Dance Journal (because it seemed relevant somehow).
The woman who oversees casting for Disney Theatrical came in and talked to our musical theatre studio class the other day. I was actually really disappointed. I’ve auditioned several times for Disney in New York, and have had really wonderful experiences, so I thought, “Hey - there’s at least a company out there that I’m really marketable for… They may not be making the most mind-blowing artistic statements in the world, but it’s fun, right?” Not at all. She was so… corporate. All she talked about was our clothes, and how high we could belt, and how much money all these people are spending to come from Iowa to see us on Broadway. It was all about the product - and the product wasn’t very exciting, either. She looked like a cross between a mom on her way to a PTA meeting, and a pink-tinted business executive, and she seemed to want the same out of us. I was just so turned off…
This has a point, I promise. The funny thing about going to school for art is that it’s like they’re trying to force you to get on a train that’s already left the station. Yes, the market’s looking for pop-rock right now… but I mean, when you realize that the “market” is really the white, 55-year-old, balding Christian men who front the money for “The Little Mermaid,” it probably means that something way the hell more interesting and new is beginning on the fringe. And by the time I really come into my own, (say, at thirty) the kids that are doing that new exciting stuff will have grown up with me and come into their own, too. And then we’ll be unstoppable. So my job now is to get the training and the experience and to do what’s exciting to me, right? It’s not my job to worry about the market.
…So I guess I’m writing this here because I feel like, so far, modern dance is the closest thing I’ve encountered in the dance world to “not worrying about the market”. I love that it feels more like an exploration than a “performance” (at least in the crowd-pleasing, money-making sense). It’s like, “What if? What if I ignored the counts for a second? What if doing that threw me for the whole song, and I discovered a cool, new accent? What if I break this movement in half instead of letting it get too pretty? What if my body bends this way? What if I’m sensual - not in the coy, jazzy way, but in this wonderfully earthy and honest and funny and childlike way? What if the energy I’m feeling makes me jump spastically for no good reason?” It’s a lesson I hope to take with me into acting and singing and the whole rest of my life - TRY IT. Play. See what happens. And then when you have to make a decision about what to keep, keep what’s satisfying, and challenging, and interesting to you.
Does even the world of modern dance get caught up in “the market” I wonder? I mean, it’s been “around” in some form for a while now, so it has to have made some money. As a modern choreographer, do you ever catch yourself worrying too much about what the audience will think, or the demographic you’re “selling” to? Is it easier not to do that because (for now, at least) modern is still a little fringier? Or do you never escape? -Or on the flipside, do you find that it gets indulgent sometimes? Or masturbatory (you know what I mean - in the “artsy” sense)? When is it honest, and when is it splattering paint on a canvas and calling it a “masterpiece”? I mean, poems don’t have to rhyme. But there’s a point when poetry loses so much of its structure that it just isn’t poetry anymore. As a choreographer or a painter or a writer - or an actor, how do you walk that line?
Ha. The Disney lady also emphasized the importance of taking absurd amounts of dance classes. Tap is coming back, she says. And man, do I need some more ballet training. …Will I ever get there? I love movement. I love it. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be at a point where I’ll really be able to call myself a true “dancer” - at least in the “marketable” sense. I think I really could move very beautifully, truthfully I mean, if I was given the chance and the time… but will I ever get it? Will anyone ever want to see what I’ve got? Or will they be too stuck in whether or not I can pick up the choreography in ten minutes at an audition? And I know I can still train, and take class, and improve my technique, and think faster… but I’ll always feel behind, I think…
I am learning to be more patient with myself, to build in more time. I used to tighten up the second I missed a step, and all I could fit in my mind is “GET THIS GET THIS GET THIS… WHY AREN’T YOU GETTING THIS?!” which leaves no room to actually experience the movement or enjoy it or even to learn it. Lately I’ve just been allowing myself to step back and think, “Okay, so we’re learning this right now, we’re in the middle of a process. There’s time to solidify this. Ooh! What was that? I’ll have to figure that part out for myself…”. As it turns out, that gives me room to problem solve, and to fit the movement into my own form, get it in my body, instead of mimicking the people next to me. I can feel it sinking into me more. Like, it’s flowing into my head and my body both at the same time. They’re working together now, instead of my brain bossing my limbs around. And of course, it is by no means all there yet. Especially when I know I’ve only got a few tries to make it happen, I lose it again - like the degage exercise with the diagonal arms. I still tighten down and muscle through that one - and you can see it in my furrowed eyebrows and the way I clench my fists. A few times I’ve been able to let go enough to notice where my hands are, and that’s a big step forward, I think. I know now that I need to relax in order to be specific. It’s unbelievable how much your body knows on it’s own, if you just trust it.
