Let the form do the work

“Let the form do the work,” a friend said when he came to rehearsal. The moments that ring less true are those in which the dancers are trying to do too much of the work for the audience—moments where they are trying to layer theatricality on top of the movement, to impose a narrative. And so we are going back to material made from a place of feeling and trying to stylize it in the direction of formalism. Such fragile territory—the place between telling too much and not saying enough. Movement that is evocative but ambiguous. How do you get there? What is the relationship between container and contents?

Collaborating with dancers

What kind of choreographic process is most conducive to encouraging dancer creativity? For some choreographers, dancer creativity is not integral to the creative process. In what I’ll call the “old-school genius” model (e.g. Merce), the opportunity for creativity falls almost exclusively to the choreographer. Dancers partner with the choreographer to shape movement, but not to make such decisions like where movement happens in space or how to achieve the overarching vision for a work. That is increasingly an outdated approach. (Whether this trend is related to the increasing predominance of concept over vocabulary in modern dance is a topic for another day). Instead, modern dance choreographers now typically rely heavily on the dancers with whom they work not only to generate vocabulary, but also to problem-solve at every point in the creative process. Indeed, everyone in the dance world now “collaborates” and everyone is a “collaborator.” But not all collaboration is created equal.

Two recent press articles bring fresh perspective to the issue in non-dance settings:

“The New Groupthink,” Susan Cain, New York Times, Jan. 13, 2012

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/15/opinion/sunday/the-rise-of-the-new-groupthink.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=the%20new%20groupthink&st=cse

(“Research strongly suggests that people are more creative when they enjoy privacy and freedom from interruption.”)

and this:

“Groupthink: The Brainstorming Myth,” Jonah Lehrer, The New Yorker, Jan. 30, 2012

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/01/30/120130fa_fact_lehrer

(“Debate and criticism do not inhibit ideas but, rather, stimulate them relative to every other condition.”)

Lehrer’s article in particular attacks the central assumption behind brainstorming—namely, the importance of having a nonjudgmental environment. It seems, instead, that creativity thrives under a bit of stress. When ideas are challenged, rather than just simply noted without comment, creativity benefits.

(What would Liz Lehrman think of this? Isn’t her feedback model predicated on containing judgment?)

Since reading these two articles, I have been thinking about what makes collaboration with dancers unique. What is unique about the choreographer/dancer relationship? And what factors support creativity in the unique setting of the dance studio? I say unique meaning different than a corporate or office or other artistic environment.

First, there is a higher level of vulnerability within the choreographer/dancer relationship than in other settings. Why? Because we are dealing with the body. We are processing ideas through the body. When you dance in front of another person, you are exposing yourself in a different way than if you simply voice an idea.

Perhaps then it is therefore even more important in the choreographic environment to give dancers enough time and space to work independently on problems/tasks before they are seen and evaluated. Every dancer is different—some need more privacy to create than others.

Part of the choreographer’s job then is to evaluate what each dancer needs in order to be most creative. More challenge and resistance to their ideas or more privacy and independence? More solitary creative time or more time being live coached and challenged on the spot? This is a subtle but crucial form of leadership in the studio—mediating relationships and process so each person in the room feels safe and productive.

In the business world, perhaps these conditions go without saying. Not so in the dance world. I’m interested in improving my toolbox in this department. Dancers out there–any opinions on what conditions facilitate your creativity when in the studio with a choreographer?

Replay

by HMD company member Katharine Hawthorne
www.khawthorne.net

We start rehearsing for Reluctant Light again tomorrow, after a month long break. Part of coming back to a rehearsal process after a break is remembering — remembering the physical structure of the piece, your place in it, and your working relationships with all the collaborators.

I recently did a several day Tuning Scores workshop with Karen Nelson in which we worked with ‘replay,’ a score in which an initial improvised experience is repeated. There were several different versions of the score: one person performed two gestures and the group repeated it back; we worked on a duet and then replayed our experience for our partner; we danced an extended solo and had it repeated back to us.

