Movement, text, discussion...these were always part of rehearsal. So why was a simple assignment to bring in sacred text leaving me stuck? In fact, more than stuck. Filled with anxiety. Thinking about copping out of rehearsal. Terrified to explain what was going on inside.
The subject of the text was to be based upon movement I had created in response to my writing, “I stand on what I’ve been taught.....and I stand away from it.” From this choreography, Marin selected one gesture, a backward glance, as its essential gesture. Through our discussions, the meaning of this gesture began to focus on questioning, even doubting. Doubt was a hidden fuse running back to my religious foundations.
One catalyst to the formation of Mormonism was a scripture from the New Testament, which states that anyone who lacks wisdom should “ask of God”. Accordingly, Mormons believe that individuals are entitled to personal spiritual revelation. It is the next verse, which counsels that one should ask with “nothing wavering”, that causes me the trouble. How can one lack wisdom without any degree of doubt or wavering? But if one has doubts, which I did, was James saying they were not prepared or faithful enough to receive answers? This conflict had been ebbing and flowing in my life for several years and it always seemed unresolvable. When questions bubbled up, I would gently, but persistently slip them back underground. Now my own movement was exposing this desire for spiritual answers to spiritual questions. In the process, all kinds of internal pyrotechnics were going off.
Did my canon of scripture defend and validate questioning? I could think of lists of scriptures that admonish one to build upon a firm foundation, to doubt not or to be steadfast and immovable, but not a single one that encouraged wavering or uncertainty. My movement seemed to have no scriptural basis, a dangerous realization for a religious person. This perception rocked me deeply.
While the supportive structure of rehearsal released some of my anxiety, ultimately, it was the movement itself that defused this conflict. I started to remember the whole phrase my gesture was drawn from...its groundedness, its confined suspension, how it moved easily away from conflict, its final look back.
Its look back. That look back was to something significant, supportive, meaningful. A look back to gain a new eye, from a new level, a new place. An attempt to find a fresh view, to create a new relationship with that which has given me peace and been my foundation. The step away and glance back was possibly spurred by doubt and conflict, but it was equally a step of faith. Perhaps, my movement suggested that both are allowed in my spiritual process.
Dancing this problem is releasing an old, stuck way of thinking and slowly getting me moving again. Beginnings of answers are growing out of the movement that grew out of my own questions. I can't help but appreciate the irony and mystery of that unfolding cycle. Simply put, it is personal revelation.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Foundations Update #2, originally written in January...
1. Transparency 2. Choreographic intention refined
1. Occasionally, when rehearsal space can't be found in Manhattan, the five of us trek out to Brooklyn Arts Exchange, which is a lovely friendly, community-centered space with bright studios and clean floors. Sara, at the front desk, is so so so helpful, and tonight, she let us all meet in the multi-purpose room at 8pm, 30 minutes before our studio slot, to fold fundraising letters and talk...
I felt I needed to get permission from these dancers to "define" them in our printed fundraising material as the token representatives of each of their religious or spiritual traditions. Do they feel they represent these broad traditions? I needed to be totally transparent about my intentions, especially as fundraising materials begin to get distributed, and email marketing campaigns begin.
2. Through this project, I am wholly committed in validating the role of religious involvement and/or spiritual practice in one's mortal journey. I am curious about religious worldviews generally, and in discovering the parallels or intersections within these belief systems. Yet, the deeper we wade into issues of religious/spiritual involvement as a cast, the more committed I am becoming in validating the individual experiences of these dancers. In spite of representing Judaism, Mormonism, Buddhism, etc, and in spite of my total commitment to validating these major religious and spiritual traditions, I'm realizing that dance comes alive through the individual experiences of the dancers.
If I seek to create a shared human-to-human experience through dance, in which audience members come to understand themselves in and through the embodied experience of the performers they are witnessing on stage, as they live the tenets, practice the rituals, as they question, as they believe. So, now the task becomes more personal, the stakes are raised, the need for vulnerability and transparency becomes more pressing and more necessary, from everyone involved.
1. Occasionally, when rehearsal space can't be found in Manhattan, the five of us trek out to Brooklyn Arts Exchange, which is a lovely friendly, community-centered space with bright studios and clean floors. Sara, at the front desk, is so so so helpful, and tonight, she let us all meet in the multi-purpose room at 8pm, 30 minutes before our studio slot, to fold fundraising letters and talk...
