TERM 1 Reflective Essay

Contemporary Performance Practices 1: Reflective Essay

The task of reflecting on 6 months of intense work, with a dozen or so guest artists from all around the globe, is no simple undertaking – their processes, practices, and styles have varied and contradicted enough that you could write an entire paper on this alone. Instead, I think the most valuable thing for me is to look predominantly at the common denominators I’ve noted throughout these workshops, and try to reflect a little on why they’re commonplace and how they can work for me.

Immediately we dove head first into Gecko’s work, which had a large emphasis on breath in movement. This was familiar, but it was a newer concept to allowing the breath to move me. It was interesting to see how it brought the body alive and whole, something that can be missing when movement is performed as a purely physical choreography. It also played into the process of integrating the body and movement with breath and vocals, something that was a focus in Agnieszka’s Gardzienice work. The integration unfortunately remained in a somewhat artificial area, as we were often still stuck trying to comprehend the music itself, but there were points when, as a group, we were able to pull the body and voice into a rhythmical harmony. I think a lot of people in the class dismissed the Gardzienice work, which is a shame, because those rhythm and body/voice integration skills can become essential to individual work, but also in ensemble. Even if you’re not performing something with literal music, this attention to the musicality is essential for keeping in synchronicity.
You can also see a definite difference when someone is performing with a separation in their voice and body – and maybe this can be a choice, but for me I think I find it much more effective to see a single unit that is doing it all. Even Fabre’s work touched on this, with allowing the body to “contaminate” the voice – not so much involved with rhythm or musicality, but still a very difficult task, especially when so much of my previous work has relied on me delivering text despite the way my body was feeling.

Guillaume’s corporeal mime work placed a huge amount of emphasis on the bodily rhythm, or the dynamo rhythm as he called it, in order to create the content of the work – however, there was also a distinct separation of body and voice for him, restricting any vocalising or breath in the work, in order to add text later if needed. You could then have that text integrate into the movement, but it’s interesting to place such a restriction on it in the devising process. At the same time, I also understand that if you set some sort of vocal in the movement making, text may become stuck. The irony in this is how much he as the instructor used vocals to illustrate the dynamo rhythm when we rehearsed the pieces. Maybe not so much irony, but just another example of how rhythm and musicality can be essential in performing compelling movement.

Another factor that seemed to recur with emphasis in almost every single guest artist’s process is that of the imagination – a useful tool in allowing you to create material that goes beyond simple physical gesture, and also a tool for performing. I was seeing this sort of thing with Gecko and Tadashi as some sort of psychological ‘in’ for you as a performer into doing the correct movement, but I came to understand it less psychologically and more imaginatively, especially with Marilena’s work. The concept of the choreography of the mind is a useful way to frame how thought can operate in movement-based work. More often than not, when you’re performing text there’s imagination and psychology involved, but movement, especially non-naturalistic, is more difficult to find motivation for. I find I need something that motivates the movement, otherwise it feels hollow – the concept of choreography of the mind is a useful tool for assigning simple imaginative motivation. The only issue with Jasmin Vardimon’s implementation is that sometimes the phrasing given, like “be scary” opposed to “to scare” can create difficulties, but that’s something to look out for individually in the future.
This element of the imaginative could also be seen as quite undefinable, and although this is somewhat true (and somewhat necessary), the work with SITI company approaches the imaginative in a very grounded and regimented manner with the viewpoints. Just by paying attention to the particular elements of space and time, your mind becomes involved in the work, and consequently your imagination. The power of this simple act of attention is also highlighted by the framing of things. This opens up a whole other area of conversation, but just by framing something mentally, you activate it for yourself, and it’s as if your mind flicks a switch into the mode of making meaning.

Even with Eddie’s work, much of what we were creating was relatively banal, but when framed in certain ways, they can turn into compelling sequences. This then brings into question the frame for the audience, and how you can take control of this in a manner beyond the proscenium arch. Site specific and the mobile audience is all the rage right now, but even in these works there is the classic disconnect between performer and audience. How can we effectively re-determine the frame?

