2017: Off and Running!

As a reviewer for the Fjord Review, my weekends often involve press releases, packed theaters, and notes scribbled in the dark.

Here we are—just four brisk weeks into the new year and already my plate is full with new projects, culminating events, and guest invitations now through April (and then some, but let’s focus on the next three months for now).

First, a recap of what these projects are:

Voices From the Future: I’ll be participating in Voices From the Future with a voice from the past. Luminarium company member Alison McHorney will perform the one-minute solo from my 2016 work The Grass Never Grows, set to a score of spoken poetry, at this event celebrating the LGBTQ community.

Concert at Longy Hall: Friend and colleague Mel Fitzhugh—a composer whose personal story and professional work are equally intriguing—has invited me to once again perform an improvisationally-inspired choreographic solo alongside cellist Christien Beeuwkes, this time for an afternoon performance of Mel’s musical works at Longy Hall. The concert will take place February 26, 2017.

Mad World: Aurora Borealis has selected Luminarium to be its Guest Artist for its Spring concert Mad World on March 11th, and has specifically asked us to bring my Phoenixial Cycle duet, last presented at the State House in Boston.

Five College Dance Department Careers Panel: I’m thrilled to be representing Mount Holyoke College’s impressive array of Dance Department alumnae at this event. On March 31st, one alum from each of the Five Colleges (Amherst, Mount Holyoke, Smith, UMass, and Hampshire) in the five-college consortium will speak about their careers, advising current students studying in the field. I feel honored to represent my alma mater, and look forward to connecting with future choreographers (hopefully coming to Boston)!

We Create Festival: I’ve been a part of the 2016-17 cohort since September and have been developing new work with the guidance of my project mentor (and longtime friend) Jenny Zuk, developing an art installation exploring the theme of “hidden stories,” as it pertains to those with physical and/or mental disabilities. The culminating performance and exhibition viewing will take place April 8, 2017.

Kinetic Craft: For my annual Cultural Community Outreach Project (which is now in its 6th year), Luminarium will be in residence at the Fuller Craft Museum in Brockton for the entire week of April school vacation (10-5pm Tuesday, April 18 through Sunday, April 23, 2017). I’m constructing a series of “breathing installations”—a concept I first developed back in 2011 with Luminarium’s fabric installation at the Boston Center for the Arts’ Movement at the Mills—highlighting the five crafting elements: Textiles, Ceramics, Wood, Glass, and Metal. I’ve invited Kim to join me by creating the Ceramics installation, while I continue to develop the other four, each of which will have a dancer performing inside as part of the installation, around the clock.

Boston New Music Initiative’s Spring Concert: Last year, Luminarium was commissioned to create two new choreographic works to accompany two of the musical scores selected from BNMI's international call to artists. I’m excited to be working on a new work, set to John Allemeier’s The Devil’s Turn. This performance of live music and dance will take place at the Armory in Somerville, MA, on April 22nd.

...

That’s the update for now. This quarter is packed with projects and events that lend themselves to interdisciplinary creation and collaboration—AKA, my favorite kind of work! As we speak, my bag contains a notebook full of thoughts and sketches, a 21-page musical score, a crumpled Groupon from Kim and my recent glassblowing adventure (research for Kinetic Craft), and a planner full of upcoming interviews and casual conversations scheduled with mentors and artists (often outside my primary discipline) to further enhance my work.

If this first quarter is any indication, 2017 is going to be an intense and invigorating year. Bring it on!

Top 10 Professional Highlights of 2016

As a “doer” / “go-getter” with an always active creative brain, I often feel I’m running a race—trying to keep up with the many projects and ideas speeding past me, just out of reach. The result? I find it extremely difficult to acknowledge the ground I gain each season. Despite priding myself on being a deeply introspective person, I cannot seem to translate “completion” into “accomplishment.” That translation comes instead from those around me, who are able to look at the big picture. And while I frequently find it difficult to agree with those outside eyes, once each year I force myself to sit down and reflect: To allow myself the opportunity (though I view it more as a reluctant task) to pinpoint my top 10 accomplishments of the season.

