Benevolent Art: A Day Off Offers The Playtime I've Been Craving......

Benevolent Art: A Day Off Offers The Playtime I've Been Craving......: I realize that dance can only exist in a creative space for me…there is no simple “working out,” for the purpose of conditioning my body. My...

A Day Off Offers The Playtime I've Been Craving...

I realize that dance can only exist in a creative space for me…there is no simple “working out,” for the purpose of conditioning my body. My body’s condition is the result of a healthy creative space that urges me to continue to push, because it is joyful, curious, challenging. My body begins to let go when my mind has nowhere to play. It is not a practice of technique, but a practice of being. Therein lies the danger of falling into periods of play-less inactivity, most times sparked by the business of regular life and my busy existence as a dance educator. My biggest challenge is finding that creative play time when I am too tired to think anymore after a long day of teaching, trying to communicate the idea of significant play and my perception of how dance can be approached with the soul and the inquisitive mind, and not with the goal of ferocity. I hate that word, “fierce.” Are we trying to scare away those who have come to give us the privilege of their presence in our classes and at our performances? Are we attempting to frighten people into believing we are more than human, that we are somehow exempt from the limitations, ailments and the small, everyday triumphs (like waking up), “non-dancing” people have? Do we believe our art form so amazing (not to be confused with special or sacred, because it is quite), that we would separate ourselves from the very people we say we wish to connect with? Verve. DyNaMiC Sentience. Isn’t this what we would rather share, and invite others to take part in?

In Admiration of the "Happy Food Dance"

Movement made for stage is an exaggeration of the dance we all do in life. Paradoxically, we often forget our life-dance in pursuit of an accomplished life on stage. In fact, it is easy to forget our life-dance whenever we are busy, concerned with the dance of society, with all its wonders and expectations, disconnected from the small moments, deeming them as monotonous, regrettably necessary. How ironic, when most of our lives are made up of these small moments that keep us alive, build relationships and families, move society forward one inch at a time. Thankfully, life has a way of surrendering times of respite and reflection. It is during these times of respite, when we can best reconnect with our authentic bodies and motions.

Since leaving my conservatory training, and branching out to do work that is from my own voice, much of my work has been grappling with the ability to depart with the techniques and aesthetic approaches to movement I have been taught to better get to the root of what I want to say and do with my work. I know I want to be sincere. I know I want to be spontaneous. And I know that I want to be able to trust my body to respond to the impulses it experiences with sensitivity. When I am in the studio, I am always reminded that this is a difficult task, given the years of groundwork I have undertaken to arrive at my life-long goal of becoming a professional dance artist. Physically, I have developed habits that have taken many years to work out of my body, and some have not completely left. Though recognizing them as taught rituals I find myself visiting familiar shapes that at one time, I worked to perfect, falling back on them comfortably when I loose my concentration during experimentation and creation. Mentally, I struggle with allowing these things to leave my body, for fear they may never make their way back in, if I found I needed them later. I fear that leaving these habits behind might somehow leave me out of the “dancer club.” In the studio, alone, I even wonder if the ghost who inhabits it thinks I’m “dancing,” or not. In addition to my fears of being disregarded by my colleagues and peers, I realize that there is a whole other level of habits that manifest themselves in my body. And in my mind, though beautiful and significant, create more layers for me to sift through to get to the root of my kinetic voice. Each culture has a set of movements ingrained in its people that have been patented over millennia. For example, how we say hello: we lift one hand, and wave it back and forth. In Japan, people traditionally bow. In Japan, women do not cross their legs. Most women in America do. Included in these culture-dances are the movements involved in creating ceremony, cuisine and everyday routine. Going deeper than that, I have the dance made up of all the cultures that I am a part of, and of the ancestors and family through whom they are passed down. As someone with a multi-cultural background and upbringing, my culture dance is dense, and as colorful as the range of skin tones in the faces of my forefathers and foremothers, rendering me beautiful copper. My culture dance is one of clapping to gospel music to mourn the passing of a family member, boiling collard greens, three generations of women all lying squished and folded in one bed to watch the daytime stories, boiling ham and cabbage or layering eggplant with cheese and sauce, making hot tea and scones in the afternoon, writing the beautiful language of Italian around Christmas time, placing the Madonna on our tree.

