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[Intro/Disclaimer: this is a little recap of my experience
in
Deborah Hay’s SPCP 2012 wherein I was one of 20 dancers that learned the
solo “Dynamic.” It’s for myself, for patrons of the solo, for other “dynamic”
practitioners whom I hope are writing their own accounts, for those interested
in her work and I’m sorry that it reads a little bit like, dear diary. . .
but I’m out of practice with writing.
It may at times sound like insider jargon.
Again, my apologies.
To the one random stranger who reads this, feel free to get in touch if you want more info.]
w h a t y o u t h i n k y o u n e e d
I’m already skipping parts:
the taking seven kinds of transportation to get there, the turbulence
that almost made me vomit coming into Scotland, the breathtaking bus ride, welcome
night at the pub, the first night of quiet deep sleep. Advance, advance,
advance.
We meet at Universal Hall (I manage to get a little lost on
my way of course which seems impossible in retrospect) and begin a tour of the
village, given to us by someone named Ian that I immediately felt I knew from
studying Community and Environmental Planning at UW. But no, he was an American or Canadian about
my age with the same sort of obscure background. Familiar just because.
It’s raining lightly and fellow participants open umbrellas
for one another to stand under. I think,
I’m from the Northwest, but am so happy about this gesture and the huddling
together with strangers on the same path. We step into the singing sanctuary
made of stone that is evolving over years by hand and Deborah asks us to sing a
little song and try to find unison. We
land on a note sort of like ohm and she laughs, that was just one note, not
really a song.
I think I laughed nervously. The work of opening up the
barriers, the tension and the anxiety, the letting go of whatever crap that has
gathered in the center of my throat and voice has begun.
To more imagined than actual chagrin, Ian informs us that
the hot tub is out of commission because the whiskey barrel construction is
faltering and being replaced. We run out of time before I get to ask about
the Living Machine, the complex system of organisms that eat the village
waste. I owe it to CEP nerds everywhere.
* * *
Left up, right down.
Get what you need or think you need.
The length of time varies and then Grass-ee-us followed by a hand
squeeze.
The opening circle is simple. Our name and where we are from. I'm speaking too slowly and deliberately
sort of like I don't know if anyone will understand me. I’m from see-at-tul
in the you-n-eye-tud states.
Deborah asks us to share something truly unique about
ourselves. Blankness. She says that
she always looks at the clock at a certain time. Asher says he kind of is
annoyed by his belief in astrology. Detta says she has strange lumps on her
feet. Aura that her whole family is dancers. I can’t think of anything at all
(I’m a tiny bit blind in my left eye?) Miguel says with seriousness that he can
see people as they were as children.
Antonija says she worked in a gold mine in the Yukon. Little mythologies formulate in my mind. These people are truly magical. Maria doesn’t
need an alarm clock to wake up. Matthius was in the airport with David
Hasselhoff. I get bloody noses frequently, I say. Deborah follows up to say that the last
person who said that also had a tail. A
real hair tail. Now that’s unique.
Sometime during this inaugural day the administrators and
partners orient us. There are so many!
It takes so much to make this happen! (Shout outs to
Independent Dance in
London,
Bodysurf Scotland).
As
Deborah introduces them and hands it off to the organizers she
dedicates SPCP to Gil Clarke.
There is a
long pause and the air gets heavy.
I
don’t know that much about this woman except that was integral to this gathering and she passed away in November (I was later filled in by Becky, the filmmaker* at SPCP, that Gil was the co-founder with Fiona Millward of Indenpendent Dance).
She is a stranger to most of us but her absence is felt.
It’s like the breath emptied out of everyone
and also the room and it’s very still. I’m surprised that even my eyes blur
momentarily.
Then we get logistics.
Some warnings about wandering into the dunes and getting lost (did I
mention we are on a Bay and by the Sea?!). Reminders about planning our
departures, eating, doing kitchen patrol/party duty (fuck, sorry).
As Fiona is greeting us she smiles warmly and continuously. Then she and
Iris from ID hand us the written choreography for “Dynamic.”
