Space Tension – More Here

Dec 1 – I plant my feet on the ground and commit towards forward with my upper body. Forwardness. The farthest place in front of me. Then farther. My feet stay planted. New direction. Side low. Then diagonal towards my left and forward. This is hard work, and very pleasurable. My body is pulling as far as it can against itself, and my energy filling and then exiting the tips of my fingers. I imagine I am defining the space around me, and connecting to the space. I am hooking into strange forces which are invisible and crisscross the space around me, and which keep me standing even at impossible angles. This is an antidote to sensing my weight and going with the flow, and it is a new way of moving to me. I’m inspired by Laban’s Space Harmony, which I haven’t studied, but I’ve heard of it. And seen a lot of pictures. It looks much more physical, more direct than the dancing I’ve learned to do here in sense-your-weight land.

I was going to study Laban’s theories of Space more deeply to understand this. I’ve got a pile of books on the shelf, waiting. But, I’ve changed my mind. Doing this is what I want. Why take the roundabout way through the theory books and the gatekeepers when dancing is where I want to end up? At least for now, I will do, and if I don’t get it all right, that’s okay with me.

From what I can tell, when you study Space Harmony officially, you do scales:

This heady stuff gets you a good deal of credit with certain people if you know how to do it. That doesn’t mean that it is necessarily valuable to me, nor does it automatically make it worthless. But I know that the photos above, they leave me cold. Not nearly so extreme as this:

Which is why, for now, I am not going to learn the theory of space harmony through and through. I’m really working on working. On going, myself or with other people, into the studio and doing things, making things.

I don’t always bring my video camera so I’m jotting things down here, so perhaps later I can make it all into something more organized.


Dance Class Politics

“Figuratively speaking, dancers as a group are a subjugated “race” – destabilized as a matter of course, as a prerequisite inherent to the field.” –Brenda Dixon Gottschild, The Black Dancing Body. p. 10-11

This, plus the entire description of a dance class in the first chapter of The Black Dancing Body, hit very close to home for me.  I spent ten of my formative years engaging in serious dance training that fits her decsription of class structure.  I have chosen not to walk away from this tradition, but I feel squeamish about demanding the same “destabilization” from my own students that my teachers asked of me.  And yet, I want the training I offer to “work”, and often so do my students.

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Dance, Sustainability, and Counterpoint

My friend Hannah used the Counterpoint Tool from Synchronous Objects as a way of framing related ideas.  This process of examining a web of ideas first in terms of one relationship, then another, then maybe several relationships at once, brings a holistic, open-ended and non-linear knowledge of what those ideas are.  The process is useful to me right now as I try to integrate my ideas about my creative research and right livelihood, as well as the political ramifications of Rudolf Laban and his career.

I’m sitting with some plain white paper and a pencil and trying to sketch the contrapuntal play of these ideas on the paper, but having difficulty mapping the ideas out for myself visually.  I seem to need my model to move, to be able choreograph them and thereby see how they play with each other.  Presently I have a series of triangles with a word, representing a chunk of concepts at the corners of each triangle.  From one triangle to another one or two of the words may stay the same.  The terms in the triangles are these:

sustainability, ascona, anna halprin, my creative process, rudolf laban, wendell berry, somatics, and dance reconstruction

I’d like for this model to be able to show how the triangles interelate, and how varying relationships between concepts can show different facets of each concept.   Despite my training in Labanotation, I can’t think of a visual representation for this inherently relational way of being with ideas.

Now, I will try something like the facebook friend wheel.  I’m placing the ideas around a wheel with an open center.  Any idea can connect to any other idea along the wheel.   The important thing is not to only draw a connection but to use the visual connection between two or more words to better understand the words and their relationship.  I’ve added a few words to fill out my wheel now, including the following:

physical training, freedom, emerson, thoreau, amateurism, mothering ballet, tap, labanotation, jazz, theater of the oppressed, mark johnson, maria montessori, john holt, friere, critical pedagogy, movement choirs, gender, husbandry/housewifery, working with joshua


Serious Play, Curious Investigation

 

haffner

 

The Forsythe workshop at Ohio State constitutes one of the deepest, broadest, and most pleasurable arcs of learning in my life so far.  It was unique in its holistic combination of theory and practice.  I found that the readings, viewings, discussions, and symposium fed my studio practice, which then informed further thoughts, writings and discussions about this work.  
William Forsythe’s ideas and technique left their mark on my body, my conception of the study of dance technique, my approach to creative inquiry, and my perception of time.  

