Where does your story begin?

A few weeks back, I posted an entry with sketches of a female soloist, a geodome of wire and hanging lightbulbs hovering over her, and the lines of her body visible through a skin-tight veil of costuming. It seems whenever I begin an artistically-driven project, I always start with an image. At the time of my post, I didn't have much more than those sketches to work off of--that, and the idea of having this figure awaken, with her movement and the pulsing of the lightbulbs glowing as one.

Since then, Kim and I have hurtled ourselves into an excitingly creative world of contemporary takes on Greek mythology. Between her sculptural piece stemming from Green urns, and my group piece exploring the Sirens, we began to realize that the second half of Luminarium's year will be...in a word...epic. With mythology as our guide, I began to research how my soloist would somehow fit into all of this, and was thrilled to find such a perfect match:

Andromeda by Edward Poynter

Andromeda.

She's the perfect match. A quick synopsis of the story will tell you that she was once the beautiful daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, and that her mother's vanity led to her peril. Cassiopeia bragged that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids--angering Poseidon who began destroying the city with floods. Andromeda was chained, naked, to the coast as a sacrifice to the sea monster Cetus. Luckily the heroic Perseus, back from slaying Medusa the Gorgon, killed the monster, while asking for the girl's hand in marriage. Although already promised to Phineus, the wedding took place, during which Perseus turned Phineus to stone. The story ends with Athena placing Andromeda among the stars in the northern sky. (And, as the daughter of an astronomer, I couldn't help but be reminded of the constellation and galaxy named after her!)

All in all, not the easiest life for Andromeda.

After reading and re-reading numerous accounts of this woman's life, it seems the same key moments continue to be pronounced as "her story." But for my solo with the woman laden with lights, I'd like to pick up her story from the supposed end: From awaking among the stars.

Andromeda chained to a rock, depicted in the Uranographia of Johann Bode (1801).
http://www.ianridpath.com/startales/andromeda.htm

We know the events of Andromeda's life, but do we know her perceptions of them and the emotions that drove her? What was her take on the key life-changing moments of her life...all decided by those around her, rather than herself? It's a daunting task, but I'd like to use this solo as an opportunity for this character to evolve past the ever-popular myth, and instead, to enter a realm of personal reflection. And all the while, as the lights pulse around her, she will regain a new awareness of her body and existence as a constellation in the sky.

But the question of where to begin one's life story doesn't only pertain to this piece and this character. It pertains to each of us. I'd be a liar if I swore I'd never had thoughts (hopeful ambitions, really) of someone, someday, writing a biography about my artistic achievements...a documentary, perhaps. Will my future accomplishments merit this? Who knows! Even then, will someone take the time to write about them? Probably not! But occasionally, in my moments of frustration (or even in my moments of success and clarity), I wonder: Where would they begin my story? Is there something I will do in the next decade that will set me apart from other artists and gain me artistic respect in the community? Or have I already begun? Will "Luminarium" be a name the press will grow to recognize? And if so, will they bother researching our first concert in their articles? Or will they simply skip ahead to a milestone we have yet to reach?

The truth is, I have no idea. But I do have curiosity. And somewhere between the two is where I'll begin my work on the Andromeda solo.

A meadow starred with flowers...

A few milestones to begin.

Concussion free since 1/13!
After slippin' and slidin' for a while, I have finally pulled myself out the cave of concussion land. It turns out everyone's right: It takes time, patience and healing, but one day you wake up feeling fine, and after a while you realize you've kept feeling fine. I am so thrilled to feel like myself again. For eight weeks it felt like I was focusing an old lens, and finally I'm crystal clear!

Funding a dream...
This past Tuesday, Luminarium turned one and a half. Crazy how fast they grow up! After joking with Kim that the painful teething period of applying for grants back in October was finally over, sure enough, here come the baby teeth: 4 grants from 4 Local Cultural Councils! Concord, Watertown, Somerville and Boston. When I step back and compare where we were one year ago, I am thrilled by how far we've come. At the same time, last year's LCC apps weren't very strong for us. We were new, with only one show under our belt as a company. This year's applications we submitted felt very strong, which made these four successes such a positive reinforcement: We finally feel "real."

The Concord grant will go towards my Celebration of Preservation project for Louisa May Alcott's Orchard House centennial festivities in May (more on this another day). The Boston grant generously funds our general programming throughout the season. Most exciting, though, are the Watertown and Somerville grants, that will allow us to present installation work using found objects from the community, integrated with beautiful, intricately-lit contemporary dance.

