Choreographer's
Diary
by Leigh Witchel
Day 3 - Friday
Frances had to leave early the day before, so is trying to learn
the phrases she missed, and it's frustrating her. If one is self-producing,
all types of ancillary management skills become as essential
to survival as artistic talent. Managing and adapting to schedules
and dealing with the dancer's needs, complaints and insecurities
are daily events, and there's more than small satisfaction in
handling them successfully and with grace. I choreograph a transitional
phrase for Frances with jumps in it, and she's trying so hard
to show me she can do it accurately that its musicality eludes
her. She seems convinced this is a black mark on her; I just
tell her to go away and work on it, and that it will be fine
later on. The musical cue where to do the phrase eludes her for
the rest of the day. It was a treacherous cue, I choreographed
a phrase isolated from the music and then told her that a jump
in the middle of the dance phrase had to be at a certain note
at the beginning of the musical phrase, and she'd have to work
backwards to figure out where to start. At that moment, I bet
she fiercely wished she were dealing with a choreographer who
worked with counts. I count music so eccentrically that I refuse
to count in rehearsal, not wishing to waste time on having the
dancers decipher my counts. I'll do the phrase in front, with
one of the dancers counting behind me. We then set the phrase
to those counts. It may also vary slightly in translation, but
I enjoy that part of the process. If something is lost in the
transition from my head to their bodies, I'll let them know.
Often, their miscomprehension of what I requested is an improvement
upon it.
Another transition is set for Adriana and Morgan, made from sections
of the phrase Frances just danced. Then a section for Mary. I
smile at her as she listens to the music to which she is about
to dance. "You've given me the dinky phrase again!"
she laughs. Mary is a tiny redhead, and the day before I had
set a step for her that she decided she had to do on "the
dinky phrase," laughing that small dancers always dance
to the dinky phrase. Hearing the next phrase that comes up in
the music, an eccentric little waltz in a high register, I know
she has to dance it, as a private joke between us. The phrase,
a balloné followed by a pas de bourée and a chassé
en tournant is interesting as the timing mutates slightly as
we do it, on the first few attempts, the chassé begins
the phrase, as I demonstrate it again, the balloné more
naturally accents the opening of the phrase. It's almost like
watching an oddly shaped piece of a puzzle rotate and wiggle
into the correct spot.
Mary was laughingly chided by another director "You're not
a dancer, you're an actress masquerading as a dancer." Mary
is actually a rather nice dancer, and thoroughly ballet trained,
but unlike many ballet dancers, she needs to approach repertory
theatrically rather than technically. The advantage to this for
me is that it helps me to clarify what I'm thinking and what
the dance is doing, because she needs and wants to know. I ask
the dancers to show me what we've done up to this point, so I
can see what it is. As they do it, the dance's qualities become
more fully formed, like shapes emerging out of a mist. "You're
not dancing with each other. You're each dancing with an imaginary
partner." I instruct them. I had made a phrase with an imaginary
partner in June, and that had been the original impetus of the
dance. I had such trouble with the men I had worked with last
year that I decided to do a piece without men, that the partners
would be imaginary. Even with that conceit, I hadn't realized
that it would be the controlling impetus of the atmosphere of
the piece, a sort of tenuous connection with reality and the
fantastic. When watching the first five minutes of the work,
I knew that that idea would be brought to the fore and others
discarded. We have just less than six minutes completed when
we break for the weekend.
Day 4 - Monday