The E-P-L Experiment

1. How do you select your music?
    Generally, it depends on the performance and the purpose of my piece.  For instance, if I am participating in a theme event, I want my music to pay tribute to that.  When I did the Gothic/Industrial nights, I worked very hard to make sure my music fell into or alluded to that category.  When I am performing at the Hookah Bar, the focus is more on audience participation and interaction.  So, while I might want to do something slow, dramatic, and artsy, I know that’s not what that crowd is there to see.  So I make sure my music is upbeat and infectious. 
    Keeping the audience in mind is a huge factor when choosing music.  Some people are put off by Middle Eastern music, partly because it is not part of the Western culture and therefore an acquired taste of sorts.  I know some people who will not listen to music or watch movies if it is in a foreign language.  If I know that I will be performing for a general audience that can wander in and out at will (such as at the Hookah bar, a Renn. faire, the park, etc.), I will try to choose music that might include Middle Eastern rhythms, but is fused with other genres such as electronica.  This allows the audience to naturally turn off any cultural censors they might have, and just enjoy the dance for what it is.  It’s like the book Sneaky Chef, which has recipes for moms who want to hide nutritious foods into their children’s meals without them knowing.
    If the show or piece is completely under my own artistic control, my musical considerations are different.  If I only have one piece, I try to think about what I want to convey personally to the audience.  It could be reveling in form, the ecstasy of abandonment and trance, sadness, melodrama, a tribute to a story or person, or whatever I want.  The music will be something intensely personal to me that I feel compelled to listen to over and over again.  If it is for a show, I first will devise a story (since I mostly work in narrative dance) and flesh out all of the details and character descriptions.  After reflecting on that, I consider the tone of the story.  That is an indicator for the types of music I will choose.  If something is whimsical, I might try to choose soaring film scores, tinny music box sounds, and airy vocals.  If it is a dark story, I might go for harsh, jumping violins, and jarring bass beats.  If the tale reflects nostalgia, maybe songs with minuet tempos and gliding rhythms.  In other words, the music if personified, must fit and embody every character and nuance of your story.
    Usually, a sure sign that a piece of music is a solid candidate for choreography is that when listening to it, my automatic response is to daydream.  My days are typically spent with my head in the clouds, whenever I get the chance.  So if a song immediately causes me to do that, it enters into an intimate realm that I can connect with on a deep emotional level, where I can see a story or a character evolve and prance about.  That song will immediately be put onto one of my playlists.  This helps when I’m putting together music for a show, because then I will have a huge playlist to select a song from that I already know by heart and feel part of.  I listen to my lists almost everyday, even if just a few songs off of them.

