Four years later: A different kind of courage

In writing the process a dance proposal for based on Ted Hughes' Crow, I came across the footage of the dance solo I made four years ago, Aftermath (with Cocoa). I think the main thing that struck me is how determined I was, and how taut the piece is.

Oddly enough, this piece is perhaps thematically more similar to Crow than any of my recent duets; in the sense that it is about an individual in confrontation with the randomness of the world. Aftermath was choreographed a year after a car crash I was in, and is about the process of coming to terms with the death and the sensation of a world flipping over in multiple senses. Even today I am sensitive to how high the center of gravity of a car, especially on highways.

Although Crow is a piece about courage, I think that I am in a slightly different place now in movement and in life than where I was 4 years ago. Aftermath was choreographed during and right after my time in Poland, and the vocabulary reflects not only the forcefulness of the Luminski technique, but also my determination to get it under my belt. Having only picked up dance from college, I was way out of my depth with the technicality of Jacek's work. At the same time I loved the movement and the teacher very much, so I was gritty determined to master it. The most embarrassing thing for me was to go across the floor (contemporary dance classes often end with sequences where the dancers travel across the floor. Due to space limitations, we travel in small groups in front of everyone), because often I didn't even have the whole sequence… and here I was asked to go across the floor in front of everyone else. However, based on the philosophy that the only way I was going to learn was to try, I swallowed my pride and blundered across. That quality of grit is therefore very present in my movement.

Later experiments with butoh and meditation, as well as life in general, taught me grit in a different form. If Aftermath is about courage in movement, there is also courage that comes from the capacity to be still and patient.

Crow is an odd choice to make right now, because I do not feel very much Crow right now. In fact, my tai chi practice is taking me in what may seem the opposite direction to what Crow is about. Crow is about will power and the explosion of sunlight, while what I am exploring in tai chi is the softness and receptivity. I think I was much closer to Crow a few years ago working in an office cubicle, when my creativity was exploding from the frustration of the 9-5 office job. Nowadays I have a nice balance in the freelance work I do, and am generally doing what I really enjoy doing, teaching and performing. So there is no need for the type of rebellion exemplified by Crow.

At the same time, I think there is a playfulness that arises from the right distance with ones source material. Because I am not very Crow at this point in my life, it is easier for me to explore Crow playfully. And just like the Yin-Yang in tai chi, it is precisely the fact that tai chi is taking me down a different path that will add another dimension to the dance. Just like we drop down in preparation for a leap, I believe the softness and compassion in tai chi will bring out something different, more playful, than pure heroism in Crow. Aftermath is wonderful in its relentlessness, but it is fun too, to be able to be playful.

> A video of this 7 minute dance solo to Bach's cello suite #2 will soon be posted on the BurntMango website