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Try and Try Again: Lessons from Rehearsal by Heather Desaulniers

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March 24, 2010

Try and Try Again: Lessons from Rehearsal by Heather Desaulniers

“When reviews bother me it’s because the journalists are reviewing a dance that they wished had happened instead of the one that existed.”

Joyce Morgenroth in Speaking of Dance: Twelve Contemporary Choreographers on Their Craft (New York: Routledge, 2004) 178

A few months back, I stumbled upon this quote and its truthful bluntness has haunted me ever since. Today’s dance reviews are heavy-laden with ‘I’ statements: ‘I wanted’; ‘I wished’; ‘I remember when’. Commentary has become less about the piece and more about the writer. We let our opinions cloud our judgment, we revel in our own theoretical acumen and we can hold a grudge like you wouldn’t believe. Having said that, I don’t think that writing’s downward spiral is entirely our fault. Thoughtful critique requires significant access to the work and, in dance, that is rare. Our exposure to each individual piece is incredibly restrictive; we see most performances only once, maybe twice (though unusual). This limited window of observation is contributing to reviews that are less than rigorous. A fleeting glimpse does not facilitate perceptive nor genuine reflection.

Last week, choreographer Tony Powell generously welcomed me to a rehearsal of his new work, In Between Time, which will be part of The Baltimore Ballet’s 10th Anniversary Gala-March 28th at The Lyric Opera House. This invitation gave me both time and opportunity with the dance, and solidified my belief that critics must devote more effort to the ‘work-in-progress’ phase of choreography.

The day I was there, Powell was completing the middle section of the ballet: a pas de quatre for 1 woman and 3 men. The movement centers around the female dancer, Devon Teuscher from American Ballet Theatre, and follows an intricate system of layering as each man, one by one, enters the picture. The partnering and lifts are physically complicated because all three men have an active role in Teuscher’s support. Watching Powell, these four dancers, and the rest of the cast work through the choreography was a unique experience. It was an exercise of true community; a creative environment where the goal was to actualize Powell’s vision. The atmosphere was happy, fun, while still being diligent, and I know from personal experience that rehearsals are seldom like that.

Watching the rehearsal process definitely helped me to understand the mechanics of this particular movement. But, more important, being there allowed me to see the piece multiple times, revealing a deep relationship between the composition of music and of dance. The score for this middle variation is Max Richter’s “On the Nature of Daylight”, a selection that exudes the feeling of traditional counterpoint. Powell’s choreographic response was an equally rich contrapuntal statement. Teuscher was the cantus firmus; her choreography was the base; the necessary ingredient; the stabilizing foundation. As each of the men entered the dance, they embodied first, second, and third species counterpoint. Each of these choreographic lines had to be both independent and interdependent for the polyphonic texture to work. Each individual’s choreography had to be significant enough to stand on its own, yet integrative enough to merge with the other three lines of movement. In Between Time is counterpoint done well, where each part is compelling and the aggregate picture is prismatic.

It’s hard to say whether I would have made these connections if my only chance to see In Between Time had been in performance. I do know that my thoughts were clearer at the end of the rehearsal, after seeing the cast work, mark and dance the section several times. The repetition may not have been the only key to unlock the dance for me, but it certainly helped.

Clearly, my opening quote is a sweeping, simplistic generalization, but there is definitely truth to it. This comment confirmed and re-iterated that the theater is only one of the many places where dance critique should occur. The rehearsal studio needs to become the writer’s research laboratory: a space to gather information, reach a deeper level of understanding, and prepare for reviewing work in its finished form. Critique should reflect conception, generation and production. But, this more holistic approach is only achievable when artists allow increased access to their creative process and critics commit more of their time outside of the theater.

Heather Desaulniers is a critic based in Washington, D.C. and an associate editor of Bourgeon. To see this post on her blog, click here.

Before Fire by Patricia Spears Jones

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March 17, 2010

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Lately, I have been misspelling words or reversing vowels — the mind gets sharper in some ways and slouchier in others as we age.

Age and knowledge and wisdom and learning are words that seem the best way to describe the Split This Rock Poetry Festival, which I attended last week. Others might use network, or protest, or activism. But poetry comes from people who will age; who gain knowledge, may become wise and are always learning. And poetry was the essence of the festival.

It’s appropriate that a “political” poetry festival would take place in our Nation’s Capitol –where else could it? Festival organizer Sarah Browning, my main man Regie Cabio, and their DC colleagues, are deeply dedicated to community, peace and the power of the word. And despite the occasional logistical challenge of getting one’s body from one place to the next, it felt as if everyone there, even the good people who work at the Thurgood Marshall Community Center, had a great time.

