Life as a Modern Dancer

One Good Quote: "As Is" with Jennifer Perfilio Dance Works (April 2021)

Dancers (left to right) Emma Lanier, Samuel Melecio-Zambrano, and Shareen DeRyan. Photo by Jennifer Perfilio.

In Fall 2017, Life as a Modern Dancer launched a new concept for post-performance discussion and writing. The goals are multi-fold:

• What are new ways to invite post-performance writing (since so few publications now print dance reviews, and there are fewer and fewer dance critics in the United States)?
• How can choreographers hear and read more from audience members about their impressions and experiences of dance events?
• Can we offer new mechanisms for choreographers to gather language about their work, to further their work and to promote their work? 

The premise is simple. If you experienced "As Is" with Jennifer Perfilio Dance Works in April/May 2021, please take a few minutes to leave a comment. Write down images, impressions, appreciations, and questions from the performance. These can be words, phrases, or a few sentences. 

We thank you for your time, support, and thoughtfulness. Here's to more dialogue, more reflection, and more writing on the dance performance experience. As choreographer Mariah Steele noted, we are "democratizing dance criticism."

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Related posts:

A Practice of Unknowing, Breaking Away from Structures and Habits: An Interview with San Francisco Dance Artist Jennifer Perfilio

 

An Afternoon Walk and Dance Through Glen Canyon Park: FACT/SF’s “Diffusion”

Erin Yen and Emily Hansel (background), Samuel Melecio-Zambrano and Katherine Neumann (foreground). Photo by Robbie Sweeny.

An Afternoon Walk and Dance Through Glen Canyon Park: FACT/SF’s "Diffusion"

By Molly Rose-Williams

It’s been over a year since theaters around the Bay Area shut their doors. Like much of the rest of our lives, art-making and performance have migrated online or outside. Last Saturday, FACT/SF’s newest work, “Diffusion,” brought me for the first time to San Francisco’s Glen Canyon Park. The show mapped a 45-minute loop into the canyon and back. Along our walk, dancers peopled the canyon walls, peaks, and pathways like open-armed invitations to notice. Notice the dancing, but also the canyon itself—the plants, animals, red stone and bright blue sky, and the many park goers with whom we shared the experience. 

After the show, I got to chat with Charlie Slender-White, FACT/SF’s director (another novel feature of the COVID-era dance show—small audience sizes that allow the artists to personally connect with everyone who comes!). He shared that although these outdoor spaces have always been available for dancing, it wasn’t until COVID forced us outside that he felt drawn to create in them. “It always seemed too complicated,” he reflected. “What if someone walks through the piece? What if there’s another event that’s distracting? What if a dog won’t stop barking?”

Creating “Diffusion” has shown him that it really isn’t complicated at all. Instead, it’s felt like an opportunity to move with what’s available. As an audience member, this type of immersion in a public landscape feels vastly different than the tightly curated attention of a dark theater. My experience of the show was just as much about the dancing as about the landscape in which it took place. My reflection below responds to this holistic immersion and round awareness. I hope in reading it, you can share even a fraction of the pleasure I found in experiencing “Diffusion.”

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I’m standing on the cement path at the mouth of Glen Canyon Park. It’s a piercing blue day. Clusters of smiling people lounge on the sunny field to my left. Shrieks of glee float from the playground to my right. Other dance-goers gather around me. Charlie, the director, wears a fuschia shirt and bright red socks. He greets us each by name, and checks us in on his phone. On the far side of the field, a raucous yell rises from a volleyball court as one player spikes the ball over a taut black net. 

All of a sudden, six dancers take off at a run across the field. Fuschia shirts bob, red socks pump, in a perfect single file line. A family of picnickers look up from their sandwiches as the runners approach. The oldest picnicker (Dad?) chews slowly as he tracks the runners’ progress around their blanket. The three kids stare, jaws agape, as the runners close the loop and sprint towards the volleyball game. The family dog scoots towards the youngest child’s sandwich, but Dad swats Dog away before it can grab the big slab of bread and meat hanging limp in the child’s hands. The child just stares, hypnotized by the runners’ retreating backs.

The dancers continue to wind across the field, cutting curving paths like neon intestines. Now they come towards us, their official audience. “I have no idea what they’re doing,” a girl announces in a loud whisper behind me. The line of five bobs past her to climb the steep street bordering the park. “Whoa,” she says. We stream uphill in pursuit. 

The street is steeper than it looks. I wonder if the dancers’ calves burn like mine.

“That donut may have gotten me,” a fellow audience member moans as we climb the sun-drenched pavement. He outlines his current dietary allowances to his friend as we turn onto a shady path. “Goat milk, sheep cheese, and RICE. I’m obsessed with rice.”

Six fuschia dancers stand on a grassy golden hill up ahead. Two move with crane-like swoops through the grass. Four stand like sentries on the wood and dirt staircase carved into the canyon wall. With their black masks and matching outfits, the dancers appear almost more archetypal than human. The sentries split, two of them sprinting up the stairs, and two leaping onto the path in front of us in clouds of dust. The pathway dancers swing like a Newton’s cradle, back and forth, back and forth, hips low to the ground.

“C’mon man, it’s a dance,” murmurs a passerby as he tries to coax his lumpy yellow dog past the dancers’ sweeping movements. But the dog winds, as if drunk, directly into the taller dancers’ feet. The dancer leaps with catlike precision over the dog’s bowed back, taking off at a run down the path. A jogger in neon yellow appears like a mirage to follow him. The crane dancers swoop off the hill to follow the jogger.  

We keep moving up the path. Above, the climbing sentries reach the canyon’s jagged lip. They look barely larger than my index finger as they peer down. A pair of hawks soar above them in perfect unison.

Wiley Naman Strasser (left), Eric Garcia (middle), Meegan Hertensteiner (right). Photo by Robbie Sweeny.

Two dancers eat up space on a wooden bridge, spiraling as if hungry for sensation. Their feet scrape out a rhythmic soundtrack on the rocky path and hollow bridge wood. We pass through a tunnel of curly willow that echoes with birdsong. My skin buzzes with delight.

We emerge in a clearing dwarfed by a sharp grey peak jutting like teeth from the ground. Three fuschia dancers wave like synchronous windmills on top of the rocks. A hiker in head-to-toe blue pops out to join them. He whips out his phone with a practiced arm and films their airy movements.

Below them, a little girl in a light pink dress wanders across the scene. “Mommy,” she announces, “I forgot to tell you, this place has lots of pine nuts!”

“Cool,” her mom sighs as she huffs behind her up the path. 

We all chuckle.

I crane my neck like a magnet to the sky as we retrace our steps through the willow tunnel. A hummingbird flits overhead. At the bridge, three dancers bathe us in the sounds of their feet dragging along the path as they make wide, arcing movements over the dirt. Three more dancers join them, balancing in utter silence atop the thin wooden ledge of a retaining wall. They move their arms with blade-like precision, opening and closing their chests as if carving out a novel dimension. 

Three passersby stop to watch. 

“You’re my best friend,” one professes to another as we follow the dancers’ retreat towards the mouth of the canyon. 

We stop at a small lawn to witness three dancers hopping in perfect unison like birds on hot coals. Then we pass a woman who drops a very small piece of paper, bends to pick it up, and then drops it again. I don’t see if she ever manages to keep it in her pocket because a crowd of hikers in leggings and visors tromps between us.

Finally, we emerge at the field where we first gathered. The volleyball game is long over, but the family of picnickers is still there. Dad swats the dog away from the bag of chips slipping off the youngest child’s lap.

Above it all, four dancers climb a set of steep stairs backwards towards the street. They each wave a long streamer as if in farewell. A man at a picnic table on my right gazes wide-mouthed at the image, his neck snapping back and forth between us and the retreating dancers. “It’s a dance,” I consider explaining, but then decide against it. I’m part of this dance too, after all, and I’m pretty sure that’s not part of my role.