At a young age I came to be interested in dismantling the structures that seemed to keep dance separate from the questioning in my heart. I have so identified with deconstruction as a reason and mode for making, and so stripped away at dance while trying to make dances, that it began to seem better not to make anything at all. In part, this pattern is what drew me to step outside of the making process and identify myself as a Labanotator rather than a creator. Something that irks me about the world of Labanotation is the sense notators sometimes convey of having secret knowledge that other dancers don’t, or can’t have. Perhaps I have been irritated by this because it is a strategy I’ve been using to help me hide from my disappointment with dance.

Engaging with the work of William Forsythe, with its beauty in the contrast of extreme complexity and deconstruction has given me a new sense of permission to build and make.  Rather than throwing the dance baby out with the bathwater, Forsythe takes what is useful to him and regenerates, fragments, and regenerates again in a beautiful sort of alchemy.  Though I admire Forsythe’s choreographic structures, and love the way his technique feels on my skin, I don’t want to make what he has made.   Instead I want to imitate his posture of questioning and curiosity. At the heart, this workshop has inspired me to seek earnestly what my questions are starting now.  I would like to continue to deconstruct dance when I need to, but also to not be afraid of building new and complex structures.  I would like to learn to say, “I don’t know what dance is,” but not to give up on my body and its rich knowledge.  I would like to build structures in symbol, movement, new media, or all three at once, and through these structures to continually engage in serious, playful investigation.


Winter 2009

Working backwards, here’s what I’ve been doing the last few months.

Photo:  Lindsey Caddle Lapointe

Photo: Lindsey Caddle Lapointe

  • Afferent Data, an eight-channel sound environment responsive to the small movements of respiration, with Joshua (mentioned by Bill Mayr in the Dispatch).  And therefore asking. . .
Photo: Ryan Agnew

Photo: Ryan Agnew

  • What is it to be alive?  What is it that makes me alive?  Is it possible to be still?  What is the smallest amount of movement?  What is the essence of being alive?
  • Studying Vicki Blaine’s 1978 Progression dance score with regard to Rudolf Laban’s theories of space, and thus;
  • Committing Laban’s A-Scale to muscle memory

labana-scale

as well as. . .

  • Rolling, swinging, rocking and dropping my way through some Bartenieff fundamentals.
  • Gathering information on John Rodriguez’ abstract ballet Vivaldiana, reading the Labanotation score, and embodying it.  This has felt like a satisfying, complex physical Sudoku.  Learning that every personal story is interesting if one spends enough time with it.
  • Twenty-one beautiful sessions of playful, intentional improvisation (and four ballet classes) with Nik Haffner and friends in a workshop presenting William Forsythe’s ideas at OSU’s Department of Dance.
  • Batsheva, Batsheva, Batsheva at the Wex.  That’s watching them, dreaming about them, and talking about them.
  • Learning the differences between Labanotation in 1927 and now.
  • Attempting without much success to understand the score of a movement choir from Germany in 1927.  Staring with fascination at pages of Knust’s Group Notation.
  • Attempting, again without success, to map data from movement into Max/MSP through the Wii remote.  The idea is to make an instrument which will classify movement according to the space and effort qualities of Laban Movement Analysis.
  • Reading the fantastically illuminating responses of elective students in dance to a dance concert, and thus;
  • revisiting the question; what do we make things for, our audience, our research, or somewhere in between? Facing that I have not really been asking this question with honesty.  Appreciating the ideas of Richard Maxfield in his Composers, Performance and Publication essay in light of all this.

