Life as a Modern Dancer

Dreaming/Preparing/Dancing: 4 Days until Let Slip the Witches with Bellwether Dance Project

This week we are sharing several previews before the premiere of Let Slip the Witches, with Bellwether Dance Project, at the ODC Theater in San Francisco, April 4-6, 2019. We will hear from choreographer Amy Foley as well from her collaborators.

Please join us! Purchase your tickets here.

Amy Foley. Photo by Stephen Texeira.

Today choreographer Amy Foley reflects about Let Slip the Witches.

Five words or phrases to describe the project:

moving
collaborative
riotous
nuanced
hopeful

When was the choreographic moment for you? Why did you want to make this piece?

I wanted to create a big, juicy show for the inaugural home season for Bellwether Dance Project. I was working in the studio and creating A LOT during my time as a CHIME recipient in 2018, and I had created some work that I was interested in seeing in the same show, so I decided to finally challenge myself to produce my own concert. I wanted to create something that feels relevant and representative of me as an artist and of the company as a force.

Karla Quintero, Elena Martins, Juliann Witt, and Kaitlyn Ebert. Photo by Stephen Texeira.

What research did you do related to the work?

I was highly influenced by Rebecca Solnit's Men Explain Things to Me, back in 2016, when I was making "Thighs and Wages," which is on this program, and have since read many of her books and essays -- all rich and informative. I was creating "Thighs and Wages" during the US Presidential campaign and eventual election -- and I expected a very different election outcome! Though it was largely completed by the time our current president was elected, the piece took on a heavier tone in performance and definitely since. Much of "Thighs and Wages" was and continues to be based on personal experience and the experiences of close friends and the dancers. And as a mom of girls, I am passionate about reminding everyone, myself included, that we place undue scrutiny on girls and women, which can have all sorts of negative repercussions, including discrimination and violence.

For "Let Slip the Witches," I researched the American witch trials and about current-day interest in witches. The piece is not "about" the witch trials as much as an exploration of the current renewed feminist fascination with witches, but we did end up creating a lot of movement based on some of the "tests" used to determine if a person was a witch in the 1600s. Plunging one's hand into a pot of boiling water to grab a stone was one that stuck and has become part of the movement language of the piece. Other related ideas that were evocative for creation of movement for the work: conjuring, sisterhood, ritual, being cunning as a method of survival, and embracing an "otheredness." We also spent a chunk of time developing the rhythmic structure to the work -- rhythm plays a big role in the work, and we try to approach the particular rhythm of the work from a number of different angles.

Both "Let Slip the Witches" and "Thighs and Wages" contain personal experiences or connections to the subject matter. I make work about the things that move or rile me -- and here they are.

What are the music selections for the evening?

Ben Juodvalkis has crafted a gorgeous score for "Let Slip the Witches." I am super excited to share it! The other musical selections for the evening range from recorded readings to Willie Nelson, Bach, Mum, and more.

 

Please also check out Amy's artist profile on the blog from 2016. Click here.

The Choreographic Moment: Ideas from Jeanine Durning

Photo: Snorri Sturluson

The choreographic moment is the spoon on the table that you think of picking up but then you notice first that it has remnants of last night’s dinner on it and you leave it there not because you decide to but because you start thinking about that uncommon sensation at the back of your neck and you put your hand there and with your other hand you pick the glass of water off the table and start drinking and you feel the liquid moving through you in ways that words don’t get at and you feel good and even grateful and while you are drinking, your body is moving in unconscious and subtle ways while you think: soon in the not too distant future, we won’t have any clean water to drink and the CEO of Nestle thinks that having clean water is not a human right and how will we survive when there is no clean water to drink and where will migration happen first in this country, probably California across to the midwest but the east coast too because there will be flooding and with Trump that might come faster and you start to feel your heart beat and you look up and your eyes hit the corner of the room and you see a large bug and you’re not sure what kind of bug it is and then the phone rings, you get up. Your dog barks.

The more and longer I make dances, the less I know what “the choreographic moment” is.

