Group Forms - Midstream Reflection

Looking back on what has occurred thus far in Group Forms this semester, I think the biggest through-line for me right now is the emphasis that we have been placing on building our own artistic and choreographic processes.

I still don’t know what my process is, but I sense that I’m closer to it. As a sophomore—and even up until the fall semester of my junior year, I would say—I used to enter an empty studio and a feel a sense of panic descend upon me, trying to decide where to begin and how to make A Thing. I feel a larger sense of trust in myself and in my body now than I did then.

The way that I approach a study or a movement bank depends on what the task is—if there is one—meaning that I don’t have a set formula. But I do have tools in my tool belt that I am becoming more and more comfortable engaging with. Sometimes I walk into a studio, turn on some music, and start dancing; then I set something from the movement that arises. Sometimes I turn to the skill sets this course has given me—such as scores and fieldwork observations—and say, “I’m going to watch some birds…” or “I’m going to take this element from my worldview and expand upon it through my movement…” and use that as a jumping off point. Or, sometimes, I say, “I’ve got nothing. Let’s do a room read.” However, no matter what path I take to enter into creating movement, I now enter confident that I will make something—and that something, on its own, is A Thing, without me forcing it to be.

This sense of easiness, confidence, and lessened anxiety has been appearing in the rest of my artistic endeavors lately as well, particularly in my creative writing practice (whenever the blue moon occurs that I can sit down and write for my own enjoyment.) It’s always about the process, I have come to find. Process over product.

Another nice thing is that because of this newfound sense of easiness, I have become much more comfortable directing a group. I used to over-generate material for the purpose of directing a group and then just spit it out at them and make them dance it. I actually cannot really work that way anymore. In preparing for our final projects, I’ve found that coming in with one movement phrase or a nugget of an idea is more than enough for me to play with. It has been oddly freeing to walk in the room and not know exactly what’s going to happen. The best happy accidents occur from those open horizons.

I’ve found myself asking questions I never asked before this semester about choreography, as well. I’m wondering what a canon actually is, if it isn’t always the same choreography in evenly-spaced counts, beginning two counts apart…

I'm wondering, what are power dynamics? What makes those a thing? What do I do with them? How do I approach them?

How can I break out of the familiar movement pathways that are so deeply embodied in my kinesthetic knowledge that I don’t even realize I’ve instinctively turned to a familiar pathway until I’m halfway down it? How do I generate new material?

What words do I use to communicate with my dancers, and how do I go about selecting these words? What does proximity do? How can I push the dynamics of my body—go slower than I've ever danced, faster than I've ever moved?

(That is not an exhaustive list of my questions.)

I have so many questions. I think I’ll only find a few answers in my lifetime, if I ever find any. That’s okay. I’ve discovered that wandering on a journey with my dancers is a lot more fun than focusing on creating the end-all, be-all of “Kennedy Center works”—to use Crystal’s phrase.