Samuel Melecio-Zambrano (left) and Katherine Neumann (right). Photo by Robbie Sweeny.


Molly Rose-Williams is a dance artist, writer, educator and community arts organizer from the San Francisco Bay Area. You can read more of her writing and learn about her work at www.mollyrosewilliams.com.

 

Recap: April on the Blog

Shareen DeRyan and Emma Lanier. Photo by Jennifer Perfilio. Read the interview with Jennifer here.

Hello! During the month of April, we shared a wide variety of posts about upcoming performances, undergraduate programs, dance publications, zines, and more. Please find the 10 posts here, and we hope you will check out one today you might not have read yet.

I also wanted to take a moment to thank our incredible intern this winter, Camryn Eaglin. Her 100-hour internship was a wonderful experience, and we are thrilled to share that Camryn will continue on as a contributing writer for Life as a Modern Dancer in the coming months.

-Jill Randall, Blog Director

 

Cultivating Healthy, Equitable Workplaces for Dancers - Emily Hansel

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Quaranzines: Self-Producing Meets Self-Publishing - Sarah Chien

Discover Dance Writing - Camryn Eaglin

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It’s More Than Dance: An Interview with Kennedy Cannon (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series)

An Interview with Moria Small: A Different Lens, A Different Path (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series)

The Final Words: Black Dancers in Higher Education Call to Action Up - Camryn Eaglin

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Springtime Musings on Teaching and Learning: Or, Where My Mind and Heart Are with Teaching Modern Dance These Days - Jill Randall

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Light + Process + Unison + Deep Listening: An Interview with Dancers Lauren Simpson and Galen Rogers about Celestial Real Estate

A Practice of Unknowing, Breaking Away from Structures and Habits: An Interview with San Francisco Dance Artist Jennifer Perfilio

One Good Quote: "As Is" with Jennifer Perfilio Dance Works (April 2021)

Lauren Simpson. Photo by Joey Carter. Read the interview with Lauren Simpson and Galen Rogers here.

One Good Quote: "Diffusion" with FACT/SF (May 1 and 2, 2021)

In Fall 2017, Life as a Modern Dancer launched a new concept for post-performance discussion and writing. The goals are multi-fold:

• What are new ways to invite post-performance writing (since so few publications now print dance reviews, and there are fewer and fewer dance critics in the United States)?
• How can choreographers hear and read more from audience members about their impressions and experiences of dance events?
• Can we offer new mechanisms for choreographers to gather language about their work, to further their work and to promote their work? 

The premise is simple. If you experienced "Diffusion" with FACT/SF May 1 and 2, 2021, please take a few minutes to leave a comment. Write down images, impressions, appreciations, and questions from the performance. These can be words, phrases, or a few sentences. 

We thank you for your time, support, and thoughtfulness. Here's to more dialogue, more reflection, and more writing on the dance performance experience. As choreographer Mariah Steele noted, we are "democratizing dance criticism."

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The Final Words: Black Dancers in Higher Education Call to Action

 

 

The Final Words: Black Dancers in Higher Education Call to Action

By Camryn Eaglin

I introduced the series Black Dancers in Higher Education in February. What was intended to be three interviews turned into five -- there are never too many perspectives. By interviewing Brooke, Asha, Kennedy, Moria, and one anonymous interviewee, I was able to gain a well-rounded perspective on what other black dancers experience within university dance programs. It’s notable that these experiences are in no way monolithic and have nuances. However, there are similarities and differences in the challenges these students face. Concluding this series I want to discuss these main challenges and most importantly carve out ideas that can create change. 

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Some of the main challenges I observed through the interviews and from my own experiences included:

Tokenism. This is often done to minorities within a large, predominantly white structure. What happens when you are an anomaly? In this case you are because of your race. Especially when "diversity" is a current buzzword for universities and dance programs to reel in prospective students. Whether black students are being used for promotional images or as a "token" example of the exemplary black student, we aren’t always valued as individuals and artists in the day to day structure of departments.

Tokenism: “the practice of doing something (such as hiring a person who belongs to a minority group) only to prevent          criticism and give the appearance that people are being treated fairly.” -Merriam Webster

Lack of diversity in style. What makes a dance style worthy of higher education? Why are ballet and modern held to high standards and treated with reverence in Western dance communities? This sends a message to POC students that styles which don't fit into European standards are not as worthy of in-depth study. This continues promoting hierarchy, where many styles stemming from POC and/or black culture are on the bottom. Through these interviews, I now see that several dance programs are attempting to make subtle changes and give students choices to incorporate other styles but it’s still not of equality, especially within dance concerts.

Typecasting and comparison. Yes, your black students are individuals. They are different dancers, with different names, and do not physically look the same. Growing up I had been consistently confused with the only other black dancers in the room. We are also easily pigeonholed and typecasted due to stereotypical ideas of our body types, look, and what we should be good at. Within a smaller institution like a university's dance department, this can happen easily.

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Below I propose steps for change to make a more comfortable and accepting environment for a diverse student body, particularly for black dancers.

Have conversations even if it's uncomfortable. I understand that every department doesn’t strive to focus on social and political topics but oftentimes our art reflects our lives, identities and experiences. Conversation can create clarity for artists, especially black dancers. We can begin feeling comfortable standing in our truth and presenting our stories on stage if we desire. I propose incorporating actual conversation with your dancers whether it’s surrounding a specific piece, current event, or just because. Convene, speak, listen and receive. This also has the ability to create actual comradery and a support structure within your department due to openness and honesty.

We can look at University of Texas at Austin's Dance Program as a potentially successful example. The dance program at UT aims to raise artist citizens, so they have regular town halls and conversations woven into their department’s routine and structure. This seemingly had a positive impact on both Kennedy and Moria, students I interviewed in this particular dance program.

Value your black and POC dancers. If you are highlighting black students in promotional imagery and advertisement, reflect on how that student is actually represented in the department. Are they getting cast in pieces? Are they given equal opportunity on stage? Are they consenting and being asked to represent diversity? Everything shouldn’t be for show. If you want a diverse group of students, value the diverse talent you already have. 

Give students choices. I understand this change requires time from an administrative view, but how can dance departments  begin looking at requirements and how they can be tailored to different dancers? Could there be different performance/technique tracks for the same degree? Do all students HAVE to take ballet and modern throughout their course at the university, or can other styles be held to equal importance? Also be aware of how you present other styles to students. For example, are West African dance courses getting the same respect from students, as ballet is given? Do they understand why it is important to take other techniques of dance? Explain the history.

Temple University has been offering other styles in their students' required training. In Asha’s interview she outlines that although they are required to take modern all four years, they have the choice to take ballet for just two years, African two years, along with two semesters of Hip Hop.

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Overall, most of these solutions begin with reflection and most importantly conversation. Make sure you talk to your students; don’t assume. When people in positions of power invite dialogue, it makes an environment much more comfortable for black and POC students to express themselves or concerns. Thank you all for reading! Be sure to read the five interviews if you have not already (links below).

 

Camryn Eaglin is a dancer and writer earning a Bachelor of Science in Dance and a minor in Broadcast Journalism from Wayne State University. She is currently an intern with Life as a Modern Dancer.