Patricia Monoghan and Michael McDermott, the co-founders of Black Earth Institute, invited me to join them on one of this year’s panel. Along with Patricia, Annie Finch, Judith Roche and Richard Cambridge, I spoke on the panel: Speaking for the Silence/d. Of course, being the gentle contrarian that I am, I spoke about listening — that we who speak are often speaking to indifferent, hostile or simply deeply ignorant audiences and that we have to start thinking of new ways to open ears. We each read a poem before speaking (a last minute request by Patricia M) so I read from my collection, Femme du Monde.

My Matthew Shepard Poem

My students are rightfully spooked
someone their age was left to perish
because he preferred the company of men

My mother tells me of seeing a man lynched
back in the 30’s, in Arkansas, not far from where
I grew up and grew away in the 60’s.

What I know about America is that hatred
crawls through the culture like the cracks
in the San Andreas fault.

Edifices are built to withstand the inevitable
quakes, but the quakes grow stronger..
What ever we dream harmony or a reasonable tolerance
is destroyed in the wake

of men drinking and killing. Their blood lusted
laughter howling through the night.

A Black man in Texas. A white man in Wyoming.
A doctor at his window about to eat dinner with his family.
A nurse on her way to work at a clinic.

The playing field is not level. In fact, there is no playing field.
There are men enraged by change. And women bitter about it.
And people, say
gay, Black, Latino, Chinese, Japanese, Arab, or Jewish
to blame, always to blame.

The ugly men in their same wool suits and striped ties
gibber political correctness, freedom, fairness
and fuck you
every time they claim that these are acts of individuals, not of society.
Each act alone represents

singular aberrant behavior, like murder.
I can hear them say, I mean they actually lynched that boy,
even as they call this one faggot and that one nigger.
And they really, really want women
compliant and girlish
or sexless and mothering.

And if this seems like male bashing, so be it.
If the dress shoe fits, may it pinch like hell.

The panel was rich in information and deep connection to a range of communities. Annie talked on collaboration in her Wolf Song project; Judith on her work with incarcerated girls and environmental projects; and Richard discussed the media’s mindset vis a vis our un-neighborly relationship with Cuba. Our audience was terrific–I got to meet Tracy Chiles McGhee and all the way from NYC, Marie-Elizabeth Mali and Victoria Sammartino as well as other teachers, arts group organizers, librarians, poets all. Patrica M. opened up the room for discussion and poetry and Victoria read a deeply moving piece about the incarcerated girls that she has worked with. It was truly moving.

Later that day I heard a bit of Camille Dungy’s talk on Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry. Black Nature is a profoundly useful anthology that adds a different dimension to the conversation about the perception of nature by U.S. poets. That African Americans deal with the trees, rocks, cattle, sheep, flowers, ecological disasters, etc. should not be news, but for some in and out of the academy, it is. I also met Laura Hope-Gill from Ashville, NC and her colleague Trey Moore who are creating a kind of “poetry emergency response team” for communities that have had a traumatic event. Laura and Trey have some very good ideas and we attendees (age and wisdom here) – provided them with information and more ideas, but also pointed out possible pitfalls.

The final panel I attended was led by Andrea Carter Brown, and related to “historical” poems. I do use historical fact and/or myths in some of my poetry, but others are using facts and documents for their poetry. Scott Hightower’s presentation was particularly impressive because he spoke as a lyric poet (which he most definitely is) and as someone profoundly interested in unearthing the layers of story in the lives of people. Robin Coste Lewis talked about using the documents of her family, Louisianans who had moved to California – and while I didn’t say this, it does strike me that the internal migrations of people’s (Black or White) in this nation from crop failure, war, and social injustice and oppression are rarely told in American poetry.

Martha Collins talked about the development of Blue Front her amazing book length poem and Kim Roberts discussed becoming a literary historian: finding where Whitman lived while he was in DC, etc. and then writing about that. In discussion there I brought up two things: one that poor people often do not tell anything about their lives because of the profound difficulties they faced, and, the panel represented the first post- Jim Crow generation. We folk in our late fourties are the last American generation to live under legalized segregation. This is a complicated but healthy time in many ways for our Republic – sh*t is out here for all too see. How we work it through, well that’s why the Festival exists, I think – to give us more tools for gaining greater health in our ideas and ideals.