2. How do you create your choreography?  On paper, dancing it out, visualization?
    I adore process and efficiency.  Therefore, my choreographies tend to be created in an anal-retentive fashion.  Here’s the steps:
    a) Find music:  Read above for how I choose the music
    b) Counting and Phrasing:  This involves sitting in a chair with an open notebook, pen at the ready, and a fully charged ipod.  I will listen to the song over and over again, tallying up the counts.  Sometimes, I have problems when the counts aren’t in 4/4, but I am still learning.  After this, I list out all of the counts into columns.  Listening to the music again, I make notes next to each set about musical cues, notation, and anything that stands out.  The notes might even include squiggly lines and dots.  For instance, if in one eight count, there are four sets of two beats and the notes go up, down, up, down, I might have a few dots to symbolize this.  At one point, I will usually give this a letter label.  So for that up-down-up-down, I will call it “a.” If say the next eight count repeats this, but includes an extra flourish or is done with a different instrument, I might distinguish between the two by adding in a number, such as “A1” and “A2.”  Eventually, patterns emerge, and thus the phrases.  I might have a set of A’s, B’s, C’s, that go back to B’s, C’s, etc.  I can separate those out when writing up the choreography, so when I go back to teach this to others, there are clear places to start and end combinations.
    c) The Gist:  Before and at the initial stages of choreographing, I make notes about certain things I know need to be included in the song.  For instance, if the choreography is part of a narrative piece, which characters must be onstage, what has to happen in the story at this point, what emotions need to occur, etc.  Also, if I had chosen this song previously, I might know that I want to include an arabesque at this musical cue, or do floorwork when the music slows down.  Taking my phrasing notes out, I will listen to the music a couple of times and make general notes.  For instance, in the A’s I might write “waking up,” B’s “exploring the room,” C’s “circular movements, and on and on.  These notes will include anything from emotional to physical actions as well as stage blocking and prop use.  This gives me a nice simple frame work before I get down to the nitty gritty of the next stage.
    d) The Actual Choreographing:  At this point, I’ve got my song dissected out, with all of the general considerations in mind, and now I must give my dancers actual steps.  Most of my choreography is done sitting in a chair, visualizing it.  I have two reasons for doing this.  One, daydreaming comes naturally and I enjoy it because it enables me to picture not only the dancer, but the entire stage and the perspectives of both audience and dancer.  Two, I have no physical limitations in my visualizing.  I do not always choreograph for myself.  If I have a dancer I know who can do a particular spin that I cannot, it would not make sense for me to get out of my chair and frustrate myself trying to do a move I’m not up to par on yet.  The line “those who cannot do, teach” applies to me occasionally.  I might know the exact form of a movement and can communicate it to another in a way they can understand and then apply, but not always do myself.  Also, I want the best show possible, so lend myself over to that imagination and watch all of the best movements I can see unfold as the music plays.  Dream big, tweak later!  If a dancer cannot do exactly what you ask them, it’s ok, you can always modify choreography later on in rehearsals.  At least now you have on paper the look and feel that you are going for so if something does need to change, you know exactly what kind of guidelines to look for. 
    Choreographing usually consists of imagining the moves and considering the dancer’s placement on stage (both in terms of direction and level).  Every once in awhile, if I want to throw a couple of moves in and am not sure of exact foot placement or counting or what have you, I might actually get out of my chair to do the moves a couple of times.  Or, I might brainstorm that combination out, but trying out various alternatives, and write down what felt best and natural.  Movements might be written down with how many counts it needs.  Honestly, I try not to make my dances highly technical or difficult.  I am often much more concerned with the emotional layering, characterization, and storyline.  I would much rather give a simple dance to a performer, who can memorize it easily and thus worry more about exuding the right persona on stage, than wowing the audience with a series of complicated steps.  That being said, I will also choreograph in the narrative aspects of the dance.  This might include facial expressions and detailed physical acting gestures (such as shaky hands for someone who is crying or nervous).  Dance doesn’t have to be pieurotting across a stage, it could simply be walking with a purpose.  I also might include lines or mini-scripts into the choreography, so that if a dancer is unsure of what I want them to convey, they have a line that they can physically incorporate into their movements.  This involves a bit of pantomime, but I want the audience to understand exactly what my performers are trying to express, and this can only happen if they themselves know exactly what each step and movement means.
    e) Research:  This is an additional step that is sometimes included in the process.  I have had to take breaks to look up subjects relevant to my choreographies from something as simple as what does a 3/4 count sound like to breaking down a basic tango step to a biography on a mythical creature.  Also, I might read or watch supplemental materials for inspiration or insight to incorporate into the dance.  For instance, for an Alice in Wonderland themed show, I went and reread the Lewis Carroll book, watched the movie looked up cosplay interpretations of the costumes, and wrote out reflections on the characters and their archetypal personalities and habits.  In one recent rehearsal, two of my dancers are supposed to rummage through a trunk for props to play “dress up” with.  I referred them to a clip in the movie A Little Princess, where the characters Becky and Sarah wake up to find their room redone in an exotic style, with new clothes and a steaming hot breakfast on the table.  The girls ooh and ahh over everything, exclaiming over the texture of the fabrics and food, commenting how they feel beautiful and like princesses.  This kind of attention to detail and visual reference, helped my performers to understand how better to interact with their props.
    f) Typing Up Notes:  This might sound inane to add this as a step, but this is the point, where I must make sense of all of my previous notes and wrangle the chaos into an organized sheet that can be understood time and again by myself and those involved.  Excellent written communication skills come highly needed at the point in the game.  Also, this is a good time to start the tweaking process.
    g) Distributing the Notes:  There is no prouder moment after all of the frustration of choreographing that damn song you no longer can stand, than when you hand it out to your dancers and say “Here, it’s done!” (commence crying of relief)
    Choreographing Part Two
    h) Blocking:  Usually, this includes me running around with the paper in my hand, counting out the tempo for everyone and blocking out the basic moves onto the dancer.  As my phrases have been sectioned out, I have clear combinations I can teach people, which comes in handy if you have a limited time to teach them and need a clear stopping point.  We walk through each of the combinations, where they mostly just learn the steps and stage placement.
    i) Rehearsing: 
        -having a conversation beforehand about the piece and what all it will entail and my expectations for the performer
        -walking through the piece with me beside them demonstrating
        -walking through it with me off to the side, calling out the cues and movements
        -emotional layering and physical acting tweaks
        -sitting down together to listen to the music once or twice
        -listening to the music with me reading out the choreography
        -attempting the dance to music
        -more emotional layering and physical acting tweaks
        -repeat, repeat, repeat
        -tweaks and clean-up
        -more rehearsing
        -trying it in costume and with props
        -perform!