New-found inspiration
My last post chronicled the inner workings of a new solo, one of many pieces involving light and movement that will come together with our installation work in Watertown and Somerville later this year. However, within the last 48 hours, my group piece has become a stronger presence in my mind and in my sketchbook than the solo. I won't fight it. Instead I'll allow the ebb and flow of inspiration to pull me closer to the choreography with time. But for now, some thoughts on the sextet:

For months now, I've been describing to Kim my need to create a piece with six dancers, emerging into the space on each other's shoulders as three tall, beautiful creatures. I've experimented with this in rehearsals, and we've found a very solid form of transportation that allows the dancer above to hover a light over the dancer below. At first, the light shines on just the feet of the walking dancer, then travels up to illuminate the face. By revealing the full body of the dancer in the light, we reveal also that he/she is not alone. I also described my urge to work with long, gossamer sleeves, allowing the lights to glow in their hands.

Without skipping a beat in our board meeting, Kim wisely summed it up as: "That image reminds me of the Sirens."

Ulysses and the Sirens by Herbert James Draper

...YES! That's exactly it! After researching images of the Sirens, I am so excited to have found a link between the images and emotions I sought to explore in this piece. (Thanks, Kim!) Included here are some of my favorite images, and ironically many of the images I found depict the Sirens as flying over their victims, or peering down at them from above; mimicking my original concept of having one dancer hover over another in space.

The Siren by John William Waterhouse

I am so freshly inspired, having found this resemblance between my current work and this series of imagery from the past. Physically, I see the hovering, the entanglement, the sinking, and the seduction.

The Fisherman and The Siren by Knut Ekwall

My question to myself now is: Are these three pairs of dancers 3 sirens, themselves? Or do they suspend and divide...come together and grow apart. Do they unite, then collapse into a smooth and somber inner struggle? I guess we'll have to see...

Unknown Seas by Norman Lindsay

Odysseus and the Sirens - Pottery

We must steer clear of the Sirens, their enchanting song,
their meadow starred with flowers...

Today is Friday.

Today is Friday. Eight weeks since hitting my head, and I am finally feeling like myself again. Last night was a wonderful first step back into the world of dance after two months of being movement-free (something I rarely encounter). Yet between the layers of frustration, denial, deep sleep, and healing, I did manage to work out a few inspirations for 2012's new work with Luminarium. Last night's first rehearsal of the new season served as a chance for me to experiment with a couple of different images that have gone from the mind to the paper...and now to the bodies who build them.

Sketches by Julia Wagner

The first is a new piece involving a couple of old friends, constructive creativity, and some elbow grease. In an effort to help Luminarium return to its roots by using more innovative lighting, I am in the process of constructing a solo piece in which a dancer's back acts as the mast for a hovering geo-dome of hanging light bulbs.

Measurements of the dome in relation
to Melenie's height and figure.

These beautiful sketches, provided by my ever-talented sculpture consultant and occassional Luminarium photographer Julia Wagner, show glimpses into the making of this costume. I first met Julia at Mount Holyoke College, as an art student. At the time, I found her work to be uniquely inspiring, so I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to work with her on this new design!

Multiple panels of wood will follow Melenie's movements
across her back and shoulder blades.

Meanwhile, the dancer I plan to use is an even older friend from my days with Acton School of Ballet and Commonwealth Ballet Company. Melenie Diarbekirian and I reconnected back in May when she auditioned for a temporary role in Luminarium's Spring Tour in June. By July, Melenie had been added to the company as a Guest Performer, and as we head into our second season, Melenie is now one of four Senior Company Members with LDC. She has a beautifully elastic quality to her movement, and an extreme focus and energy as she moves.

A shadowy figure performs to her own set of pulsing lights.

I am greatly looking forward to creating a new piece with these two artists, while taking on the challenge of creating a solo that involves a wire up one leg, a power strip on the back, and a wire sculpture over the head! However cumbersome, I've often found that restricted movement can actually be a blessing, as having the freedom of a full movement vocabulary can be equally daunting.

...

During rehearsal, I spent some more time playing with lighting, but more of my focus has been falling on the idea of partnerships. After spending some time reviewing a phrase from a class I taught a few weeks back, we began experimenting with having one dancer instigate another dancer's movements. The result was a mixture of improvised timing and initiation, combined with a set choreographic phrase.

