i finally clicked through and read sydney skybetter's letter to the dance community that's been dominating my facebook newsfeed since it was published on monday. in other news, isn't it interesting that i thought i was impossibly behind, reading an op-ed two days after it was posted?
anyway. i got to the bottom of that blurb and i kinda kept scrolling, expecting there to be more to it. (where's that advice? where's the new information?) there wasn't any more, and my initial reaction is basically "well, duh..." i appreciate that we're talking about this, but this is not really news, and there have always been routes for artists to take that are different than the path described in (beloved, flawed) dance movies.
i'm not performing in a full-time company. i've never received funding for my work from outside organizations. the NEA would clearly never look at what i'm up to. i've never performed at lincoln center. or in a basketball arena. i've never been in a viral music video. i've never been reviewed by a new york newspaper. the vast majority of my dance pals haven't, either.
what i have been doing? performing work that is engaging, fun, and very different one show to the next. performing regularly, professionally, in new york city. creating my own dances, developing my own choreographic voice. training in "old-school" modern dance traditions and with contemporary dance artists of several generations that i cherish the opportunity to learn from. this is what being an artist is about. you tell stories. you learn. and most importantly, you create.
furthermore, believe it or not, people are actually interested. people are wonderful and smart, and in general, understand the art of movement much more than we dancers generally give them credit for. i have received such valuable feedback from people in my life who are acquaintances or friends of mine who don't really know much about dance... but they come to my shows. they talk with me about my work. the fund my kickstarter campaign. they think about what they see and feel. and isn't THAT what it's about? creating work that speaks to you and speaks to others?
my life as a dance artist in new york is not really glamorous, hasn't brought me fame, and i get my health insurance from a separate job. but i'm still a dance artist in new york city - which, i will say, is more than this girl ever thought possible growing up in northern michigan. i refuse to consider that anything but success.
when young dancers - from my studio growing up, from my college dance program - ask me for advice, first i chuckle, because i'm not sure they really want my advice, but then i tell them the best thing i can tell anyone: just decide to do it. you'll figure the rest out.
the point is - none of this is new. the structure of the dance world has changed, no doubt, but the changes we're discussing today are rooted more than twenty years ago, around the time most of today's young artists were born. we know that we aren't stepping into the dance world that was around for the previous generation, or the generation before that. each generation has had its own journey and its own artistic climate. we can define success as any number of things. maybe we aren't showcasing work for hundreds of art patrons at the joyce -- maybe we're touching ninety people at a little old speakeasy theatre in the east village. it's all changing. it always has been. and we know it. and we will figure it out anyway, because we're here to create.
at the end of the day, we dance because we are artists. and the essence of any artist is just having the tenacity to do it. and continue to do it. start it. do it. figure it out.
May 15, 2013
April 27, 2013
a good reminder
in college, a professor once told me that my most specific work was the work that had the widest appeal. here i was, worried that my work was too specific to my experience, my thoughts -- but so many of us learn the same lessons and feel the same feelings. we just get to it differently. clear communication of your own experiences and your own ideas get you to a place that others can relate to.
a week from tonight, my sister will have received her diploma from the University of Michigan. (what a badass, right?! proud.) i've had my sisterly responses to this -- giving advice, analyzing her performance, and so on... but hearing her talk about her experience of "being done" and moving on to "the next chapter" just takes me right back to spring 2008, and how wonderful and confusing and, frankly, bittersweet the whole celebration was.
five years later, i can hope that i've done my 22-year-old self proud, just as i know grace will be.
April 23, 2013
thoughts on theatre choreography: flashy visuals? part of the story?
The other night, my composer/music director fiance and I saw an article and video featuring the new opening number of the Broadway revival of the musical PIPPIN. Part of the article's stance is that the success of the show will depend on the success of "the fusing of signature Fosse touches with acrobatics, contortionists and trapeze acts imported from the circus" in an attempt to recapture what was so special about the show in the first place.
If you were to ask theatregoers who saw the original 1972 production what singular impression they took away, forty years later, there's a good chance they might mention some of Bob Fosse's imagery before they sing you a few bars. (Ben Vereen's authentic jazz hands!) PIPPIN, more than most other musicals, is a show where the choreography is integral. (Another notable exception, of course, is Jerome Robbins' WEST SIDE STORY.) Bob Fosse's choreography for PIPPIN was exciting; it was very stylized, and it was provocative. It was not, however, integral enough to director Diane Paulus and (legendary, talented, Fosse-protege) choreographer Chet Walker to be maintained for audiences in 2013.