Whew!  That is the general process.  Because so much can go into just one piece or a whole show, I think that breaking it down like this helps me from getting overwhelmed in the choreographing process and throughout every part of producing a dance piece.

3. How long does it take you to create a piece, on average?
    Oh boy, that depends.  On average, the less people and the shorter a song, the less time it takes to choreograph.  I have spent anywhere from 20 minutes to 8 hours on a piece.  A solo is easy to choreograph when I know I don’t have to include anything highly technical or there are plenty of repetitions or drawn out movements.  I can snap those out fairly quickly.  If a song is longer than three minutes, it will generally take me over an hour to choreograph.  I actually keep logs of how long the choreographing process takes (broken down into how long it took me to count out a song, choreograph, research, and type it up).  This is more for personal and business reasons than anything.  I have choreographed pieces with 8-10 people in them, with each song lasting around five minutes or more.  Those took at least 5-8 hours to choreograph (not all at once).  This is partly because I had to take into account everyone’s various skill levels, sorting out formation patterns and transitions, as well as figuring out ways to keep a storyline going with places to feature each character.  I’m sure you could add an additional hour or so to that for time spent tweaking the pieces in rehearsals.

4.  How much does visualization play into your creative process?
    I’ve already written quite a bit on this, but it is probably the most important aspect in terms of the choreographing process for two reasons.  First, it gives the big picture.  I might have to practice a dance in two feet of space, but in my mind, I can dance on the biggest, most gaudiest stage, with a hall filled with people clapping wildly.  I can picture the show exactly as I want it.  No, it won’t always look that way, but I will have a much better idea of what the audience is seeing when I play out the choreographies, songs, and even interludes in my head.  A piece WILL fall apart if you do not keep the audience perspective in mind.  Some performers would be up on a stage even if no one is watching, as they love their craft that much.  However, performing for solely for yourself, and performing for an audience are two entirely separate things.  An audience might be coming to watch you in particular because they like your moves, or aesthetic, or message, but more than anything they are coming to be entertained or wowed on some mental level.  You have to learn to acknowledge and pander to that.  Visualization is the perfect way to start.
    Second, visualization helps bring about progress.  When I was younger, I played select volleyball, with dreams of playing in high school and maybe college.  I remember my dad saying that there was a study done on players who took a few minutes every night to sit down and imagine themselves doing a move over and over again.  It might be executing a free throw and visualizing your body moving with correct form and grace, the ball sinking into the basket each time after a purposeful journey through the air in a perfect arc.  Athletes who ingrained their practices not only into their muscle memory but also into their brains, on average, improved much faster.  I apply this practice to dance as well, watching myself do the spins and arm gestures as I would want them to appear.  My body picks up new combinations much more easily if I have pictured doing them first.