I felt I needed to get permission from these dancers to "define" them in our printed fundraising material as the token representatives of each of their religious or spiritual traditions. Do they feel they represent these broad traditions? I needed to be totally transparent about my intentions, especially as fundraising materials begin to get distributed, and email marketing campaigns begin.
2. Through this project, I am wholly committed in validating the role of religious involvement and/or spiritual practice in one's mortal journey. I am curious about religious worldviews generally, and in discovering the parallels or intersections within these belief systems. Yet, the deeper we wade into issues of religious/spiritual involvement as a cast, the more committed I am becoming in validating the individual experiences of these dancers. In spite of representing Judaism, Mormonism, Buddhism, etc, and in spite of my total commitment to validating these major religious and spiritual traditions, I'm realizing that dance comes alive through the individual experiences of the dancers.
If I seek to create a shared human-to-human experience through dance, in which audience members come to understand themselves in and through the embodied experience of the performers they are witnessing on stage, as they live the tenets, practice the rituals, as they question, as they believe. So, now the task becomes more personal, the stakes are raised, the need for vulnerability and transparency becomes more pressing and more necessary, from everyone involved.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Performance Intentions
I’ve been thinking about performance intentions and honesty, and wanted to relate an experience from this weekend, and invite readers to share their own experiences.
*What are our goals when we step out on stage?
*How do those goals affect the audience’s viewing experience as they sit, witnessing, from a darkened house?
This weekend, I performed in my friend Rebecca Jennejohn’s concert, Rush Reflecting at Dance New Amsterdam (www.jennejohndance.com). It was a lovely concert – her first self-produced concert in NYC – and all the elements came together very smoothly. The concert came at an unusually stressful time for me personally, with fundraising for Foundations in full swing, rehearsals beginning again after the holiday break, and university interviews beginning next week.
I am 34 years old; while I generally thrill to witness “mature” dancers weave life experiences into a nuanced performance, I was feeling anything but “nuanced” prior to our opening on Friday night. Doubts about my stamina, and insecurity about my age put me in a place where I was thinking about ME and how others would perceive ME while I was on stage. In one rep piece, the part I was dancing involved several high battements, and man, I really wanted these battements to look good. I thought about my turnout and extension throughout the entire performance.
After Friday’s performance, my friend, a gifted actress and singer said honestly that she felt disconnected from the performance in which the excellent demonstration of technique only added to the division between Her, the “non-dancer,” and Me, the “dancer.”
Our conversation reminded me that, dancer or non-dancer, people go to the theater to be moved. Or educated, or enlightened, or challenged or validated… Whatever the emotion, we want to feel a shared human experience with those on stage. This kind of unique experience comes through the craft, and also through the performance intent of those on stage. When a performance becomes solely about the demonstration of technique (through either the intent of the choreographer or the intent of the performer), the inequality, rather than the equality, between audience and performer is emphasized. A high battement, or singing a high “C,” –when technique is showcased solely as an end in and of itself, the few meters between stage space and audience space suddenly becomes a great chasm separating our realms of human experience and understanding.
Saturday’s performance, then, became an experiment in performance intent. It’s an experiment I’ve conducted countless times over the past ten or twelve years, and involves putting the audience’s experience at the forefront of my intention as a performer. Seeking to communicate our sameness through my performance, rather than our difference. Allowing the demonstration of technique to be a means to an end, rather than the end in and of itself. Without soliciting any audience feedback, I received specific notes commenting on my performance, and the effect it had on several audience members.
Ironically, as we “forget” ourselves onstage - our egos, our insecurities, our awesomeness, our fears – and direct our intention outward, our audience, too, is reminded of their humanity and are led to the very place they were unknowingly seeking when they sat down in that darkened theater.
We’ve all had experiences like this on stage, and I’d love to get your thoughts about performance intentions and audience connection.
*What constitutes a “successful” performance experience for you?
*How do you evaluate your performance when you step off the stage?
*Does simply being “present” and internally aware of your movement experience translate into a shared human experience with those watching?
*What pre-performance rituals have helped you prepare to connect with audience?
*What are our goals when we step out on stage?
*How do those goals affect the audience’s viewing experience as they sit, witnessing, from a darkened house?
