my blank wall.

by Erica

My creative mind is constantly running. Like, I’m talking Iron Man training stuff.

(Except I feel that my brain would be wearing cuter trainers…maybe)

I’ve got my hand dipped in a lot of different honey pots. But I like to connect them. That’s how I get to ‘scratching,’ as Tharp calls it. I’ll talk about my choreographing process first, because I do it more than writing and it comes more naturally. I guess I have to start by talking about how I view dance, or what ‘dance’ means to me. A particular moment comes to mind. Middle school. Community recital. Our studio owner called us up onto the stage and passed a microphone around to each of us so that we could explain what ‘dance meant to us.’ After a plethora of answers bordering this response: ‘I love dance because it’s my family, these are my friends and we get to do what we love with each other’  yadda yadda yadda — I responded with one single sentence. ‘Dance is like poetry through the body,’ and trust me, the jokes never ended. Branded a geek for life. But I don’t apologize for my passions. It’s true. Dancers are the Shakespeare of body language. And quite frankly, body language constitutes for about 70% of communication. Dance to me, is a form of communication; it’s a conversation with an audience. And quite frankly, I feel privileged that I can emote through physical movement. I don’t know how people listen to music without this ability. We dance to emote. We dance to make up for words can’t – because let’s be real here, words are outdated. This is what I have to know before I begin choreographing. What conversation am I going to have?

As I choreograph, I need a scene. Like I said, I also write films and plays. I need an aesthetic. I create a vivid world in my mind. I need to do this, so I know where to place my dancers (my actors); how are they going to communicate with each other? What type of communication is prompted by the world I put them in? This is how I begin to create. This is how the scratching begins. I transform an empty studio space and let the mirrors reflect an imaginary scene I’ve created. The dancers are my actors, and their bodies form the words they might’ve spoken. It’s like a silent film. A concave of the shoulders and chest expresses the beginnings of aggression, a sadness, a vulnerability. The sway of the hips represent a confidence, a subtle tone of sexuality maybe. A single arm movement, in the way its executed, could show complete control. I might have to geek out for a second – but it’s beautiful the way that a dancer can control their body. It’s powerful.

(It’s hypnotizing, right? And I can’t even begin to talk about what it’s like to see it live) 

I like to work in empty spaces. I hate being around other people. When other people are around, I feel judgmental. Or I feel judged? Or I feel there’s all these weird things about skewed perceptions – who really cares in the long run? I feel cluttered. When I create in a space where I can be alone, I can focus. Let me not forget to mention that I have the most severe forms of ADD. I don’t like to constantly create in the same space. I get far too bored with routine – despite what Tharp claims. The process stays the same, I like to switch up locations to get new perspectives. I’m interested in expanding my mind, and my ability to think beyond borders. Being in new spaces is integral to this process. If I’m writing I’ll drive to a book store and tuck myself in a small corner. I’ll drive anywhere that seems like it might be interesting. And I tuck myself away. If I’m writing – I also always bring a Mountain Lodge Yankee Candle; I guess it’s part of my mantra….and I think it smells good. For choreography, I like to be outside. I’ll bring headphones and go to a park. I went hiking once. That was pretty cool. A lot of the time though, I find myself doing choreography in my room. I work on deadlines so it’s hard to be able to get to cool spaces all the time. My room is the place where I feel most comfortable. I can dance wearing whatever I want. I can play the music as loud as I want. And I’m not afraid to experiment with new shapes.

For fun, I can walk you through my process a little. I’ll use my most recent dance:

‘This is the most recent dance I choreographed (it’s messy – dress rehearsal stuff). This came out of a deadline. We get groups we choreograph for the year and we have a date choreography starts. That date was looming near and I had no clues. No inspiration. So, instead of homework – I watched the Bling Ring one night. That was interesting. Youth culture. Rebellion. Life without restrictions. What does one do when one gets bored? It was all really interesting to me. I channelled poster children like Kate Moss, George May Jagger. As the song states, ‘super rich kids with nothing but fake friends,’ and thought about what that would look like. I’m deeply involved in the process of creating the dance. I pick the music, I cut the music, I design the costumes, and I choreograph the routine. Leather rompers. Black cat-eye shades. A kind of cool slinky song that crashes into crazy, rhythmic pulsating beats. And I wanted weird movement. Strong, hard hitting, but just that much of a bit off – because they can. Because of who they are. And that was the ending product. Looking back, the only thing that might’ve made it better would’ve been a fur vest. And for this particular video, more cleaning. I’ve since changed a few parts. But you know, creativity is never really settled. I don’t think I’ll  ever be 100% happy with a product because I’m constantly seeing ways that I can change things and make them better both aesthetically, musically, technically – you name it.