Christin and Meghan did a really nice job with this (of the duets I filmed). Take a peek, but remember it's in its roughest stages!

So that wraps up my first night back in the dance world, my choreographic puzzlements that I've begun to explore, and my appreciation of working with such talented and innovative friends and artists. More to come on these projects as they move forward into the new year!

Curing the Concussion...Or is the Concussion the Cure?

Head injuries are a funny thing.

In a way, they halt every aspect of your life (no reading, no TV, no concentrating on a computer screen, no physical activity), allowing you nothing but time to think. On the other hand, even heavy thought is discouraged as you mend! Unfortunately, this brain never stops. And given the extra time, I found myself overflowing with new insights on choreography, artistry, business, and life.

Day 1 - The Injury
After a beautiful morning of graceful, yet exhilarating lifts during rehearsal (not Luminarium), I found myself falling backwards to the ground, with a resounding thud as my head (and only my head) collided with the floor. An unfortunate, and purely accidental, slip.

Fast-forward to a few hours later at work, feeling and looking violently ill, and joking about having a concussion. Still, I was so determined to see Trisha Brown at the ICA with Kim that I figured I'd tough it out and take the T. It was worth the hassle. Such a wonderful performance space, complete with a view of Boston Harbor behind the stage. (Though I must admit that both Kim and I had the same reaction to the performance: Beautiful movement, furstrating choreography. For a complete and excellently-articulated account of the performance, check out Kim's blog post HERE.) Little did I know this was the last hoorah for my now fully-concussed brain.


Day 4 - The Diagnosis
So, yes, it shamefully took me four days to realize that a concussion doesn't simply hit you hard then get better with time. Monday night brought a painfully slow visit at the ER, some scans, and some good news: Concussion, yes; Severe damage, no. And thus began my recommended treatment of turning off my brain and staring at the wall.

Day 6 - The Reclaiming...
...of my life! Finally! It is amazing how little time I devote to taking care of myself in certain aspects. By Day 6, I was handed a decent amount of energy and the inspiration to clean everything. Organized my files, cleaned the apartment, and when all was done and boredom began to sink back in...out came the Christmas decorations.

Those who explored Paris with me might recognize this
candy-tin-turned-candle-holder from one of the city's
most delightful little chocolate shops!

Snowflake time with the roommate!
Plus a gorgeous pink Gerber daisy from Russo's.

Katie's fun little tree from TJMaxx. Meanwhile, I'd just
brought home a real tree for the living room. Perfect.

"I'm making a winter wonderland in the kitchen," I texted to my poor roommate, as I pulled out the hammer and fairy lights, "How good are you at making paper snowflakes?" Now, I'm no Kaitlin McCarthy, Queen of Intricate Snowflakes (ranging from Christmas tree flakes to Manora flakes), but seeing as our skylight began like this...

And now looks like this...

I think it's coming together rather nicely.

Day 12 - The Present

It's been a week and a half since the fall, and in many ways I am grateful for the sudden, forced speedbump in my hectic routine. It served as a chance for me to separate myself from all electronics, paperwork and (dare I say it) even dance. It gave me a moment to breathe, to reflect, to reorganize, and--most importantly--to reconnect with many friends over the phone and in person. However, I'm not what I normally am. I'm not the tireless, multi-tasking machine that I was two weeks ago. Even Kim has commented on how strange it is to witness me in such a spacey/sleepy state of being. In fact, in many ways I'm feeling like the cupcakes I made tonight:

Friday shook me up, left me feeling disjointed and wobbly...

And by now, while whole again, I still don't feel completely like myself. I seem to be missing the flair that is Merli...

mmmm... Tasty Lemon cupcakes.
But what's missing?

Ah ha!

That's what I'm looking for. Well, it seems my cupcakes are more energetic than I am at the moment, but give me another week or two, and hopefully I'll be crazy, colorful, and concussion-free, too.

It all comes back to family.

It's official. Luminarium's 2011 Season has come to a close. And with the completion of its first year end show (Y.E.S.) came a bit of a post-show depression for me today. I couldn't help it! All those endorphins and adrenaline leaving my body... It's tough to pull it together. But thanks to a persistent boyfriend and some nudging from Kim, I seem to be back on track.