This weekend, I performed in my friend Rebecca Jennejohn’s concert, Rush Reflecting at Dance New Amsterdam (www.jennejohndance.com). It was a lovely concert – her first self-produced concert in NYC – and all the elements came together very smoothly. The concert came at an unusually stressful time for me personally, with fundraising for Foundations in full swing, rehearsals beginning again after the holiday break, and university interviews beginning next week.
I am 34 years old; while I generally thrill to witness “mature” dancers weave life experiences into a nuanced performance, I was feeling anything but “nuanced” prior to our opening on Friday night. Doubts about my stamina, and insecurity about my age put me in a place where I was thinking about ME and how others would perceive ME while I was on stage. In one rep piece, the part I was dancing involved several high battements, and man, I really wanted these battements to look good. I thought about my turnout and extension throughout the entire performance.
After Friday’s performance, my friend, a gifted actress and singer said honestly that she felt disconnected from the performance in which the excellent demonstration of technique only added to the division between Her, the “non-dancer,” and Me, the “dancer.”
Our conversation reminded me that, dancer or non-dancer, people go to the theater to be moved. Or educated, or enlightened, or challenged or validated… Whatever the emotion, we want to feel a shared human experience with those on stage. This kind of unique experience comes through the craft, and also through the performance intent of those on stage. When a performance becomes solely about the demonstration of technique (through either the intent of the choreographer or the intent of the performer), the inequality, rather than the equality, between audience and performer is emphasized. A high battement, or singing a high “C,” –when technique is showcased solely as an end in and of itself, the few meters between stage space and audience space suddenly becomes a great chasm separating our realms of human experience and understanding.
Saturday’s performance, then, became an experiment in performance intent. It’s an experiment I’ve conducted countless times over the past ten or twelve years, and involves putting the audience’s experience at the forefront of my intention as a performer. Seeking to communicate our sameness through my performance, rather than our difference. Allowing the demonstration of technique to be a means to an end, rather than the end in and of itself. Without soliciting any audience feedback, I received specific notes commenting on my performance, and the effect it had on several audience members.
Ironically, as we “forget” ourselves onstage - our egos, our insecurities, our awesomeness, our fears – and direct our intention outward, our audience, too, is reminded of their humanity and are led to the very place they were unknowingly seeking when they sat down in that darkened theater.
We’ve all had experiences like this on stage, and I’d love to get your thoughts about performance intentions and audience connection.
*What constitutes a “successful” performance experience for you?
*How do you evaluate your performance when you step off the stage?
*Does simply being “present” and internally aware of your movement experience translate into a shared human experience with those watching?
*What pre-performance rituals have helped you prepare to connect with audience?
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
On Faith and Dance, by Aynsley Vandenbroucke
Overwhelmed by possibility, I begin this personal writing task with an impersonal (and overused) technique, the New World Dictionary definition:
Faith (n)
1. Unquestioning belief that does not require proof or evidence
2. Unquestioning belief in God, religious tenets etc
3. A religion or a system of religious beliefs
4. Anything believed
5. Complete trust, confidence, or reliance
6. Allegiance to some person or thing; loyalty
I will look at the relationship between New World's definition and my own experience as a practicing (sometimes more fully than others) Zen Buddhist and choreographer. These are beginning thoughts, full of contradiction and sure to change.
1. "Unquestioning belief that does not require proof or evidence"
I grew up in an agnostic/atheist household. We were encouraged to ask questions of everything. The dinner table was full of warm debate. Looking for science and proof, my eventually-to-become-physicist brother did gravity experiments (don't ask) on my cat.
I responded immediately to Zen Buddhism because the teachers encouraged, in fact required, me to ask questions of myself and of them. They emphasized Zen as a practice that needs to be experienced for oneself, not read about or believed. Through Zen and choreographic practice, I question and explore life's mysteries. I find deeper ways to engage with the world.
Zen teachers talk about three important aspects of practice: "Great Faith, Great Doubt, and Great Determination." I continue to learn what these are but the acknowledged/seeming contradiction helps me trust the practice. It's like a checks-and-balances system: faith balanced by a healthy dose of cynicism and human effort.
My choreographic practice thrives with these aspects. I leap into a new project, performance, rehearsal room with faith that something can come of nothing. I doubt that it will work, that a particular section is right, that all of the elements will come together. This inspires me to work harder. Like a character in a Beckett play, I go on despite the doubt. With determination (or pig-headedness) I continue to rehearse and to dig deeper into mystery after mystery.