1. Speaking, Presenting, and Performing at the State House

On Wednesday, February 10, 2016, Luminarium had the honor of performing in one of the most important buildings in Massachusetts. As a regular recipient of LCC grants, and a 2015 winner of the Massachusetts Cultural Council's (MCC) Gold Star Award, Luminarium was invited by the MCC to join its staff and prominent state legislators at the State House in Boston for the Local Cultural Council (LCC) 2016 Statewide Assembly, a private biennual event celebrating the LCC program. LCC volunteers from across the Commonwealth gathered at the capitol to explore arts and culture beyond their individual perspectives, connecting with community leaders and legislators to discuss the impact of projects that build creative communities through the arts.

Not only did I feel privileged to have my Phoenixial Cycle duet presented to such an artistic and high-powered audience (and to perform, myself, in Kim's Getting There is Half the Battle trio), but I was additionally invited by the MCC to speak on a panel at the event alongside distinguished arts colleagues Ben Taylor (musician), Scarlet Keys (Associate Professor, Berklee College of Music), and keynote speaker Sally Taylor (musician and founder of Consenses). And if those names sound familiar, yes, Sally and Ben are the children of famous musicians Carly Simon and James Taylor—an impressive panel to be sure! View photos of the event here.

2. Co-Chair of Arlington Cultural Council

2016 kicked off with another act of arts advocacy and local politics. A mere three months into my term on the Arlington Cultural Council (ACC), I was humbled to be voted into office as co-chair. During my year-long term on the ACC, I led council meetings alongside my equally impassioned compatriots, and acted as the ACC representative at events both small and large throughout the town, including: speaking in front of hundreds at Town Meeting; attending conferences and forums regarding the Cultural District (and instigating the movement for involvement from the ACC); introducing the Massachusetts Cultural Council's grant program opportunities to local artists through Arlington Town Day and other events; and speaking on behalf of the ACC on Arlington Public News. It was a challenging yet gratifyingly productive year, ended only due to my move into the city and my desire to refocus my efforts on the Boston arts community—my home now both in business and living address. Still, I continue to keep an eye on Arlington's ever-growing arts scene, and hope to one day return in a new capacity.

3. Modeling and Performing in a Retail Promo Video

Things not typically associated with me: hip hop, and modeling merchandise. Yet at the start of 2016, I found myself doing both for Empower Fitness—a company whose merchandise is sold under aliases at major stores such as Target, Walmart, and TJMaxx. Performing hip hop routines choreographed by the talented Gabby Pacheco, the two of us spent an aerobic morning showcasing the company's new product line for a promo video that would soon be pitched to the Target headquarters in Texas. Not a bad way to spend a morning, especially when leaving with both a healthy paycheck and swag!

4. Being Invited to Write for the International Fjord Review

I was absolutely delighted this Spring when founding editor Penelope Ford reached out, inviting me to write for the Fjord Review—an international online magazine for ballet and contemporary dance. Writing for the Fjord Review complements the work I do for The Arts Fuse as a senior contributor and selector of the weekly must-see dance picks (as well as my own independent writing as an artist) while expanding my peer base to across the globe. Canada, London, Italy, New York, Paris, Australia and Glasgow are just some of the regions covered by the publication's skilled writers. I have so enjoyed reviewing major productions as the Fjord Review's Boston-area critic, and look forward to sinking my teeth in further in 2017. Take a peek!

5. TEDxCambridge Commission and Performing at the Boston Opera House

Already high off our performance at the State House in February, Kim and I were further elated when, just days later, we were contacted for another prominent event at an equally famous venue. Luminarium was commissioned to create a new work as the sole opening act for the prestigious TEDxCambridge, performing in one of Boston's most noteworthy theaters (and home of Boston Ballet), the Boston Opera House. The new work, co-choreographed by Kim and myself, featured the full company along with imagery projected across a 50-foot screen created by animation artist Samo. The event on June 9, 2016, was the single largest TED Talks event in the world (even larger than the original TED Talk in Vancouver), with an audience of 2,600 viewers. Luminarium was honored and humbled to have been hand-selected for this position from the wealth of options comprising Boston's vibrant performing arts scene. I've always felt lucky to have stood on many important stages through my career, but this particular stage—this particular experience—left me, for once, speechless. Enjoy this behind-the-scenes documentary chronicling the day.