I will note: the point is not that the choreography will not be respected - surely if the work is to be safe in anyone's hands, it is Chet Walker's.
My point is - choreography in theatre, specifically in musicals - is not considered a component of the piece of art. It's an add-on. When reviving an old show, directors wouldn't dream of changing a melody line. Scenes and songs may be cut, or even reordered, to serve a modern audience, but they don't hire a new composer. Not true of choreography - that's different all the time, and it's hardly ever mentioned. (Again, WSS is an exception... both in that it featured original choreography, and, for the 2009 Broadway revival, in the translation of some lyrics to Spanish. Even then, director Arthur Laurents made a point of bringing the show to today "without changing a word or note.") It would be huge news to write a new song or a new ending for a revival of INTO THE WOODS, wouldn't it? No one blinked, however, when Kathleen Marshall created her own steps for ANYTHING GOES.
Why?
Lots of other parts of the show change, too, of course. The orchestrations might be redone to work with a different number of musicians. The lighting design would undoubtedly change to take advantage of a new space, new technology. The costume design would likely change. The performers, of course, are different. Where does the essence of the old show get lost? Perhaps the dividing line is at what's merely visual. The songs and the dialogue are what we hear and what pushes the story along -- what it all looks like, including the dancing, changes. But if that's the case, why isn't a concert performance of OKLAHOMA! considered a revival? Because there's no physical acting? Choreography is surely part of the acting. It's what the performers are doing: they're singing, they're speaking, they're dancing. A concert performance of a musical is kind of like the Paul Taylor company performing Fancy Free - that's not a musical, of course, because there's no singing, no dialogue, just dancing and music. A concert is not a musical because there's no dancing and perhaps no dialogue, just music. The other visuals may be there -- lighting, costume -- in both of these situations... but neither is considered a "musical."
Some shows don't have all of those elements, of course. We just saw THE LAST FIVE YEARS - no dialogue and no dancing there, but it's clearly a story told via musical. It would feel very strange to add big dance sections for Cathy and Jamie into that score, and it would be equally strange to add scenes of dialogue for the characters. I'm not saying that a show has to have all these elements to be considered a "musical" - I love seeing shows that push those boundaries - but I do think it's inconsistent the way we add or drastically change those elements when we revive existing shows.
Well, okay. What, then, makes a musical revival different for a new generation? What can the new director do to create something fresh? If we treated choreography the same way we treated the book and the score, perhaps the director would be "translating" the choreography - for space, for time, for number of performers. Say the star needs to sing the hit song a half step down. Not really a problem. Say the star doesn't have the perfect extension the original cast member did, so she goes for just above 90 degrees instead of pushing 180. Also not really a problem. The essence of the song and the essence of the choreography is the same. Say the old staging had an ensemble of sixteen that filled up the stage, but this time around the house is smaller and there's only space/budget for ten. Stretch out the staging a little bit and keep the movement, and the stage will be filled and the essence of the movement is maintained.
Now, granted, maybe the director has an idea to change the movement that will really add something to the story, to the tension in a scene, to the audience's experience. That could be a wonderful decision - maybe the show becomes richer, clearer, or more accessible. But my point, again, is that we don't allow music directors or other composers to come in and change the tune of a song for any of those creative purposes. Why?
Another demarkation of what's essential: chronology. The composer-lyricist-librettist team creates the core material, and everything else comes later. The choreography is secondary, then, because it is dependent on the score. The choreographer is very rarely part of the original creative writing process. Granted. But what if the creation of the movement was part of the construction of the show? Would that shape the songs written? The dialogue needed to push the story along? Would performers have a more embodied performance experience?
There's another obstacle to including choreography in the "package" of what's considered a musical. You can't package it. You've got your scripts, you've got your sheet music, you've got your... Labanotation? It doesn't happen, because the dance world hasn't created (or decided upon) a way to document dance to be recreated later. In the old days, you had to have someone who was a part of the original production come "set" it. The only new alternative is to have someone learn the choreography from a video in order to teach it to a new cast. It's much more difficult and more time-intensive than reading something off a page. (Enter motion-capture technology. Maybe a musical will, in the near future, come as downloaded pdfs, mp3s, and a motion-capture choreography file...)
I don't mean to get down about this. I don't think Broadway has it wrong. There are a bunch of reasons why we revive shows the way we do, and a lot of it makes a ton of sense. I do think, however, that this is an untapped possibility for the creation of new work, or even a new sub-genre of musicals, where choreography truly tells an essential part of the story.