In response to this realization, I began to think about the kinds of movements that are unique to my body. My first dances! I am reminded of how every morning, since I can remember, the way I run water in the tub and move my fingers in response to the warm water as I test the temperature before my shower. I try this movement without the water, and my sister tells me it looks inappropriate and laughs. But I find it fascinating, and I smile. Why did I never take the time to notice the mechanics of this sensational movement before? The movement that is attached to feeling lovely warm water for cleaning oneself. I am reminded of the way I habitually run my fingers through my hair when I’m tired, a gesture that repeats itself again and again and again until I find my way comfortably into bed. Then, I am reminded as I eat bok choy and carrots, that since I have been alive, when I enjoy food, I wiggle. It is how my mother can tell if I like her cooking, or not. In our house, the dance has been forever dubbed, “The Happy Food Dance.” And to this day, when I am not in the company of others, or rather, only in the company of my family, I wiggle away when I eat food I love. Somewhere along the path of growing up, it was explained to me that one should not wiggle too much in public or at restaurants. My realization that I have spent as much time training habits into my body as I have spent training habits out of my body perplexes me. Why should we give up our life-dances in exchange for culture-dances, and other acceptable forms of movement? The last time I was at my favorite restaurant in NYC during restaurant week, I so wanted to wiggle! Especially in response to the chocolate cake! These are the movements that are derived from my root vocabulary. These movements are whole: they have a kinetic sensation, an emotional engagement, and a mechanical arrangement in my body.

So, I take these, and a few other movements into the studio. They feel dynamic in my body, but they sadly (though not surprisingly) don’t look very dynamic in the mirror. The mirror reflects back to me my personal experience as well as a two-dimensional surface can: small, intimate, and unique to my person. I wonder how one would share such little dances? One patron at a time, standing close enough to see each nuance and variation as I softly wiggle with almost imperceptible delight across my face? I should invite them to dinner.

While my work-brain desires a place for these movements in my creative activities and professional endeavors, my rest-brain realizes that it is only important that I identify and own them now in the time of reflection. Celebrate them and engage with them. Remember and reminisce with my body and its dances. As life has a way of becoming harried and full of activity in an instant, this visit with myself may not happen again for a long while. Being present, and visiting with undivided attention means I can remind myself even when I am being most exaggerated, that my life-dance is ever present.

Excerpts From A Petition for Passion

Hi! It has been a long time since we've spoken, I know. The summer was a whirlwind and now I am back in the throes of work and of finally writing my portfolio to finish my Masters Degree in Interdisciplinary Arts at Goddard College. So, while in process of writing this document, I thought it would be fun to share parts of the portfolio in process. That way, I can get feedback from a broader audience. The portfolio is tentatively called, "A Petition for Passion," and will explore passion as a philosophical basis for my art practice. Here is my first snippet, called, "The Nature of Our Play." Thoughts and comments are welcome!


The Nature of Our Play

Passion, though a constant undercurrent in the consciousness, does not make its way to the surface each and everyday. It is sometimes hidden under the monotonous oppression of a gloomy day, the drudgery of sickness, the hopelessness of tragedy, or the simple complacency of the usual routine. Of course, passion has a way of resurfacing during difficult or uninspired periods in our lives, if we are open to receiving its messages.

As a professional artist with professional responsibilities, it can be easy to slip into an artistic slump, devoid of spontaneity and fun. I often get bogged down by my artistic obligations and don’t feel as if I have room to explore my playful side for play’s sake. I recognize that I make my best work when I approach it with an attitude of playfulness, and the willingness to laugh at myself, and my ideas. I make my best work when I allow new ideas to arrive as gifts through joyful exploration and unassuming discovery. I am reminded of this every time my sister and I work together on new artistic material.

