Tomorrow at BAX, Erin and I will show each other the solos we've been working on for our February and March performances.
Working on a solo is a different kind of working for me at this point. It's not only for one person, but in this case it's on myself. I've been finding that simple is better, but at the same time... am I getting too repetitive? I tend to use repetition and let it adapt to where I'm going with the work, and sometimes I become concerned that I'm overusing my "words." But when you don't have your usual opportunity to step aside as a non-participating/dancing choreographer, your crappy video footage becomes your only eyes.
Dudes, this girl needs a tripod!
I started with linking movement phrases from previous ideas that I've had or have shown elsewhere, and let them morph and evolve to what I have now (which is still evolving every time I step into the studio). What I do find difficult is the unknowing and uncertainty about what I am creating. What does it look like I'm saying? Is it accurate, or at least not so far off that it's presenting a completely different image/message? How can I portray my message without blatantly spelling it out? Even tonight as I watched my 30 minute set movement into the both loose and structured improvisation, I saw things I "liked" and things I didn't "like," but the message I received right after moving was different from when I watched it a few hours later. And further, it was different when thinking about it after that. Also, the feelings I experienced when moving contrasted from the feelings I encountered when watching myself move on video.
Then I ask - are these differences wrong? My optimistic and open-minded response is no, but my stubborn and insecure side thinks differently.
How do the geniuses do it? How is it that they manage to communicate, to the on-lookers, the message they are expressing? Or do they? Did they get their message across? Did they portray their ideas?
While standing on my soap box for what felt like 3 hours in my living room with my husband, I begged and pleaded with the world to understand that art is important and that no one should be able to say that it isn't. I try to remind my critical self of this when I begin to doubt my creative process and investigation. It doesn't matter how I make work. It doesn't matter if the work isn't "successful." What matters is that I put the situation out there - that I "talked" about it; that I offered an opinion or option to someone.
Again, I've strayed from my original idea of discussing making work on myself as a soloist, but my long day, which was filled with a wide range of topics and soap-box moments, called for a place for me to put these ideas down. And here you are reading them. And, if I'm lucky, you're thinking about art - your work, or someone else's. Any part of it, doesn't matter.
Adios, my friends. Footage to come.
Alexandra
