Climbing inside the snow globe...

Last week I found myself with the unique opportunity to interact with my work in a way I never have. In every production Luminarium presents, I pride myself on knowing the intricacies of my work well. I feel every rhythm, every musical cue, every facial expression… I find myself falling into sync with the performers as I watch them from backstage. But the one thing I have never felt (in a group piece, particularly) is the ability to perform the work on the spot. Did I choreograph it? Yes! Do I know the reasons behind each movement choice? Certainly. Do I remember it? Not at all. I am by far a dancer who relies on muscle memory to perform—and if I set a piece, then spend weeks on the outside tweaking, editing, rearranging, it is the dancers who grow through my movement and not myself. I am no longer the expert when it comes to how a pose feels before rolling into the ground—they are.

So back to this unique opportunity: I have performed my own work before, many times, but always with one or two rehearsals in advance. I’ve allowed myself the time it takes to gather my senses, get up from the director/audience’s chair, and climb onstage to see the piece from the side I originally worked. I have always had the opportunity to ask my dancers how they feel as I integrate myself (am I moving too quickly, is my spacing correct, am I holding anyone back), and I have felt confidently assimilated by the time of the performance.

And then came this week.

With a dancer badly injured, and the sudden realization that I would have to both perform and continue to direct with Kim (thanks goodness there’s two of us!), I found myself with no time for review or rehearsal before tech night. Seirēn is a piece of co-dependence, be it through physical partnering or emotional relationships onstage. The dancers have become so beautifully fine-tuned in their approaches to the work, that I found myself without time to catch up. So on late Wednesday night when we chose to perform a full run of the show, I suddenly found myself mounting my partner in the darkness backstage, completely unaware how the piece now looked from inside it.

What it felt like to perform Seirēn from Luminarium's
MYTHOS:PATHOS, beautifully captured by Jim Coleman.

What an EXPERIENCE!

It was like staring at a snow globe for weeks, letting the sight of it calm you in its familiarity, only to suddenly find yourself transported inside. I have never once felt this so intensely while performing my own work. The dancers, who were all performing at their fullest in presence and emotion, seemed to swirl around me with true intent. When “battling” the sailors, I felt both the sinister attraction I had choreographed, but also a new-found feeling of self-preservation as I was continuously pushed away. I found empathy in a character I created to have none. I found joy in moments I had perceived as dark and cold. And beyond all else, I found a world that undeniably exists when the house lights darken and my dancers leave the wing.

The rest of the weekend went smoothly, and I gradually chose which of these emotions I would work with while performing, but none of the nights felt like the first. That moment of pure integration through immediate assimilation. 

l. to r. - Amy Mastrangelo, Jess Chang, Rose Abramoff, and
Merli V. Guerra performing Seirēn from Luminarium's MYTHOS:PATHOS.
Photo by Jim Coleman.

It makes me wonder if this is a technique to be used: To chose at random a dancer to replace during the rehearsal process to better understand the emotions that can arise when “living” the piece, rather than performing. Because what I learned on Wednesday night had nothing to do with the turns, the falls, the lifts… This experience simply allowed me to genuinely experience this character from a fresh, unrehearsed perspective. And I am so grateful.