I'm really self-centered and narcissistic. When I stole away Jonathan, Alyson and Paul to play with some video for our piece, we left most of the class downstairs in MUS115 working on drumming, under Sara's guidance - working with a percussion teacher from the Music Department (Sara, could you please enter his name here!).
The idea was supposed to be that after Jonathan, Alyson, and Paul got the hang of working with the video, we would go down and recruit the rest of the students to come up and play with the technology. It hadn't even occurred to me that I could be interrupting Sara's work with the rest of the students. So when I got to MUS115 and signaled that we were ready for most of the class to come up to MUS 219 to play with the technology, Sara, almost timidly, asked if we should bring up the percussion instruments and put the music together with the technology.
I said to myself "Oops. I've been pretty presumptuous here." Of course, yes, absolutely, we HAVE to have the percussion there.
Wow. That was a good lesson, because bringing the percussion work Sara was doing to the video work Jonathan, Alyson, and Paul were doing was spectacular. It seemed to me that this session was a great example of what we are looking to investigate. The mixture of the percussion and it's driving, reassuring structure made the movement really natural. Then on top of that, the video images we produced were eye-popping. This was really cool.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Movement and Meaning
As I observe our performers moving through their exercises, I am struck by the profound relationship between movement and meaning.
In older, more traditional forms, the meaning behind the movement is probably more specifically and formally defined - gestures for sadness, elation, love, inspiration, etc. As movement and dance have become more 'modernized' and 'post-modernized' the relationship between specific meanings of movement has become more sophisticated and complex.
I think particularly of the work of the German choreographer Pina Bausch and New York based Trisha Brown, both of whom have at various times been described as 'post-modernist' choreographers. They are, of course, not the only pioneers in this direction, but perhaps the best known on the world scene. Like non-narrative musical composition and other abstract forms, these choreographers often construct compositions based purely on their aesthetic sensibility, with no specific meaning behind them. With both Bausch and Brown, the results are often tantalizing, teasing, and strangely moving. But if there is a meaning drawn from their works, it is not necessarily a meaning specifically intended by the choreographer, but rather a meaning supplied by the viewer.
This is not to say that there isn't some over-arching idea or meaning, but rather an approach to that meaning that is considerably more sophisticated and subtle than simply proposing that 'a' signifies 'b'. Instead, the relationship between movement and meaning can bypass the 'either/or' bifurcation, and can instead be 'either/and' or 'neither'. But because we are 'playing' in a certain intellectual territory, there IS indeed some meaning we should consider.
As I watch Tanya work with our performers, I love the way she sort of brushes aside any specific meaning or message as she plays. The movement of bodies through space is in itself a lovely, engaging process. I don't suppose she has any specific philosophy behind her technique (or maybe she does), but rather just sets out on playing with her performers and seeing where it goes.
Or rather, it seems to me that the relationship between specific meaning and specific movement for Tanya is a very playful one - sometimes strong and specific, sometimes a bit more coquettish, sometimes teasing, sometimes simply for the joy of the movement itself.
There is an interesting side note here too: this free-form method of play never seems to dissolve into anarchy; there always seems to be an evolving structure. Also - just an observation - the wide range of movements and physical gestures suddenly morph into a formal structure the moment the gesture is repeated, especially once they achieve a second repetition of an original movement. In other words, the first time a gesture or movement is performed, it has to succeed or fail on its own. Then when that gesture or movement is repeated, once, then twice, it becomes a part of the physical 'vocabulary' of the exercise.
In older, more traditional forms, the meaning behind the movement is probably more specifically and formally defined - gestures for sadness, elation, love, inspiration, etc. As movement and dance have become more 'modernized' and 'post-modernized' the relationship between specific meanings of movement has become more sophisticated and complex.
I think particularly of the work of the German choreographer Pina Bausch and New York based Trisha Brown, both of whom have at various times been described as 'post-modernist' choreographers. They are, of course, not the only pioneers in this direction, but perhaps the best known on the world scene. Like non-narrative musical composition and other abstract forms, these choreographers often construct compositions based purely on their aesthetic sensibility, with no specific meaning behind them. With both Bausch and Brown, the results are often tantalizing, teasing, and strangely moving. But if there is a meaning drawn from their works, it is not necessarily a meaning specifically intended by the choreographer, but rather a meaning supplied by the viewer.
This is not to say that there isn't some over-arching idea or meaning, but rather an approach to that meaning that is considerably more sophisticated and subtle than simply proposing that 'a' signifies 'b'. Instead, the relationship between movement and meaning can bypass the 'either/or' bifurcation, and can instead be 'either/and' or 'neither'. But because we are 'playing' in a certain intellectual territory, there IS indeed some meaning we should consider.
As I watch Tanya work with our performers, I love the way she sort of brushes aside any specific meaning or message as she plays. The movement of bodies through space is in itself a lovely, engaging process. I don't suppose she has any specific philosophy behind her technique (or maybe she does), but rather just sets out on playing with her performers and seeing where it goes.
Or rather, it seems to me that the relationship between specific meaning and specific movement for Tanya is a very playful one - sometimes strong and specific, sometimes a bit more coquettish, sometimes teasing, sometimes simply for the joy of the movement itself.