Replay is a score in which a faithful ‘realistic’ memory is not only unnecessary, but potentially hinders an intuitive response. It is more meaningful to have the feeling and emotional tone of an experience reflected than the precise sequence of steps. I am fascinated by this tension — how faithful repetition is actually not as satisfying as repetition that takes liberties and expands on the personal dimensions of one’s experience. I have been blessed with a near perfect memory for recalling steps, directions, and movement mechanics — but I am often frustrated by the resulting limitations of verbatim recall.

So, as we return to the studio tomorrow, I hope not only to bring my memory of the work done thus far, but to also allow for it to open and grow. Let’s replay.

Tools for the practice of presence

What tools will help me to be more present to the choreographic moment?

In the hopes of undermining habits of my frontal cortex that seem to get in the way of a more responsive creative process, I am going back into rehearsal tomorrow with some new tools. Usually, I have a plan for rehearsal, and bring my notebook into the room. Trouble is, I tend to get lost in my notebook. One day I saw myself from the outside, looking in: sitting, hunched over my notebook, back turned to the dancers, brow furrowed. Here I was, ostensibly creating a piece about intimacy (with self and others), but my posture was entirely closed, and I was not in my own body. I wanted to be more present in the room. So for tomorrow I have limited my reliance on language as an anchor for process by allowing myself to only use huge pieces of paper that I will post on the back wall. On these sheets I can write only what is essential. Another tool that disconnects me from the creative moment is reliance on video. I tend to video process and respond later—again, a barrier to presence in the moment. So tomorrow I will not sit behind the camera. Yes, I will set up a camera, but will simply let it run on a tripod in the corner.

Tomorrow we will begin with an improvisation score designed to point the way to: fire, desire, pleasure and play—antidotes themselves to the rather abstract, formal and cool landscape we have already created. And on another sheet, a set of live coaching cues I will use to guide the action:

Stay with it
Stay with the feelings
Deepen the breath
Find a rhythm to the action
Repeat/Rewind and repeat
Color the action with [inset emotion]
Allow the image to develop
Amplify
Act on instinct
Clear the space/exit

The above are cues for individual dancers.
On another list, a set of cues for relationships in the space:

Enter
Relate
Mirror with body or box (we are working with a set of boxes as props)
Pick up the image (and/or develop)
Support what’s developing (“Yes, and”)
Amplify
Join
Obstruct with body or box
Make or break contact
Exit

Readers, what helps you be more responsive to a creative moment? What is your experience with tools in the studio, or the cues listed above? Of course, here I am writing about everything. Language surrounds and permeates the process, even as I try to contain it. Stay tuned to how the above tools influence process and outcome.

Interview with Dušan Týnek

Dušan Týnek is a choreographer and the artistic director of Dušan Týnek Dance Theatre (dusantynek.org). Týnek is also Hope Mohr Dance’s 2012 Bridge Project artist. Hope Mohr Dance’s Bridge Project brings notable choreographers to the Bay Area. As part of its 5th home season performances March 22-24 at Z Space in San Francisco, Hope Mohr Dance will present Týnek’s company, Dušan Týnek Dance Theatre. Mohr and Týnek met in 1997 while both studying on scholarship at the Merce Cunningham studio in New York. They also performed together in the company of Lucinda Childs. Hope recently caught up with Dušan in advance of his arrival in San Francisco.

How do you begin to make a dance?

Most of the time, I begin with a tiny idea flickering somewhere on the periphery of my mind and from there I begin developing movement in my living room, while listening to a lot of different music and frantically researching anything that may pertain to the particular seed of an idea. By the time I get into the studio with my dancers, I usually know what I am striving for. It’s a long and arduous and in the end extremely gratifying process, and I imagine it does feel like giving birth sometimes.

What are some of your choreographic habits or tools?

A lot of my spatial and time related organization of movement is quite complex. It would be extremely time consuming to work those out with my dancers, so I often sketch these in the form of drawings and charts at home. In this respect, my dance notebooks resemble work of a mad scientist. I guess it’s a leftover from my previous studies as a biologist.

Your work is highly musical. How do you go about creating movement in relationship to music?