It's not all bad. The current state of things does keep more choreographers employed - newcomers are able to create new movement for any show they work on - encouraging more newness and opportunity for innovation (whether or not that innovation is actually happening is, well, a different conversation). If choreography were maintained from all the old shows, the choreographer's job would be less similar to the composer's job and closer to the music director's. We might have "choreographic directors." It's only a short jump from that to the dance industry lamenting that no original work is supported enough to come to Broadway. (Sound familiar, composers? Writers? Audiences?) In this way, the limited view of choreography as essential to the show actually frees us up to create new and inspiring things.
Anyway. New technology is coming at us all the time. Dance is more in the public consciousness than it has been in years (thank you, reality TV). And theatre creators are constantly looking for new sources of inspiration. I think it's time to shake it up.
If you were to ask theatregoers who saw the original 1972 production what singular impression they took away, forty years later, there's a good chance they might mention some of Bob Fosse's imagery before they sing you a few bars. (Ben Vereen's authentic jazz hands!) PIPPIN, more than most other musicals, is a show where the choreography is integral. (Another notable exception, of course, is Jerome Robbins' WEST SIDE STORY.) Bob Fosse's choreography for PIPPIN was exciting; it was very stylized, and it was provocative. It was not, however, integral enough to director Diane Paulus and (legendary, talented, Fosse-protege) choreographer Chet Walker to be maintained for audiences in 2013.
I will note: the point is not that the choreography will not be respected - surely if the work is to be safe in anyone's hands, it is Chet Walker's.
My point is - choreography in theatre, specifically in musicals - is not considered a component of the piece of art. It's an add-on. When reviving an old show, directors wouldn't dream of changing a melody line. Scenes and songs may be cut, or even reordered, to serve a modern audience, but they don't hire a new composer. Not true of choreography - that's different all the time, and it's hardly ever mentioned. (Again, WSS is an exception... both in that it featured original choreography, and, for the 2009 Broadway revival, in the translation of some lyrics to Spanish. Even then, director Arthur Laurents made a point of bringing the show to today "without changing a word or note.") It would be huge news to write a new song or a new ending for a revival of INTO THE WOODS, wouldn't it? No one blinked, however, when Kathleen Marshall created her own steps for ANYTHING GOES.
Why?
Lots of other parts of the show change, too, of course. The orchestrations might be redone to work with a different number of musicians. The lighting design would undoubtedly change to take advantage of a new space, new technology. The costume design would likely change. The performers, of course, are different. Where does the essence of the old show get lost? Perhaps the dividing line is at what's merely visual. The songs and the dialogue are what we hear and what pushes the story along -- what it all looks like, including the dancing, changes. But if that's the case, why isn't a concert performance of OKLAHOMA! considered a revival? Because there's no physical acting? Choreography is surely part of the acting. It's what the performers are doing: they're singing, they're speaking, they're dancing. A concert performance of a musical is kind of like the Paul Taylor company performing Fancy Free - that's not a musical, of course, because there's no singing, no dialogue, just dancing and music. A concert is not a musical because there's no dancing and perhaps no dialogue, just music. The other visuals may be there -- lighting, costume -- in both of these situations... but neither is considered a "musical."
Some shows don't have all of those elements, of course. We just saw THE LAST FIVE YEARS - no dialogue and no dancing there, but it's clearly a story told via musical. It would feel very strange to add big dance sections for Cathy and Jamie into that score, and it would be equally strange to add scenes of dialogue for the characters. I'm not saying that a show has to have all these elements to be considered a "musical" - I love seeing shows that push those boundaries - but I do think it's inconsistent the way we add or drastically change those elements when we revive existing shows.
Well, okay. What, then, makes a musical revival different for a new generation? What can the new director do to create something fresh? If we treated choreography the same way we treated the book and the score, perhaps the director would be "translating" the choreography - for space, for time, for number of performers. Say the star needs to sing the hit song a half step down. Not really a problem. Say the star doesn't have the perfect extension the original cast member did, so she goes for just above 90 degrees instead of pushing 180. Also not really a problem. The essence of the song and the essence of the choreography is the same. Say the old staging had an ensemble of sixteen that filled up the stage, but this time around the house is smaller and there's only space/budget for ten. Stretch out the staging a little bit and keep the movement, and the stage will be filled and the essence of the movement is maintained.
Now, granted, maybe the director has an idea to change the movement that will really add something to the story, to the tension in a scene, to the audience's experience. That could be a wonderful decision - maybe the show becomes richer, clearer, or more accessible. But my point, again, is that we don't allow music directors or other composers to come in and change the tune of a song for any of those creative purposes. Why?
