A work founded on the original contributions of several individuals, its public life was short lived, culminating with two “final” performances at the end of August, 2009. What I have learned from the experience continues to have its effect and I look forward to exploring further the questions of creative process and product that Find Me in Here raised.

Similarly, I am always eager to engage with your comments and questions and look forward to many conversations about dance, performance, and creative work.

esther m palmer

We loved dancing at Green Space –relishing the smooth wooden floor to turn and glide on, the emotionally framing lights, the palpable silence that made room for the rhythms of the piece. Find Me in Here was meant to be seen in these intimate surroundings, meant to be casual and formal all at once. Taking it out to the parks was educationally disorienting –but also a thrill because for all that was missing in the “normal” of dance’s* context, I think viewers still found moments that drew them in with the same rapt focus, that saw the dance standing on its own two feet in the noise and bustle of public life. Wherever and however it’s meant to be seen as a production, the dance can convey wonders regardless of setting. Wonders, questions, moments of pause, confusion, delight, disgust –the same range of emotions, albeit easier to spend time with in the concert setting, are available anywhere. At least, so it seemed with Find Me in Here.

*I use the term “dance” here in a very limited capacity, not intending to encompass all its diverse forms and understandings, barely even referring to all of concert dance, mostly just meaning to discuss my own work.

My work has for the past several years in one way or another been concerned with the perspective of the audience. Not only how to give them a particular view, but also how to tap into their entirely unpredictable responses and use those to fulfill the piece. Putting Find Me in Here outside in the parks to be viewed by seated audiences and passersby alike, I first notice the parts of the piece that fall short because the audience is not “captive.” I do not expect that those who are seated will remain so throughout and I expect even less that passers who stop will pause for long. In this way a traditional theatrical audience is different. Of course they are not actually captive in their seats, but the understanding is there that they have committed to seeing this performance. And particularly with contemporary and/or experimental and/or small-theatre work, there is more and more the knowledge that one’s role may include more than simply sitting docile and quiet. Which means there’s a level of commitment both in time and in participation that makes much of my work possible. I am counting on the audience being there so that we can examine the viewer/viewee relationship, so that I can play in the delicious zone of uncertainty that is how the audience sees the performers and vice versa.

It was also a delight to see the piece in such a large and yet contained (the playground is fenced in) space. The dancers ate it up, beautifully withstanding the merciless concrete. Though the work is designed to make use of Green Space’s intimate venue, I saw a whole new kind of dance with the boundaries removed.

More adventures from Find Me in Here next week when we put dance in the busy Athens Square.

It’s a great article to introduce dance to the new audiences (which is one of the aims of this project). Since this blog is a project record, I’d also like to note that the final quote from me is either incorrect or out of context -or at any rate, I do not believe that dance is different from the other arts in that it does not have boundaries. In fact, I’m not even sure I know what it means for an art to have boundaries, but taking a stab at comprehending it, I’m going to say all art forms have boundaries and that dance is no exception.

Our friends had lots of nice things to say about the show (I am still setting up coffee klatches to hear also the constructive and critical words) which was heartwarming for our opening. We captivated some passers-by (two of whom got sucked into a little ol’ audience participation!), which was perhaps the greatest highlight for me.

The dancers performed so elegantly in the grass, you’d never guess how much more difficult than dancing in the studio it is! I saw the piece with a new clarity and my mind is a rush with ideas for continuing to develop it (for though it is now being performed for the public, it is still a young work that requires continued attention).

I will put up video clips from the show soon, and next week share notes on how we’re making some changes… until then, join us at Doughboy Plaza (aka Windmuller Park) in Woodside. There are many ways to approach the park, but if you navigate to 55th St + Woodside Avenue, you should be able to find us.

We look forward to seeing you out on Sunday July 26 at 2pm (perfect picnic time, too!).

How are you engaging with the process of creating this piece?
How does creating your own material and then seeing it on your fellow dancers effect your performance of the work?
How do you feel about being responsible for so much material without “having a say” in how it is used?
Do you feel that this is a collaborative choreographic process or something else (maybe merely a directed choreographic process)?

Sarah
This process has been a little confusing for me, honestly. I think it is mostly due to the fact that I was brought in half-way through the rehearsal process. It seemed as though we were just playing around and then suddenly a structure appeared. It has been exciting in that way. There is a whole “behind-the-scenes” development on your part that you attempt to share with us but always seems like it comes out of nowhere to me. Its interesting in that way because all of the material has a specific theme and so it all fits together nicely, but it’s always a lovely surprise to find out what you intend to do with it all.

I think it becomes conversational. Especially when we are working without mirrors, the others become your mirror in a way. You see their version of what they saw you do, which may or may not be different from how you did it, whether be it the style, how it feels, or just a different interpretation. Seeing my choreography on the other dancers makes me clarify it for myself. I ask myself, “Is that what it looks like on me?”, “Is that what I envisioned it to look like when I made up the phrase?” “I think I do that movement different each time…”

I’m not much of a believer in every dancer needing to look exactly the same doing a movement phrase so it’s interesting to me what I found the need to clarify on the other dancers, what became most important to the phrase, etc. Some things ended up changing as I taught the phrase and saw them perform it as well. That’s when it seemed most conversational. When I went back to doing the phrase by myself, I found I was more comfortable with my own movement having discussed it a bit.

