blog at all you'll know that we've been working on linking structure to content. We've been curious as to the role of structure in defining meaning and how content (in the form of ideas, images, word phrases) can support structure. This week we also began to layer, what we're calling, characteristics on top of our structure/content. Meaning, we're pre-deciding some facet of a certain section - for example, before we begin a run of the work we know that when we get to Jonathan's solo it will be very minimal, or when we are both playing the guitar it will be a call & response form. Some of the characteristics we worked with are:
- call & response
- minimal
- shifting intensities
- soft dynamics (sustained, light, indirect)
- high density
- simultaneous independence

This creates a certain problem, as it limits the ongoing flow of development that we are working with. The challenge of it is that in a certain run of the work we establish a specific rhythm or relationship; when we then come to a section that has a pre-decided characteristic that is not congruent with what we are doing, what do we do? How do we keep what we've set up and been working on, but also shift into this new landscape? I think this goes a lot to intention and awareness. If we hold that our intention is to stay with what we are doing, without holding on too tight, we can open to the possibility of the new characteristic. It is as if we have a light grasp on what we are doing - not holding so tight it can't change, mutate, or evolve, but not so loose that we just drop it as soon as we're distracted. If is almost a cliche�© of improvisational performance that it is almost distractingly a stream of conscious type of performing. While this is ok in some/many instances, I think it is actually quite lazy in many cases. It is difficult to remember the past, be clear with your inspiration (meaning/content), stay within the boundaries of the structure and fully be awake in the present moment of performing. Obviously, sometimes you can't be in all of that at once, sometimes you're more in one or the other, but, overall, you need to have access to all those elements to create focused, provocative performances. This is our challenge, and even more so with this piece I think because Jonathan and I are breaking apart our normal roles and learning what each other does as well. So, in some ways I think these pre-determined characteristics are helpful in jolting us into the present moment, to remind us to keep coming back, again and again, to exploring this new territory that we're climbing through.

Structure finding content

Today Jonathan and I started with some movement improvisation structures that I learned earlier this week in a workshop with Chris Aiken (he was in town working with the Dance Exchange and I got an opportunity to join for part of it). The structure is very much like the game "statue" - where one person moves the other person into a position. But, in this exercise the person being moved reacts to the movement initiations on a scale from 0 - 10. Responding at level 0 would mean that when the person is moved they stop when the manipulation stops. And, at the other end of the scale, the person takes the initiation and lets that lead them into a longer phrase of movement. The exercise is really a practice of different ways to respond to someone touching and moving you. I think it was very useful for Jonathan and I as it gave us another way to be in contact with one another. Hence, extending our range of partner dancing.

We then returned to our exploration of form/structure for "unmapped". The first random order of sections was very challenging and was not really fulfilling. We started in the space passing the guitar back and forth and that proved to be difficult. Starting that way didn't really supply a reason why we were passing the guitar - it seemed completely out of the blue, unconnected. As we went on through the improvisation we found more material and the improv felt stronger, but it still wasn't fully satisfying. The second run we did - with a different random order of sections - we added a starting point, an initiation. I have a book of photography of the body, from medical photos to athletes to erotica - and we used a photo from that book. It was a picture of two hands kind of wrapped around each other - I believe they were an older woman's hands - very wrinkled, almost narled. The photo is intimate, intense, somewhat disturbing. The improv we created from that image was, I think, also very intense. It also seemed intimate - lots of close dancing, kind of rough with one another at times. We ended up doing lots of hand gestures, repetition and in contact a fair amount - including some partnering similar to our earlier exercise. It was so much more satisfying, as it felt like there was depth and an inner life to the work.

In our first run of the work being in each section was challenging, but transitions between sections was also challenging. During the second run the sections made more sense since we had a context that they all related to. Just having that simple image to keep coming back to was a very powerful organizing point. In the past we had used words or phrases, so it was also nice that we did it without words. It, again, feels like it pushed us into new territory, into new discoveries.

Structure, Structure, Structure

Yesterday in rehearsal Jonathan and I discussed how to structure our duet. I think this gets to a central question in creating art - especially, maybe mostly, improvisational work. How do you decide on a structure? What does "structure" even mean? Is it important? There is certainly a case to be made to have a set structure for every work. This would mean that even though we are not setting particulars there is a place where we always begin, move through and end. For example, we could set that we always start at the back of the stage with both of us playing the guitar, this slowly transitions into both of us moving around the stage and then ends with Jonathan playing the guitar and me dancing. The other extreme of this is to set nothing - really just both choose where to start as we're walking on stage and then begin and see what happens. Yesterday we discussed something in between - that for each performance we would randomly choose the order of the sections, but we would go through those sections in a particular order for that performance. The next question that comes up out of this discussion is, how does the order of the section effect the meaning of the performance - for both us as performers and, certainly, the audience. If you set the structure than you can be sure of a certain flow of the piece, but if you leave it open, or change it each time, that changes the arc. In fact it calls into question the whole idea of the dramatic arc.

Most times when seeing a performance - especially dance or theater - we are use to following a dramatic arc. Usually something happens, something changes from the beginning to the end. We have conflict, or development, or some kind of progression. We also know, either consciously or intuitively, that that arc was chosen and set by the creator of the work. We can trust that the structure was intentional and specific. But, if there is no predetermined structure, or the structure is determined for each performance by chance, what does that imply to meaning? This is an age-old post-modern question, but we're in the mix of it right now and trying to wrestle with these options. During this last rehearsal we randomly created a structure (using a computer) and tried it and was quite satisfied with the structure. But, what happens if the computer creates a structure that we don't "like", or feels "inorganic"? We will continue to explore random generated structure for the next couple of rehearsals and see what happens.