The Magic of Movement During Crisis
This week, I had the pleasure of helping host the American Collegiate Dance Association Northwest Conference, a gathering of dance programs across the Pacific Northwest, at Gonzaga University. An ACDA conference includes master classes taught by faculty attendees and adjudicated performances of student and faculty work. To host an ACDA conference is a huge honor. As a senior, taking part in putting on this event as the Volunteer and Facilities Coordinator was a once in a lifetime experience. The opportunity to see Mark Morris Dance Group perform in Gonzaga’s very own Myrtle Woldson Performing Arts Center for free was an equally unparalleled experience. Mark Morris Dance Group is a world renowned modern dance company based in New York, and we were so fortunate that they were still able to travel to our conference. I was extremely relieved that we were still able to host despite many schools and adjudicators having to terminate their participation due to coronavirus. So much work had been put in by all involved, and it was amazing to see all these efforts realized. My heart continues to go out to all the students who had rehearsed their choreography for months, only to be unable to share it due to travel restrictions from their universities. For those in attendance, however, ACDA served as an oasis from the frightening societal events unfolding. For four days, we were able to enjoy each other’s art and friendship and take the last dance classes many of us will take in quite a while due to the closure of studios and dance companies across the country. Dancers and faculty alike were given space to commiserate about the following questions that arose: how does one complete a dance major online? How should faculty go about constructing an online dance class, especially given the fact that not all students have access to various technologies? How does one keep their body in dancing shape if gyms and studios are closed? What will happen to those working in the performing arts sector and students financially? How will dancers, choreographers, teachers, etc. be affected socially, emotionally, and physically if they cannot practice their passion? While meditating on these concerns together, I made deep connections to fellow dancers from other schools that I had not anticipated to form in just four days. Within my own school’s dance program, I saw us step up and support each other in such profound ways--whether through snack or Starbucks deliveries, encouraging group chat messages, and finding creative solutions to anything and everything that came up due to coronavirus chaos.
Our awesome community of volunteers with Suzanne Ostersmith, the director of the Gonzaga Dance Program!
As a volunteer, I was able to take a few amazing dance classes in my off time. On the first day, I chose to take Contemporary from CarliAnn Forthun-Bruner, a professor at my school that I had not yet been in an academic dance class with. Within a few seconds of starting the warm-up, my mind was already blown. We began by closing our eyes and feeling each of our body parts move, starting at our feet and focusing on weight shifting. CarliAnn instructed us to feel the volume and mass of each body part and to think about how they take up space. This became a common theme throughout the week as David Leaventhall told us to feel the weight of our legs in modern class the next day. He said that modern dancers have rational conversations with physics, not fights with gravity. While the conversation may become awkward when you get off-balance, it is good to talk about hard things and push boundaries through movement experimentation. Back in CarliAnn’s class, reflecting on rare and slightly odd details like how my intestines take up space in my gut resulted in a different way of thinking about my dancing body. Ballet does not often ask one to feel the mass, or volume one’s body takes up--the object of ballet is to be weightless. While ballet dancers are encouraged to take up physical space and travel their movements as much as possible for a dynamic performance, they are often expected to not take up metaphorical space. Dancers, and ballerinas in particular, are often conditioned to say yes to everything a director asks, even if it is not particularly healthy, to be well-liked and perform the roles of their dreams as high-ranking company dancers. This is why issues like body dysmorphia, eating disorders, drug abuse, and other mental health problems run rampant in the dance world--dancers are encouraged to stay small, not take up space, and deal with problems on their own. Dance is thus an extremely internal sport, and it is easy to overly focus on oneself. The next exercise CarliAnn had us do reminded me of the power of acknowledging people, looking them in the eye, and dancing together as a community. We were told to walk in any directions around the space while noticing everyone’s eye color, all while progressing in speed. By the time the exercise was over, we were thoroughly warm and smiling, ready to dive into the first activity together. CarliAnn then prompted us to begin improvising through the space while moving as if we were in molasses, carbonated water, or wind depending on which of the substances she called out. These words, especially, carbonated water, inspired choreographic phrases I did not know my body was capable of. Bubbles seemed to pop and fizz in my muscles, propelling wriggling jumps and hops executed with an unballetic abandon rare for my usual movement style. David Leaventhall’s promptings to move as if we were dancing on sponges the next day had a similar effect--it unlocked a new understanding of how to achieve the grounded, contracted, pliable, and collected nature of modern dance that lets one explode in any direction at any time.