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Related posts:

An Interview With Brooke Taylor: Dialogue for Change and Understanding (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series, Interview 1)

An Honest Outlook: Are there two different experiences? (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series, Interview 2)

Pushing through Discomfort and Making Room: An Interview with Asha Yates (Black Dancers in High Education Series, Interview 3)

It’s More Than Dance: An Interview with Kennedy Cannon (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series, Interview 4)

An Interview with Moria Small: A Different Lens, A Different Path (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series, Interview 5)

 

Discover Dance Writing

Cover of Black Dance Magazine, Winter 2020 issue

Discover Dance Writing

By Camryn Eaglin

During my internship at Life as a Modern Dancer, one of my main tasks was to research and review different dance sites and publications. Over the course of my time, I have reviewed 18 in total. I have been able to recognize and conceptualize just how rich the dance world is with information. Dance writers are doing the work to analyze, discuss, and uncover our ever-evolving community. Below I have listed all of the publications I reviewed in alphabetical order. 

1. Black Dance Magazine
2. Contact Quarterly
3. Fjord Review
4. Dance Enthusiast
5. Dancegeist
6. Dance Magazine
7. Dance Teacher 
8. DIY Dancer
9. Dance Spirit Magazine
10. In Dance
11. Infinite Body
12. kNOwBOX dance
13. Life as a Modern Dancer
14. loveDANCEmore
15. NY Times
16. Pointe Magazine
17. Stance on Dance
18. thINKingdance

The community is moving into a space where social and political conversations are being had more often and openly in the context of dance. It’s notable just how diverse our community is in terms of race, culture, ethnicity, ability, gender, sexuality, and more. Stance on Dance is particularly intentional in amplifying the voices of artists identifying as POC, queer, and disabled. They are working to dismantle stereotypical dance norms. One of my favorite projects on their website is “Discussing Disability in Dance,” which is a series of interviews with dance artists with disabilities, accompanied by brilliant visual art. Next, Black Dance Magazine is a publication presenting authentic representations of black dancers. “What is the color of an arabesque? What is the complexion of a plié?” These rhetorical questions find their home on the welcome page of the website, immediately making you think. Dancegeist is another website that promotes inclusion and community voice. Be sure to check out their “List of Lists Section,” which I was particularly glued to. The site is dedicated to action and boldly calls for change in specific areas of the community. These three publications stood out to me as having a clear purpose in creating a platform and fostering social change.

As someone who loves media and graphic content, websites with strong graphic execution include Fjord Review, whose sleek website specializes in the review of ballet and contemporary performances and kNOwBOX dance, whose content specifically connects digital media with dance. Their mission is to discover what can exist outside of a studio context and empower dancers on and offline. DIY Dancer is also an aesthetically polished website/publication that places value on graphic design, media, audio and aesthetic. This is especially strong within their print magazine’s graphic design elements, which adds to its appeal and readability. 

Lastly, some stand out websites that serve as hubs for “everything dance” include Life as a Modern Dancer, Dance Enthusiast, thINKing Dance, and Dance Magazine. There is nothing like a website where you can find all of the information you need, where the content is endless. From conversations on social and political issues, to techniques, to current events, to exercises, to interviews and reviews; these websites truly cater to any dancer or artist. These sites are conversational in nature and leave ample space for the reader to sponge information. I found myself getting lost in the content with so many topics to explore, which I love as a person with so many interests.

All of these websites are unique in their own right and contribute to a larger conversation by fostering growth within our community. I challenge those reading this, to do like I did, and check out at least two websites a week!

Cover of DIY Dancer magazine, issue 03

Camryn Eaglin is a dancer and writer earning a Bachelor of Science in Dance and a minor in Broadcast Journalism from Wayne State University. She is currently an intern with Life as a Modern Dancer.

An Interview with Moria Small: A Different Lens, A Different Path (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series)

Moria Small. Photo courtesy of the artist.

 

An Interview with Moria Small: A Different Lens, A Different Path

By Camryn Eaglin

Even within the same university and program, talking with a few students reveals various experiences and perspectives. Looking back to the topic of nuance, we all come from diverse backgrounds, families, and communities that shape us as artists and individuals even though we may be of the same race. This should never be disregarded. In respect to this sentiment, I decided it was important to interview two different black dancers from the same dance department to further observe and honor the particular contrasts and similarities within their own participation. This is a reflection of how the black experience can differ between one another even though there is still a common thread. This is our second interview from UT Austin’s Dance Department. Be sure to check out the previous interview with Kennedy Cannon.

 

Our final interview in this series is with Moria Small, who is a BA Theater and Dance Major at UT Austin. She is a non-traditional 1st year transfer. She will complete four years at UT and will graduate with the class of 2024.

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Camryn Eaglin (CE): How many dancers are in your class? How many are dancers of color and how many black dancers?

(In this question, black Dancers are distinguished as a separate category from other POC groups. This is to further understand the depth of diversity in the department and highlight black dancers specifically.)

 

Moria Small (MS): In my class there are 30 of us, there might be 28 in total. There are four black women and no black men in our class. Then for women of color...there are also Latina and Asian students -- but for POC dancers that are not black, there’s about 12 out of 30 in the class.

 

CE: Why did you want to pursue higher education in dance?

 

MS: So for me, I wanted to go the route of school because of attending a summer intensive around 2018. It was the American Dance Festival at Duke University, and a lot of the instructors were also professors. I met Charles O. Anderson, who is the head of the department at UT Austin. When I was watching how the instructors were interacting with their students and their mindsets, it made me think there is a sense of stability here. Originally, I was going to go to school to teach photography. I was going to do art which is what I started in -- liberal arts. I wasn’t really sure but when I went to ADF I realized I can do what I love, which is dance, and also do what I love, which is teach and interact with people. So I thought, “Let me go this route, and see what doors there are.” You don’t have to go to school to be a dancer, professional or not, but for someone who likes to work with people and behind the scenes, I knew this was the route I wanted to go.

 

CE: What has your dance journey been? Where did it begin?

 

MS: I’ve actually been an athlete all my life. I didn’t start dancing until I graduated from high school, so when I was 18. I’m 22 now. I’ve wanted to dance since I was younger. I remember writing a letter to the Dizzy Feet Foundation when I was nine. I was like, “Nigel Lythgoe, I need money so I can dance.” I wanted to dance for forever but finances weren’t there because I have a lot of siblings. We’re a big family. So I did volleyball, softball, and basketball. I graduated, and the first thing I did within maybe months was I jumped into a ballroom class. I loved it but I knew I wanted to pursue modern and contemporary dance. Which I didn’t even know the names of really, like what it all entailed. I knew this was the style of movement that I wanted to head towards. So yeah, that’s when it started at like 18 and I really dug into it when I was 19.

 

CE: Does your school have professors of diverse cultural and racial backgrounds?

 

MS: Yes. I’m blessed that at UT Austin in the Theatre and Dance Department, it is very diverse in the professors and in the mindset. I have professors from around the world. I would say out of the other departments, theatre and dance is on the more diverse side and that is definitely thanks to Charles O. Anderson who is the head of the department and he is black. From what I’ve heard, the department has changed a lot since he’s been here. He is so diverse in himself. So raw and so real in himself. Also with the diverse mindset -- you can have somebody who may be a POC but maybe their mindset isn’t seeking diversity in its deepest forms. So he seeks diversity further than just the skin. He seeks it in mindset and how someone teaches, what styles they teach. The different styles of contemporary become as diverse as they want it to be.

 

CE: Do you like the variety of styles offered or wish there was more? Do you suggest there is a change in requirement?

 

MS: I currently have to say I’m really satisfied, and that’s because it’s not what you would expect. Like I said, it’s not super European at all. Even the different teachers. If you say ballet, it’s different. It’s not always the traditional ballet. We have that which is lovely and then we have different takes and styles of it, and I love that. So I am currently satisfied. Charles works so hard to bring in guest teachers who bring in what we don’t have. For example, we’ve had a woman come in and teach a house class.