My sister Mackenzie and I have been making material since before we were born. We did for a time occupy the same space inside our mother, at the same time, creating both excitement and discomfort with our constant motion. Since coming into the world, our collaboration has not ceased. Our roles in our experiments have become defined over the course of our lives and by now, we work as a well-oiled machine. I love creating. I love seeing my ideas take shape and become new ideas as we progress through a process. Mackenzie loves to interpret, and she lives to perform. Though always considered the quieter one of the two of us, when presented with a stage, she becomes a force of nature, hardly contained by the confines of the proscenium, speaking volumes. She is also organized, a sharp contrast to the constant mess of ideas bouncing off the walls of my skull. In her version of a perfect world, order would be the norm, and not knowing would never be a worry. That being said, she is always a willing and gracious participant in my experiments in exchange for my participation in her organization and compulsive cleaning of our material. It is because of these differences that we work so well together. As opposites, we don’t step on each other’s toes when in process, unless it is by mistake when practicing a new partnering sequence. Each feels fulfilled artistically most of the time, and if there is ever a discrepancy, it is usually solved over ice cream or cup cakes.

It has long been our habit, to take time over the summer to work intensely on new repertoire for both stage and film, as well as to continue sharing already existing work with our community and communities elsewhere. During this time, we work very hard, rehearsing, performing, shooting, planning our next season, but most of all having fun! Anyone who would walk into a rehearsal of ours would wonder if we are even serious about our work. We are often laughing and innocently mocking each other. We do slapstick spoof dances and speak in various voices that are not our own. But I tell you; this play is an integral part of our time together and integral to the creation and growth of our work. Through play, we strengthen our relationship, create a pleasurable atmosphere for working, and best of all, we make happy mistakes.

A rehearsal generally begins like this: One of us will turn on an iPod to some danceable beats, usually hip-hop or R & B. We then commence, for about twenty minutes, to jam. But this is not any jam. We play off of each other, make each other laugh; try to out do each other. We share our favorite moves, like our latest rendition of “old people dancing,” or “the white girl shuffle,” “the body wash,” and “chicken dancing.” We see who can pop their booty better than the other one. Who can “go low” the lowest? And there is usually commentary and exaggerated lip-synching. This is how we anoint our space. The tone for our rehearsal is set.

Once we get into our phrase work, voices usually come with it. As I set material, we find an accent or character that helps us to get into the movement. Of course, we never think, “We should use a funny voice to get into character for this movement!” It just happens. For instance, we are working on a phrase for our dance film, Kitchen Table. The film is about two 1950’s homemakers and their adventures as friends in and out of the home. I give Mackenzie a set of movements on ten counts for each fragment of the phrase. This particular dance, the third section of the piece, is about being “out and about,” shopping and ogling over men and the like. Mackenzie begins to count her phrase in the voice of Edith Beales, from the documentary film, Grey Gardens. The accent is an eccentric New England accent that works well with the movement. Mackenzie is going in. She is creating a kinetic persona through her voice, her body is absorbing the essence of the movement and she is making decisions, during the learning process, about the performance of the material. Later, I decide that I would like to make a phrase for a waltz in the first section of the piece, where the characters in the film have a bit of a kinetic cat fight and try to one-up each other through exaggerated movements. I begin to make sharp, pointed movements that have an air of Flamenco about them. I begin speaking with a Spanish accent. The movement begins to take shape. It is exactly as I imagined it. It has flare, precision and a flirtiness about it that I enjoy very much.

When we work this way, we are efficient. Time becomes irrelevant, and moves quickly when we’re having fun, and so does creation. Mackenzie always says to me, “You’re always so worried about not having enough time to make stuff, but when we get to the studio, you pump it out!”

Mackenzie is funny. No, really. She comes off as the quiet one, but she is actually a wonderful amalgamation of goofiness, sarcasm and mischief, and she brings our comedic work to life. And what’s even funnier is that she always tells me that she hates it when I have us improvise to cultivate seed material. However, she improvises all the time. We are working on our “spoon dance” for the film, a part of the first section, where the characters in the film dance in harmony with the spoons, but find ways to continue their dispute, too. As soon as we are done rehearsing the section, a random piece of music comes on, and Mackenzie, on the spot begins to create a beautiful spoon dance of her own. She doesn’t even realize what she’s done! Or maybe she is well aware. I sit back, and watch with delight as she creates this sophisticated, elaborate dance. She goes on for almost five minutes. When she finally stops, I say to her, “I thought you said you couldn’t improvise.” She says, “Well, I was just playin’ around.”