Deborah begins, I
thought we could read this through. I mean, just for the record, this is the
worst title I have ever had for a piece.
It was called
A Figure A Sea
originally and then one day. . . She goes on to tell us how she discovered dynamic.
We joke about different ways to say it--kind
of dramatically, like you have botox, etc--and a week later decide to
officially add the turning of the fucking head to the title (more later).
We read through the choreography and I’m psyched. Anticipating. Already practicing. Thinking I
somehow have already grasped it.
We break for lunch—a spectrum of greens and purples splayed
out in oversized bowls and casserole dishes.
I’m taken back to Green Gulch in Marin just north of San Francisco. I’m immediately comfortable. I know that there will be a separate table
for butter, soy sauce, and maybe even yeast flakes (no, but peanuts and
seeds!). I know to look for the tea and
coffee station. We get this everyday for
lunch. Spoiled.
After lunch the practice begins. The whole body at once is the teacher. It’s not linear so there are no goals except
to shorten the distance between perceiving and dis-attaching (not detaching)
from the seduction of the experience.
As I partake and observe, I’m intrigued and also have the
judgmental thought, we look like dancers trying not to dance. Hands in the air sort of zombie like (this is
me describing myself mainly) slowly walking through space or else doing a sort
of cut-jump A.D.D. slightly frenetic thing.
I’m not letting anything take hold or saturate which makes me initially
feel that I am not having a sensual experience.
I’m trying really hard not to follow desire. I bring this up in the discussion that
follows, when she asks how it’s going.
It is one such question of many of the
‘are-we-dancers-trying-not-to-dance variety?’ (over time this will start to
become a pointless question).
I’m curious about what role desire plays in this practice, I
say in a veiled attempt to say I feel like I can’t do anything I want to do or
know how to do and I can only try to do the opposite (i.e. move like a dancer
trying not to dance –zombie hands, weird weight shifts, etc) but I’m hoping it
sounds smarter, like I’m deep or something.
Deborah looks at me squarely and says, my sort of smart
aleck remark to that is it takes too much fucking time. Desire is linear.
Indeed.
Christopher and Aura follow up with more straightforward
questions about training and doing dance moves. Deborah elaborates. Don’t ignore your training, just enlarge your
experience.
We begin learning the score for “Dynamic” and I’m immediately
reminded of bits of No Time To Fly
which I had seen in Berlin a few nights prior.
I love this! We are doing "singing the sea" when she stops us and asks us
to form a circle to practice together.
Christopher, just you sing, she says and I’m filled with terror that
mounts as she lets his song go on and on but am also overwhelmed over by how
beautiful it is. Then Emily with another
long and beautiful song. Then, because
fear had probably become the second most palpable thing in the room next to the
beautiful voices, me.
Air stops flowing, caught in a silent sob. I wonder if it is possible to fake my way
through singing a beautiful song and then run to the bathroom and release
it. But no. It will have to happen here. Deborah waits
unyielding but gentle. Somehow the
energy of the group collects and softly coaxes a far away sounding voice past
the spasm in my chest. I do not die in
the process. Anotonija follows her voice crystal and throaty and resonant. I’m okay.
I’m embarrassed. I’m getting hugs
and support. I’m still embarrassed.
We gather that evening at Deborah’ to tell our stories of
patronage.
I’m reminded of the
82 people who are supporting this growth.
The
opening up of the throat chamber.
The
process of learning without thinking.
This is my lesson of the first day:
This is not a solo.
*Deborah decided that 2012 would be the last year for SPCP and so this year's program was documented by Dance Videographer and Filmmaker Becky Edmunds. Embarking on this practice with a camera around was an interesting variable to throw in to the mix, at first making me too self-conscious to stay true to the tasks at hand. But Becky quickly became an essential part of "the lab." She explained that she was rarely recording when she was shooting. She was practicing with us. This seems like such a practical and fruitful way to approach bringing live performance into documentation in some sort of truer form. Lookout for the film. 