That’s not because I believe the choreographic moment is inherently mysterious, or comes down through some divine inspiration that can’t be named, like Magic, or that the role of the maker is that of a conduit to some other holy force of Nature or Beauty or Truth.

And yet, I want to believe that. I’m a Romantic at the very core but a Romantic who is cobbled by global capitalism. So while I philosophically align myself with Keats’ vision of Negative Capability where the being in of doubts, uncertainties, mysteries without chasing after fact and reason produces not only valuable Art, but also worthwhile citizens of the world, I am living practically within a system that privileges and values the bottom line of product, profit and consumption.

Did I digress, or go off on a tangent?

The choreographic moment isn’t a moment. It’s an act. An action. An act of labor. A labor of love, a labor of absorbing, receiving and giving back. A labor that is working; working for the purpose of working itself; working to hold attention to things that often aren’t attended to. It’s an act of allowance and generosity, an insistence on saying “yes” when everything points to “no.” But it’s also an act of resistance – a force against the absolute, against what you often feel you have no control over.

It’s a contradiction, a conflict, a friction of opposites.

It’s a purposeful purposelessness, an impossible possibility.

The choreographic moment is made up of many, many moments in a string of other moments, hundreds of thousands of nanoseconds of doubt and uncertainty mixed with tenacity and will. In this way, I think this choreographic moment we are trying to define is one of ambiguity and of questioning – questioning one’s self, your values, your belief systems, your history, your ideologies and then facing your fears, your subterranean beasts and cravings, your dormant volcano, your ugly pleasures.

I fundamentally disagree with a philosophy of absolutism or certainty as a way or means of making anything. And I’m not lost to the irony of my conviction in stating it like that! I think it’s important to ask whether I am making a difference. What is the relevance? What is the contribution? The weight of those questions is important to carry, even if the outcome is undecided. Part of the work is to include saying: I don’t know, and going on anyway.

We all know about the future and we know how uncertain it is. For some, the universe is divine order, for others, anarchic chaos.

The choreographic moment is an opportunity to recognize it. This is a reflexive way of saying that when we are in a position of defining a moment, we have an opportunity to be in it, to heighten the itness of that moment but also be in recognition of its precarity by virtue of its fleetingness. In this way, the choreographic moment is an opportunity to reorganize ourselves; to recalibrate our patterns of thought and action; a ways and means of perceiving ourselves and each other in different and other ways than are expected; to have a heightened awareness to our environment so we enact ourselves within and through it mindfully; and a means of experiencing our togetherness as something that is precious and precarious and passionate.

Oftentimes now, I don’t even look for or anticipate the “aha” moment, that moment of inspiration that one is supposed to get when they realize it has come. For me these days, inspiration and creativity are by-products, and not the thing itself. The thing itself is the being in of the thing, which is doing and being in the doing.

As John Cage said: “Inspiration is not a special occasion.” Or as Chuck Close said: “Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and get to work.” Or as Brian Eno said: “You should stay alert for the moment when a number of things are just ready to collide with one another… The reason to keep working is almost to build a certain mental tone, like people talk about body tone. You have to move quickly when the time comes, and the time might come very infrequently – once or twice a year, or even less.”

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To read Jeanine's artist profile, click here.

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The Choreographic Moment: Ideas from Stephan Koplowitz

The choreographic moment can be any moment where your eyes, your brain, your heart and your body get rattled, rolled, rejuvenated and yeah, rocked into seeing your world, or the world differently.

It's a moment that I cherish and strive to experience with as much frequency as possible.

The choreographic moment is that moment where you make the planets align. It’s also a moment where you get to marvel at those aligned planets by design or not! But it’s also a moment where you could want the planets to un-align.

The choreographic moment is when you find a clearing in a chaotic landscape which exists either physically in front of you, virtually on your screen or within your thoughts and visions inside your mind. You either enter that clearing or simply stay away and create from that perspective.

The choreographic moment follows me everywhere: from above, through my cognitive senses and from below, running through my subconsciousness and dreams.

The choreographic moment needs space for the mind, body and spirit.

But let’s not forget, the choreographic moment, if it’s to be sustained over time or is supporting a career, it ultimately needs to exist in the “real” world.