It was a great pleasure to present, and attend. Now back to the work of finding income to sustain my life, making poems, and doing what I can in this world.
Peace

Patricia Spears Jones is an African American poet, playwright and cultural commentator. She is author of Femme du Monde (Tia Chucha Press) and The Weather That Kills (Coffee House Press) and editor of Think: Poems About Aretha Franklin’s Inauguration Hat (www.bombsite.org) and Ordinary Women: An Anthology of New York Women Poets (out of print). Her poetry is anthologized in Starting Today: 100 Poems for Obama’s First 100 Days; Black Nature: Four Hundred Years of African American Nature Poetry; Blood and Tears: Poems for Matthew Shepard; broken land: Poems of Brooklyn, Poetry After 911; and Best American Poetry, 2000. She writes the “Cosmopolitan in Brooklyn” column for Calabar Magazine and is a contributing editor to Bomb Magazine, both published in Brooklyn, NY. Mabou Mines commissioned and produced ‘Mother’ 1994 and Song for New York: What Women Do When Men Sit Knitting, 2007.

She has received grants and awards from the NEA, NYFA, the Goethe Institute and the Foundation for Contemporary Arts and residencies at Yaddo, Virginia Center for Creative Arts (VCCA), the Millay Colony and Bread Loaf. She is a fellow at the Black Earth Institute, a progressive think tank and was elected to the VCCA Fellows Council. She works as an arts administrator; poetry and creative writing instructor and fundraiser. She has taught creative writing workshops at Sarah Lawrence, Parsons School of Design, Naropa University and Pine Manor College’s Solstice Summer Writers Conference, as well as St. Mark’s Poetry Project, where she was Program Coordinator 1984-86, and for Cave Canem.

All photos by Jill Brazel

What’s an Emerging Artist? on Bmore Art

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March 6, 2010

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In this post a B.More Blogspot writer describes how artists and others define and mis-define art careers… An excerpt:

“Nobody likes to be labeled, right? Especially not artists who tend to be contrary, rebellious types. However, artist ‘categories’ are bandied about by artists, gallerists, jurors, and critics and most of the people using these terms seem to be clueless, when questioned, about what they actually mean.

Applications for exhibitions include titles like “Emerging Artist Exhibition,” while some contemporary gallery websites report that they only exhibit “mid-career” and “established” artists. What exactly do these categories mean and how do you place yourself within them, when necessary?

First of all, the most common mistake is for artists to label themselves “mid-career” based on age. In actuality, an artist who is middle-aged or older has no more claim to this label than a 23-year old MFA graduate. Similarly, young artists are labeled as “emerging” artists, but, depending on experience and career, this is not necessarily the case. I am consistently surprised at artists and art professionals who don’t understand this. Here are a few definitions to clear up some of the misconceptions.

Disclaimer for you sensitive folks: Of course, as with any type of label or category, there is confusion and overlap, but the goal in this post is to clear up downright misinformation. When possible, BmoreArt suggests avoiding labels all-together, but, just like saturated fat and lines at the dmv, somtimes labels must be endured, so let’s aim to do it all factual-like.

The Emerging Artist
An emerging artist is someone who’s in the early stage of their career, someone who’s caught the eye of an art critic and/or gallery, but hasn’t yet established a solid reputation as an artist amongst art critics, art buyers, and art galleries.

An artist who has specialized training in his or her field (not necessarily gained in an academic institution), who is at the beginning of his or her career, and who has created a modest independent body of work.

The term emerging artist is often used for young and recently graduated from a prestigious art college, but can also apply to someone who’s made a career change or recently decided to prioritize their art above everything else. You could say it’s a label art galleries use because it sounds better than “new artist” or “unknown artist….””

To view the complete post click here.

Image in the post is a print by John Waters.

Prudence Bonds on Being Self-Taught

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February 26, 2010

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I have a mental cache of conversations exchanged between strangers-turned-friends regarding my artwork. The second or third question folks usually ask is, “Which school did you go to?” When I reply that I’m self-taught, a puzzled expression slowly takes over their face; then they mention their artistic niece, or the neighbor’s kid that just graduated from MICA, Howard, or Parsons.

Self-taught artists are usually defined by what we lack: a formal education from a well-known art institute resulting in a Bachelor of Fine Arts or Master of Fine Arts degree. The extent of my arts “education” consists of a Smithsonian mask-making workshop, a summertime drawing class, and an eight-week photography & film development course at Corcoran during my early teens. Since I discovered my passion for paint and canvas nine years ago, there are a few things I’ve learned about the differences between artists who are self-taught and those who are formally trained.