Another demarkation of what's essential: chronology. The composer-lyricist-librettist team creates the core material, and everything else comes later. The choreography is secondary, then, because it is dependent on the score. The choreographer is very rarely part of the original creative writing process. Granted. But what if the creation of the movement was part of the construction of the show? Would that shape the songs written? The dialogue needed to push the story along? Would performers have a more embodied performance experience?
There's another obstacle to including choreography in the "package" of what's considered a musical. You can't package it. You've got your scripts, you've got your sheet music, you've got your... Labanotation? It doesn't happen, because the dance world hasn't created (or decided upon) a way to document dance to be recreated later. In the old days, you had to have someone who was a part of the original production come "set" it. The only new alternative is to have someone learn the choreography from a video in order to teach it to a new cast. It's much more difficult and more time-intensive than reading something off a page. (Enter motion-capture technology. Maybe a musical will, in the near future, come as downloaded pdfs, mp3s, and a motion-capture choreography file...)
I don't mean to get down about this. I don't think Broadway has it wrong. There are a bunch of reasons why we revive shows the way we do, and a lot of it makes a ton of sense. I do think, however, that this is an untapped possibility for the creation of new work, or even a new sub-genre of musicals, where choreography truly tells an essential part of the story.
It's not all bad. The current state of things does keep more choreographers employed - newcomers are able to create new movement for any show they work on - encouraging more newness and opportunity for innovation (whether or not that innovation is actually happening is, well, a different conversation). If choreography were maintained from all the old shows, the choreographer's job would be less similar to the composer's job and closer to the music director's. We might have "choreographic directors." It's only a short jump from that to the dance industry lamenting that no original work is supported enough to come to Broadway. (Sound familiar, composers? Writers? Audiences?) In this way, the limited view of choreography as essential to the show actually frees us up to create new and inspiring things.
Anyway. New technology is coming at us all the time. Dance is more in the public consciousness than it has been in years (thank you, reality TV). And theatre creators are constantly looking for new sources of inspiration. I think it's time to shake it up.
January 31, 2013
Day 31.
well, here we are! the end of january. and in the vein of my 2013 mantra (focus more, worry less), here are snippets of the month's worth of choreographic ideas for one piece.
conveniently, you can see the actual finished* piece at steps on broadway on saturday, february 2nd! don't miss out!
so, what did i learn? two things.
one, it's totally freeing to imagine any number of ideas for one piece, but it makes capping the ideas really difficult. and therefore i felt a strange sense of sadness after we completed the material in rehearsal. which reminded me of this:
"The development of an imagined piece into an actual piece is a progression of decreasing possibilities. . . Finally, at some point or another, the piece could not be other than it is, and it is done. That moment of completion is also, inevitably, a moment of loss -- the loss of all the other forms the imagined piece might have taken."
- David Bayles & Ted Orland in their book Art & Fear
so at least i'm not alone in this feeling!
two, it's really difficult to focus for that long on one thing! i found myself more aware of the inspiration i find in everyday life - i had different ideas on my mind, different rhythms i was inspired by, and by the act of focusing, i was able to not only create what i was focusing on, but i was more mindful of what else was happening around it. pretty cool.
*i mean, it's never really finished. but it's ready for a first staging. :)
resolution 2013 from jaema joy on Vimeo.
conveniently, you can see the actual finished* piece at steps on broadway on saturday, february 2nd! don't miss out!
so, what did i learn? two things.
one, it's totally freeing to imagine any number of ideas for one piece, but it makes capping the ideas really difficult. and therefore i felt a strange sense of sadness after we completed the material in rehearsal. which reminded me of this:
"The development of an imagined piece into an actual piece is a progression of decreasing possibilities. . . Finally, at some point or another, the piece could not be other than it is, and it is done. That moment of completion is also, inevitably, a moment of loss -- the loss of all the other forms the imagined piece might have taken."
- David Bayles & Ted Orland in their book Art & Fear
so at least i'm not alone in this feeling!
two, it's really difficult to focus for that long on one thing! i found myself more aware of the inspiration i find in everyday life - i had different ideas on my mind, different rhythms i was inspired by, and by the act of focusing, i was able to not only create what i was focusing on, but i was more mindful of what else was happening around it. pretty cool.