Viewing/Trying On Improvisation Technologies

improvtechnologiesAfter an hour trying Forsythe’s improvisation technologies on my body, I felt much better.  I had articulated my joints in ways that are not my habit. I’m quite surprised at how therapeutic it felt.  With my exposure to Bartenieff Fundamentals and release technique I think of anything that reduces “tension” as therapeutic.  This was not loose, floppy, tension-relieving movement; it was actually quite effortful.  Maybe I was releasing things I’m used to holding while binding things I’m accustomed to letting flow.

This reminds me of my rave days and of the look of breakdancing – finding lines and volumes in space and articulating them, shape being the priority, and virtuosity being about increasing the rate of shifting between lines, points and shapes while maintaining clarity and rigor, and also in having multiple things happening in different body centers at once.   The space that I went to is familiar from those long nights of dance parties in the 90’s.  The question arises for me, how does the evolution of breaking and raving movement relate to that of Forsythe’s work?  Are they similar by circumstance, or was he inspired by breakdancing? Or, do they look similar because they relate in different ways to the same lineage?  If so, what lineage?  I would like to know.  Some associations that come to mind are German Expressionist dance, the abstract movement, modernist architecture, deconstruction, and techno and electro music and its relationship to breaking.  

glowsticktraceplanevolume

I get great information from non-dancers.  A friend has described improvisational dance he’s seen in performance as having a value for looking disoriented.  I agree; sometimes it seems the disorientation has been codified, and is therefore not authentic, but just a mode that people resort to.  I don’t see all improvisation in performance this way – maybe just some of the less compelling performances.  These technologies seem like a useful tool for avoiding the  pat disoriented look.  While working with the technologies I experienced having a heightened perception, rather than confusion about what my body was doing each moment.  As layers were added I found myself slipping more easily between this acute awareness and disorientation; switching very quickly between the two, or riding a continuum.  The ideas are heady, but it seems like a goal is to try to get your brain into your joints and do the computations there, in the moment.

Melanie Bales mentioned in LMA class this week that, in her opinion, Forsythe’s work prioritizes Body (in the LMA sense) as a framework rather than Space or Effort.  Several of us who had been doing these readings piped up, “no, Space! It’s about Space!” –because that’s the thing the readings seems to bring up.  But Mel claimed that although Forsythe talks a lot about space, but is really working with a Body sensibility.  The jury’s still out for me; I don’t know enough about LMA or William Forsythe yet to say what I think.  I can say that if I were to prioritize LMA categories with this movement, effort would certainly be last, because the effort seems most to service whatever he has the body doing, or the body doing with the space.  At the body level, I am more articulate and intelligent as a whole after spending an hour or so dancing with this.  Each joint seems to have been explored fully.

Within the “reorganization” section, I enjoyed the part about reorientation of the room.  It reminded me of one of my favorite systems for framing movement, the crosses of axes in the Laban system.  I have always loved working with these for the way they parse the movement.  The crosses allow you to look at the movement in relationship to the body, to gravity, to the room you’re in, to the spine, to the “stance” which is a more specific idea of front.  Then you can change the cross you’re working on as you move, which is what dancers do all the time for themselves.

Symbols for Crosses of Axes from Laban Notation

Symbols for Crosses of Axes from Labanotation

In attempting to accurately record or recover specific movements through notation these crosses are slow and cumbersome and only used when you have to.  Here in these technologies I see that Forsythe has come up with a methodology for applying the same concepts to the body and playing with them in the moment.  I find it so extremely satisfying and fun.  Some other concepts he uses that I’m familiar with from Laban are the space hold and spot hold.

space hold and spot hold

space hold and spot hold

It would be fun to think of symbols for some of his other modes.  Perhaps I could create a symbol for the forms of compression and fragmentation? Or one that is like space and spot hold but shows avoiding a spot or sliding along a line?

There’s a clarity to this methodology that reminds me of working with the Laban system.  I feel at home with it, in the talk of the forms traced by moving distal body parts, of the difference between folding or contracting a limb, or rotating versus twisting a form.  It’s a kind of play that delights me.