6. "300 Years": Celebrating the Wayside Inn Through Music, Film, and Dance

This year's annual Cultural Community Outreach Project (CCOP) took me back to my childhood—and for company member Melenie too, for that matter! Longfellow's Wayside Inn in Sudbury, MA, is a beautiful historic site known for being the setting of Longfellow's popular story collection Tales of the Wayside Inn. The event was perfectly timed, syncing up with the inn's 300th anniversary, and though rain held us back from our original date, the final event was sunny, warm, and well attended. This marked my fifth CCOP with Luminarium, and thanks to a grant from the Sudbury Cultural Council and book sales from last year's CCOP, I had the funds to include live music, three outdoor dance performances, and a film projected on the grist mill's walls. While Kim's piece explored the land, mine honored the mill and the history of the inn. As a special surprise, my aunt brought my Noni to the performance. I can't remember the last time she saw my work, and it made the afternoon especially memorable for us both. View photos, videos, and testimonials from 300 Years here.

7. Performing "Phoenixial Cycle" at the Outside the Box Festival

Luminarium was thrilled to be selected for this monumental Boston festival, resurrecting my 2015 work Phoenixial Cycle outdoors on the Tremont Street Stage. Out of all the works we submitted, I'm glad it was this one the festival chose. Not only did it give me an opportunity to revisit the work as a choreographer, but it pushed me as a performer to step into Dream's lead role due to scheduling conflicts. I created this piece with the goal of making a work that physically tired its soloist in reality—not just through acting—as the work revolves around the concept of "burnout." Well, it seems I succeeded. For all the times I watched the company patting Dream on the back for a show well performed (drenched in sweat and breathing heavy), I couldn't fully commend her until performing the role myself. How demanding! Now add hot stage lights under a tent on a 100 degree day on the Boston Common... Was I out of breath? Yes. But was the experience worth it? Always.

8. The Sheep Shoot

Dancing in the countryside... Each year, Luminarium performs in the Wiscasset Art Walk, and in 2015, the company was dancing alongside several beautiful sheep photos in Sylvan Gallery when the artist, Nina Fuller, approached us with the possibility of doing a photoshoot with her sheep in the future. I followed up earlier this year, and on the way home from the 2016 art walk, Luminarium stopped at Nina's farm, where the company mingled with its inhabitants on and off camera. I can't say I've ever done a dance photo shoot quite like this one before. While most of the sheep were skittish, Brenda (seen above) and Emma helped ease our way into the herd. With 30 sheep, two horses, a rooster, a donkey, and a mini horse, Kim and I had a blast performing on Lily Brook Farm, while giving our company members a new experience for the books. View the full series here.

9. Collaborating with Composer Mali Sastri on "The Hostess Diaries"

With an abundance of funding for this year's CCOP, I decided to take on a new challenge: Creating a work that would debut at the Wayside, but that would also be relevant beyond that specific venue. Reading through the inn's old journal entries known as "the hostess diaries," I became acutely aware of history repeating itself. From fires, to wars, to harsh New England winters, many of the old entries ring true for modern times, yet even when describing challenges and moments of sadness, the journals also continuously reference beautiful flowers adorning the rooms, joyous new meetings of strangers telling stories by the hearth, and excitement as celebrities stopped at the inn on their travels.

I feel honored to have had the opportunity to work with the wildly talented musician Mali Sastri (of the Boston-based band Jaggery) on this project. My original intent was to choreograph the work, then have Mali create a soundscore to match, but, as luck would have it, my choreography had to be put unexpectedly on hold as Kim and I turned our focus to our new commission for TEDxCambridge instead. Mali and I met for coffee on several occasions throughout these months, during which she did her own research for inspiration, and in the end, her music was created first. We went back and forth a little, tweaking it as needed, before I dove into three intense rehearsals leading up to the Wayside Inn event to finish what I'd started. The end result was a deeply collaborative new work that seemed to resonate with its viewers.