2. "Unquestioning belief in God, religious tenets, etc"
See response to #1
3. "A religion or a system of religious beliefs"
Zen Buddhism is a practice, but it is also a religion. I think of religion as a structure within which people come together to look at the biggest and most mysterious aspects of life: birth, sickness, pain, joy, death.
Religious structure includes ritual; in Zen these rituals include bowing, chanting, even particular, and choreographed, ways of eating. I love ritual. My first bow at a Zen monastery felt like the easing of a deep body-ache. I had been instinctively, unknowingly making dances with bowing movements, so I was delighted to find them within a formal religious practice. It was profoundly satisfying to bow among seventy other people, in unison.
While others scoff at the perceived lack of control (and perhaps necessity of faith) involved with ritual, I revel in it. It is dance. Daily dance class, yoga, mediation, bowing. Performance. These are rituals that invite us into our bodies, into communal spaces and experiences that are a little bigger and more connected than our sometimes solitary thoughts and lives.
4. "Anything believed"
I believe in the power of art to bring communities together and profoundly enrich the lives of individuals. Sometimes I need to cry because I believe this so strongly and find myself in a conversation with someone else who does not.
These are my beliefs, but there is also quite a bit of proof and evidence that these beliefs are true. Economies grow, we learn new perspectives, people from many backgrounds share space and time because of art.
5. "Complete trust, confidence, or reliance"
Rehearsal, and creation, is built on trust. I need to trust myself, my collaborators, our process. This is not easy. There are many obstacles to confidence. I stare at wonderful, open faces in rehearsal and I am terrified. Sometimes I doubt it all. And yet I step forward, again and again. In creating, and specifically in dancing, we strengthen our capacity for trust. We learn how much our feet and breath and core can support.
6. "Allegiance to some person or thing; loyalty"
Making dance teaches me to commit. I am "faithful". I take a step forward. I set a schedule. I mail a press release. I connect deeply with a performer.
I learn not only to question, but also to listen to other people and the world.
Aynsley Vandenbroucke is a choregrapher and Laban Movement Analyst who divides her time between New York City and the Catskill Mountains. Information on her company can be found at http://www.movementgroup.org. She writes on dance at http://www.reflectionsondance.com.
Faith (n)
1. Unquestioning belief that does not require proof or evidence
2. Unquestioning belief in God, religious tenets etc
3. A religion or a system of religious beliefs
4. Anything believed
5. Complete trust, confidence, or reliance
6. Allegiance to some person or thing; loyalty
I will look at the relationship between New World's definition and my own experience as a practicing (sometimes more fully than others) Zen Buddhist and choreographer. These are beginning thoughts, full of contradiction and sure to change.
1. "Unquestioning belief that does not require proof or evidence"
I grew up in an agnostic/atheist household. We were encouraged to ask questions of everything. The dinner table was full of warm debate. Looking for science and proof, my eventually-to-become-physicist brother did gravity experiments (don't ask) on my cat.
I responded immediately to Zen Buddhism because the teachers encouraged, in fact required, me to ask questions of myself and of them. They emphasized Zen as a practice that needs to be experienced for oneself, not read about or believed. Through Zen and choreographic practice, I question and explore life's mysteries. I find deeper ways to engage with the world.
Zen teachers talk about three important aspects of practice: "Great Faith, Great Doubt, and Great Determination." I continue to learn what these are but the acknowledged/seeming contradiction helps me trust the practice. It's like a checks-and-balances system: faith balanced by a healthy dose of cynicism and human effort.
My choreographic practice thrives with these aspects. I leap into a new project, performance, rehearsal room with faith that something can come of nothing. I doubt that it will work, that a particular section is right, that all of the elements will come together. This inspires me to work harder. Like a character in a Beckett play, I go on despite the doubt. With determination (or pig-headedness) I continue to rehearse and to dig deeper into mystery after mystery.
2. "Unquestioning belief in God, religious tenets, etc"
See response to #1
3. "A religion or a system of religious beliefs"
Zen Buddhism is a practice, but it is also a religion. I think of religion as a structure within which people come together to look at the biggest and most mysterious aspects of life: birth, sickness, pain, joy, death.
Religious structure includes ritual; in Zen these rituals include bowing, chanting, even particular, and choreographed, ways of eating. I love ritual. My first bow at a Zen monastery felt like the easing of a deep body-ache. I had been instinctively, unknowingly making dances with bowing movements, so I was delighted to find them within a formal religious practice. It was profoundly satisfying to bow among seventy other people, in unison.