I feel that this is very much a directed choreographic process. It is a collaboration but there is a clear director, it is not like we are trying to decide the outcome of the piece. The movement we create help guide the piece in a certain direction but it is ultimately, and decidedly up to you as the director to take responsibility for its development. I should say though, that even though we, the dancers, are providing most of the movement, it becomes less possessive as the piece as a whole has progressed. I still have a connection with the material that I have created but it is beginning to feel as though it belongs to the piece more than it belongs to me. I think this also has to do with the fact that there were specific requests with all of the material developed…

Creating Find Me in Here hasn’t been a straightforward process. So many of my choices along the way were “playing” like you say. I was trying this and trying that just to see what would happen, but at the same time I was moving with caution because I needed to rely on your investments as dancers and as people –tools to be used with care. In this, it took a long time before I found a direction that felt comfortable to explore. And then from there, I “simply” looked at all the relevant pieces I had – the stories and movement you all had shared with me – and started building up what I saw.

This piece has been about exploring individuality within a group, and what I found is that there’s no real summary to offer, no broad conclusion or statement that interests me –instead, each of your stories, like each of your movement contributions, has intrigued me for being its own experience. And in the end, that’s what I’ve been working from to build the piece we have now.

Hsiao-Wei
Basically, I think I am a dancer not a collaborative choreographer in this process. Choreographer asks dancers to create some movements for following his/her mind. In the beginning of this process, I was quite struggled by asking to create something after choreographer gave us some abstract questions. I remember Pina Bausch ever said that she was curious more about why people move rather than how to move. Maybe because English is not my first language, I got less and indefinite information from choreographer. I created my movement from limited concept. It was really difficult for me. I couldn’t move without having something to say. Few weeks (or months?!?) later, I found there is a good way to solve my problem. Imagination!!

I didn’t study the questions word for word. I found my answers first and, of course, they were not very clear. They were more like feelings or imaginings. Then I easily made my movements. I enlarged more about my personal character, I felt more comfortable and at ease. So when I learned about other dancers’ material, I had no idea what they wanted to “say” and where their movements came from. I was frustrated again. The more challenging thing was that every material can be rearranged. And this process is so experimental. Different number of dancers, different order and different quality of movement –they make the whole piece so different. Although the material is always the same, choreographer tries to find the best or most meaningful way to present it.

I’m both sorry that you’ve had an at times frustrating experience and excited to hear how you worked through it. Dance embraces the abstractness and the specificity of movement -communicating clearly while still not being easily translated into words or some other form. We can read and understand movement, but it’s an unsure and scary process because we don’t generally tune in to the sensitivity to movement that we all have. We don’t listen to our own perceptions because we have verbal language –a codified communication tool that is exercised to the point that it provides the “clearest” transport of information, such that we do not always embrace other ways to perceive and read as equally valid. We get nervous with ambiguity and vagueness –which perhaps are only such because we are not skilled in reading different forms of communication.
But the important thing to mention in relation to this piece specifically is that while I gave you all specific concepts to respond to in creating movement, the connection of the movement to the idea was only important to me in that it existed for you –which is why I tried not to challenge your creations. Any editing I did was either part of my fumbling process or simply a matter of making the movement fit my aesthetic preferences within the greater structure.

Hsiao-Ting
When I came back to Taiwan, I went to see the “New Black” of Ultima Vez. The choreographer is Wim Vandekeybus. After the performance, there was a discussion meeting with Wim and dancers. I remember someone asked him, “Why choose the simple black? What is the connection between the music and New Black?” And Wim said, “There is no one black. There are red black, blue black, brown black, yellow black…..It’s not simple. Just like an emotion, I want the terror in the piece, but I don’t tell the scared story. However, the powerful music could help dancers afraid. ” So, Wim tried to develop an environment, to make us feel fright, helpless through the power of the dancers and power of the music. We even need not known what are they afraid of? Why choose the black to present the terror? What the movement means? Why the dancers naked at the beginning and then wear the clothes later? Yes, we always have lots of questions after a show, especially a contemporary work. But the point is dancing not like reading a book. It won’t tell you a story, from beginning to the end. It deliveries a message or gives you an imagine.

I realize that there is no exact answer in art. What the choreographer chose for the piece directly represents the style of him or her. So what is Esther’s thinking? What does she want to tell the audiences? What environment or atmosphere do we build up? What message should we tell the audiences? Why we need to rehearse outside of the stage? Do we have connection to the nature? For me, the process of creating this piece or creating my own materials is the process of “questions”. It’s quite interesting to stand aside seeing the whole piece creating and participate in the group working together at the same time!

Indeed! My work is always about questions. I think answers in art are so dreadfully boring. I want the audience to get inside the process of dance (especially when we’re outside; we’re performing in the parks to reach people new to dance), asking questions, seeing questions, exploring this creation with you. The environment of the piece for you all is straight up dancing: you’re making a dance, you’re making it up as you go, you’re being yourselves and also being in the group (lost in the group a little bit)… what’s the result? What are the new questions?