Guerrilla Dance - Solo (pt. #2)

The first people I talked to were viewers of Jasmine's solo dancing.

I talked to one girl who was fairly surprised by the seemingly random act of dancing in the library, a place one rarely finds much more than quiet book reading and laptop typing. Nonetheless, she was quite positive about the dancing. She thought it was gutsy, cool to see, and despite the fact that she didn't really feel like it naturally fit in a library, was glad to have it there. I asked her about the fact that she was going solo, and she simply re-emphasized how gutsy Jasmine seemed. I prodded further to see if she would ever do something similar, and she again talked about guts: how she would only have enough to do it if she had a group of her friends to do it with her.

Soon thereafter, I talked to two other girls who I had spotted looking and laughing to each other about Jasmine. We had a long conversation that touched on many points, but one that really stuck out to me came when I asked about Jasmine's soloing, and whether or not these two girls would ever do the same thing. They both laughed, and voiced how one of them had suggested just that idea, of joining in: "I will if you'll come with me." They decided not to, but it kept this idea of soloing in the forefront of my mind. It was so important to have someone else to stand next to when going against what was established as the proper way to act in a specific setting. (Not that this was a surprise to me. Going against what the majority deems as appropriate is a well accepted difficulty in the life of many humans: ex. high school, media, religion, art in general, etc. but) Why was this so important? Both these girls, and the one I had previously talked to had expressed quite an interest in joining. They all wanted to do it, but didn't have the "guts" to unless a friend was beside them. What strength was there in this extra person? What did a partner offer that was a substitute for their lack of guts? And whatever was holding them back - society, culture, the "norm," rules - was holding them back from an experience that seemed enjoyable to them. They wanted to dance on the staircase of Thompson Library, in plain view of four stories worth of fellow studying students and passerbys. Yet there was some danger they wouldn't risk acting against. An entity of some sort that could hurt them. The joy in dancing wasn't worth the possible consequences.

These consequences...

Guerrilla Dance - Solo (pt. #1)

This whole idea of solo dancing in a place designated for a completely different type of behavior is slowly garnering an intense amount of attention in my mind.

A dancer (Jasmine) and I took a trip to our local library to dance, and as an experiment (and because my knees are shot from repeatedly dancing on concrete) I had her dance alone. First she danced without any music for about 20 minutes, a break, then danced for another 20 or so minutes with an iPod on.

The question was, would there be any difference with this dancing experience with a single dancer versus the groups of three or four that usually go out?

The difference was there, and I soon felt bad for knowingly putting my dancer into the...lion's den, if you will. I saw looks like I always do, and saw Jasmine dance with infectious joy and fearlessness, like I always do. At first, I found nothing irregular. However, time went on and I myself began to feel embarrassed for her - despite my own involvement in the project. There was something about her up on the staircase, a lone figure in her attempt to do something out of the ordinary. How horrible it seemed...

Beyond that feeling of my own, I didn't see any other obvious signs of real negativity. Until of course I actually went and talked to others...

Guerrilla Dance Writing #4

...continued from #3

and we danced, and enjoyed ourselves, and affected those who watched, and didn't affect some, and (it seemed) most importantly we spread dance. It was good.

But I knew something wasn't quite right. I felt good about the process, and it seemed to be fulfilling the goals I had set out to achieve. Yet it rarely felt really good like I thought it would. I felt unsatisfied with the process somehow, and I couldn't put my finger on it. I didn't really put a lot of thought into it - the actual act of making dance happen everyday of the week was more than enough to keep me occupied - I didn't have much of a choice.

At the end of last quarter, all the dancers involved in the project and I had a talk. The topic of connecting with viewers came up. They felt we had brought the fourth wall of proscenium performance with us to our everyday "stage."

As a result, I attempted to approach this Winter quarter differently, using social dance (that which might be done at a club, wedding, party, etc) mixed with a touch of studio movement, with the hope that this would be more inviting to the audience. It also made the focus automatically (albeit consciously) switch to fun. Which, I didn't notice it at the time, had been the original focus all along.

I wrote up a set schedule, found a set place to dance, made sure set people were assigned to each day, and we began...

Guerrilla Dance Writing #5

...continued from "Writing #4"

Day one was an absolute disaster. No dancing happened...it just wasn't right. All the set components weren't clicking, and freaking out by me commenced.

How could I possibly imagine to orchestrate this huge project? I didn't know what was right, and I seemed to get it wrong quite often. There was so much room for error.
On top of all that, it occurred to me: how could I possibly expect anyone else to adopt the responsibilities that I had? It was my hope that if a group of us began dancing in everyday life, on a consistent basis, others would join. Yet it was simply too much work, and too tiringly complex...especially for one person. All the leg work was messing with the fun, the joy. It was doubtful anyone would join the "cause." Even I was beginning to question my ability to keep things afloat.