5. What tools (music, books, websites) would you recommend to someone trying to improve their choreographing or creative skills?
    Lately, I have had to sit down with my reflection notebook and think about all of the things I enjoy and how I might pursue one as a career.  I noticed that most of the things I wrote down such as writing or dancing, all revolved around the aspect of storytelling.  Having grasped that this is what I meant to do, I realized that I had been not only doing this in all kinds of different mediums, but that I had also been studying the process of it as well.
    For dancing, and choreographing in particular, you must study the art of storytelling.  Storytelling is simply conveying an idea to an audience (which might only include one other person or simply yourself).  It doesn’t even have to involve a plot.  A story can simply be an expression, such as how does it feel to go through a loss, or what is the sensation of feeling a lover touch your hand.
    I am an avid scholar of studying the creative process.  Sometimes, my favorite part of a film is the “Making of” section in the bonus features.  I want to know what the actor did to prepare for a roll, why the cinematographer used a hand held camera for this scene, and why the company chose a particular director for this project.  I look at film scores and read musicians biographies to discover more about their personal lives and thus their inspirations and musical backgrounds to understand more about their interpretations and compositions.  I listen to interviews from figure skaters, who talk about their practice regimens.  I watch documentaries on Russian ballet companies and find out how the life of a ballerina from the age of five to eighty might play out.  I read essays by a celebrated Japanese playwright and founder of a particular acting technique about the significance of the theatre and the interaction of the actor’s feet to the ground.  I read and have taken notes on countless books on how to start your own company.  Looking at or listening to a final product feels almost one-sided.  I want the entire experience how a project came into being and what it took in manpower, emotions, physical resources, education, and talent to bring this one idea to life.  Also, I want to learn more about its overall reception to the world.  Are people still praising a particular script centuries later?  Are the ratings on Amazon good?  Does that particular niche community accept or reject this performance?
    Storytellers are also collectors of detail.  John Lasseter, head of Pixar films, is a diehard Miyazaki fan, of the films and man himself.  He wrote in one essay, that Miyazaki is the master of pacing.  For instance, in Spirited Away, you see the little girl getting ready to go outside.  She sits down, puts one sock on, then the next.  Then she puts on her shoes, does up the laces, and stands up.  Before she runs off, she wiggles one of her feet further into the shoe, gives it a good tap and sprints off.  This slows down the pacing of the story, but keeps you involved and moving through every action with the character, doing an action you might in daily life.  Pay attention to details, as it can flesh out a piece and give it spirit.  One biography I read on the legendary actress Sarah Bernhardt, covered her role as Joan of Arc.  At the time, she was middle-aged and playing a teenager.  In one part during the play, Joan is interrogated about her age.  Sarah, still in character, replied “Nineteen” before turning her head to the audience, giving them a sly smile, daring them to question her right to play a younger character.  They lapped it up!  Despite the fact that this was an impromptu, personal gesture, a master player, is a master of detail, who understands that adding nuance can force an audience into higher levels of emotional activity and participation.
    Create!  It doesn’t have to be in your area of interest.  It can be baking cookies, or taking your dog on a walk, planting a flower, or changing a tire.  Creativity goes stale if we don’t flex our mental and physical muscles every so often in new areas that dare us to learn and grow.  Learn, however you can, from wherever you can.  Don’t be afraid to throw yourself into an experience.  You may never do it again, and that’s ok, but you will always come away changed and charged to come back to your craft with renewed vision.

6. Send me something you’ve choreographed so I can see you in your element.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ms9clTNq5I&feature=channel_video_title

This is not the best take or run of this choreography, but this is an example of something I’ve actually planned out.  This song was chosen for its upbeat tempo and clear musical cues (which help when teaching multiple-person pieces).  I wanted to include movements inspired by and from the ATS and Khaleegi movement vocabularies, as well as some moments of improv to feature each dancer.  This is not my usual narrative piece.  For each formation, I am usually slightly ahead of the other dancers, mostly as a visual reference since they only had an hour or two to learn this, otherwise, I would have inverted most of the formations.

The video from my last big show didn’t turn out well with the lighting and I can’t figure out how to convert it to a form I can use to upload to youtube.  I’m also hoping to get pieces of my next show filmed.  So I can share those with you too, when I get the chance (I would love your feedback!)  Those will be a bit closer to the direction I’ve been heading in.  I’m not the best choreographer or dancer in the world, but I enjoy it and love working with the other dancers.  It’s also been fun to choreograph for people who aren’t dancers or who are at different skill levels or practice different styles of dance.  Constantly a challenge and an experience.

I am in the process of surrounding myself with books, movies, pictures, ideas, and whatever else I can find.  Granted, I know I am still working on the fairy show (only a few weeks left!!!!), but I’m ready to start creating the next show.  I’m not entirely sure yet if it will be an adaptation or an original work yet.  But I figure, if I go lookin’, opening myself up to possibilities and listening to that dear old heart, then maybe, just maybe, a small voice in my head will begin to tell a story.  Who knows what will come of it.

The intention is to start planning for the next big show (in the spring) and to choreograph some smaller pieces or just individual songs.  I want to really explore narrative and expressive dance.  Tonight, my music player took me in a completely different direction than I was thinking of going.  I had been watching a documentary called Bringing Back Balanchine.  It filled me with that longing for the beauty of ballet.  My mind began forming some steps around another somewhat tragic/contemplative piece (really need to start being more lighthearted).  Problem was I didn’t have a song to match.  So off to the dance room downstairs!  While there, I played around with some string music.  Running through the “Artists” list, one caught my eye.  I found the album it was on and before you knew it I was skipping and jumping around to J-pop music all evening.  Discovered some movements I haven’t used before.  Almost no bellydance.  I love the freedom of expression.  Maybe that is where I’ll find the story…..maybe.

Recap!