The challenge (and excitement) came when bringing it indoors to the Boston University Dance Theater later in the season for Luminarium's feature production Portal: Stories from the Edge. Suddenly lighting, sound amplification, and staging became a larger focus. Giving cellist Jonah Sacks his own light and space upstage so as to highlight him (not hide him, as is often typical with live music at dance performances) and hooking Mali up to a lapel mic, the dancers and I tweaked the choreography to incorporate both musicians as active performers onstage. Mali wove in and out, calmly inserting herself into the choreography as if the symbolic keeper of time, all while singing her lyrics with gritty strength and honey-like fluidity. In the end, this work is the piece I'm most proud of this season (aside from the work Kim and I co-choreographed for the Opera House, of course!). Thank you to Mali for being such an inspiring collaborator, and to the dancers (Amy, Katie, Dream, Alison, and Melenie) for being open to discussion and input while making this historically-relevant work. (And for joining me with giddy enthusiasm to dance in hoop skirts!)

10. "We Create" 2016-17 Cohort

This final 2016 accomplishment is one that will continue to expand into the new year. My days are typically focused on creating new work for Luminarium, freelance writing assignments, and graphic design for work. Sadly, there are projects that find their way into my journal that don't necessarily fall into those categories. For this reason, I'm beyond grateful to have been chosen for the 2016-17 cohort of We Create—"an annual festival in Boston that features the works of a selected group of the most talented women artists in Massachusetts," founded in 2013 by Puerto Rican artist, Marsha Parrilla of Danza Orgánica. For this festival, I'm working with long-time friend and Harvard PhD candidate Jenny Zuk to build an installation piece celebrating the vibrancy of those with disabilities. With the theme of "hidden stories," it has been a moving experience to connect with my fellow cohort artists, as they each dive into their respective works.

Those are the highlights of 2016. Here’s to another fruitful season for all of us in 2017!

Labyrinth Piece: Constructing the Set & Score

It’s been some time since I last posted an entry, but it’s not for lack of thoughts to post! Over the past month, my two works in Luminarium’s upcoming feature production PORTAL: Stories from the Edge have each given me reasons to write. Unfortunately (or rather fortunately) these same moments have given me such a boost in creative energy that instead of writing, I’ve been diving straight back into the work. Still, I always find it helpful to put these struggles and revelations during the creation process into words—partially as a way of sharing the behind-the-scenes of my work with others, but also to remind myself years later about the work’s journey (at a point when often I’ve become so used to the finished product that I forget the path it took to get there).

At long last—as we head into these final 2.5 weeks (wait, what?) leading up to the proverbial curtain rising—I am forcing myself to stop in my tracks and jot down various progress reports on the twists and turns that have led these two works to this point. Enjoy!


Crawling out of the Labyrinth:

The last time I posted about the Labyrinth piece, it was to chronicle my somewhat comical realization that strapping branches to my dancers’ arms to create a human labyrinth, and forcing myself to invent a series of characters from an Alice in Wonderland / The Secret Garden mashup, had pulled me too far from my original mission. I then turned to research, and created a list of sections I felt were key to personifying the allures and fears of “slowing down,” as described by all those I polled. Since then, my work has finally begun to feel relevant again, both to society at large, and (equally important) to myself as an artist. This is the work I intended to create.

Yet to do that, this piece has me working in every facet of performance, from stage to set to lighting to score. And while I sincerely hope it all blurs together smoothly two weeks from now, here’s a glimpse into some of these facets of the work, isolated.

SET DESIGN

After taking my idea of “labyrinth” and breaking it down to figure out why I kept gravitating towards the visual of a maze, I came to realize that really what I envisioned wasn’t a maze so much as the visual of grass growing to the height of a tall hedge. This hedge would then have the potential to act as a barrier between the fast-paced world in which we first find our soloist, and the slowed-pace world we’re now in.

This discovery soon led me to creating stage mockups with a set of five tall panels, and the ingenious idea of purchasing large-scale foam board for a sturdy, lightweight set piece. And what an ingenious idea it was, two days later, as I found myself battling my way through the wind down the street with what felt like a 40x60” screaming and kicking child. And ohhh, how right I was to buy something so sturdy, as I struggled for 20 minutes to fit it into my car (pausing occasionally to do the casual car lean for passersby) and ultimately another 10 minutes desperately trying to score it with my keys to break off the foot that didn’t fit. What a great material!

