I've been thinking a lot recently about what gets my creative juices going. If you'd told me two months ago that the most consistent and satisfying part of my dance life would be ballet class, I would have laughed in your face. But here I am, moaning and groaning to myself about how my ballet teacher is going away for the summer! Whatever am I to do?!
It's not just the fact that I get all sweaty, or that there's something intensely satisfying about having a teacher give me critical and consistent feedback (though there is!). Maybe it's the ritual. All I have to do (not really but ... kind of) is show up. If I can commit to getting on that train in time for ballet class, I will have my juices stirred. And man - I feel more guilty for not showing up to ballet class than for any other class since I've been out of school!
Isn't it so true in so many ways, though, the truism of just showing up? If I get to the theater, I will see a dance. If I go to the gym, I will work out. If I show up at the studio, I will do SOMETHING ... it's not always clear what kind of something, but something nonetheless!
And I guess maybe that's why it's been so important to me to have a regular rehearsal schedule. To be able to book space a month in advance, and to know that dancers are showing up, waiting for me, whether we have a show date coming up or not! I know that "the company model is dead." I've heard that statement a thousand times. It's ingrained into my understanding of what it means to be a contemporary dance artist in New York the same way that wearing bare feet or clapping at the end of class are ingrained into me. But I've started questioning - is "the company model is dead" something we believe because it makes sense for the work we're making, or because the company model doesn't make financial sense in the arts economy (what arts economy?) anymore? I'm not saying that I want the old school choreographer-as-god, dancer-as-blind-follower dynamic. Not by a mile. But I can only imagine how creatively satisfying and productive it would be to have all of us in a room not just once a week, but twice a week, or three times a week, or five times a week! Imagine if I could pay my dancers enough so they could quit (at least one of) their day jobs and concentrate on being together in a room full time! I mean ... maybe we'd get tired of each other and grow to hate each other. But no one sends their kid to school for three hours a week and expects them to learn to read, let alone learn to write a book! So how do we expect to make the best work we can on three hours a week of rehearsal? I can't even IMAGINE working on a truly project to project basis - holding rehearsal for a few months leading up to a show, and then not seeing each other in the studio until the next show is coming up!
And I guess that my new ballet class addiction just serves to convince me that, at least for the time being, my gut instinct is right about this one. For me. I need the ritual. I need the consistency. I hate to admit it because I think that the way she portrays her life in The Creative Habit is kind of boring but, I think if I had the funds for Twyla Tharpian ritualization of my creative practice, maybe I could develop a Broadway hit, too!
And there's the rub: people who already have success get the kind of resources that it takes to achieve one's best work. How do I convince someone that those resources are well spent on me if I haven't had that kind of success yet? How do I achieve the kind of environment that it takes to make my best work when I have no funding?
... How am I going to get through the summer while my ballet teacher is away and my dancers and I go on various uncoordinated vacations?! ...
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