Break It Down Now

I introduce you all to my new project: The dissection of ATS.

While I enjoy the simplicity of ATS on those who care to perform it sans "decoration", I have learned that the format doesn't entirely suit me. Neither, though, do I care to completely redesign the improv vocabulary I grew up with. Modifying the wheel-- rather than reinventing-- tends to be my style. I draw on my shoes and toss glitter on everything. "Can't leave well enough alone" is probably a good phrase here.

So this puts me in an interesting place. I get to examine each part of ATS and decide: Does it work for me? For my students? Do I like the look? Is there something similar that I can substitute?

This has already started happening. My students are taught, at the end of the choo-choo arc, to open their arms like a flower, rather than that swing-the-arms-overhead-and-down thing that FCBD does. We saw BlackSheep doing it and liked it better.

Another example of a soon-to-be-changed-in-my-format move is the "Arabic Drop Drop Drop."
The issue I kept having was twofold: 1, there's supposed to be 3 drops. Really it's more complicated than that, but in basic terms, you arabic (an undulation up in on yer toes) twice and then level down while dropping your chest 3 times. On the fourth beat you rise back up to standing. Lemme tell you, it's really hard to actually get 3 drops in 3 beats. It's also hard to chest drop when you're leveled down too far. Problem 2: Chest drops are pretty hard to begin with, especially for more inexperienced dancers or those with sizeable chests. As a result, they thrust their shoulders back and forth, which ain't graceful and ain't what the move is about.
So I hemmed and hawwed about this for a while-- maybe I should just drill it, maybe I should research it, blah blah. I went and found actual video of Fat Chance themselves actually doing it, and saw, Lo! Half the time they don't get the 3 drops in, either, especially when the song is fast. So it's not just me. It's the move. Watch here, at about 2:12 (after the arms come down-- that's the cue for the dropping):

So I decided, right then and there, that the Arabic Drop-Drop-Drop was getting the axe. Maybe not the whole move, but it's going to be trimmed or altered in some way so it's not such a pain in my ass.

Some people might get their britches in a bunch over my outright gutting of this dance form. That's fine. I could get twitchy at people who insist on wearing khakis and pastel polo shirts year-round, but I figure without people to hold the line, there's no way for me to toe (or cross, or dance atop) that line.

All the ATS vocabulary aside, this seems like a useful exercise for any dancer to do, especially if you've been taking classes/self-teaching and not questioning what you've been taught. Obviously dancing in a group situation (whether it's improv or a choreography) places certain limits on what you can change, but if you're a soloist or troupe leader, take some time to review what you do. Look in the mirror and see what you like. Something that looked great on your teacher might look crappy on you, unless you're her twin. My friend Amy Danielson (of The Gypsy Kiss) just posted a rather long article similar to this-- about questioning those things that are "right" in your mind. Link: http://www.paulgraham.com/say.html

Indian Fusion

I found this piece really well performed. Most fusion I've seen that draws on Classical Indian dance is fast and bouncy-- whereas this.... isn't. I don't wanna spoil it for you. :)

Personal

I was thinking today about something I heard once. I believe the context was in retail-- specifically, the handmade retail scene. It was: "What people want most is a piece of you." The thought is that out of all the things people can get, the one thing they'll never have is the ability to be someone else. So they, the customer, love having something that feels like a bit of someone else. That's why people go crazy when they're offered the chance to buy anything a famous person once owned.

I feel the same goes with dancing. People want a taste of YOU. The trouble is finding "you" under all your video-watching and training and popular costuming.

Think about your personal style. I don't mean your dancing, I mean your clothes, the interior of your home, your overall aesthetic. How did you get that? How long did it take? What influenced you? Who influenced you? Do you even realize how deep your influences run?

It took me a long time to realize that some of my dress style was inspired, long long ago, by Claudia from The Babysitter's Club. Big LOL there.

So when I dance, I can see some obvious influences. ATS in general and my first ATS teacher, for example, are always floating on top. Under that is a random mix of every other dancer I've ever YouTube-stalked or whose DVD I've watched. There's other stuff, too-- my love for Classical Indian dance, the soft spot for swing music, the desire to live in a Neo-Victorian fantasy world. Where am "I" in all this? Am I the sum of my parts, or is there some other element that makes me ME?

How do I let myself be me without forgetting all the things I've learned? How do I take the training and aesthetic of others and twist it and shape it around myself? Personally, that's my goal. I don't want to look like another dancer. I'd like to stand out. I'd like my solos to stand out from other solos (not "be better than" but rather "be memorable") and I'd like my improv to stand out, as well-- both in excellent execution and in interesting vocabulary.

It takes time, and the relaxation of the perfection muscles. Everyone has some epic wardrobe fail, one where you realized part way through the day that your shirt/skirt/shoes were a very bad idea and you wished you could crawl into the floor to escape the sudden embarrassment. Without that eff-up, you wouldn't have a catalog of "don'ts", just as if you don't keep track of what works, you never have a list of "dos." Play is essential.

Enough deep thoughts for the moment. I hope to blog more about other stuff in the future.

I startled myself.