This emphasis on imagination also has a considerable effect on the quality of performance. What I’ve found just by observing others, and also the very explicit focus of many of the guest artists, is that the quality of how you perform something is often more important than the content. Eddie went as far to say that he would rather watch bad choreography performed interestingly, than interesting choreography performed blandly. These qualities come about a lot through the imagination - for instance, the focus on your bones and how they move and change weight is important to Tadashi and Fabre’s work. This is in contrast to changing your skin, which is superficial. Weight also kept coming up as a cornerstone to much of the transformations we went through. Where is the weight, how is it changing and moving? Guillaume highlighted that our weight is always moving, adding to Eddie’s principle that movement is simply the shifting of weight.
Within this single focus on movement quality there’s a number of different processes we engaged in, in order to develop new qualities. Gecko’s major emphasis is on the breath, but we also spent a considerable amount of time learning to be moved. This begins with actually being moved by someone else, but then challenged to have this same sense of being moved, but on your own. Especially in my solo, this task of being moved can be very useful as a simple qualitative shift to add dimension to choreography that otherwise may seem quite devoid of any tension – it’s like it adds another player, an outside force on stage. Yorgos came in hard with the Lorna Marshall inspired work of relaxation and pleasure in the body, and I’m still deciphering the balance between this relaxed performer body and loading this body with other qualities, especially with Fabre’s work which seemed to require a sense of real physical pressure.

I found a lot of comfort and enjoyment with Eddie’s notion of the ‘marking it’ – performing the same choreography at 20% energy. I’m still unpacking exactly why, but this brings a certain watchable quality to the movement. It’s as if the simplicity adds an air of confidence, like the athlete who doesn’t look like they’re working hard, but still blitzes the competition. I think it also brings abstract movement into the realm of daily life, and this contradiction makes a certain tension that I think is visible in a lot of Pina’s work.

There’s also the task (that I would really enjoy trying more) of finding yourself in the work of another. We had this challenge with absorbing the Jasmin Vardimon choreography with Marilena, but also explored it with Tadashi in more focus. Tadashi brought up the very poignant point that it is very unlikely you will ever be able to find the exact same quality as someone else – but that this should be celebrated and enjoyed. Even when we weren’t necessarily trying to follow another’s quality, it reminded me to stop focussing outwards on imitation, but rather pay attention to the core of what we’re doing and bring myself to that. That it is really about you finding your authenticity in something that is not your own.

This idea of authenticity is something I’ve always known I struggle with, but has come to the fore in a lot of ways. I don’t want to start psycho-analysing myself or anything, but I have personality traits that affect my work. Not walls in terms of dark emotional secrets or anything, but I think I have emphasised for so long the attributes of efficiency and resilience. These qualities have helped me get where I am now, but I’m finding that they’re also holding me back from a vulnerability that is seeming more and more essential to making interesting work. I see this quality in others in the class, and there have been certain points when I have been able to access them myself – Yorgos’ honesty exercise, as well as Fabre’s ecstasy – but I’m hoping to more and more allow myself to bring this vulnerability into the room, even if it means sacrificing a little bit of that efficiency.

Even recently in the solo, it became clear that I am still struggling with listening to myself and my body, and finding that honesty. Fabre’s work, however inefficient in my mind, can be very helpful in training this listening.
When I next make work, which is looking to be our group devised pieces in spring, I think I want to try and take a back seat a little, to allow myself to be taken to more unexpected places and keep finding this access that I’m starting to see as so essential.