It is easy to fall into passion when it makes itself so readily available. When we play at work, we feel productive, we learn things we never would have dreamed we could learn, and I am constantly in awe of the results of our efforts. There is beauty. There are poignant moments. Passion dynamically presents itself, and I am hopelessly vulnerable to it.

From Fear to Action...Thoughts on Crime, Society and Art

On Friday evening, our apartment was burglarized, things left behind in the apartment vandalized and our emotions left in tatters at the thought of someone we don't know tearing through every nook of our personal living space to find what they wanted. Every drawer overturned, contents strewn across the floor, dirt from the outside smudged on fabric, paper, cardboard, plastic alike. Each closet undone, hangers left swinging alone on the racks, mountains of blankets, shoes, bags, props and other things to climb. Objects that belong on one side of the room, flung haphazardly to the other side of the room, other objects making their way to new rooms completely. A toilet used, and left un-flushed. Glass shards ground into the carpet. A door left kicked open, inviting curious passers by to look in, and possibly join in on the heist after the initial robbers left. Blank spaces where our possessions once lay, only small parts - knobs, broken-off corners, screws, leaving trails to the exit. We arrived home on Monday, after being in New York for the weekend. A friend called us on Sunday, and notified us that when he went to check on the apartment, something had gone awry.

Though the initial shock made me angry, I can't say that I am still angry. I am deeply hurt by the fear the invasion has instilled in me. I am deeply hurt at the notion of loosing years of intellectual property that can never be recovered, even if some of our belongings are. I am deeply hurt by the complacency of those who would claim themselves to be at our service.

However shocking or hurtful, this experience has compelled me to think.

First of all, I have already been thinking long and hard about the condition of our society, and how people become marginalized, disillusioned, excluded, left behind. I wonder what would drive an individual to disrespect the personal space of someone they do not know, or do not know well, with such aggression. I can not imagine taking something from someone else that is not my own, not to mention rifling through personal effects that I would want no business with. But that doesn't mean another person does not feel deserving of a better deal than they've been dealt, or is not desperately addicted to a substance, or is not greedy beyond hope, among other things. Though it is not always the case, I feel much of the crime we see in our communities is a result of society's condition; A condition that values profit over the spirit, exclusion over inclusion, the facade versus the authentic. Crime is a systemic problem that with our current system, we only make worse through the prison system, poor educational models, and contempt for those who need the most assistance in life.

As an artist, I feel I am a champion; a steward, if you will, for nourishment of the soul of the individual and the spirit of communities. As an aspect of a healthy individual and community that is often overlooked, I feel it is the job of the artist to illuminate the benefits of an artful existence: the ability to connect to one another, a deep knowledge of the self, compassion, empathy, a joy of learning and growing, the ability to problem solve creatively, and peace, to name a few.

As only one person, I often ask myself what I can do on this big planet. I find myself each day, wanting more and more to get right down in the dirt, to know more people as human beings, instead of perceptions. I want to more fully understand the culture of the communities in which I live and work. I want to find the root of the condition. I hope to inspire passionate action in human beings through compassionate means.

So, my work begins. I am creating a fund, to make grants to artists who wish to cater to the soul of the individual, and/or the spirit of their communities through therapeutic, environmental, conversational, transformational, educational, connection-creating, community art projects. After realizing that there is a lack of funding for this kind of work in my area, I decided I would take it upon myself to create that needed entity. I had a fabulous meeting on Wednesday with some folks from the Greensboro Community Foundation, and they are going to umbrella the fund. They were really fantastic, and I know their help will go a long way in starting this organization up. I am excited to move forward with the fund, creating the organizational outline and planning the fund's first events. At this moment, the fund is called just, "The Fund for Community Engaged Arts." But, I would like to change the title to something that has a better ring to it. Suggestions are more than welcome! And if you'd like to help with the start-up activities of the fund, please let me know!

~Cara

Lessons and More

What a tremendous week it has turned out to be. I am excited, refreshed, and reminded that life is in fact, a wonderful journey.