Dance Theatre:  An addendum to the previous Week Zero post, I’m now calling this Dance Theatre instead of just Dance.  Been very busy.  Finally finished all of the choreography for The Block.  Rehearsals and make-ups have been keeping me hoppin, but there’s only four weeks so happy to see it finally coming together (somewhat). 

History:  Slightly behind on reading, but have time in the next few days to catch up.  Finally got all of my textbooks in.  Goal of this week:  start looking for a new job!!!!!  I’m ready and it’s time to move on.

Keepin’ it short and sweet for ya’ll this week!

Unless you happen to be fortunate enough to live in New York City, chances are theatre has been a rather small part of your life.  Sure, St. Louis does have The Fox.  And most people have seen a school or community production at some point.  But theatre seems to be dying out.  We’ve moved on to television, film, and now web videos.  Our celebrities are those who not only live but perform from far away.  We have lost our true heritage as an audience of reality.  There is nothing like seeing an actor, singer, or dancer on stage in person.  You can see their struggles, the sweat on their brow (both literally and figuratively).  Completely raw, unedited.  When they speak, the words carry straight through the air and to your ears.  You can witness firsthand the true craft of all those involved in putting on a production.  This is not to say that I despise other types of medie, quite the contrary.  But I do think we are missing out on an experience previously enjoyed more often by prior generations.

One aspect I loved about the book “Tipping the Velvet” by Sarah Waters (picture above includes actresses from the film adaptation) is the introduction of London theatre culture.  In the West End, theatres populated the streets, catering to the masses (the high brow productions being held elsewhere).  In the story, two of the main characters are found running from one show to the next and on and on into the night.  After retiring from the stage, Nan visiting a pub with her lady interest, is accosted by other women.  We remember you, you’re Nan King!  Sing us a song won’t you?  After some further coaxing, she gets up to sing at the piano, for old time’s sake.  I love that sense of closeness between the performer and the audience.  She’s a celebrity, but not hiding away in her mansion or off on a jet plane traveling to some remote location.  The audience could see their favorite actors live and see them walking down the street the next day.

We’ve also lost the drawing room culture.  Any Jane Austen fan will know what I’m talking about.  How many scenes are there of dinner parties followed by women and men playing the piano, singing along together.  Or private concerts.  Needlework and artwork.  And yes, I do realize this mostly pertains to the “genteel” world.  But how fascinating that in such a polite society, we also find the remnants of a community creating “art of the moment.”  One of the qualities one must possess to be considered a lady was to be artistic.  To sing, dance, paint, draw, design clothing or be fashion conscious, sew by hand, arrange flowers, write in a delicate hand, and more.  Beautification might sound like an old-fashioned concept, but why should it be?  Modern artists and other ambitious types want to leave the world more beautiful than they left it, with the hope that they’ve given people something to think about as well.  Where is that woman standing beside the piano singing a plaintive song to her guests, silent in their reverie, praising her for her bravery, practice, and execution?

In an ideal world, I would resurrect the theatre and parlor room culture of old.  Why should only the coasts and the big cities enjoy such riches?  I would love to have my own venue in which to host resident performing companies and to bring in guest ones as well.  I would love to bring the performing and fine arts to the community on a regular basis.  Not just wait a few times a year for a festival.  I want to offer education to those interested in wanting to participate.  If you want to be a part of such a world, there’s no reason why anyone should be denied some role to play.

To bring such a thing to life, I know one needs money, the people to commit to such activities, and of course a communal interest.  I am willing to do what it takes.  I just have to ask for help first.  So watch out Midwest, here I come!

I love to sing more than I love to dance.  I don’t really pursue it openly because it scares me.  Singing is much more personal.  You literally bring the air and words from within your chest, diaphragm, lungs, and throat and project it out to the space into other people’s ears.  Sometimes, when I’m practicing, I imagine myself back in the choir loft at church, standing at the rail over looking the huge space.  I breathe as deep as I can and when I let the notes come out, I try to fill as much of that space as possible.  The biggest and most satisfying rush comes over me when I put out that note or lyric that clicks in every sense.  Doesn’t happen all the time, but it leaves me feeling buzzed, happy, and calm.

I can’t sing as high as I wish.  It would be nice to be a little less nasal.  And I can’t hit everything.  Can’t even read music.  But it’s one of the very few things that has always made me consistently happy to do.  I want to share it somehow, even though that very thought terrifies me.  It’s not about ego, it’s more to do sharing what’s important and a piece of me with those I am close with.  Think of some way to do this.