So, the choreographic moment also needs a funding moment.

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Related posts:

Artist profile: Stephan Koplowitz

Blog Series: The Choreographic Moment

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The Choreographic Moment: Ideas from Keith Johnson

I believe we all have the need to create. Each one of us views the world through an individual lens and a collective lens. We share experiences about ourselves and hope in some small way that those viewing/witnessing connect with us whether it be a beginning of a dialogue, or a hand on a shoulder, or a knowing nod of approval. Ironically, I never wanted to choreograph when I started dancing. I was more interested in being the “material” for the dance-maker. However, I found myself asking questions more and more and secretly deciding that I would have made this or that choice instead. It was in those moments that I learned to embrace my thought processes and ideas…. and that my voice mattered.

Growing up as a shy kid, moving around a lot, being the new kid in school, listening and trusting the words of my gymnastics coaches, and not being open about my personal life caused me to be a great observer of things around me. I am a daydreamer at heart and my sister Laura tells me that one of my greatest gifts is that “you are the fly on the wall.” I find beauty, humor, horror, and inspiration in a lot of different things and in a lot of different ways. I grew up in an extended family where we encouraged each other’s creativity. We played.

I have had the pleasure of working with some amazing choreographers: Steve Koester, Terry Creach, Bill T. Jones, Doug Varone, and Loa Clawson. Each of them had a remarkable influence on me as a person and in my desire to choreograph. I’m interested in how things are put together and the structures that involve creating a strong choreographic work. I love the architectural ideas of dance and have been inspired by Trisha Brown, Merce Cunningham, and Tere O’Connor. My friends Nancy Bannon and Colleen Thomas have inspired me to look at the world through imagery and other points of view. Gerald Casel allowed me to pick his brain and to question my choices and myself and has always been supportive in his answers.

And then there are the dancers who have danced in my company. A great deal of finding choreographic inspiration is by watching them move through space and life. I surround myself with people that I want to know and they want to know me. Sometimes the relationships don’t last forever, but still I think about them and remember their contributions to my work and to my life.

Lately, I am interested in other forms of art, especially sculpture, poetry, gardening, and painting. I find myself going to dance concerts less frequently but have also found myself more interested in making dances. I have given up timelines and am allowing the works to unfold and surprise me. When they are ready, they are ready. It has given me more freedom and joy in the creative process than I ever have had before when I was more concerned with reviews, commissions, size of audiences, and touring. I admire those choreographers who are in that game immensely but at the end of the day I feel that it wasn’t where I wanted to be.

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Related posts:

Artist Profile #100: Keith Johnson

The Choreographic Moment: Ideas from Jo Kreiter

The Choreographic Moment: Ideas from Douglas Nielsen

Choreographic Inspiration

A Modern Dancer's Guide to.....Los Angeles

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The Choreographic Moment: Ideas from Jo Kreiter

The Ghost of a Something

By Jo Kreiter

The choreographic moment is the beginning before the beginning. It’s when something gnaws. Or wakes me up at 3:00 in the morning. It’s when there is a ghost of a something I am beginning to intuit but have not yet fully understood.

Every Thursday I drive down Valencia Street right where it runs into Mission street in San Francisco.  Planned Parenthood sits right on the corner. And every Thursday, there is a religious zealot who parks his truck, signs, banners and posters all over the sidewalk in front of the clinic. I don’t know how he is allowed to do this, but no one stops him. He has signs full of lies… like  "abortion causes breast cancer," and he has graphic images blown up and distorted. He makes me furious. Here is yet another man trying to tell women what to do with our bodies. That fury seethes in me and jumps out every Thursday when I drive by. That fury is part of the choreographic moment.

Two years ago, I took my son to the library, and while he searched tirelessly through the Manga and Anime, I sat down with Harper's Magazine. Harper's isn’t something I usually read. But I found an essay in it that called out to me. Rebecca Solnit wrote “Cassandra Among the Creeps,” giving a historic and contemporary lens on women and credibility. The article touched a nerve. I thought of Thursday mornings. I had, to this point, been spending a lot of time (years in fact) planning and making a trilogy of dances that explored income inequality through a feminist lens. But this article was a call into the core of misogyny. It is a painful concept I want to delve into with my intellect, heart, and spirit.

