This Time
Compiled and partially written by Pamela Vail
When invited to write this blog post, I proposed that all of the Architects contribute. In the interest of limited time and space, I invited them to send their thoughts to me—just quickly, over text or email—and I’d compile and put it together in some way. They sent me short little bites, as I’d asked, in their distinct and articulate individual voices, responding to the questions posed for this writing: Would you share about your experience at the [NBNA] festival and what you love about performing improvised work? What are your favorite aspects of compositional improvisation? What continues to be a challenge? And, how does this work support or challenge your body as you get older?
Let’s begin with Lisa Gonzales’s contribution.
LG: I’m drawn to the experience of complexity while performing improvisation--the sense that I/we are somehow getting at something very basic and essential and at the same time way too multi-faceted to truly be able to grasp…ever. I love the process of building a shared endeavor; the joy in being in the unknown…together; the unexpected emotional ride that accompanies arriving to the moment again and again and again and now and now and now; of the absurd and the absolutely sincere, the sublime and totally mundane colliding and swirling and exploding into moments of realization and wonder.
And now, some broader contextualization.
I have been improvising with the Architects for a long time—almost 30 years with Katherine Ferrier, Lisa Gonzales, and Jennifer Kayle, and at least half that with the newest member, Kathy Couch. (We’d been collaborating with Kathy as a designer for many years, and just over a year ago her status shifted from collaborator to “official” Architect, who performs with us.) We are scattered around the country, so it’s not often that we are all in the same place at the same time to work together. But, we were able to spend a week together last month to dive back into our practice. We had five days in Northampton, MA, at the Bodies in Motion Festival, where we had dedicated working time, and we taught and performed. From there, we traveled to Brooklyn to perform one night as part of the Never Before Never Again Improvisation Festival at Triskelion, curated by The Lovelies (Joanna Futral, Lena Lauer, Katie Vason). First our students, they have always been generous advocates and supporters of our work, and over time have become valuable peers and collaborators. The Lovelies have established themselves in NYC as serious and committed practitioners of compositional improvisation, continuing to make space for, perform, and teach the form.
We arrived in Brooklyn with time for a quick nap and some food, then tech, then performance. We have been practicing showing up quickly for years, in all kinds of contexts, and after five days together in Northampton, we were in a rhythm. Part of our agenda in Northampton was examining costume choices; historically, deciding what to wear in performance had been a last-minute and un-prioritized aspect of our work.
Jennifer raised the costume question, and jokes about being annoying here in her articulation of challenges.
JK: a new restlessness, a bigger discontent - with habit and the usual way of going about it - has overtaken me. It’s causing me to take different risks, and to be very annoying to my colleagues with new prompts and probably unanswerable questions.
(But her questions aren’t annoying, they’re great to move us forward.)
So, we talked about costumes at length, went shopping together at a secondhand store, and worked with piles of clothing in rehearsal to see how/if it affected the work. We assembled a collection of items that busted our group “shtick”, and wore those costumes at the NBNA performance (see photo above). Part of my outfit (and I use that word very intentionally) was a bright red wool circle skirt, and at one point in the performance became a focal point. I sat in front of the audience and went on a tirade, asking if they even liked it, exclaiming that it was really hot because it’s wool, that it was too big and I was tripping over it, that I looked like an oompa loompa in it…. I mean, how could they (gesturing to my fellow performers) let me go out there in it? They are my favorites, but…!?!
Joking aside, these favorite people of mine continue to push me in this work. I continually learn more about myself, about them, and how we relate to each other and the larger world. I learn how I am changing, how to radically accept that change, and how to negotiate change in general. I love cultivating possibility, and when we surprise ourselves in the work. Practicing the work is never not challenging, and I haven’t been in a situation yet where I’m not nervous to perform. I have to show up fully, and I don’t know what will happen. I can’t be distracted—I have to pay attention to this, and only this. I acknowledge and value that as a privilege, especially in an over-programmed, distracted and distracting world. And as exciting as it is to do this work, there is also fear. But I feel braver navigating unfamiliar territory with long-time collaborators who show up with me over and over again, composing and making sense (or not) of each new moment together.
KF: Improvising with the Architects is an exquisite privilege and gift. To stand at the edge of the unknown, in the company of these women I trust without question, and practice making visible decisions together, all with the shared intention to shape/craft/make/find/discover/share something together is a singular joy in my life.
On aging: (I guess I’m considered an “older” dancer, and I’m not sure how that happened.) While age brings its challenges, I don’t want the fact that I’m older to come with assumptions—for myself, and for others—of what I can or will do or not do. So I continue to push the physical, finding new possibility within limitations (damn, my back hurts after dancing on a hard floor!), and that is a fundamental aspect of the practice: utilizing limits, whatever they may be (spatial, energetic, temporal, physical), to invite new possibility.
I have found, especially during our week together in January, that with age, fretting falls away a bit. Not to say I don’t still experience what we call “shame spirals”—feeling uneasy about choices made in the work—(I do), but I think I let them go a little quicker, a little easier. Shame is an energy-suck, doesn’t contribute to the work, and I’m tired of it. That is a refreshing development that has come with age.
JK: it all surprises me - that I still have something I am drawn to do on stage, that I can find a way to do it, that people see something in my so-called-dancing that they say they like. That I still get nervous and have intense feelings afterward about what I did in performance!
KF: Like many dance artists in their 50's, I have mixed feelings about my aging and changing body. This work offers a unique and immediate way to experience and fully inhabit one's aging body with compassion and curiosity, rather than disappointment, frustration, or grief (all things I have, unfortunately, felt in or about my body as I age).
Laughing about it with each other helps, too.
JK: “Everything hurts and I’m dying” (thank you Amy Poehler). Ha.
Something that made our performance at NBNA particularly special was that many folks who’ve attended our week-long workshop Movement Intensive in Compositional Improvisation (MICI) over the years, were there. The reception to our work was very warm—and it was an impromptu reunion of sorts. After the post-show festivities, we all went our separate ways, back into our overly-busy lives. Until we begin again.
KC:
here are some words in response to "what i LOVE about performing improvised work"
the moment *lights up* just before beginning
it is the most pure moment of attention--shared attention--of each and every being, being in the room.
in that moment we are all on equal ground, suspended in a breath of just-before, edging the expanse of the unknown, together
until we tumble into the see feel sense initiate perceive smell hear here
of just what is meant to emerge in this moment of space, with these people, attending.
that is the most precious moment to me, a flicker of true communing, when we are all holding all
that might be (possible).
and then we tumble into making
and the unknown collapses a bit
and a million possibilities fall away, while a dozen more emerge.
and we are on the ride of attending to the next choice that must follow the first one,
the one that pulled us apart and into beginning.
Kathy Couch, Lisa Gonzales, Katherine Ferrier, Pamela Vail, and Jennifer Kayle. Photo by Jen Pollins.
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Related posts:
A Home for Improvisation at "Never Before Never Again": Sarah Chien
Artist Profile: Jennifer Kayle
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