Two weeks later, my living room is now packed with five dismantlable 30-by-80-inch free-standing panels, along with one very patient fiancé.


SOUNDSCORE

This piece largely revolves around the old idiom “The grass never grows under your feet,” meaning the person is ambitious and always on the move. They don’t have time to pause before the next project begins.

For a while now, I’ve envisioned beginning the work with a newscaster-style podcast playing to the sound of crazed typing, ending with the words “well I’ll tell you one thing… The grass never grows under her feet!” This would then be followed by the words “But what if I let it?” spoken from the mind of the soloist onstage.

This is all well and good, but where does this voice-over come from?

Taking pen to paper, I sculpted my own version of a prologue—a poetic stream of consciousness that at once combines the elements of fear and delight slowing down can bring us, while also drifting through the metaphor I’ve envisioned from the start. Here now is that poem, which will be read by the sultry-voiced Laura Castello:

The grass never grows under her feet... I hear—time, and time again...

But what if I let it?

What if I allowed the grass to consume me whole—wrapping around my arms and legs until I sink into the comforting bed of blades beneath me... Who would I be then? Awash in lush greenery, hiding my body, my mind, temporarily from view...

A moment to breathe—a moment.

A stopped clock gifting me with time to reconnect... Reaching through the tall grass to find a friend's hand, and reveling in the quiet joy of basic human connection.

But in truth? I think my greatest fear is that I'll be forgotten there, overgrown.

If honest—

I fear I'll disappear.

Those are the updates for now. Stay tuned for the final creation!

Labyrinth Piece: Stripping it Down & Starting Fresh

A Seed of an Idea:

Earlier this season, I became interested in exploring through choreography a phrase that has been used to describe me time and time again by those older and wiser than myself: "Well, the grass certainly doesn't grow under your feet!"

Introducing this concept first to my co-director, then to the company as a whole, I was surprised to find that not a single person had heard this expression before—and some even misinterpreted it when trying to puzzle it out. It's moments like these when I revel in the intricacies of the English language! To one person, it came across as a positive phrase; to others, a negative. Yet ultimately, this phrase is meant to be complimentary: Implying that the person at hand is so active that the grass never even has a chance to start growing before they've moved on to the next task or adventure.

Last year I tackled the concept of burnout, and the vicious cycle it creates. As a dear friend of mine wrote in the press "Guerra’s piece [Phoenixial Cycle] turns a torturous, generation-wide phenomenon into a beautiful, haunting performance." These words were both touching for me as the choreographer, but also eye-opening. I was amazed to find that this largely autobiographical piece was in fact completely relatable to a much broader demographic than I initially realized. The goal for this season? To create another personal yet relatable work—in some ways, a partner piece to last year's.


The Divergence:

As I proceeded to sketch, ponder, research, and reflect, I became completely at odds with myself as to how this new work should manifest. Case in point, this blog post was originally titled "Labyrinth Piece: Early Conundrums—Balancing Humor & Depth" in response to my choreographic brain spitting out two polar opposite moods in the studio: One, my comedic side; the other, my introspective. In an attempt to bridge the two, I began feeling frustrated—frustrated one week with the potential for this poignant piece to be undermined by its initial humor as "campy"; the next week, frustrated by my inability to seamlessly flow into the Alice in Wonderland meets The Secret Garden fantasy world I'd envisioned. After several rehearsals of shaping the dancers into a human maze and a two-hour trip to the nearest Michaels craft store, I returned home with an armful of pricey willow branches, kulu sticks, and plastic topiary along with one more thing: The realization that absolutely none of this was necessary. Standing in the living room with an army of hair ties keeping a rubber fern strapped to my arm, I found myself giggling, How the hell did I end up here?

– pause –

At this point, I share that last paragraph with my fiancé, telling him where I am now, where I was, and the thoughts I now have in store as I continue to write this post in an effort to solidify them. "I love that concept," he says without bias. "Me too," I answer, "I only wish I'd reached this point back in July!" "It's an iterative process," he wisely reassures me, "You needed to go through all those steps to know how to best move forward to this final place. So you have three rehearsals left...you've got this."