 

If I’m correct, this school is known for having a growing modern program. Modern is kind of incorporated in the contemporary classes. The contemporary style hasn’t been European based at all. My two contemporary classes so far have been West African based. It’s definitely diverse in terms of contemporary. Gesel Mason taught more contemporary West African style. There’s a big diaspora of African dance and that’s what Charles O. Anderson, who is my current contemporary teacher, is kind of showing us. They’re the two that I’ve had, and they’ve both had the foundation of contemporary as African.

 

CE: Are your dance concerts well-rounded in a variety of dance styles? Or does your department have a very specific lane in terms of thematic or signature movement quality?

 

MS: I would say that there is a style that I kind of see and it’s somewhere in the modern realm. I could be wrong in which style of movement I’m headed towards but something about it seems modern. That’s in different things that we’ve seen so far. We’re not really on stage but via Zoom. But I think the commonality I see in movement is definitely reflective of our instructors. It’s almost like somebody younger looking up and absorbing things from the older sibling. It’s kind of like that even when a dancer freestyles. I see a tinge of modern in there that I'm like, “Oh I see.” I think there’s an underlying modern stylistic theme to the movement that I’ve seen but there’s also a lot I haven't seen. 

 

CE: Does your department explore and help facilitate conversation and art about social issues like racial inequality, body image, etc.?

 

MS: You came to the right one for that because our department does that. We’ve had classes halted where we would talk about political justice and systematic inequality. Wow. Last semester we sat down with Erica Gionfriddo (EG), and talked about body image. We’ve also sat down with Charles. He’s not going to show you something without teaching you what it’s from, how it affects today and how we tie that into social justice. The biggest thing they say is being an “artist citizen.” It is a phrase that goes across our department. How can you be an artist citizen? What does it look like? We’re always talking about educating ourselves. So yeah, our department does that.

 

CE: What is the environment like in your department? (how you interact with one another or just the culture in general)

 

MS: I would say overall our department is very open towards: speak, be honest, be heard, we hear you. I think compared to other schools...they may hold our hand a little more compared to others. I got into a little car wreck during the ice age here in Texas and my professors were blowing me up like, “Are you okay?! We’re going to put you in a hotel.” They are very supportive. They are also very supportive of you speaking your voice, your feelings and emotions. But they also are like, “ We’re not going to be run over.” So speak how you feel but understand we will do the same. They’re not rude but they’re real. I know people get those two things confused but they’re real.

 

One thing I do notice though in this climate, it’s a tough time for many people. So you’ll see people fighting for positivity and you’ll see some people that are in really negative spaces. They still seem to be fighting to do well as much as possible. Sometimes you see those two kinds fight for their space in the conversation. Someone’s fighting for positivity, someone’s fighting to be heard that they’re not doing good and that’s valid. However, everyone is encouraging towards each other. I can say that. Because it’s a space where everyone is safe to feel any kind of way.

 

CE: Do you feel supported by faculty?  Do you have an advisor or mentor in the program? Is the person BIPOC?

 

MS: Yes I feel very supported by the faculty. It’s been trying times. I’m always in class and normally known as being uplifting. Not because I’ve been put in that position or anything but I try to add and fight for my positivity and encourage those around me. However, the faculty has been there for me when things were going on. They’re very gracious. They said that in the beginning but it’s really shown when stuff has hit the fan.

 

Mentor wise I haven’t had one but I’ve spoken and sought insight from EG and Gesel Mason. Gesel is just a beautiful soul. I’ve been to her the most for emotional and mental support. I went to EG when I was working on a project and didn't know what to do. She was very supportive. We also had a guest instructor last fall who is not at the school currently who is from Chicago, Raphael Xavier. He was also so supportive. Charles O. Anderson is beyond supportive as well. They’re all black except for EG.

 

CE: Would you say that having a mentor who is black or having someone who identifies with what you do makes a major difference? Does that support especially help you?

 

MS: I think it does matter and it has helped. It lets you know that there’s somebody you can resonate something with. In terms of my instructors, they all have different mindsets, but they are all very insightful. They all bring very different things to the table. I think it did make a difference in a school that is so predominantly white. There are also different POC and there still seems to be a European aesthetic. So even if someone is not white, you see an aesthetic that heads towards that realm. So with having black instructors in the dance department and the head being one, it definitely adds a sense of, “They’ll get me.” And if they didn’t that would be one thing but we’re blessed to have people who are looking at political and systemic issues. It definitely makes a difference. It makes you feel like you will not be overlooked and you will not be a token.

 

CE: Overall, how has your experience been thus far?

 

MS: It  has been really good. My Zoom experience has been trying. You’re trying to gain energy off of what? We’ve had a couple of in-person classes, and those were good. Class wise we met maybe twice in person last semester. Then this semester, we’ve met once in person with Charles. We’re not having a lot in person this semester but we’re getting more than the last one. Also, as somebody who is in their own head it’s been great. But then sometimes in person you’re like, “Whew I need to get it together!” But the good thing is that when my class has been in person, the energy has been good. So even if I’m in my own negative space, I see everyone else trying to uplift. It’s been good, and I say good not great. Great is not there because the Zoom isn’t that great.

 

Next year will be my first in person experience here. It’s exciting and a little nerve-wracking. Overall, it’s exciting and I’m happy to be in person more so because I’m tall and when I dance and I have room I can move better and I’m confident I won’t hit a thing... so it’ll be better in person. I’ll be able to feed off of people, grasp and learn.

 

CE: What are you striving for in the future? What are your goals?

 

MS: My plans for the future are really just to gather information so that I can work with dancers. I’m not trying to be a professional dancer but I would like to grow in my choreographing skills and work with different individuals and teach some classes. I think I’m headed towards the route of wanting to teach and choreograph. This is why I went this route. I thought if I want to be a professor one day, I think I would like that. You can quote me on this all day….I am a Debbie Allen fan. Her whole story. Her mindset and her work ethic. I was that little kid watching her in FAME. She works hard, tells you like it is. She’s got a loving spirit. She’s such a multidisciplinary artist and if I’m aspiring in a direction, I definitely aspire to be the best me, but I am inspired by her over anyone else in the art field in general. With all that said, in the future I’m hoping I can own a studio or a traveling dance company. But I really want to make a brand out of myself and what I stand for. I want to create a space for movement at a more intermediate/advanced level but really for anybody. I want to find a home in dance. But overall I would LOVE to have a studio.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Camryn Eaglin is a dancer and writer earning a Bachelor of Science in Dance and a minor in Broadcast Journalism from Wayne State University. She is currently an intern with Life as a Modern Dancer.

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Related posts:

An Interview With Brooke Taylor: Dialogue for Change and Understanding (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series, Interview 1)

An Honest Outlook: Are there two different experiences? (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series, Interview 2)

Pushing through Discomfort and Making Room: An Interview with Asha Yates (Black Dancers in High Education Series, Interview 3)

It’s More Than Dance: An Interview with Kennedy Cannon (Black Dancers in Higher Education Series, Interview 4)

5 Questions for Camryn Eaglin, Life as a Modern Dancer Intern

Organization Spotlight: C.A.A.C (Collegiate Association for Artists of Color)

 

Light + Process + Unison + Deep Listening: An Interview with Dancers Lauren Simpson and Galen Rogers about Celestial Real Estate

Lauren Simpson. Photo by Joey Carter.

Light + Process + Unison + Deep Listening: 
An Interview with Dancers Lauren Simpson and Galen Rogers
about Celestial Real Estate 

By Jill Randall

 

April 9-11, 2021 at the Generator Space in Omaha, Nebraska
Friday, April 9 @ 10:10 A.M. & 2:17 P.M.
Saturday, April 10 @ 10:11A.M. & 2:16 P.M. & 7:04 P.M.
Sunday, April 11 @ 10:11 A.M.

Reserve tickets here

 

I interviewed Lauren and Galen together on Zoom a few days ago as they prepare for this week’s performances. It has been a pleasure documenting Lauren’s artmaking and process over the past 5 years on Life as a Modern Dancer.