My friend Gail turned seventy this week. At her birthday party, I sat in the company of some of my favorite women. Robyn, the host of the party, a painter and gardener among other things, Jan, also an artist and one of my heroes, Mary, a savvy marketing director and Women's Fund of Winston Salem founder, and to round out the group, Patti and Susan, strong community supporters and both of whom I met through the Storyline Project. I was the youngest woman at the party, but as my mother has always told me, I have an old soul. Gail is amazing. She doesn't look the way one might think a seventy-year-old should look; she's active and deeply engaged in the going's on in the community. And she certainly doesn't "act" seventy. She is a busy body, if I ever saw one, a connector of people, and she does all of her life's work with such a joyful demeanor and a contagious energy. Sitting in a circle, under the blanket of the warm evening sky, I listen as this group of amazing women talk about how wonderful life is. Gail says that every year, her husband asks her what the best year of her life has been. How can you answer such a question? Gail says that she always thinks of the best year of her life as the first year she went to college. Her world opened up, she said. Then she acknowledges that her son would beg to differ; she tells us that her son has taken note of how happy she's been over her most recent years. She tells us that in fact, her life continues to grow, change and be rich and that the past few years have been fabulous. I am overjoyed to know that even after society says one should retire from activity and emotional growth, there is still so much to acquire.

During the gathering, I also have time to tell the ladies about my latest project: The Wedding Dress Project. They ask me what the impetus was to begin the project. They ask me questions about how I can make the project accessible to all people. They help me to continue to think through the project, and how it may be most effective. I have been speaking to various organizations, mostly over the phone these past two weeks. Yesterday, I had my second face-to-face meeting in North Carolina. I took a little trip the Chapel Hill, to speak with the director and program coordinator at the Family Violence Prevention Center of Orange County. We have a wonderful meeting, and I am in awe of how well the project has been catching on. I am beginning to plan some community events that would invite anyone interested or curious to participate in these workshops, to garner more support for the project.

At High Point, the semester is winding down, as I have mentioned. What a long semester it has been, and there are still a few things to do before we can all really call it quits for the summer. My students have their final showing coming up, and they seem very excited! The ballet students are putting their finishing touches on their variations, and the composition students are hard at work finalizing their solos and group works. I am always surprised by how much they anticipate these small, informal performances which act as their final exam. I can only imagine what their excitement will be when next spring's dance concert is on its way up. I will say, though I have thoroughly enjoyed teaching this year, and though I feel I have grown as a teacher in innumerable ways, I am only too happy to see summer on the horizon. I must recharge for what will surely be an even more hectic school year than this one. Summer for me, will be (hopefully my last) a hard lesson in frugality. So much to pay for, but as an adjunct still, no money coming in to pay for all of it. After being diligent and saving up for the summer, one thing after another has come up, and depleted my savings. As full time faculty this coming fall, I can only hope that next summer, I'll get to relax a bit more. I so excited at the thought of having only one job for the first time in my life. A sigh of relief...I love my job.

Until next time,

~Cara

Gratitude to Rejection, and Some Stuff in Between

It's true, this blogging habit of mine has gotten away from me as of late. So much activity has left me tired, but still anticipating another burst of activity to come.

It is with deepest gratitude that I acknowledge the phenomenal run of Thoroughly Modern Millie April 7th-10th by our students at High Point U. Opening night was a gorgeous burst of color, sound and energy from all players in the productions, including performers, musicians, tech crew and production crew. For as terrified as I was to begin the process of choreographing Millie, I can honestly say that I am proud of myself, and extremely grateful to my students and colleagues for their support and willingness to see the process through with me. At a faculty meeting yesterday morning, we laid the High Point University season to rest, as we discussed our collective experiences for the season, and how we'd like to proceed next year. I am excited to take on the challenge again for our next musical production, Urinetown, where I will have the opportunity to work with the students in a new capacity.