Finding your technique without direct influence from a professor or mentor is different. I never thought to reference instruction books, though I probably should have. I was clueless regarding sketching before painting, whether darker colors go on first, or what functions certain brushes provided. Sketching before painting reminds me of the saying “Measure twice, cut once”, which I apply to every other aspect of life, but I almost never sketch. Through mixing acrylics with water or cooking oil, I found a way to use less paint while learning, and eventually incorporated that technique into my regular painting regimen. Reusing and layering “dirty” water is how most of my work is achieved. I fell in love with how olive oil made colors richer and watered-down acrylics extended the drying time and created the illusion of watercolor. Though I learned everything the hard way, learning by trial and error has always been most comfortable for me. I believe that there is no right way or wrong way – just my way. I now listen more keenly to intuition.

After getting comfortable enough to consider publicizing my artwork, I discovered another daunting aspect of being a self-developed artist: networking. I struggled with questions that degreed artists already know the answer to. Which of the gazillion art orgs out there should I join? Do I need a website since some artists don’t have one? How do I get into shows and build my résumé? Thank goodness for Utrecht Art Supply’s bulletin board and Google… I started reaching out to folks who left business cards or flyers, which led to acceptance into a group exhibit. Interacting with other artists and art-lovers forced me to self-critique my paintings. If someone asked questions about my intentions or color choices, I had to find an answer and stand firmly beside it. This practice turned out to be a tremendous confidence builder.

That warm, fuzzy feeling of meeting new peers sparked a desire to submit to other shows, but I was soon rejected more times than not. Maybe I just didn’t know which shows were the best fit for my work. At times, I sensed a stigma attached to being self-taught. Like a trusted brand, a degree legitimizes an artist’s work in the eyes of prospective buyers, dealers, galleries, grant givers, proposal readers, arts publications, the list goes on. And call it paranoia, but when I submit work for juried shows beyond the DC-Baltimore area, I feel I get rejected because I lack proper training. It’s seems galleries are less likely to take a chance on someone like me. The living self-taught painters that galleries tend to admire – so-called outsider or folk artists – work in abstracts, are expressionists, or convey an obvious socio-political viewpoint through their work. My work doesn’t really fit into these categories. However, rejection serves as a jolt of I-Can-Show-You motivation. I’m excited to exhibit in Lust at ArtDC Gallery in Hyattsville through March 3rd and Soul Revival at The Meroe Art Gallery in Baltimore April 24th to July 31th.

The notion of being a self taught artist might be a question of semantics. Many of the degreed artists I’ve met have shared how art school stifled their creativity, and how they eventually had to discover their own process. Though the frustrations of being self-taught can be overwhelming, the journey of understanding myself through creation, and the friends I’ve made, are deeply rewarding, and exciting.

Born in Florida and raised in Washington, DC since infancy, Prudence inherited the “creative gene” and started to draw at age four. Throughout childhood and adolescence, Prudence expressed several methods of creativity including writing, mask making, and photography & film development. She began painting consistently in 2001 and in April 2003 participated in the Smithsonian Early Enrichment Center’s 10th Annual Scholarship Fund benefit auction. Prudence donated “Girl Tantalus”, an original work of acrylic on canvas portraying the fabled origins of the word tantalize. She depicts people living throughout the African Diaspora, and beyond, by using color, texture, and introspection. Since acceptable images of human concepts such as love and beauty are perpetuated through art, literature, music, and the media, her pieces echo the attempt made by people of color to redefine and re-present those concepts in their terms. To learn more about her work, visit www.prubonds.com.

Studio Space Wanted: Large, Well-Lit, and Cheap by Blair Murphy

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February 16, 2010

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Studio Space Wanted: Large, Well-Lit, and Cheap by Blair Murphy

Talk to ten different visual artists in the DC area and you’re likely to hear about ten different working situations. From former auto body shops and row-house basements to corners of studio apartments and space subsidized by non-profits, local artists practice their profession in places both predictable and unexpected. Finding studio space is a challenge for artists no matter where they live, but the high cost of city real estate and the relative lack of warehouse space combine to make the search particularly knotty for DC-area artists.

Most artists have – at one time or another – created a studio in their living space. For a wide variety of reasons setting up your work space where you live is often the best option. Artist Kira Appel currently works in a studio set up in a corner of her studio apartment in Arlington. Kira knew when she was apartment hunting that she would be setting up a studio in the space, so she focused on finding an apartment with a footprint appropriate for her needs. The apartment has even lighting, and a large corner of the space to use for her studio. While she hopes to have a studio space distinct from her apartment in the future, Kira notes that there are advantages to her current situation: there’s no travel time to get to her studio, which translates into more creating time, and the presence of her work-space in her living space is a reminder of ongoing projects. At the same time, Kira acknowledges that there are limitations to setting up a studio in your living space. Space limitations have prevented Kira from working on the large-scale oil paintings she has done in the past and she is hesitant to experiment with some materials, such as encaustic, because of concerns about ventilation.