Looking back over the year, one could professionally summarize our 2011 prime moments as:

• Movement at the Mills, Boston Center for the Arts
• Co-Founders Speak at “Crafting a Life in the Arts,” Mount Holyoke College
• Kickstarter Countdown and World Premiere, The Dance Complex
• MHC Commencement Concert, Mount Holyoke College
• LEAP: Leading & Engaging Artistic Pursuits, Cambridge YMCA Theatre
• Dance for World Community Festival, Jose Mateo Ballet Theatre
• IN SYNC/Sambandh ~ Japan Fundraiser, Williston Theater
• Dancers Among Us, Jordan Matter Photography
• Sponsor Benefit Gala, AKA Bistro of Lincoln
• Seacoast Fringe Festival, Portsmouth NH
• Memento Mori, Mobius Alternative Arts Center
• Year End Show, Green Street Studios

 And yet, the moments that accompanied these accomplishments are the ones I hope to never forget:

• Screaming on the phone with Kim after receiving our first performance invitation...at the BCA, no less!
• Staying with Kim in Mount Holyoke's fanciest hotel, while converting their washcloths into makeshift toothbrushes, having BOTH forgotten to bring one.
• The 40+ takes it took to make our Kickstarter film, due sneaky interventions from a certain little dog...
• Working with children and a talented costume designer to create a fantastic 15-foot-long piece of artwork that doubled as a skirt!
• 1) Forging a makeshift tent at the DWC Festival out of found materials, safety pins, an umbrella and plastic wrap. 2) Bracing ourselves against the legs of said tent every ten minutes when the wind picked up and turned it into a sail. 3) Seeing the look on Mark's face, having left him in charge of the crazy hovercraft tent for just fifteen minutes, and now finding everything soaked and Mark looking pummeled/dazed/confused.
• Presenting Luminarium's repertoire along side Nataraj Dancers...the other company that has meant so much to me.
• Pick axes, and a fun movie night.
• Feeling a debilitating pain in my side at the Gala, being told I was just nervous to give a speech to all of our sponsors, and later being diagnosed with a kidney stone....who knew!
  
• Having my face bashed in by one of our more dynamic dancers, who then handed me a cold apple to roll across my swollen nose.
• Staying up til 5am in Portsmouth, jabbing bobby pins and a wedding ring into an apple wearing a tiny top hat and declaring him Mayor Macintosh of the Autumn Fair.
• Dancing in truly the TINIEST gallery space imaginable, and gracing just a single painting with our presence.
  
• Creating a brand new piece in 4 rehearsals over two and a half weeks...technically 5.5 hours, though several were only there for half of it...getting puchy with Kim by the end of the last rehearsal, and deciding to have our dancers create their own live soundscore with funny noises to accompany their movements...nearly hacking up a lung every time I saw the piece from this moment on. SUCH a fantastic little new work, with six of our most humorously-talented dancers.
• Receiving flowers from the cast. Didn't expect it. Meant so much.

So why the title of this post? Well, after reflecting on a year of hard work, beautiful presentation, and meaningful bonding, it's clear to me that the company Kim and I started in 2010 is now more than an assembly of talented dancers. It's a family, and a strong one at that.

But the main reason I feel that it all comes back to family, is that it does literally come back to me each time I perform or face another challenge, just how encouraging and instrumental to my work my family has been. As I put away my costumes last night, it struck me as symbolic that I began Luminarium's year with fabric from my mom, and ended it with fabric from my dad. In March, my breathing installation in Movement at the Mills at the BCA was centered around my mom's beautiful and artistic collection of fabric quarters (to someday be used in a quilt). It started the year off to a wonderfully colorful start. Eight months later, having gone through nearly a dozen white shirts in you have hands, too? (due to be written on with sharpies during each performance), I found myself in need of one last shirt. By perfect chance, my dad had just the shirt I needed, heading to the scrap bin. So for my very last performance in the very last show of our season, I wore another piece of fabric from my family.

The breathing installation at Movement at the Mills in March.

you have hands, too? at Green Street Studios in November.
Photo by Steph Hodge Photography.

And as a final "It all comes back to family" remark: A special note of thanks must go out to my brother, for being such a positive influence on my work as a comedian/artist. J-Dag, you are my toughest critic. You tell me when something doesn't strike you, and you're honest when you would've taken it in a different direction. As the funniest person I know, it was so wonderful to receive such high praise from you after this last performance.

So much love to Kim, my company, my family, and the one man in the world who keeps me sane. It all comes back to you.