While others scoff at the perceived lack of control (and perhaps necessity of faith) involved with ritual, I revel in it. It is dance. Daily dance class, yoga, mediation, bowing. Performance. These are rituals that invite us into our bodies, into communal spaces and experiences that are a little bigger and more connected than our sometimes solitary thoughts and lives.
4. "Anything believed"
I believe in the power of art to bring communities together and profoundly enrich the lives of individuals. Sometimes I need to cry because I believe this so strongly and find myself in a conversation with someone else who does not.
These are my beliefs, but there is also quite a bit of proof and evidence that these beliefs are true. Economies grow, we learn new perspectives, people from many backgrounds share space and time because of art.
5. "Complete trust, confidence, or reliance"
Rehearsal, and creation, is built on trust. I need to trust myself, my collaborators, our process. This is not easy. There are many obstacles to confidence. I stare at wonderful, open faces in rehearsal and I am terrified. Sometimes I doubt it all. And yet I step forward, again and again. In creating, and specifically in dancing, we strengthen our capacity for trust. We learn how much our feet and breath and core can support.
6. "Allegiance to some person or thing; loyalty"
Making dance teaches me to commit. I am "faithful". I take a step forward. I set a schedule. I mail a press release. I connect deeply with a performer.
I learn not only to question, but also to listen to other people and the world.
Aynsley Vandenbroucke is a choregrapher and Laban Movement Analyst who divides her time between New York City and the Catskill Mountains. Information on her company can be found at http://www.movementgroup.org. She writes on dance at http://www.reflectionsondance.com.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Foundations update #1
Thurs, Dec. 11: Last night was our final rehearsal at Brooklyn Arts Exchange before our first works-in-progress showing of Foundations at Dance New Amsterdam on Saturday. Since we began rehearsal 6 or 8 weeks ago, this process has been unique, and last night's rehearsal reminded me how excited I feel about the journey this process will take us on the next 3-4 months.
As any choreographer knows, it's a curious thing to come into a process with a blank slate, and set out to create something from nothing. I don't know how the pieces are meant to fit together, or the shape of the overall arc. I'm writing a story, and although I have a vague idea about the themes inside the plot, I have yet to discover who the characters are, their relationships to one another, nor can I say I really even know how the story ends.
The choreographic process for Foundations is unique because I've been employing the choreographic tools I learned at Liz Lerman Dance Exchange this summer, which in essence put the dancers themselves in the role of "movement generators." We've created movement from images in a newspaper story of the Wall Arch collapse in Arches National Park last summer, we've written about the "foundations" we each stand on, edited them into three "I Stand On..." spoken phrases from which we've generated short, medium and long movement descriptions. We created several "Add-On" phrases. We've talked about why our foundations matter, editing those ideas to their essence through "Walking and Talking," and gathered "Spontaneous Gestures" that emerged from the discussion that followed. I've discovered the value of the "Scripting" tool as a way to flesh out precious nuggets of movement material. ( I appreciate that certain tools lend towards finding the essence of an idea, and other tools lend to fleshing out that essential quality).
In my role as a director, I continue to find the arc inside all this information. How does a newspaper story about a falling arch relate to the very human experience of belief and faith? What does the audience need to be safely guided along this journey? How will the dancers transition between their performance of the representational elements of the movement, to the human elements of their movement? How do music and text contribute? It's thrilling to me!
And even more thrilling is that, after our final run last night, I feel we have a very poignant and powerful segment to share on Saturday! Come see what we've been working on, and be ready to share your feedback afterwards....
Dance New Amsterdam Works-in-Progress
280 Broadway, 2nd floor (enter on Chambers)
5:30pm suggested ticket price - $10
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Discussing "Faith"
FAITH:
*What is it?
*How does it relate to the creative process?
*How does it shape the creating, viewing, or performing of contemporary dance?
This first month of Dance and Faith, I'd like to talk about the concept of faith. We all know what "Dance" is, but may not be so clear about what is meant by "Faith." Faith gets a bad rap doesn't it? I mean, it's often used in negative contexts, generally equated to "blind faith," conjuring images of people, arms outstretched but blindfolds securely fastened, following a fanatic yet charismatic leader towards a rocky precipice.
