So, I’m creating this new piece about efficiency, making more with less. (Story of an artist’s life, right?) I’m trying hard to find that elusive bit of free time. Maybe I will create this dance between going from one day job to another, running across town to teach, talking through the production details of a different show this weekend, remembering to go to the post office to send a press packet, writing an article in my head that’s due later this week, talking through a monologue, and forgetting to balance my checkbook. And now, I’m wandering…

…taking a walk and even through I’m going in a particular direction, I return for a bit: an edge of a window of a church with particular metal details, the trees billowing, the sound of cars racing down the park below, sandbags lying on a construction sign tipped over on the sidewalk, a jogger rushing past, and then, walking by a Lexus ad on the bus stop (Euphoria, start, stop). Too bad euphoria has to end. (They didn’t mention the traffic part.)

So, in the studio and over dinner, we’ve been talking a lot about time – how do we know what time it is, and what it feels like to be in “no time” time, body time – and also about everyday regulation – commutes, consistency, and rhythm. We’re making phrases from maps – maps of our own commutes and following the City Paper’s map of how to avoid DC’s red light cameras. We’re trying to make the movement more economical…funny thing is, it looks more relaxed, less manic, or driven. How come it doesn’t normally feel that way? How come when we’re pushing hard, we think we’re getting further?

On Friday, I had an iChat date with the composer (he’s in London) and we figured out how to pass off digital files to one another in the internet universe. The next day, I found an mp3 present on my doorstep; I left him a stream of poor quality moving images. I told him about counting: how I count to myself when I’m walking up steps on a flight of stairs, and how sometimes Nicholette counts backwards when she’s waiting for the train.

It is running out, after all. Better to enjoy it while it lasts. Making a dance is wonderfully inefficient. If I remember, I’ll let you know where I get to.

Jane Jerardi is a performer, choreographer, and artist. She has created work for a variety of contexts –- from theaters and galleries to record store listening booths, public subway escalators and projected videos –- creating work that often moves fluidly between media. A recipient of the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities’ Artist Fellowship and a three-time recipient of its Young Emerging Artist award, her work has been presented throughout the metropolitan DC area — including at Transformer, The Warehouse, Dance Place, and the Kennedy Center.