*i mean, it's never really finished. but it's ready for a first staging. :)
January 30, 2013
Day 30, and thoughts on space & improvisation
this morning i had the amazing good fortune of being ready enough for saturday's showing that i had 15 minutes of rehearsal space that i didn't need to fill.
so one of my favorite collaborators had the idea to improv for a few minutes, because it's such an incredible luxury to have SPACE.
which we did, and my goodness it feels good to move. it's rare, in an artist's life, to have space to use without a very specific purpose for it. i cram my choreographic thoughts into my kitchen (as shamelessly displayed here), into my mind as the Q train crosses the manhattan bridge, in the hallways in between classes at Steps, and i really only ever get to do them full out when i'm invested in creating something on a deadline. the show is three weeks away, this application is due, etc.
the constraints are monetary; everyone and their brother knows that open space is a hot commodity in manhattan. i wonder about these sorts of constraints for other artists. is this similar to what a composer feels when creating a piece of music only on a piano? does "full out" equal "orchestration?" does a visual artist feel this way as she dreams up and sketches up ideas before she invests in the paint and the canvas? i'm not sure. actually, visual artists and composers (*cough* Dan... Grace...) feel free to chime in here.
regardless, it makes me feel dizzy with possibilities to daydream about having such a space available to me whenever i wanted it. or even just for a couple hours each morning. or even twice a week. it would change my work. the constraints, of course -- the tension of creating in my kitchen -- add dimension and artistry in their own way, as constraints always do. so who knows if the space would be crippling in its emptiness, or how it would change my movement. but my personal opinion is that i would do well with a little more of it.
anyway. back to improvisation. it's obviously a big part of the choreographic process, and is the source of most of my work. it's influenced by who i'm training with at the time, what the music is, how tight my body is feeling. and sometimes really interesting things happen, yes. but mostly, i know what i look like when i'm improvising. i know what my "things" are. my go-tos. so how to adjust those?
when i started, in 2010, choreographing something every day to start each year, those questions were a big part of the impetus. it's about the act of creation every day, which is important, and it's also about allowing myself the chance to observe my patterns and my tendencies, and to purposefully move a different way. when i would create a phrase, sometimes i would look at what my body wanted to naturally do next, and i would make it do something completely different - sort of opposite.
now, of course, i've gotten used to the "opposites." i know what my body wants to do, and i know what my analytical mind likes to make the body do when i'm being contrarian. so how do i get to something altogether separate? as in, not related to my natural tendency at all?
i don't have the answers, naturally. but in the meantime, here's our work from today....
january 30th improvisation from jaema joy on Vimeo.
so one of my favorite collaborators had the idea to improv for a few minutes, because it's such an incredible luxury to have SPACE.
which we did, and my goodness it feels good to move. it's rare, in an artist's life, to have space to use without a very specific purpose for it. i cram my choreographic thoughts into my kitchen (as shamelessly displayed here), into my mind as the Q train crosses the manhattan bridge, in the hallways in between classes at Steps, and i really only ever get to do them full out when i'm invested in creating something on a deadline. the show is three weeks away, this application is due, etc.
the constraints are monetary; everyone and their brother knows that open space is a hot commodity in manhattan. i wonder about these sorts of constraints for other artists. is this similar to what a composer feels when creating a piece of music only on a piano? does "full out" equal "orchestration?" does a visual artist feel this way as she dreams up and sketches up ideas before she invests in the paint and the canvas? i'm not sure. actually, visual artists and composers (*cough* Dan... Grace...) feel free to chime in here.
regardless, it makes me feel dizzy with possibilities to daydream about having such a space available to me whenever i wanted it. or even just for a couple hours each morning. or even twice a week. it would change my work. the constraints, of course -- the tension of creating in my kitchen -- add dimension and artistry in their own way, as constraints always do. so who knows if the space would be crippling in its emptiness, or how it would change my movement. but my personal opinion is that i would do well with a little more of it.
anyway. back to improvisation. it's obviously a big part of the choreographic process, and is the source of most of my work. it's influenced by who i'm training with at the time, what the music is, how tight my body is feeling. and sometimes really interesting things happen, yes. but mostly, i know what i look like when i'm improvising. i know what my "things" are. my go-tos. so how to adjust those?
when i started, in 2010, choreographing something every day to start each year, those questions were a big part of the impetus. it's about the act of creation every day, which is important, and it's also about allowing myself the chance to observe my patterns and my tendencies, and to purposefully move a different way. when i would create a phrase, sometimes i would look at what my body wanted to naturally do next, and i would make it do something completely different - sort of opposite.
now, of course, i've gotten used to the "opposites." i know what my body wants to do, and i know what my analytical mind likes to make the body do when i'm being contrarian. so how do i get to something altogether separate? as in, not related to my natural tendency at all?
i don't have the answers, naturally. but in the meantime, here's our work from today....
january 30th improvisation from jaema joy on Vimeo.
January 29, 2013
January 28, 2013
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