– resume –

Returning, Researching, Scrapping & Sketching:

Stripping my piece of everything, I returned to my initial thoughts in my journal, and reread that key phrase: "The grass never grows under your feet" with my character's voice scrawled in pencil after, But what if I let it? What if I allowed the grass to consume me whole, wrapping around my arms and legs until I sink into the comforting bed of blades beneath me...

After all that, my original image of a woman standing in the circular glow of a downcast spotlight, with vine-like hands reaching to grasp her ankles each time she paused (before ultimately sucking her into the dark) still struck me with the same poignance and excitement as it did on Day 1. With this as my core once more, I put aside the comedic opening, put aside the pressure to invent fantasy world characters, and instead turned to research as my guide.

I'd like to take a moment to sincerely thank all those who wrote in response to my prompt What is your biggest fear about slowing down your life? What is most alluring to you about slowing down? The responses were fascinating in their interconnected from one person to the next, and it truly helped me in formulating the final visions I now plan to hit the ground running with come Thursday evening:

Slow-Motion vs. Speed

A lesson in slowing down

When you're driving fast, pedestrians seem to be moving in slow motion, but as you slow the car down, your speeds begin to fall in sync. Similarly, I see my central character moving full speed with all those around her moving in slow-motion. As she pauses—taking a deep breath—the others momentarily quicken. Gradually, as the soloist reaches a meditative breathing pattern, the rest build their tempo to match hers. She has now slowed down to their pace; they are in sync.

Mirrors

Looking at herself; rediscovering herself with a handheld light; running the light along her body as if bathing herself; cleansing and starting anew

Many spoke of the allure of rediscovering themselves through slowing down. I see my main character standing in front of a semi-circle of mirrors—just her and her own reflection—lighting each part of her body as she reconnects with herself.

Wall

Feeling cut off from the world; alternatively feeling like the king of this new space

Perhaps most interesting to me were the comments I received from those who consider themselves fast-paced individuals who have slowed down, whether due to age or physical limitations. While many described the positive feeling of being fully in control of their now smaller domain, they also admitted a sense of loss in terms of connections with the world at large—be it through coworkers, students, etc. Here, I see my main character pushing against a wide wall, keeping her from the people on the other side. She has two solos here: One that is tightly-wound representing the fear of being disconnected from others, and another that is large and flowing as she enjoys her literal and metaphoric space.

Flashlights

Disappearing

My own fear of slowing down is the idea that I'll disappear; that I may be forgotten by others, and no longer be important to society. Others spoke of this issue similarly, albeit with varying terms such as no longer feeling "relevant," becoming "valueless," or feeling like others have full control when you have none. To personify this, I see my main character standing in the dark, with her body fully lit by flashlights. One by one, the flashlights are turned off—she loses a knee, a hand, a shoulder—until she fully disappears. She is at the mercy of those lighting her, as she gradually slips away. 

Now time to get back into the studio and make this happen! 

PORTAL: STORIES FROM THE EDGE

NOVEMBER 11 & 12 . 8PM

Boston University Dance Theater

Boston MA

BUY TICKETS

A Pivotal Moment: Performing at the Boston Opera House

Apologies in advance to my readers: This post takes a more rambling approach than I tend to use, but one thought led to another, and it felt too circuitous in the end to force it into a more linear format. Enjoy!

People often ask me where my love of dance originated. To be honest, it seems to have lived inside me since the moment I could freely move my limbs. When I was old enough to talk, I repeatedly concerned my parents with a straight-faced story about my true identity being a professional dancer who lived in a pink house, and that my "real" family missed me. Alter ego aside, my dance career did start young, and was encouraged by a supportive family (yes, my actual one) and a network of mentors with whom I still keep in contact and thank for their help along the way. 

A glimpse at a time when performing made me feel timid, rather than charged.

Despite this encouragement from the outside, I was always aware of the fact that fulfilling my goal of becoming a professional dancer/choreographer would be a challenge to say the least. I started taking formal dance classes at the age of six, which—sadly—is considered "late" in the ballet world. Yet as I grew, I discovered both my set-backs and my strengths. What I lacked in turnout and height, I made up for with stage presence.