Tonight I was teaching an ultimate beginner's class and was explaining Tribal posture-- how it's strong, regal, and uplifted. I started to talk about what it's done for my general posture over the years-- namely, that I used to slouch terribly and look at the floor and hang my head a lot. Now, I walk with my head up. I square my shoulders. I look at people. As I was explaining, I suddenly came up with this awesome phrase, with thanks to Terry Pratchett:

A material takes the form of the container it's in.
If you pour milk into a vase, you have vase-shaped milk.
If you pour milk into a bowl, you have bowl-shaped milk.
What happens if you pour your being into the body of a strong, confident woman?

How I practice

I broadly group my practices into three types:
1. General.
2. Performance.
3. Play.

1: I think it's very very important to practice what you know. Especially in dance forms like ATS/ITS, if you don't use it, you lose it. For a while I had a list of every move my troupe did, and I'd run through all of them. I also had them on flashcards so I could randomly select a few and practice transitioning between them.

Also in "General" is practicing the smallest pieces of what we do. Explore the range of movement you have, and drill that range over and over until it expands. A teacher I sometimes work with suggested doing top-to-bottom and bottom-to-top undulations over and over. She also suggested doing them in every direction-- to the front, front-right, straight right, and so on. Lemme tell you, that sort of movement (although I don't really use it on stage) works muscles I didn't know I had.

Varying what you practice is important. Work different muscle groups. Work your brain. Keep yourself sharp.

2: If you have a performance coming up, practice what you'll be performing. Practice it like you're on stage. Don't stop and go back if you eff up. You won't have that option on stage, so don't give it to yourself in practice (or, at least, not always. If you're really confused, stop and fix the issue and then move on). Practice in your costume, including any jewelry or hair pieces you're wearing. You'll learn, in advance, that your bracelet snags your veil or your headpiece falls off when you lean backward (this latter issue was my most recent "Aw, crap"). If you have to wear shoes at the venue, practice in them. If you play zils, practice with them. Don't cut corners. Especially don't cut corners if you're being paid. They are not paying you to half-ass.

3: Even if dancing (or teaching dance) is your job, you started because it was fun, right? Geez, I hope so. It needs to remain fun. Even when there's hard work, endless drills, aching muscles, there needs to be play. Experimentation leads to discovery. I really didn't believe this for a long time. I just drilled and drilled and drilled. It wasn't until I decided to step away from "pure" ATS that I felt the freedom to experiment. I make up my own combos. I choreograph songs. Both come from letting myself play with music that I love. Sometimes I have to "watch myself" when I experiment-- if I'm choreographing a piece, I'll free dance and see what I come up with. If I like what I did, I write it down and try it again. Sometimes I get so caught up in the moment that I forget what I did. So I record myself, usually doing the same song a few times in a row to see what I repeat (and to give myself a chance to forget the camera is there). It's still play.
When you play, don't restrict yourself. Don't worry that your dancing isn't precise enough, or that you're not using "real moves." Just dance, damnit. Turn the pressure cooker off for a while. Stop thinking. Just move around until you forget there's any other option.

An overuse of italics.

Sometimes things don't work out.

You can practice your steps, run through your choreography a million times, test out that costume, triple check your music, plan for every possible eventuality, and BAM! Something goes wrong. Call it Murphy's Law, or call it what I do: Life. Yep. That's how life is. You think you know what's going on, but that's an illusion you feed yourself so you don't go loco. We have no idea what is going to happen. We can only plan for the worst and hope for the best.

I often find that the more stress I put on myself to "do good," the less good I actually do. My troupe calls it "chasing the awesome." The more awesome you try to be, the less awesome you tend to ACTUALLY be. This doesn't mean you should stop practicing, or planning, or thinking, but it does mean that you need to find the line between "trying" and "trying too hard" and then go up to the line, but no further.

Now, if you've effed up-- I mean really effed up-- you can feel free to examine why/how/when that happened. Let's say you have a wardrobe malfunction on stage. Did you practice the piece in the costume? Did you make sure it was constructed well before putting it on? Did you check the venue to see if the costume was appropriate for it (i.e., "Gee, I really wish I hadn't worn that white chiffon to the rainy day of Ren Faire")?

If you figure out where you effed up, make a note of what you did and how to avoid it, and move the fuck on. Seriously. Holding onto that "Oh damnit, I messed up" feeling does nothing to help you. Don't use it as an excuse to stop trying ("I'm just not good enough") or to work yourself to death ("I'll practice until I can't possibly mess up."). Accept the fact that you're human, that everyone knows you're human, that mistakes show you're not a television show, and get over it.

Have you ever preplanned a conversation that you're afraid to have? Where you try and guess what will be said, and come up with answers to it in advance. So you're "prepared." So you're less afraid.

Did it help? I mean, really help? I have found that just as often as not, I cannot predict what someone will do or say. I think they'll get mad and they don't. Or I figure it'll be fine and it's not. All my planning does, usually, is give me a false sense of security. It's like a screensaver for my brain.

Worrying does nothing. It does not cure sickness, or prevent accidents, or keep your CD from skipping during the number right in front of the famous dancer. All it does is raise your heart rate and use up time that you could be spending on, I dunno, something productive and/or fun.

Sometimes things don't work out. And that's okay.