For those who aren’t in a position to set up a formal studio space, artist Lisa McCarty recommends looking into residency programs. Prior to getting a studio at Arlington Arts Center, Lisa worked out of a makeshift studio in the basement of her group house, and participated in several short residency programs where she was able to create work she couldn’t have made in her at-home studio. If you are able to spend a few weeks away from your day job and other responsibilities, Lisa says, a residency can provide a period of intense work, access to needed facilities and the chance to carry out projects that aren’t possible in an at-home studio space. (WashingtonArt.com has an extensive list of residency programs, including many for visual artists.)

While Lisa did combine an at-home studio with residency opportunities to successfully produce her work, she feels lucky to now have a space in a group studio at the Arlington Arts Center. AAC is one of several area non-profit arts organizations that provide studio space for local artists. Lisa mentions AAC’s lower than market rents and recently renovated facilities as two of the space’s great advantages. Many artists find that Resident Artist status at an arts center can be a boon for one’s career as well. Resident artists at AAC show every other year in AAC’s Wyatt gallery and, because resident artists are selected by a jury, those selected can point to their affiliation with AAC as a professional accomplishment in and of itself.

With these advantages comes commitment: resident artists participate in five yearly open studios, must spend a certain amount of time in their studio each month and take turns staffing AAC’s information desk on the weekends. For Lisa, the sacrifices are worth it. Having the space at Arlington has made it easier to produce work on a large scale, she enjoys having a formal studio space to host studio visits, and she appreciates the company and community offered by her Arlington studio-mates. Lisa compares getting her outside studio to the feeling of independence associated with “getting out of your parent’s house”; it brings along a host of advantages, as well as a feeling of accomplishment.

If you’re looking for an outside space, but can’t make the commitments required by formal studio programs, consider looking around for a commercial space that has been converted (or could be converted) into studio space. DC artist and crafter Kristina Bilonick currently shares this kind of space with several other artists in Gold Leaf Studios, a former auto body shop near Penn Quarter. Kristina echoes Lisa’s statement that having an outside studio felt like a professional milestone. Getting a formal studio encouraged her practice and eventually pushed her to “make the leap” to becoming more professional. The impetus for the shift was partly financial: shelling out the money every month for a space increased the pressure she felt to devote time to her studio practice and to begin treating her art as a business, deducting the cost of her studio space as a business expense on her taxes and charging DC sales tax on the work she sold. Gold Leaf hosts visual artists, clothing designers and rehearsal space for several bands and Kristina cites the interaction between all these different artists as a favorite perk of the space.

Prior to getting studio space at Gold Leaf, Kristina worked in a small studio in the basement of a furniture store on 14th Street, a space she found in the commercial listings of Washington City Paper. For artists currently looking for space, Kristina recommends keeping an eye on the commercial real estate listings on Craigslist and in the City Paper. If you’re looking for commercial space, keep in mind that landlords who aren’t specifically advertising studio space might still consider renting commercial spaces to artists.

Before setting out to find studio space, you might want to consider if you actually need a dedicated art space. Rather than worrying about having a formal studio, photographer Michael Matason lets each project dictate the space he needs. Michael’s day job at the multimedia center of a local university provides him with access to equipment and, at times, space for shooting. After years of finding creative solutions to meeting his space requirements, he believes that working with limitations makes him more creative. No matter your medium, it’s worth considering whether the resources you would devote to a formal studio are truly worth it.

I’m eager to hear more about the ways DC artists find work space. Do you have a creative solution to the challenge of finding space where you can make your art, or advice for up and coming artists in need of a studio? Leave your stories and advice in comments.

Blair Murphy is a writer, curator and arts administrator based in Washington, DC. In 2009 she earned an MA from Georgetown University’s Communication, Culture and Technology program after two years of study focused on visual culture, critical theory and gender studies. Having successfully emerged from the thick haze of academia, she is pursuing new writing and curatorial projects in DC and beyond. Blair is currently the Office Manager at DC Arts Center and an active member of Sparkplug, an artist collective affiliated with DCAC. She is also an Associate Editor of Bourgeon.

Image top: Lisa McCarty in her studio at Arlington Arts Center
Image bottom: Kristina Bilonick holds a screening-printing demonstration during an open studio at Gold Leaf