"Stage presence." What an interesting term. The dictionary defines it as "the ability to command the attention of a theater audience by the impressiveness of one's manner or appearance," and this is certainly true, but for me the term is two-fold. Whenever I perform in a new space, I find I have not one favorite moment, but two. Who doesn't love that instant when the stage lights rise, heating your skin, your face, as you connect with the viewers in the dark abyss through the intricacies of movement? Yet equally powerful is the moment just prior, when the tech crew has shifted its focus away from the performers; the performers have wandered off to eat, change, and apply their makeup; and the stage just sits there, not as a magnificent focal point, but as an insignificant structure awaiting the production.

That is the moment I love most. When the only "stage presence" left in the theater is the presence of the stage itself.

Kim and I pry ourselves awake for our first meeting with TEDxCambridge, at the very non-Luminarium hour of 8am.

In February, Kim and I received a call from TEDxCambridge, inviting us to open for their spring 2016 TED Talks. The call could have gone a far less glamorous direction, but instead we soon found ourselves creating a newly-commissioned work for the single largest TED event in the world (even larger than the original TED Talks in Vancouver), performing for an audience of 2,600 viewers in our city's most celebrated theater, the Boston Opera House.

Wandering around the block, we spy our event featured on the Boston Opera House marquee. Photo: Merli V. Guerra.

The process was as exhilarating as it was daunting, but in the end, Kim and I found ourselves walking around the block—exhausted, excited—chatting about how solid we felt about the work we were about to debut. It was our first commissioned work of this magnitude coupled with our first time co-choreographing in four years, and we had successfully created a piece that the full company felt proud of, allowing ourselves to work somewhat commercially without compromising our artistic integrity.

Kim feet and my feet, standing on this monumental stage.
Photo: Kim Holman.

Our walk ended back inside the theater, standing on the stage. And thus my "stage presence" moment began. Here was this mighty, famous, historic theater whose gilded walls gleamed in the light. But who was she really? I took a moment for myself to commune with the space—a spiritual pre-performance ritual of mine—feeling the weight of the people whose energies graced this same spot over the years. The floor creaked under my feet in patches, while others pushed back against my legs. The ceiling mural somehow felt farther away now, and I wondered who painted it—were they as scared of heights as I am? The backstage opened up to reveal a colossal, cool cave of inspiration—what set design couldn't one build in here? And as Kim and I exited to return to the group, I marveled at how quickly all the backstage passages had become second nature to travel.

Soaking it all in, and fully embracing the evening to follow. Photo: Kim Holman.

A few weeks before the production, I brought my mom to see Boston Ballet for her birthday, and we made a whole day of it. Amusingly, it wasn't until halfway through the performance that she suddenly realized which theater we were in, and that this was the same stage Luminarium would be performing on in June. The conversation shifted back to one of my earliest memories of seeing Boston Ballet perform—back then at the Wang Theatre. My dad had brought me and my friend Ginny to see Swan Lake. I remember sitting in a booster seat, peering down at the dancers, completely mesmerized. Even more vivid, I remember my dad sneaking us around a corner in the lobby—as the adults laughed and mingled, sipping their wine—and surprising us with our own intermission beverage of choice: Juicy Juice, with a snack of Teddy Grahams.

24 years later, here I was. Sipping cocktails at the Ritz Carlton after party for the event's VIPs; chatting with corporate sponsors; and laughing with my company members, my friends, about the last-minute trials of the performance a few hours earlier. I wonder what that little girl would have thought—sitting cross legged on the floor, sipping her juice box and enjoying her snack—if a young woman in a black dress suddenly turned around, winked, and with a reassuring smile said "This will be you someday. You'll perform on the same stage as Boston's finest; your work will be shown to the region's smartest audience; and you'll be surrounded by artists you admire and who support and admire you right back."

What would she have thought...

Backstage, the company huddles together one last time before the show begins. Photo: Luke Fogel.

Below are two videos from this mile-marker event in Luminarium's evolution. The first is a 5-minute documentary giving viewers a look into the company's experience behind-the-scenes. The second is the beautiful, professional footage taken of the performance itself.

Many thanks to all who were involved in the creation of this work and to all who encouraged us throughout the four months leading up to its debut!