A few other details… tracking my standing leg, making sure I keep my hips square when I tondue in turnout to the back, remembering to tighten my core to help balance - they’re all things I’m keeping in mind. I need to relax my shoulders and my neck - everywhere, not just in dance. But again, the key to all of this seems to be patience with myself. When I’m too worried about doing it right, I don’t allow myself the time to scan and see that things are in line. So often I’m in such a hurry to “do something” that I don’t allow myself the opportunity to really DO it. ….And man, it feels so good when I line myself up… I just need to remember that.
And then on the other hand, here I am, feeling panicked and crunched for time again. My god, I’m almost a senior. In about a year, I’ll have to pay for dance classes on my own - will I give that to myself, allow myself that time, or will I once again jump the gun, expect perfection in every audition without giving myself the necessary preparation, and then berate myself for not being talented when I have trouble? Am I ever going to learn this lesson, or is it going to continue smacking me in the face as it has my whole life, each time I think I’ve finally figured it out?
I think you’ve probably gathered by now that this isn’t just about dance… which is for the better, I guess. That’s what education is, anyway, right? It’s funny how everything seems to tie together. Because I do this in studio, too. Ha- and in piano lessons! You would not believe the way I rush ahead during my scales, having given myself no time to get oriented in the key- or the way I dive into a scene from Uncle Vanya sometimes without taking in the door, or the chair, or the window, or even my scene partner, because I feel obligated to some expectation of what needs to happen that doesn’t even exist - that I made up!
…..I also think I don’t put nearly the amount of work into my work that I should. I need need need to take those dance classes when I leave college, because I seem to have it in my head that I should have superhuman abilities and get everything perfect, and that if I don’t “have it” by now, I’ll never get it. But I’m finally starting to acknowledge that that’s not true. I started a little late in dance, but I’ve improved dramatically over the last several years as I’ve taken different classes, and even the problems I thought I’d never fix, like picking up choreography, are beginning to chip away.
And I have time. So much time. Not just “until I’m thirty” or “until I’m too old to play ingénues” or “until my arthritis gets me”. Art is something that will continue to wind through me and grow in me and flow out of me and feed into me and explode from me until I’m one hundred and four and can hardly move or talk and have to sing through my nose and dance with my fingers.
…That’s all I want, really.
This has a point, I promise. The funny thing about going to school for art is that it’s like they’re trying to force you to get on a train that’s already left the station. Yes, the market’s looking for pop-rock right now… but I mean, when you realize that the “market” is really the white, 55-year-old, balding Christian men who front the money for “The Little Mermaid,” it probably means that something way the hell more interesting and new is beginning on the fringe. And by the time I really come into my own, (say, at thirty) the kids that are doing that new exciting stuff will have grown up with me and come into their own, too. And then we’ll be unstoppable. So my job now is to get the training and the experience and to do what’s exciting to me, right? It’s not my job to worry about the market.
…So I guess I’m writing this here because I feel like, so far, modern dance is the closest thing I’ve encountered in the dance world to “not worrying about the market”. I love that it feels more like an exploration than a “performance” (at least in the crowd-pleasing, money-making sense). It’s like, “What if? What if I ignored the counts for a second? What if doing that threw me for the whole song, and I discovered a cool, new accent? What if I break this movement in half instead of letting it get too pretty? What if my body bends this way? What if I’m sensual - not in the coy, jazzy way, but in this wonderfully earthy and honest and funny and childlike way? What if the energy I’m feeling makes me jump spastically for no good reason?” It’s a lesson I hope to take with me into acting and singing and the whole rest of my life - TRY IT. Play. See what happens. And then when you have to make a decision about what to keep, keep what’s satisfying, and challenging, and interesting to you.
Does even the world of modern dance get caught up in “the market” I wonder? I mean, it’s been “around” in some form for a while now, so it has to have made some money. As a modern choreographer, do you ever catch yourself worrying too much about what the audience will think, or the demographic you’re “selling” to? Is it easier not to do that because (for now, at least) modern is still a little fringier? Or do you never escape? -Or on the flipside, do you find that it gets indulgent sometimes? Or masturbatory (you know what I mean - in the “artsy” sense)? When is it honest, and when is it splattering paint on a canvas and calling it a “masterpiece”? I mean, poems don’t have to rhyme. But there’s a point when poetry loses so much of its structure that it just isn’t poetry anymore. As a choreographer or a painter or a writer - or an actor, how do you walk that line?