There is an interesting side note here too: this free-form method of play never seems to dissolve into anarchy; there always seems to be an evolving structure. Also - just an observation - the wide range of movements and physical gestures suddenly morph into a formal structure the moment the gesture is repeated, especially once they achieve a second repetition of an original movement. In other words, the first time a gesture or movement is performed, it has to succeed or fail on its own. Then when that gesture or movement is repeated, once, then twice, it becomes a part of the physical 'vocabulary' of the exercise.
No Boundaries
One of the things I find most inspiring about the way Tanya works is that she doesn't recognize any boundary between what has traditionally been considered "acting" and "dancing". There are long traditions that encourage expertise and vocabulary in each of these traditions - theatre has its long history of character development, connection between character and text, the actor's creation of a "reality" and so forth. And dancers have traditionally dealt with a tradition of virtuosity - meaning that what we would normally consider "dance" had something of an expertise about it, not to be 'indulged' by amateurs. This history of related but separate growth has given us a remarkable and rich literature in both disciplines, but it has also limited their visions.
At its fundamental roots, both dance, and what we consider acting come from the same atavistic tradition: the expression of ideas bigger than daily commerce. And while Tanya does not hit our student/performers with this overly-intellectualized idea, it's really brilliant to see her approach this way. Because she refuses to recognized the boundaries between acting and dance, her communication of this idea to her performers acts to liberate them. Whereas a young performer might feel intimidated to take on a dance project - if they have no dance background - Tanya's simple, almost child-like approach to play finds these performers throwing themselves into their work like they had years of training.
I think it is largely because of the de-emphasis of virtuosity - that is, how 'talented' a dancer they are - makes the play area an open, inviting space.
At its fundamental roots, both dance, and what we consider acting come from the same atavistic tradition: the expression of ideas bigger than daily commerce. And while Tanya does not hit our student/performers with this overly-intellectualized idea, it's really brilliant to see her approach this way. Because she refuses to recognized the boundaries between acting and dance, her communication of this idea to her performers acts to liberate them. Whereas a young performer might feel intimidated to take on a dance project - if they have no dance background - Tanya's simple, almost child-like approach to play finds these performers throwing themselves into their work like they had years of training.
I think it is largely because of the de-emphasis of virtuosity - that is, how 'talented' a dancer they are - makes the play area an open, inviting space.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Creating "Content"
We don't usually think of performance workshops as 'creating content', in the way we 'create content' for a web site or online service, but the process is very much alike. One of the things that has been most fun about our Projekt process has been building content without any particular goal or agenda. Rather, we just play and see where things go.
It's very, very cool to see that so much of what we create seems to be good content. My fear is that we are just deluding ourselves and flailing about on stage, but my instinct, after many, many years doing this kind of work, is that this is the real deal. The chemistry of not only the three instructors but especially of the student performers makes this particularly fun.
Students with a background in performance tend to 'jump off the cliff' very easily, whether they know what they are doing or not. Tech heads, like our TVF students, want to have the system well understood before they move much, and they chose to be behind the camera because that felt more comfortable to them.
The atmosphere we are developing makes it impossible for the timid to hide in their shell, and for the adventurous to call upon their mates to get out and get on stage with them.
The result is almost an embarrassment of riches: just about every exercise we have done seems to provide interesting, even provocative material. It seems like there is almost nothing that is NOT usable, which is deliriously lovely and a little terrifying: how do we track and capture all the stuff coming our way, and how will we paw through it to decide what to keep and what to discard? It's a little daunting, but what a fabulous position to be in: what from all the rich, cool stuff we've created do we want to keep? How often do you get a choice like that?
It's very, very cool to see that so much of what we create seems to be good content. My fear is that we are just deluding ourselves and flailing about on stage, but my instinct, after many, many years doing this kind of work, is that this is the real deal. The chemistry of not only the three instructors but especially of the student performers makes this particularly fun.
Students with a background in performance tend to 'jump off the cliff' very easily, whether they know what they are doing or not. Tech heads, like our TVF students, want to have the system well understood before they move much, and they chose to be behind the camera because that felt more comfortable to them.
The atmosphere we are developing makes it impossible for the timid to hide in their shell, and for the adventurous to call upon their mates to get out and get on stage with them.
The result is almost an embarrassment of riches: just about every exercise we have done seems to provide interesting, even provocative material. It seems like there is almost nothing that is NOT usable, which is deliriously lovely and a little terrifying: how do we track and capture all the stuff coming our way, and how will we paw through it to decide what to keep and what to discard? It's a little daunting, but what a fabulous position to be in: what from all the rich, cool stuff we've created do we want to keep? How often do you get a choice like that?
The Seriousness of Play
The Projekt Blog
This is a place for members of The Projekt performance project at CSULA to share thoughts and ideas about the project as it develops. We should exchange ideas, observations, criticism, jokes, concepts and the like here. It's a safe space and we want to hear what you have to say.
One of the principles of blogging is that you don't write long, detailed stories, but rather short snippets - observations, insights, and inspirations. So, hit the comment button and start blogging!
This is a place for members of The Projekt performance project at CSULA to share thoughts and ideas about the project as it develops. We should exchange ideas, observations, criticism, jokes, concepts and the like here. It's a safe space and we want to hear what you have to say.
One of the principles of blogging is that you don't write long, detailed stories, but rather short snippets - observations, insights, and inspirations. So, hit the comment button and start blogging!
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