I'm interested in expanding this limiting notion of faith, understanding how various religious traditions define faith, and then asking how we, as believing dance artists, transfer that definition and experience of faith into our art.
A diverse group of choreographers, scholars and religious leaders will be contributing their thoughts on this topic this month, and I'm excited to introduce these talented and articulate individuals and their work to readers of this blog. I'm also very excited to expand my own understanding of this important concept through dialoguing with a diverse religious dancing community.
I hope the conversation over the course of the next few weeks will be generative for each of us individually and collectively as a believing, hopeful dance community. Please share your thoughts, feelings and experiences, even if they are brief or only roughly sketched out in your mind or on paper. Let's get the conversation rolling!
*********************************************************************************
I'll begin by sharing some of my thoughts:
First, my religious tradition defines faith as "hoping for things which are not seen which are true." Within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, "faith" is, well, a Big Deal. It's taught as the "first principle and ordinance of the gospel," meaning the most basic principle upon which all spiritual knowledge and progression is based. As a Latter-day Saint, I think about the principle of faith a lot, because it's so basic, yet so elusive. I can't wrap my fist around it and say, "a-ha! THIS is what it is!"
The best description of faith within LDS scripture, in my opinion, is in Alma, chapter 32 of the Book of Mormon. Some highlights:
verse 21: "if ye have faith, ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true"
verse 26: (faith) "is not a perfect knowledge of things"
verses 28-35 - comparing faith to a seed which is planted, nurtured and cultivated, then judged according to the fruit it bears
...and from the New Testament:
Hebrews 11:1 - "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
James 2:17 (suggesting an active component to the principle of faith): "Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone."
Faith is active - it is the act of believing, rather than simply a passive state of believing.
Paralleling James 2:17 is my favorite description of faith, again from Alma 32: 27 (all of the fantastic action verbs are highlighted) - "But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words."
So, faith definitely has an embodied component. It doesn't exist outside and separate from the physical body. It is rooted in my works, in my action, in my doing. As a dancer, that is really cool to me! I begin to think of how my daily actions in the studio, in technique class, in a rehearsal, require faith.... Beginning ANY creative process is an act of faith: we ACT on what we cannot see, but we know is out there somewhere, and we work with that END in mind: we prepare for rehearsal, we experiment, we move forward, with hope, to find rehearsal space, book a theater, market, and fundraise.
I believe that making the choice to see through the eyes of faith adds richness, dimension and purpose to our lives.
I choreographed a solo, Expansive to My View, in 2007 that explored this idea of "active" faith. The repetitive gestures reflect the work involved in cultivating faith, the struggle and stick-to-it-iveness, and the way in which the choice to practice faith enriches my life. It was a wonderful opportunity to structure my feelings about faith into movement. I also wanted to give specific attention to the use of focus (a blank postmodern gaze certainly wouldn't be very effective in challenging the notion of "blind faith" now, would it?) You're welcome to watch Expansive to My View
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Welcome to Dance and Faith
A leap of faith! I suppose a blog is part journal, part gathering place, part jumping-off point. For some time now, I have felt a need to create a space for contemporary dancers (modern, postmodern, however you refer to yourself) interested in issues of dance and religion to gather in a spirit of faith and education.
As one who is actively involved in religion and the culture surrounding religion, I feel a deep connection between my spiritual and artistic identities. Who I am as a "believer" and who I am as an "artist" walk hand in hand. I've explored the intersection of dance and religion recently through various choreographic projects under the name M.E.L.D. Danceworks. I want to understand that intersection even more by engaging in conversation with other dance artists through various topics presented on this blog.
Religion is a scary word these days. I get it. But, in spite of the impending shove into waters of church/state division, or latest news images coming from Mumbai this week, I remain committed to the idea that religion at its best serves as a gateway towards spiritual progression, rather than an impediment to it.
This blog will also serve to document a new dance, "Foundations," which I'm currently making in collaboration with four beautiful dancers, Erica Frankel, Andrea Homer-Macdonald, Marci Rubin and Julia Sabangan here in NYC. I'm employing elements of Liz Lerman's community-driven choreographic process inside of this interfaith project, and will be reporting on the process occasionally.
So, by way of introduction, please allow me to introduce Dance and Faith to you, the dancing, believing audience. Postings will happen at the beginning of each week, either by me or invited contributors. Join our community and contribute your thoughts and ideas. I look forward to learning from you!
Marin
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