Ha. The Disney lady also emphasized the importance of taking absurd amounts of dance classes. Tap is coming back, she says. And man, do I need some more ballet training. …Will I ever get there? I love movement. I love it. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be at a point where I’ll really be able to call myself a true “dancer” - at least in the “marketable” sense. I think I really could move very beautifully, truthfully I mean, if I was given the chance and the time… but will I ever get it? Will anyone ever want to see what I’ve got? Or will they be too stuck in whether or not I can pick up the choreography in ten minutes at an audition? And I know I can still train, and take class, and improve my technique, and think faster… but I’ll always feel behind, I think…
I am learning to be more patient with myself, to build in more time. I used to tighten up the second I missed a step, and all I could fit in my mind is “GET THIS GET THIS GET THIS… WHY AREN’T YOU GETTING THIS?!” which leaves no room to actually experience the movement or enjoy it or even to learn it. Lately I’ve just been allowing myself to step back and think, “Okay, so we’re learning this right now, we’re in the middle of a process. There’s time to solidify this. Ooh! What was that? I’ll have to figure that part out for myself…”. As it turns out, that gives me room to problem solve, and to fit the movement into my own form, get it in my body, instead of mimicking the people next to me. I can feel it sinking into me more. Like, it’s flowing into my head and my body both at the same time. They’re working together now, instead of my brain bossing my limbs around. And of course, it is by no means all there yet. Especially when I know I’ve only got a few tries to make it happen, I lose it again - like the degage exercise with the diagonal arms. I still tighten down and muscle through that one - and you can see it in my furrowed eyebrows and the way I clench my fists. A few times I’ve been able to let go enough to notice where my hands are, and that’s a big step forward, I think. I know now that I need to relax in order to be specific. It’s unbelievable how much your body knows on it’s own, if you just trust it.
A few other details… tracking my standing leg, making sure I keep my hips square when I tondue in turnout to the back, remembering to tighten my core to help balance - they’re all things I’m keeping in mind. I need to relax my shoulders and my neck - everywhere, not just in dance. But again, the key to all of this seems to be patience with myself. When I’m too worried about doing it right, I don’t allow myself the time to scan and see that things are in line. So often I’m in such a hurry to “do something” that I don’t allow myself the opportunity to really DO it. ….And man, it feels so good when I line myself up… I just need to remember that.
And then on the other hand, here I am, feeling panicked and crunched for time again. My god, I’m almost a senior. In about a year, I’ll have to pay for dance classes on my own - will I give that to myself, allow myself that time, or will I once again jump the gun, expect perfection in every audition without giving myself the necessary preparation, and then berate myself for not being talented when I have trouble? Am I ever going to learn this lesson, or is it going to continue smacking me in the face as it has my whole life, each time I think I’ve finally figured it out?
I think you’ve probably gathered by now that this isn’t just about dance… which is for the better, I guess. That’s what education is, anyway, right? It’s funny how everything seems to tie together. Because I do this in studio, too. Ha- and in piano lessons! You would not believe the way I rush ahead during my scales, having given myself no time to get oriented in the key- or the way I dive into a scene from Uncle Vanya sometimes without taking in the door, or the chair, or the window, or even my scene partner, because I feel obligated to some expectation of what needs to happen that doesn’t even exist - that I made up!
…..I also think I don’t put nearly the amount of work into my work that I should. I need need need to take those dance classes when I leave college, because I seem to have it in my head that I should have superhuman abilities and get everything perfect, and that if I don’t “have it” by now, I’ll never get it. But I’m finally starting to acknowledge that that’s not true. I started a little late in dance, but I’ve improved dramatically over the last several years as I’ve taken different classes, and even the problems I thought I’d never fix, like picking up choreography, are beginning to chip away.
And I have time. So much time. Not just “until I’m thirty” or “until I’m too old to play ingénues” or “until my arthritis gets me”. Art is something that will continue to wind through me and grow in me and flow out of me and feed into me and explode from me until I’m one hundred and four and can hardly move or talk and have to sing through my nose and dance with my fingers.
…That’s all I want, really.