Jill Randall (JR): Let’s start with the elevator pitch! Tell me about Celestial Real Estate.

Galen Rogers: When I describe it to folks back home in the Bay Area, I describe it as a one on one dance residency where Lauren has invited a painter, costume designer, and musician to take part in a sort of exquisite corpse style collaboration, where we are each contributing one by one sequentially. Part of the inspiration has been the shape of sunlight in this gallery. Dance is last; there is a lot of input already. Our job is to bring it all together.

Lauren Simpson: Celestial Real Estate is an installation-to-performance project taking place over 6 weeks. The project deals with questions around ownership and proprietorship of intangible things, like sunlight. Sunlight - we cannot own or contain. We can access or use or leverage it. 

I have done a bit of research on people who try to own celestial bodies - naming stars or owning land on planets. What would it mean to own the sun? A woman in Spain got the deed to own the sun and sold parcels of land on ebay! It took me down a line of thinking about ownership in general. And the ridiculous nature of that!

Galen was talking about the collaboration. This is brand new to me. Usually as a choreographer I have a vision and then hire designers to fulfill the vision. Born of COVID and some logistical reasons, we started with the painter in the space, and I gave a prompt. Then the costume designer responded, and then the musician responded. Now Galen and I are last to come in. Much has been decided. 

JR: What was the seed of the project originally?

Lauren: I attribute much of the seed to Galen. He had been talking about sunlight. He was here in November, working on a project with me with mirrors and artificial light. That was the seed, or it got me thinking more about light and the behavior of light.

This gallery has big windows. I was observing the way the sun moves through the space. The windows are south easterly facing. Morning has nice light - then it moves to the wall, another wall, and the floor. I kept thinking down the line from what Galen introduced me to.

JR: How did the two of you start working together? I know you two through different contexts. Did you dance together in the Bay Area?

Galen: I had seen Lauren’s work with Jenny Stulberg a few times, and took a class at Shawl-Anderson Dance Center, maybe the Winter Dance intensive. I learned a piece of choreography and was super stoked. Then I auditioned for Lauren, the only audition I have ever done! Lauren expressed interest in working together, but it took a few years.

Then Lauren moved from the Bay Area to Omaha. But there has been a freedom during this pandemic, now teaching remotely. So I could actually come to Omaha and we could work together finally.

I got here on March 31st and will stay through the 11th.

JR: Did you do any work or exploration remotely over the past few months?

Lauren: No, it’s just been planning for working together. This is an immersive style, shifting and condensing the way of working. When Galen is here, every day there is a rehearsal for a couple of hours. 

There will be a public showing and culmination, which is exciting. There is an appetite for people to see things now and to gather. There’s not more pressure, but there is a place we are going...sharing what we are doing.

JR: Why is the event free? Is it durational or with a beginning/middle/end? Are people popping in and out?

Lauren: People will sign up to come at a particular time. I think people will want to stick around the space and take selfies of themselves in the space! 

This program is supported by Amplify Arts, a local arts org. They are handling all of the ticketing. All of the events in this space are free. People can make suggested donations though to support the project, sliding scale.

JR: How are you funding the project?

Lauren: There are three funding sources:

-A grant this past year from Amplify Arts, the Drew Billings Performing Artist Support Grant. I used it for Moving Truck, and am using the remaining funds on Celestial Real Estate.

-I will receive a stipend for this residency at the gallery to support the collaborating artists.

-And then I am still an Artist in Residence through ODC in San Francisco. 

That is the institutional support.

JR: How would the two of you describe the movement, since I don’t get to see it? How will you be moving or might be moving?

Galen: To me, the movement is methodical, very abstract, careful. We talked a little about the chaos of life for Lauren, and everyone in this time. The insides and outsides are all scrambled up. But moving together in unison is a way of organizing and descrambling our insides. It is all in unison, pretty much. 

Nothing super wild. It’s contained. 

Lauren: The movement is recognizable to things I have been interested in in the past. It’s hard to decouple it from the space and the costuming - very loud elements. The costume - we have these gold sequined masks on. We look a little ominous but also sparkly. We are kind of nonhuman, a little otherworldly. It feels as though there are characters underneath that have some insight or relationship or special connection to the sun. Our bodies are reflective - sequins are all over ourselves. 

It will be a combination or set and scored movement. It will be 20-30 minutes in length. 

JR: Okay, I am going to make a quick shift here in the interview since you are talking about unison. Lauren contributed to a piece on the blog a few years ago about unison. Let me pull it up, and share a bit of it here:

As a choreographer, why unison? What do you love about it? How does it amplify, magnify, heighten, enlarge?

I love unison because it is virtuosic and impossible at the same time. The detailed nature of the unison material, the speed at which we do it, and executing it in silence is a difficult human feat. Related to virtuosity and difficulty, unison is inherently a high risk performance situation. There’s something beautiful about the performers taking a leap of faith together, trusting each other to jump on a fast moving train at the same time and stay there for a long time. This elicits a special energy in live performance between the audience and the performers, a shared understanding of the risks taken in real time. The unison is deep listening made visible.

I love unison because it is the best way we have found to amplify very small actions.

JR: Galen, any thoughts after hearing the quote and connecting with your relationship with Lauren? What resonates?

Galen: When we were just describing the movement...I wouldn’t say the movement is virtuosic. But the virtuosity is in the memorizing of the super long, detailed sequences.

Also the idea of deep listening, which for me deep listening is a practice developed by musician/composer Pauline Oliveros. Pauline’s idea of deep listening is a way to listen to anything, any soundscape, and hearing it as if every moment is delicious, and hearing everything at the same time. The heartbeat, the plane overhead, someone having a conversation with me, the rustle of my clothes. This feels relevant to the work we are doing now.

Deep listening has also translated to me to deep looking at the world - including light and shadow and color. Seeing details. Noticing reflections. Things I might generally tune out. 

The experience of moving in unison is a heightened awareness. Moments when we diverge by accident or on purpose - end up being beautiful. They might be mundane or glossed over, but within this quiet unison become profound.

JR: What do you think of the literalness of moving in unison together - after a year of pandemic life when we have barely been able to move in time with other dancers?

Lauren: There are two sensations I missed a lot. One of them is moving in unison. There is a matching of frequencies, when you are really with somebody. There is just some wave that you ride. It is a fun feeling to be in agreement with someone, most of the time. And of course there are some fun surprises. I have missed that sensation. 

Then the other piece I have missed is the slowing down. I am interested in speed in general. I like the fast, and that is a fun challenge for me. I know that space. Working with Galen, he is so patient. I think it is connected to this idea of deep looking. He helps me slow down and pay attention a bit more.

It takes a minute to go from your day into performance into accepting you are watching a dance show….not being on your phone, really seeing what you are looking at. There is a process. I love being in performance when I am asked to slow down. 

The idea of speed and the spectrum of speed….

JR: How to locate the work within our current world? Pandemic, homelessness, racial injustice, etc. What does this artwork offer the world or the viewer (ex. a time of respite, a time of community gathering, healing imagery)?

Galen: The idea of real estate, of celestial real estate, there is the question of ownership. The first thing that came for me was the literal question, “How absurd is it to consider ownership of a celestial body?” But the earth is also a celestial body. How do we own it, and take it for granted, constantly. 

Lauren: A previous show in this gallery was about water. There was something in there about resources, ownership, access, exploitation. I think it sunk in in some way. Ownership of celestial bodies is a ridiculous question, but not so out of the question. Ownership in space is up for discussion sooner than later!

What has been fun about this process is thinking about how I can decenter myself as a choreographer by asking other artists to go first. Offering a prompt and resources, but getting out of the way and letting them go. That has not been my approach in the past, probably more out of convention. In this way, it has been freeing and exciting to think about what everyone’s contribution is to this project. 