There’s just as much, if not more, to be said about the various processes of making work that we have explored as a group.
Firstly, the balance between generation and composition shifted between artists, and myself. For me, I think I can say that I am a composition guy, rather than a material maker. I work almost backwards – where do I want to end up? Great, now let’s make the material to get there. For a lot of these artists, they encouraged a making without a concrete end goal in sight, and this was difficult for me to grasp. Maybe it comes down to my lack of intrinsic motivation, but I found it difficult to generate material without a specific shape or frame to fill. At the very least, there was always an impetus to make the work from, such as a theme, or a quality, or a task. These tasks might be the most significant development in how I approach making the work, as they seem to strike a balance between the concrete and the abstract. For example, the theme of love is difficult generate material from, but the concrete task of writing the letters L-O-V-E on the wall with your body is infinitely more approachable. Doing this for two weeks with Eddie was daunting at first, but then became far more enjoyable. Not to mention I became quite sick at one point and that added a whole other level of pragmatism. When it became purely about just getting the task done, the material became much easier to make, as I wasn’t in an editing mode – I just didn’t care enough. Now, obviously you want to always care a little about what you’re making, but it’s really shown me how productive it can be to just let go of the bigger picture and self-editing, in order to generate. Once I have that material too, I can then shape it, which for me is the more enjoyable part.

Something that’s become quite prominent recently in the solo process as well, is the idea of frame and structure. Guillaume’s work created structure and frame alongside and in response to the material being generated, whilst Fabre’s work emphasised freedom in larger structures. I understand that I find pieces with clear structure far more appealing than the more free-form montage – but then I can also say that works like The Great Tamer had me hooked all the way through. Why? I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has something to do with what Guillaume said at one point: “You can go to the moon if you want to, you just have to take the audience with you.” This really highlighted that it’s not so much what you’re doing, but how you’re opening the door for the audience to follow (or not, that’s just another choice in the end), and this could be through a variety of strategies.

Referencing the specific process of creating a solo work, it’s reinforced the benefits of collaboration in practice. Firstly, just having a single other mind to bounce off of widens potential creative thinking by a large margin, and improves motivation by making you accountable to someone other than just yourself. Of course, we were always able to get feedback from others in the solo process, but that’s quite different to having someone else attached to the project, with a significant interest in the material. Generally, this mutual interest leads to the all-powerful creative friction that I’ve realised I love so much, because it often generates critical thought and high levels of creativity. At the same time, I’ve realised in many of the guest artists’ practices, they still always have a hierarchy towards a director, or single creative entity. Pina Bausch, Gecko, SITI, Jan Fabre, Gardzienice, Jasmin Vardimon, and to an extent TheatreRe, are all companies based around a single creative entity. I think that you need to have someone who can be focussing on curating and composition, so company members can shift their focus more to generating content, because trying to do both at the same time is increasingly problematic.

It also makes me think a lot about how I want to be operating as an artist going forward – am I going to be content as a performer/maker in a company? Or is the path to focus on the one of my own personal practice? I think there’s a security with working in a company, but I am also wary of losing my personal practice in service of another’s. How Amit spoke about Gecko’s operations seems to be a fairly ideal situation: the company members have their own projects and other commitments, but come back together for each project. It could be a great way to be expanding your own “greatest hits” as Stacy put it, while also being able to stretch in another direction when you’re back with the company. If ever I am so lucky, this could be great.
Tadashi, Stacy, and Iona had a lot to say about how to navigate this back and forth of your own personal style. For a long time, I think I’ve been in two minds about my practice and skills as a performer – part of me is proud of what I can do, but at the same time I am always thinking that I need to be able to step away from myself, and in the making process this can be a difficult thing to overcome. What I’ve been able to begin enjoying more and more throughout this entire journey, is seeing my skillset as a foundation, that I can always have with me when I’m stuck, but, to always have an awareness of finding the new.

As a final note to this messy summary of thoughts, I think I want to touch on the usefulness of having these learning and creativity classes running alongside our studio work. I don’t think I’ve ever been made aware of the learning and creativity process in such a detailed manner before, and I can definitely say that it’s led to some deeper insights for myself and the work along the way. CPPM has been uncomfortable and strange in many ways so far, but this unease is key to transformative learning – and I hope I am transforming myself through all this, even just a bit.