Then a wise person suggested the idea of throwing out all the structure: "setness" if you will. Why do we need speakers, music player, set places, blah blah blah? Let's just go dance; pick some random place everyday; do our thing.

I smiled, the very next day did what I had been advised, and it finally felt right.

Spontaneity came into the picture, adventure, freedom to choose, flexibility: all qualities that say dance to me. Dance as a way to express whatever one is feeling, do so using the physical instrument of self (the body) and not let anything get in the way. After only three days of this new approach a random passerby joined in the dancing, another week and a slew of others were asking how they could be involved, and another two weeks and dancers from other states were expressing interest in doing the same type of dancing. All of which had never happened in the two and a half months we had already been dancing in public spaces.

There definitely seemed to be a shift, and that shift seemed to be caused by the shift us group of dancers had made. It stopped being about rules and lines to follow. It became about doing what we wanted, and using whatever we could find as a way to do it. It expanded on the ideas of the club and tribal dancing I had originally been inspired by. It took parts of what make that type of dancing for fun/entertainment, doing whatever you want. Now though, instead of going to designated locations to do it, the canvas was clear, and the paint began to fly.

Guerrilla Dance Writing #3

I keep coming back to this idea of fun. When the idea for this project/act/group/movement (Guerrilla Dance, or whatever you want to call it) was in its early stages, it centered around the little knowledge I had about social dancing of West Africa, the swing clubs in Harlem, wedding receptions, the club dancing of current day: dance, most of which is focused on social enjoyment. I noticed that the prevalence of dance within societies (along the aforementioned vein) appeared in a variety of ways and amounts, but all seemed to show up in a social setting of some sort. My first instinct, and the original iteration of this idea of Guerrilla Dance, was to go to the places that already had dance, encourage a movement that led away from bumping & grinding, and would include more complex dance.

I moved away from that approach quite early on, for many reasons, but looking back on what I had considered and how this project has evolved, I see a common thread that has survived: fun.

Last quarter, we had a set schedule with set locations, set people who were going on each day, and set scores to guide the dancing

...everything was set...

Day-Write #2

January 25, 2010

Dancing by yourself in an extremely public space (on the corner of High and 15th near Jimmy Johns, a very traveled area) is terrifying. You feel this pressure telling you what you're doing - sort of detailing out in your mind what your actions are within society's walls. Or rather, what you're doing and how it ranks in the scheme of things you can and can't do. Trying to describe to your conscious self that what you're about to do is going to be this, this, this and this - embarrassing - within the eyes of others...
Even while I was dancing I felt that pressure. For me, once the process begins that fear often diminishes. Yet I constantly felt the eyes and thoughts of others coming down on me, what they might be thinking, the words of ridicule and judgment going through their mind, and whether or not they feel positively or negatively about what I'm doing.

Compare this with the experience of dancing in everyday places with others, and it's an entirely different story. Why that is, I don't really know for sure. It makes sense to my mind that it is because I have back up in a group "These other people are doing it too so it's ok. Multiple people approve, so it's OK!!" Power in numbers. But when you're by yourself, it's all on you. All the pressure is pushing down, and only you are there to hold it up. You have to decide whether or not you care. Physically nothing is happening to you, no real pressure is there, nobody watching is actually doing anything tangible to me, so you have to decide whether or not to imagine that pressure. Choose whether or not to feel embarrassed.


Why is it scary to go beyond what's already been approved? Going into the unknown...the mysterious.

Day-Write #1

As part of the work on my senior "Guerrilla Dance" project, I am going to regularly be blogging about my day to day experiences within the project. These will be very casual, sort of free writes more than anything. Here's iteration one of that process.

January 22, 2010

The energy felt when another dancer is completely released from any sort of pre-conceived notion or pressure, it's completely contagious and inspiring. I've noticed that I tend to not have that reaction unless someone is not a technically trained dancer. Not always the case, but in the most extreme circumstances, it is for me. Infectious energy. What is that? Life? Something inherent in dance that needs to be unlocked by each individual in their own way, or simply an expression of some sentiment that just happens to come out nicely within dance?

Obviously whether a dancer is trained or not is not the catalyst. However, since I tend to notice it more often with untrained dancers, maybe it is an issue of control. Trained dancers are so aware of what they are doing, constantly evaluating movement, or at least being aware of how their movement fits into the "world" of dance and technique.
A thought could be that simply because we are so aware of the context within which we dance, it is difficult to let go. Letting go may then be the reason for this release of energy: an unpolished expression of one's self.
Yet this hypothesis doesn't account for the dancers you watch who have this type of energy, and are expertly trained. Have they found a way to consciously tap into this energy, is it simply inherent in them, or is it simply a skill that can - like many others - be practiced and perfected?