Who owns this show? Who claims artistic directorship of it? Some of it is in the language. I am calling myself an organizer of things. 

The ownership of intangible ideas - such as capturing the light spectrum, or radiation. Metaphorically, I was thinking more about ownership of talent or ownership of energy, and other artists’ contributions to a process. 

 

Reserve your tickets for Celestial Real Estate here.

CELESTIAL REAL ESTATE AGENCY from Joey Carter on Vimeo.

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Related links:

Artist Profile: Lauren Simpson

Moving Truck: 5 Questions for Lauren Simpson

Dance as Event: An Interview with Lauren Simpson about DANCE EXHIBIT

Reconnecting with Choreographers Jenny Stulberg and Lauren Simpson of Simpson/Stulberg Collaborations

Building a Dance Company: The Pre-Company Stage (Part 1 of a 3-Part Series) - with Jenny Stulberg and Lauren Simpson

Establishing Simpson/Stulberg Collaborations: My Biggest Challenge So Far - By Lauren Simpson

Musings on "Unison" - with Lauren Simpson, Cynthia Oliver, Amy Chavasse, and Jo Kreiter

Springtime Musings on Teaching and Learning: Or, Where My Mind and Heart Are with Teaching Modern Dance These Days

Image above pulled from the 2017 Dance+Change project through Life as a Modern Dancer. Read about the project and view all 12 images here. Graphic design by Jenny Lederer.

 

Springtime Musings on Teaching and Learning
Or, Where My Mind and Heart Are with Teaching Modern Dance These Days

By Jill Randall

Over the years on the blog, I have enjoyed writing and offering lists of themes, quotes, and guiding questions to support our teaching practices, including my own. As we head into springtime 2021, you might also be seeking some new ideas. 

The ideas below explore this particular time in our teaching lives and consider online, outdoor, and in-person teaching experiences. Plus, I am starting on a personal journey and self-study about decolonizing dance classes and programs. 

Some of my current inspirations and readings include: 

• Intro Spective Wellness: 10 Writing Prompts to Examine Your Beliefs around Intersectional Wellness by Chanel Durley
• Decolonizing Dance Discourses - Dance Studies Association
• The work of Nyama McCarthy-Brown on critical dance pedagogy and culturally relevant curriculum, including her book Dance Pedagogy for a Diverse World
• “Dancing Decolonization: Embodying Communal Pedagogical Practices” - by Waeli Wang
• “My Dearest Arts Organization, Are You Listening?” - by Miko Lee and Jennifer Ridgway
• “Sarah Crowell Moves to Decolonize Dance” - by Lou Fancher

Please share in the Comments section below current readings and podcasts informing your teaching practice as well. Thank you!

I dedicate this piece to teachers Anne Riordan and Ruth Bossieux, two incredible mentors. Thank you for your love and wisdom.

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The Prior and the Current: Words to Describe Teaching Dance Classes

Previous/Prior/Traditional:

lead, impart, direct, preserve, show, transmit, tell, critique, decide, 

speech, monologue, soap box, 

one-way, rigid, set,

not deviate from the lesson or lecture, stick to the script, self-preservation

The Current + Aspirational:

share, offer, put into motion, hold space for, listen, respond to, co-create, 

reciprocity, dialogue, fluidity, emergent, flexibility, questions/questioning, feedback, 

co-learner, journey, generosity, teaching for transformation, to move and be moved

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Questions, Curiosities, Offerings, and Actions: 21 Ideas for Teaching Artists This Springtime

The questions below are not in a particular order and can be explored in any order:

1. Whose voice (or voices) are centered in your class?
2. When do you name your sources and influences? After class, are you able to share these names and relevant links so students can learn, experience, and connect further?
3. How does your class/course support self-care for your students?
4. How do you see and acknowledge everyone in the room?
5. Do you feel you have agency as the teacher (based on your place of employment, required syllabus, etc)? How do your students have agency for their own learning in your class? Do you ask your students what agency feels like to them?
6. What sparks joy for the students?
7. How is your class/course a catalyst for liberation? Transformation?
8. When and how are there moments for personal expression?
9. How do you acknowledge location/land for the class, for your location as the teacher, and for where the students are? 
10. How do you talk about the honor and privilege of teaching, of leading, of being in front of the room? 
11. How is teaching a collaborative endeavor?
12. Supporting many voices and stories; supporting windows and mirrors for the students. Do you have the potential to have guest speakers?
13. What does “making it your own” mean and look like in your class? 
14. What is the role of set material in your class versus improv? Direct instruction? 
15. How do you offer multimodal learning for students to access and experience information in many ways? (Seeing, hearing, reading, writing, feeling, moving, discussing)
16. How do you center BIPOC voices, stories, and teaching inspiration in your classroom? 
17. Making personal connections. When and how are there moments of reflection? Moments for conversation, peer feedback, and shoutouts? 
18. How do you incorporate student ideas and feedback - on topics, music selections, and more? 
19. If possible, are you able to have personal check-ins with each student throughout the semester? 
20. When and how is there student choice and student leadership? 
21. What does “dancing together” and “being together” mean right now? 

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Challenging the Technique Class (such as forms like ballet, modern, and jazz)

Questions, topics, and themes:

1. What lineage are you a part of? If continuing a Eurocentric tradition, why? 
2. Clarifying your lineage and what you are actually teaching, including how much of the material in today’s class is your original creation
3. Actively/regularly naming influences; sharing links and resources afterwards so students can learn more. Actively exploring non-European influences and inspiration.
4. What does “make it your own” mean to you in a technique class setting?
5. Naming the honor and privilege of being the teacher/guide/facilitator; it is a two-way street and give and take for both students and teacher alike.
6. Humility 
7. Introducing yourself to students in drop-in classes. Learning students’ names.
8. Being a lifelong learner. Embracing growth mindset. Being a co-learner. 
9. Your place physically in space. Do you always need to be in the front of the room? What about circle formations sometime in your class?
10. How can student voices emerge - in both small and big ways - in a technique class? Can students make suggestions of songs, ideas and themes for the next class? (Please note and name these students next class too if you use their ideas!)

 

Thank you to colleagues Rebecca Johnson and Wendy Jones for reviewing this piece and offering feedback.

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Quaranzines: Self-Producing Meets Self-Publishing

 

Quaranzines: Self-Producing Meets Self-Publishing

By Sarah Chien

After the cancellations came the Zooms, and after the Zooms, the dance films. I browsed exquisite corps videos while baking bread, and, scrolled past Instagram live conversations while I gardened. There was a lot of talk about new platforms,  but each of these virtual stages left me with a feeling that something was missing. Pre-pandemic, my work was usually self-produced in intimate spaces with a DIY aesthetic. I produced rooftop performance parties at my apartment and was starting to tour a solo show on the fringe circuit where I served the audience homemade cookies. Stemming from my love of craft, intimate audience connections and DIY aesthetics, the “new performance platform” that has most excited me is the zine.

I started writing my zine, How to Build a Dance Floor, out of a mix of practicality and grief. I wanted to empower other artists to build dance floors like the one I had built on my roof, and I needed a way to share that space while public events were closed. I could have simply created a Google doc. Instead I found myself swept into the multimedia potential of the craft: learning to sketch realistic images of carpentry tools, expanding upon my graphic design skills to lay out pages, and mining my archive of rooftop photoshoots to create a small book! 

Zines themselves are nothing new - there’s a long tradition of zine-making in activist, punk and feminist circles. But I was interested to observe the rise of “quaranzines,” created by performers who, like me, were confronting the restrictions of the pandemic by turning from stage to page. As I dove deeper into self-publishing, I began reaching out to other performers to understand how creating zines has become a part of their practice. 