I was born into a musical family and studied music since I was a child, so it’s kind of inherent to me. Choreography is very close to writing music with the major difference that your instruments are the dancers’ bodies and the score is the movement. I believe good dance has a rhythm that does not have to be obvious but as an audience member one perceives it subconsciously. I try to be musical and create movement that works with a particular score or create my own unique score without parroting what’s already obvious in the music. I’m not interested in explaining or paraphrasing music with movement. I use music to support the dance and hopefully enhance it in some way.

How has your approach to dancemaking changed over time?

I have become definitely more efficient as a dance maker and it’s easier now for me to translate ideas into movement. Also I am much more comfortable with making choreographic decisions on the spot even though I still do a lot of preparation before a rehearsal. I do let myself be more spontaneous nowadays and usually succeed in refraining from editing my work too soon.

You worked as a member of the Merce Cunningham RUGS (Repertory Understudy Program). What did you learn from Merce and how has his work influenced you?

No kind of movement is worse or better than other. Musicality and stillness in dance are essential.
Space is multidimensional and therefore dance can be seen/experienced from an infinite number of points.
One should try to keep challenging oneself and not settle for the easy or the obvious.
If you believe in what you do and do it well, the audience will eventually come to you.

You also danced with Lucinda Childs for several years. What did you learn from her work?

Beauty and power often result in simplicity.

When you watch choreography, what do you value most as an audience member?

Intelligence, logic, invention and skill.

What questions do you have right now as an artist?

What’s next?

Intentions for rehearsal

January 10, 2012

Setting intentions in preparation for going back into rehearsal in about a week. Desire: to shift focus away from vocabulary (abstract form) and toward image.

Desire: to create from a more emotional, less intellectual, place. Tonight I was reading some Ezra Pound and was struck by a series of statements of his, all variations on “Emotion is an organizer of form”:

“Image refers ultimately to emotional condition. Inside expressable by outside…There must be intense emotion before language simplifies itself to the point of Imag[e].” The greater the emotional energy, the greater the “austerity and the economy of the speech.” Emotion is the “fusing, arranging, unifying force.” It is the “primary energy.” It causes “pattern to arise in the mind.” –Ezra Pound

(Substitute “choreography” for “language” and “speech.”)

Desire: To trust emotion as an organizer of form (rather than habits of deductive reasoning).

Do habits of organizing thought in order to make an argument run counter to the practice of responding instinctively to feeling?

Reluctant Light (the new work) is about the struggle in experiencing intimacy and emotional surrender.

Desire: To be intimate with the dancers with whom I work. To be emotionally intimate with myself.

How can my choreographic process reflect these desires?

Process Thoughts with an HMD Dancer: Roche Janken

What are you working on right now as a dancer in Hope’s process?

Hope’s movement is intelligent and powerful.  It’s been several years since I’ve been asked to work with the precision she requires.  Within a week of our first rehearsal, I was back in ballet class, reminding my toes how point.  It feels fantastic to move in this way, and I’m trying to be patient with myself—I can’t instantly bring her style into my body, but working into it is a pleasure.

In what ways does Hope collaborate with the dancers in the creative process?  What are the rewards or challenges of her collaborative process?

I have to say, this is one of the most genuinely collaborative processes that I’ve ever encountered. Collaboration in dance is a strange beast—oftentimes it looks like editing.  A choreographer will generate movement, a dancer will embody it and manipulate it, and then the choreographer will take what they like of the new material and find a place for it in the dance—much like a collage.  It can be quite fun!  We’ve definitely done this in rehearsal, but in addition, Hope has asked us to share our emotions and thoughts verbally.  This is far more rare.  We spent an entire morning diving into the emotional content of the work, sharing stories and working in the space in a less directed, recognizably productive way.

Because I’m new to Hope’s company, working together can be a bit scary.  So much goes unsaid in any rehearsal process.  Everything we’re sharing is extremely personal—whether we’re focusing on the physical aspect or talking, each interaction can feel like a reflection on Who I Am.  Of course a choreographer makes strategic choices about what they want to put onstage, but when something is passed over, it often feels like a rejection.  Holding onto reality can be tough.  I remind myself Hope is making art, not judging whether I am a good person.  So dramatic!

The reward is that I get to work with material that really matters to me—I can unite Hope’s vision with my own feelings and bring the force of my life and experience with me onstage.

-Roche Janken, HMD Dancer