Next came a few combinations. As she was demonstrating, CarliAnn made a few sounds to mimic/accompany/clarify the quality of her movements, creating a language only dancers fully understand. A friend in the class echoed the sounds CarliAnn made with her voice as he absorbed and marked through the steps. This created sort of a poetry in motion--the sounds punctuated and accented certain moves, propelling them onwards. When the music signaled the start of the full-out dance-through of the combination, the light pitter-patter of feet smattering the floor formed the syllables of a few phrases that formed a movement stanza. Each dancer added their own images, line breaks, and inflections with each unique undulation of their torso, use of the head and arms, and varying qualities of movement. Some dancers moved smoothly and continuously like a mesmerizing river, whereas others were syncopated and sharp like Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony No. 3. Next, the class departed from the “comfort zone” as the next combination, consisting entirely of inversions (which are essentially handstands), was introduced. However, the laid back song wafting from the speakers overhead made the combination sing through our lower limbs as we kicked them fluidly into the air. While waiting my turn to glide gymnastically across the gymnasium, the corners of my mouth turned upward and I found myself jamming out in place to the chill vibes of the music, something I never previously would have let myself do during class in my perfectionist days. As a reminder to myself in my journal after class, I wrote, “get some groovy music that makes you happy and want to dance. Mess around in your room, dance and experiment in the studio with no agenda.”
Though the quarantine for COVID-19 has been difficult, I have delighted in the opportunity to expand in my art from the comfort and safe space of my living room. Groovy music has the power to transport us to happier places, and getting moving is almost inevitable once it is turned on. Music and movement serve as the best happiness cocktail. In this uncertain time, I am allowing myself to choose peace and rest. I do not intend to choreograph the next great ballet or propel my blog to internet fame. Rather, I am confronting my deep-seated need to be productive to feel self worth by allowing myself to merely exist and dance with no agendas.
Innovating with Gonzaga professor Bonni Dichone in her Contemporary Ballet class
It has been beautiful to see artists coming together virtually to support one another in maintaining their stamina to stay in dancing shape. Once in a lifetime opportunities to take dance class with world-renowned artists for free are popping up via social media daily. It is becoming increasingly apparent that dance is a relevant and necessary tool to explore ourselves and our world, all while promoting well being and social justice. The resilience and undying hope that characterizes dancers is touching our frightened and uncertain world, one livestream at a time. In David Leaventhall’s modern class the next day, he was referring to a particular step when he said, “if you believe you can fly, the audience will too.” I believe we as artists and as a society can fly, especially if we continue to believe in ourselves and hold others up. Now is the time to confront whatever is not serving us and soar.
One manageable way I came up with for me to do this was inspired by something Cindy Jones said in Intuitive Ballet, another class I took during ACDA in my off time. Cindy told us to make ballet work for us and to “pick one thing you did well, then pick one thing you need to work on (if we try to focus on everything, that’s when it gets overwhelming and it falls apart. Just pick one thing and let that be your mantra.” For example, I am noticing I am doing well at continuing to move and get outside during the quarantine, but it is easy to get down on myself for not eating absolutely healthily when I have more time to cook. I am thus zeroing in on my nutritional habits, but trying to give myself grace as I do so. I might try an exercise Cindy had us do to conclude class. She had us gather in close, touch our hearts and stomachs, feel our hearts beat, and acknowledge the beautiful things we just did with our bodies. It was then that it hit me like a ton of bricks-- if I work on the inside (i.e. self love, acceptance, making circumstances work for you and not against you), then the outside will follow. This is something I wish I had realized as an anxious, perfectionist pre-professional ballet student, and something I still need to work on, especially in the midst of this quarantine. Perhaps, I will take a moment each day to pause and appreciate myself, my body and our combined efforts to keep me mentally and physically healthy. I am continually grateful for these magic moments of realization I get to experience through the wisdom of my dance teachers, and hope to experience more from my living-room-turned-dance-studio in the coming weeks. Thank you for reading, and I wish you safety, peace, rest, health, strength, and community during this difficult time.