For collective Sydnie L. Mosley Dances, zine-making was about crafting community care. “As a collective, we decided we did not want to create virtual performances. With this in mind, we discussed the importance of caring for ourselves and being cared for in community during a pandemic. Creating homemade care packages, finalized in the form of a zine,  felt like our best way of doing this.” Their zine, rich with recipes, poems and collaged images that stimulate the five senses, “was snail-mailed to supporters, handed to neighbors, gifted to grandmas especially elders in their community.” Cumulatively the 8-member collective made forty zines, each one-of-a-kind.

Some artists are using their zines as an element of a larger work. SLM’s distinctly handmade zines live on a multimedia webpage that includes a podcast and a virtual altar. When artist Rebecca Fitton presented re______ in September, she mailed audience members a zine package that they “unboxed” together at the end of a virtual performance event. We leafed through its ten pages and shared reactions with each other in the Zoom chat. Said Fitton, who does not plan to publish the zine outside of its 120 copy run, “The zine was a crucial aspect of the live performance, one cannot exist without the other!”

Audience members reading the zine together. Fitton is pictured hosting the event in the second square on the top row. 

Zines also offer a new space for collaboration. Both Fitton and Brooklyn independent theater, Triskelion Arts, also used their zines to highlight the work of other artists, curating contributors almost like a mixed-bill. Says Hannah Wendel of Triskelion, “...the flexibility of the Zine allowed artists to create a little nook where they could continue to tell their stories and creatively connect in this new digital world.” Triskelion’s zine is completely digital, and they’ve produced five editions, bringing in guest curators much like they would for the festivals that they produced pre-pandemic.

Circus performer Peter Mercury writes that he was drawn to zine making “as a reaction to the swift internet-ification of everything in 2020. I realized the work I do as a live performer does not translate easily to a digital, quarantined world.” Mercury took inspiration from zines he found in witch shops and created Bug Out Bag Companion Guide: An Optimistic and Slightly Mystical Guide to Surviving the Apocalypse. Of the artists I spoke to, Mercury’s is perhaps the closest to the original concept of zine in terms of production: pages are formed by physically cutting and glueing, then photocopied and stapled by hand. Despite the manual production, Mercury’s zine has already reached more than 300 people, and they are planning to continue as a quarterly publication. 

Images of Mercury X Zine’s first edition

Dance artist and Franklin Method educator Shannon Murphy is using her forthcoming zine The Efforts of Moving Through Together to document her own and her collaborators’ artistic practices. Murphy has committed to six volumes distributed ever other month throughout 2021 with each issue exploring metaphors of digestive organs. “I’ve been thinking of my zines as asynchronous performances,” says Murphy. “They contain images, and links to video, songs and stories via QR codes. So if you’d like you can read with a soundtrack, listen to conversations we had about practice, or take the ideas and let them expand off the pages into a movement practice. For me it’s getting used to the idea that I won’t know when these zines get activated. In performances I feel a much more immediate call and response...The zine is created and sent off… and I trust that there will be an exchange here too, but just with a really long interval. “ 

After 8 months, I’m awaiting the printer’s delivery of my own zine, which at fifty pages perfect-bound, has really become a book inspired by the style of zine. But the openness of the form is one of the reasons many of us have turned to zine-making. The works chronicled here are sold and gifted, single run or a series, photo-copied or professionally printed, laid out with InDesign and Photoshop or with paper and glue. I’m reminded of Fringe shows: how each artist would roll up to tech with a suitcase full of strange items and transform a raw space into their own world. At a Fringe Festival, audiences consume all types of performance in one night. Personally I’m looking forward to reading, listening and learning from more zines created by performers as well as poets, illustrators, authors, and activists. Mail me your next “show!”

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Sarah Chien is a Brooklyn-based dance artist who creates improvised works with collaborators from dance, music, circus and theatre. She is also a member of ∞therside collective.  

Instagram: @dancepostcard

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A handful of zine resources I’ve enjoyed:

About Zines

• https://zines.barnard.edu
• https://westportlibrary.libguides.com/zines
• https://new.booklyn.org/programs/booklyn-education-manual/

Printers

• Fireball printing (Philadelphia): artist-run indie print shop, pretty affordable. Min 25 copy run, which makes it easy to do a low risk project!
• Radix (Brooklyn): union shop, produces very professional quality work, especially beautiful poetry chapbooks with letterpress covers. 
• https://www.printingcenterusa.com: very affordable printshop in Montana that ships nationwide, recommended by a friend.
• Blurb.com (tech biz): does print-on-demand, which means you can upload your book, and then they print and send when someone orders a copy. Higher per unit cost, but less upfront risk.
  
  

If you need an editor, may I recommend Lily Kind, who edited mine and whose own incredible zine, How to Make Dance in America, inspired mine!

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A Practice of Unknowing, Breaking Away from Structures and Habits: An Interview with San Francisco Dance Artist Jennifer Perfilio

Shareen DeRyan and Emma Lanier. Photo by Jennifer Perfilio.

A Practice of Unknowing, Breaking Away from Structures and Habits:

An Interview with San Francisco Dance Artist Jennifer Perfilio

By Jill Randall

 

I got to catch up with Bay Area colleague Jennifer Perfilio the other day on Zoom, to hear about the past year of pandemic life and the hopes and curiosities around her latest artistic endeavor, “As Is.”

Jill Randall (JR): What has the last year been like? What was paused, cancelled, or let go of? And what has percolated and flourished? The before….

Jennifer Perfilio (JP): The dancers that are collaborating on As Is are actually the dancers I was working with a year ago. We began a new project on February 28th – 2020 – and it was, of course, abruptly stopped. This February, when we were improvising in the park, it occurred to me that it had been a year to the day, since we had first come together for that halted project. We took some time to acknowledge that being in space together at that moment was not a simple act, but rather a moment to reflect on resiliency. We took these reflections into our improvisation. We were thinking about where we were a year ago, what each of us had gone through individually over the course of the year, and how we were back again now, as a collective, committed to our process. It was a really special moment.

I think if you were to look at my work over the past year through what you might call a “traditional” artmaking model, in which there is a beginning, followed by a process, and then a culmination/ending, it might look like nothing happened at all, because there were so many beginnings and abrupt endings. The rhythm sometimes felt like start/abrupt stop, start/abrupt stop, etc. I kept trying to look for meaningful connections, for ways to give my original project some direction. The stops were due to a variety of reasons - such as limitations due to COVID protocols, Zoom exhaustion, dancers temporarily moving out of the city, or the real need to find balance between rest and action.  

But if you were to look at my year’s work through a different lens, where the process isn’t required to sit “between” the beginnings and endings, you would see a different picture. There was actually a whole lot of rich and deep processing going on. It’s just that it didn’t fall in the middle. It was more like: start/stop/process, start/stop/process. Questions around what we can do as artmakers within these limitations, within these boundaries inspired a lot of starts for me, and even if they couldn’t be realized at the time, they pushed me into the place of process, which really is my favorite place to be anyway. I really enjoyed experiencing process as something that doesn’t have to be in the middle, but can rather be in and around and under and between and through.  

The biggest let go workwise, was of the production I had planned to put on in May 2020, shortly after shelter in place began. I felt a loss in not being able to share the work, but also in not being able to grow the many creative collaborations that were a part of the production. There was fear in this for me. And loneliness.  

I did ultimately let go altogether of that production. Holding on too tightly to any creative project felt antithetical to the time. There was so much unknown to try to settle into. So much patience and inefficiency to embrace. In my movement practice, I value the experience of “unknowing,” of breaking away from structures, habits, assumptions. So holding space for letting go and undoing felt not only necessary, but nourishing.   