Something that spoke to me at a gut level was “dropping points”.  It created the appearance of submission to gravity, as if the structure of the body was slowly submitting chunk by chunk.  I got the impression of this stunted thing, crippled giant, and the look of it spoke to me at a subconscious level.   During these dropping actions I loved sounds of thunking, smacking, and slapping of body parts onto the floor.  These sonic accents made clear the line being extruded, or the point or curve that was being dropped.

The dropping of points and curves was all the more compelling when Forsythe demonstrated (and I subsequently tried) emphasizing the back space.  I grew up on presentational dance, within a proscenium framework, and learned to dance like a paper doll–colorful on the front, with nothing on the back.  To me, what is behind intimidates me, like a dark landscape I’m nervous about exploring.  The actions of submitting, softening, receding and descending resonate with me on a deep level.  I loved his closing statement of this section: “. . . and I think if you practice that regularly that the coordination will begin to spread itself over the whole kinesphere.  And you’ll have more fun.”

That sense of serious play impressed me about the entire set of clips.  I got the impression that William Forsythe approaches movement the way a three-year-old plays with a thing he’s curious about.  There’s a purity of intent to learn everything possible about the thing, while staying in a mode of lightness that can only be described as play.


Technique Statement II

knee-joint-gray348

In my technique statement I expressed frustration that I usually get injured a few months into the training period.  Here’s my theory on why that is and what I’m going to do about it now.  It’s a complex of fear.  I dance, something hurts; then I start to fear the pain, and projecting into the future, fear the ending of dance for me.  This results in a cycle of tension that makes the dancing more blundering, therefore the pain worse, and then the fear is worse, and so on.  It’s insanity.  A lack of mindfulness and too much thinking at the same time.

The circuit can be interrupted.  When I bring my attention to my body and away from what I’m afraid will happen to it, or what it has felt like in the past, there is a shift.  My experience of pain decreases.  (Ekhart Tolle’s concept of the pain body and explanation in A New Earth, of how to bring awareness to the body is useful .)

When I bring this awareness to movement, there’s intelligence to which I gain access.  I’m not sure what to call this intelligence, or even whether or not to call it my own.  The joints understand the directions in which they’re made to bend.  The muscles organize themselves better around the bones they leverage.  Some of my big, tired, oafish muscle groups relax, while the still, small voice of my postural muscles and deep muscles starts to whisper.  It’s so pleasurable I forget to fear the future, or worry about how I look.

I’m reminding myself of all this today as I sit at the computer with an ice pack on my knee.  While moving quickly up and down from the floor and into and out of inversions a couple of days ago I made my right knee quite sore again.  I’m grateful for this old friend, this complaining knee, and everything it has taught me since it first became a problem.  Without the kind of information I’m getting from my knee right now, first of all, I would have no cartilage left, and probably less bones, and my knee probably wouldn’t bend.  The dialogue with this knee and the rest of me has been the catalyst; it has drawn me to learn about the type of awareness I wrote about above, as well as life lessons about pain, fear, and living in the present.

Susan Van Pelt Petry wisely encouraged me with her message in this week’s OSU dance blog.  In order to take this idea to the next level I’m going to have to start walking my talk in the physical practice – more moderately, and more consistently.  I realize that my knee wouldn’t be as strident today if I hadn’t thrown myself around (trying to look good?) in dance class the other day, without listening to my body in the moment.  I’m not trying to judge myself here, but just to ask why it hurts and patiently give myself a chance to try again.

My plan is to stay in class, stay in the movement, but to bring this awareness more and moret, no matter what.  Even if I have to go slow, or modify the movement, or make it small and internal at first.  This would be a contrast to the practice of ignoring the pain until I find myself unable to move, and then resting, because I’m forced to, until I can move again, and then repeating the cycle.  As part of embracing this knee, and integrating its voice, I’m going to modify my daily practice, yet keep it going.  In doing so, I am going to get to practice vulnerability, honesty, and living in the present on a daily basis.  It’s a nice life.


My Technique Statement

I wrote the statement below for myself in Meghan Durham’s modern dance technique class.  I am hoping to also use it as a reference for myself as a technique teacher.