At 50, I am really tired of misogyny. The Trumps, Cruzes, and sidewalk pontificators of this world really drag me down. The assholes who are interfering with reproductive justice need to be silenced. I want to make a dance that changes the conversation. Equally, I am aware of a growing connection between aging and misogyny. Conventional wisdom says that women who age become irrelevant. Invisible. I refuse to accept this. As a dancer, I know so many women in their 50s, 60s and 70s whose physical power persists, whose agility persists and whose infectious generosity also persists. This is the beauty that misogyny can’t get to.

So now I am cooking up a block long, evening length, off the ground dance that will insist on the right to be believed, for women. The project won’t premiere til over a year from now. The planning, scheming, fundraising, and collaborating are all in motion, in varying degrees of thoughtful incompletion.

To initiate for the project, I searched on the Internet for women and credibility. Google brought forward images of purses and pornography. I laughed a bit, cried a little and became all the more interested in how, where, and whether women are being believed at this point in the 21^st century. The Credibility Project will address the issue of credibility for women. This site-specific dance will give spectacular language to a serious sociopolitical issue that has not been carefully examined since Anita Hill challenged Justice Clarence Thomas. A lack of credibility for women is simultaneously a legal, social, and economic problem that lingers. I look forward to the process of researching it, the creative practice of making it, and to the act of performing it in public space, where our laws, institutions and cultural assumptions actually affect us. I hope the guy from the sidewalk on Valencia Street comes to see the show.

Jo Kreiter is the Artistic Director of Flyaway Productions. www.flyawayproductions.com

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Related posts:

Artist Profile #124: Jo Kreiter (San Francisco, CA)

40-100 Stories (Dancers Age 40-100)

The Choreographic Moment: Ideas from Douglas Nielsen

Choreographic Inspiration

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The "Choreographic Moment": Ideas from Douglas Nielsen

What is the "choreographic moment?" When does an idea form, movement turn into dancing, or a desire builds to create your new work? Throughout 2016, we will read ideas and essays from ten different choreographers.

Today we hear from Douglas Nielsen. To read Douglas's full artist profile on the blog, click here.

Photo courtesy of www.balletnebraska.org

THE CHOREOGRAPHIC MOMENT

The "choreographic moment” suggests the choreographic ACCIDENT – the MISTAKE – the thing that wasn’t planned – the thing that alters the perception of the viewer – that which changes the order, or focus, or timing of a dance. And yet, the choreographer gets the credit – because the situation was set up for it to occur. The choreographer noticed it, and deemed it important.

CONTROL is the enemy of creativity. Attempting to CONTROL every moment in the process of making a dance can KILL - or at the very least - INHIBIT the evolution of an idea. Often, when something happens – beyond the imagination of the dance maker – it is the result of a free-associated or accidental truth - something that happened for good reason. Something that makes one shout: “YES – That’s a KEEPER. That was worth coming in for.”

A second way of interpreting the "choreographic moment” would be to tag it as a DECISIVE MOMENT - a vital point in a dance where clarity, juxtaposition, or change takes a twist to reveal itself. Granted - some dances are designed to be a continuum - refusing to be labeled as any sort of journey with a destination. Still, I’ve never witnessed a dance without some sort of landmark shift that could be identified as a "decisive moment." An ENDING, for example, could behold the decisive moment. Which is why I have never WALKED OUT of anything. A good ending can absolutely change how I feel about a dance. (But that’s another essay.)

The third and final way to define the "choreographic moment” would be to give a nod to INSPIRATION - the moment when an idea plants itself so firmly in your head that you simply must pursue it. For me, the inspiration for making a dance needs to be present before I can move forward. Inspiration is a starting point. Inspiration need not be fully formed or ultimately illustrated. Abstraction is a legitimate approach to creativity – an approach that neither asks for nor refuses narrative.

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Related posts:

Choreographic Inspiration

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