JR: Getting to know artist Molly Heller over the years, she has inspired me to think about the imagination. Hope and the imagination. What has kept you hopeful or brought you hope? What has allowed your imagination to keep going?

JP: I think hope can be tricky, like when it is disassociated from reality.  It can sometimes look like waiting around for a result that might not be realistic. Or it might prevent us from seeing gifts that are already in our midst. Hope can sometimes be debilitating, and foster inaction.  

But there is also the form of hope that drives action. The kind of hope that is behind social movements - hope for change, for a better world. In the pandemic I did see hope playing out in lots of ways. Systems of care were put into place. Food distributions and other types of solidarity care. So many ways to be active and activists. This keeps me hopeful. I found it hard in the height of the pandemic to balance inaction and action. There was so much action to take in so many directions, but at the same time, the world was literally sick, and so rest played an important role.

Molly Heller brought up this idea - of doing a simple act for a neighbor - in her Winter Dance Love Letters improvisation workshop. I really liked that idea. That we can think of the neighbor or the family as larger than we normally do. That care extends to and includes the stranger. 

Artistically – my concerns have consistently been around interdependence and shared fragility. So there has been so much for me to think about artistically in regards to collectivity and interdependence, through the pandemic. I appreciate Molly’s simple act for a neighbor as a response to collective responsibility. 

In terms of imagination, I think artists create the worlds in which they can imagine living. I believe one of the artist’s roles is to keep hope alive through their artwork - through their sharing of these livable worlds. I think they also hold the role of activists, working to manifest their visions.

JR: I also have been thinking about this quote of artist Paloma McGregor’s from a piece she wrote for Life as a Modern Dancer in March 2016. Do any of these words or phrases resonate with you today?

As I move through this landscape and accumulate markers of what some call success, my hope is to always be emerging. For some, emerging means undeveloped; but for me it means pushing beyond my known, acknowledging with my practice that I am endlessly striving, endlessly curious, endlessly a student of this time and my place in it. That, to me, is what it means to be an artist and to be alive.
- Paloma McGregor

JP: “Emerging from a vault” is a phrase I have been using in my current process, as we have been coming out of quarantine. It feels like an important emergence. We gathered and stored a lot with us during our time in the “vault” and I’m interested in looking at what we will carry forward. In our process towards As Is, we have been curious about what it is we are emerging with. What is essential to keep or to leave behind. How does what we carry out of the vault inform the way we are moving through the world right now? 

I am a mother - so the term emerge always makes me think of birth. The baby, emerging as new, as undeveloped. But the baby is in fact emerging from its own already experience, of its 9 months of development. And it emerges to an already formed circle of community. That which greets it.  

Emerging - does not come without something already. You are always carrying a before with you. I am interested in that. How can the before act as a guide towards transformation? And of course, I am interested in it at the level of the body.  

Emma Lanier and Samuel Melecio-Zambrano. Photo by Jennifer Perfilio.

JR: Tell me more about your current project! Give me the elevator pitch. 

JP: Once we were able to gather safely in small groups, and the dancers and I felt comfortable rehearsing outdoors, I began to question what “performance” could look like now. The project, entitled As Is, is born out of the necessity of shutdown studios and theaters, the non issuing of permits for outdoor performances, and not being able to gather larger audiences. 

We are considering where we are now as "emergers from a vault" - as collective movers, observers, participants, performers in our urban landscape. What does dance performance look like right now, outside of the digital or filmed realm? Can we be part of the archive, by marking space in real time? It is an experiment in what live performance can look like right now.  

Also, my history as a site-specific dancer definitely informs the project.

I have lived in San Francisco for 20 years, and this project feels a little bit like the spirit of a past San Francisco, when I would encounter lots of raw and spontaneous performances happening in outdoor spaces. We are dropping in to the music concourse in Golden Gate Park. We are integrating art into the public space through an improvised score. The score is very much about tuning into what is already there. Tracking sound, allowing influence from others (dancers and civilians), absorbing textures, energetic qualities, movement. 

It is a Happening! We may or may not announce the dates and times. I think people who are interested can reach out to me directly if they want to witness. We are certainly there for the passerby, for anyone who is in the park already. We are there as part of the urban landscape and to experiment with social cooperation in a pandemic. Caretaking plays a big role in the project. There is a lot of care within our choices around space and distance. 

We will be on site for 6 different dates in April. Some weekend daytimes and some weekdays, after work hours. It is an interdisciplinary project. The dance collaborators are Shareen DeRyan, Emma Lanier, and Samuel Melecio-Zambrano. Clark Buckner is the sound artist. On each date, we have invited one writer/scribe and one photographer to respond creatively, through their own lens, and by following their interests within the context of the happening. We are still in the process of bringing in these collaborators. So far Vanessa Chang and Karla Quintero are responding as scribes; and Amy Jacobson and Kena Frank are photographer respondents. 

JR: Are you dancing in it?

JP: I am not. A lot of that has to do with where I am at in my body right now. But a lot of it also has to do with the intention to decenter. The way I am working is more lateral. I am not imposing my movement on the dance artists. They are improvising and following their own interests within a score. They are observers, participants, collective movers in this moment, and they are tuning into the experience of seeing and being seen, to listening, to responding as they go. That is what is interesting. Their spontaneous, embodied moment.  

Also there is a lot to hold working on a project like this, outdoors, in a pandemic. I want to be the eyes and ears of safety. 

JR: What does spontaneous performance mean to you?  

JP: It’s like a little gift, that shows up in space without the passer-by expecting it to be there. It is a performance that can attend to process versus production. To the raw and spontaneous process that we all love to dig into, but that is sometimes lost or hard to hold onto in performance. Because we are not ticketing, or gathering, or asking people to pay, we don’t get caught up in over doing, over thinking, over making; and creative spontaneity comes through. The artists being in space, marking that particular moment “as is” comes through.   

It is kind of the “anti-production,” that I want to embrace. It feels appropriate for the time, within pandemic limitations, but also as a statement on how expensive it is for artists to produce in SF. Producing in a theater is a big cost. I really like the idea of popping up, and being a part of the urban landscape. It’s nice also to be able to normalize dance a bit. We are moving alongside all the other people who have brought their work outdoors in the pandemic - people doing fitness, preschool teachers and students, etc.

JR: There is so much to say about the “anti-production!” I love that. I love the normalizing idea, and to name the inequities. But back to the “markers of success” as Paloma shares in that quote...thinking about grants, audience size, budgets, fundraising...

JP: To be honest, this project is being funded through the fundraising I did for the project we did not do last May. There is no overhead this time. It feels good to pay everyone what they need. 

I have done so much site work, and I love how it can be democratic - the intersection of art and public space, how it is inclusive of what else is happening around the art. The art is de-centered. It shares the space. What is super interesting to me is that we don’t know who the audience will be. The audience doesn’t know that they will be an audience, until they pass by or until the performance begins in space. In spontaneous performance, you just come upon it, and you choose to watch a little or not. You get taken or not. You are watching both the dance happening and the family picnic. You are very much a part of the happening and you influence, offer feedback to the dancers by being there. I think this project has arisen organically for me and it feels like the right place to be. I am really excited  - my first endeavor as director of JPMW in this kind of space. I am curious as to what - to grow and build upon - if I will stay outdoors for a long time. We will see! 

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Related links:

What is in this moment? What is showing up today? Musings on Hope, Dance, and Teaching with Molly Heller

Artist Profile: Paloma McGregor

Blog Series: “Why Improv?”

Shelter-in-Place Dance Dictionary: Leah Cox

Shelter-in-Place Dance Dictionary: Jae Neal

Shelter-in-Place Dance Dictionary: Raja Feather Kelly

Shelter-in-Place Dance Dictionary: Colleen Thomas

Shelter-in-Place Dance Dictionary: Christy Funsch