My physical practice is a daily commitment to myself as a dance artist and a fundamental expression of my will to live. In studying ballet and modern dance technique over a twenty-two year period I have gained a rich body of information about those styles, and their contexts, my soma, time, and space; through dance technique I ground myself in my culture and engage in a praxis-oriented reification of that body of knowledge. I also study ballet and modern dance to become more articulate in my other practices within the art form—teaching, choreography, performance, reconstruction and direction, and Labananalysis.

This practice usually consists of ballet and modern classes augmented by yoga, ball rolling, constructive rest, imagery exercises, tap dance, African dance, improvisation, and resistance exercises for dance conditioning (as designed by Erik Franklin). My technique values include:

· Maximum mobility in the limbs with a lively but stable body core

· Sustainable use of the body through efficient fundamentals

· The ability to create balletic lines and use maximum outward rotation in the legs.

· Articulate use of weight including rooting to the center of the earth

· The ability to wander away from balletic line and style to embody other styles and articulations – to practice being a beginner again, to be vulnerable

· Acknowledging my mind and spirit and gratitude for the offerings of the others in the studio

· Improvisation as a way of finding lost-ness in dancing

· Rest, imagery and ball rolling when dancing just won’t “work” that day

I reiterate these concepts in daily classes. The outward rotation and line of ballet is somewhat unnatural to me; in my youth I forced my turnout and developed injuries like tendonitis and torn cartilage. Because of this I practice ballet daily through a barre or full class in order to maintain a facile and consistent connection with its artificiality. I regularly take postmodern dance classes in which I get to move my torso, be off-balance, improvise and release more of my weight into the floor. I value a body that dances in the tension between qualities, e.g., on- and off-balance, bound and free flow, stability and mobility, asymmetry and symmetry.

A question I currently have about technique is with whom to study, and when, for how long. I would like to have as many teachers as possible; this gives me opportunity to develop as a teacher and to access the place of vulnerability that I find so interesting. However I also want to develop relationships with teachers who can become familiar with my body and technical progression in order to receive the mentorship that many teachers have to offer.

I have been frustrated in the past with the arc of my dancing over the course of a few months. I almost always become tight after six weeks of dancing and injured after two to three months. I would like to explore ways of dancing more sustainably, so that I can go longer times without needing to miss a day due to injury.


Ethics of Dance and Tech “Collaboration”

Dancers seem to be excited about collaboration right now.  I have been encouraged several times since last week to “collaborate” with a programmer to complete this Wii movement choir project.  Other dancers have encouraged me to come up with the idea, get a small amount of understanding of the software, and then get a programmer to do the work.  I would be providing the idea and the movement expertise –basically feedback on the software.  I have considered that this type of relationship with a programmer is problematic.

A dancer actually said to me, “Oh, you don’t have to learn any of that tech stuff, just get somebody else to do it.  Then you’ll have a collaborator, and then it’s really easy to get grant money.  If you can use the word collaboration in your proposal you’re set.”  I’m skeptical of taking this route.  Dancers are marginalized as artists and have to struggle to be considered legitimate.  By the numbers dancers are mostly female.    I’ve had the opportunity to closely observe sound installation artist Joshua Penrose and his process of painstakingly learning the skills needed to make his work, coming from a traditional music background.  Did he assume he could do it because he’s male, or because there’s a different sense of empowerment in the music community?  It seems dancers assume that they can’t learn software or that it’s not worth their time.

Judging by the dialogues here at OSU and in non-profits, dancers are tired of being marginalized and considered unintelligent.  Isn’t just being the bodies while other people do the programming going to keep us there?  I’m going to assume that if I can master Labanotation, then I can master other systems of symbols, and learn to write code.  If I can learn to coordinate the parts of my body, possibly I can manipulate physical objects as I need to to choreograph this interactive environment.  

However it is possible that the people encouraging me to find a collaborator already have something figured out that I don’t.  Maybe it is impossible to keep the sense of physicality I get from a daily practice and sit at the computer enough to learn the skills myself.  

My argument is made weaker by my lack of experience, I know.   But I hope to move forward on learning Max/MSP Jitter and animation, and on figuring out what the Wii can do.  I also plan to take ballet class this winter and maintain a studio practice.   Wii’ll see what happens.


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