During all of the hectic activity of tech for Millie, Mackenzie and Laura came to town to participate in a work in progress showing of our piece, "Common Threads." You may remember, that Laura and I began work on the piece this past fall, with a residency at NC State, where the students there helped us to explore various aspects of the piece. Though the showing went over well, I can't say that our time together was perfect. It was difficult, because for Laura and I, this was our first real disagreement. Coming into the week of the showing, there were factors that cut into our rehearsal time; Laura ended up coming a day later than we had originally discussed, due to events out of her control. The rehearsal schedule that I had originally planned was shortened. I had planned the week very closely, as there were only so many rehearsals and classes I could miss. But I figured, with what I'd planned, we'd have three full, 6 hour days to rehearse together, spanned over four. We also had some contention over the material that was brought to the table. Ultimately, Laura felt as though I had overtaken the process leading up to the showing, and felt excluded in much of the making. Mackenzie felt overwhelmed, and excluded in other ways. It wasn't at all my intention to overwhelm, or exclude anyone, I was only doing what in the moment, felt productive. Not to mention, we hadn't truly talked about how we felt the week should go, before jumping in to do the work. For me, this was my first experience working in a way where there are no clear roles or definitions of players. That was difficult, and I admit, it is something I can see now I need more experience with. I can't speak for Laura or Mackenzie, but it is something I would like to explore further with them. Though I apologized to everyone, I still felt looked down upon when the process was finished. I couldn't help but have hurt feelings, thinking that my art partners might have reservations about working with me in the future. What now? Since then, Laura and I have talked about that week, as have Mackenzie and I. And though everything is supposedly fine, I feel that the hurt each of us felt felt won't really dissipate, until we have a chance to try again, and change those things that did not work.

That situation brings me to a more recent happening: What a privilege....I saw Joe Goode (dancer/choreographer from CA who has been around for EVER) speak this past Thursday at Wake Forest University. What an interesting, talented man! If he should know anything about failure, it would be him, and he talks about it, along with risk and patience eloquently. Hearing him speak helped me to understand that things don't always come out right the first time you do them, and that being terrified, anxious, happy, sad, delirious, are all fine, as long as you're willing to actually feel your emotions. He spoke about collaborative work, and how collaborative relationships take years to form fully (he works with his dancers and collaborators for decades). He also notes that when new members come to the company, that they "come in where they come in." Joe is known for having his dancers do all manner of performative tasks; talking, singing, mime, whatever is needed. The most interesting thing I thought he said was that he doesn't audition dancers to act or sing. He brings them on as dancers, and allows them to blossom on their own time. After hearing Joe speak about his process, I felt better about the situation with Mackenzie and Laura. After all, this was only our first attempt, and we all have a lot of growing to do!

On to the newest development! This week, I have had such fun in the studio! I am working on a new solo dance, for the NEWMOVES festival in Pittsburgh, PA, which will happen in May, just after I get back from Berlin! I have choreographed a little section of the piece, where I have a light in my palm. With that light, I light my face, and various parts of my body. I shoot light across the space, and in an instant, create total darkness. I love it! I just hope that it works on stage. I guess we'll see! The second section of the piece is a very physical conniption of sorts, which begins slow, but then speeds up. The third section, is still up in the air. I have been experimenting with the reading of a book, and an uncovered lamp. I am talking in this section, but I have been toying with the idea from the beginning, of speaking in a language other than English. I will let you know how that turns out!

As always, with all of this fabulous activity, there is the crush of rejection. I get many rejections a month, as I apply for TONS of festivals, workshops, conferences, etc. per year. It isn't so bad most of the time, because for every couple of "no's" you receive, you get a "yes." I'm quite busy, as you might have noticed! BUT, it always hurts when you get a "no" from a festival or organization that you were really hoping for. I submitted my film, "Kitchen Table," to the Dance Camera West Festival this year. I was really hoping I would have a reason to go. Alas, no such luck. Since I have no film project this summer, I cannot expect to try again next year. Today, I was looking at a dance film grant app, and realized that I have no project to apply for. It makes me sad. I had hoped that I would at least get to put together something small, but that will not be the case this year. What, with Brett in Charlotte, my savings (art savings included!) ravaged by an onslaught of unexpected events, and my summer now being devoted to teaching to make up for it, I am forced to take a hiatus. I can only hope that the hiatus makes room for me to think and imagine.

Alright then. Off to do some reading, and meet Karola tonight for some dancerly camaraderie!

~Cara