Wendy Perron: Capturing Movement in Words

Dancer/dance journalist Wendy Perron
(photo by Cliff Roles)

Wendy Perron: 

Capturing Movement in Words

by Melanie Greene

You can’t beat a book.

I know you’re reading this from a computer screen or smartphone, and I thank you, but nothing beats the tangibility of a good ol' fashioned book. Flipping the pages of progress…feeling the weight of the words…supporting the contents bound within a strong spine, the center, the glue holding everything together.

We read books and scan blogs, websites, brochures, social sites, reviews, journals--and talk to people--because we are curious about what’s going on in the world. In the dance world, there are several go-to sources of information, and one of those knowledgeable sources is Wendy Perron.

I recently sat down with Wendy Perron on a rainy day on the Upper West Side. It was the day before Thanksgiving, with people intent on last-minute grocery shopping. Perron and I sat in a cozy restaurant, talking about her book and life as the movie-like scene scrolled by the large glass windows.

Although Perron spends a lot of her time writing these days, she did not know, early on, that she would become the writer in her family. Before finding her voice on paper, she found it through movement as a dancer.

Perron's new book,
Through the Eyes of a Dancer: Selected Writings
Wesleyan University Press

Over the years, Perron's extensive participation in the dance community--as a performer, critic, editor and educator--has made her a valuable source of knowledge on contemporary dance. Her eloquent writings capture the imagination of movement through words in her new book Through the Eyes of a Dancer.

The book surveys Perron’s writings—dance reviews, feature stories, essays, and blog posts—spanning from the 1960s to the present. It offers dancers, dancemakers, and dance enthusiasts a living history of the art. Huffington Post writer Jennifer Edwards comments that Perron’s book “flows like a choreographic retrospective. The reader has an opportunity to witness both the writer, and the work, evolve.”

Scanning its pages, readers are invited to take an intimate look into dance culture’s continuous influence over artistic, political, and social movements.

MEETING

Since I had never met Perron, our meeting was a blind date so to speak. In these situations, I always feel, one's face takes on a distinct look of anticipation--a cocktail of anxiety and excitement sprinkled with the illusion of composure. There's an unspoken protocol of what to do if you are the first to arrive, an insecure voice that wonders "What if they don’t show up?" or "What if I got the date wrong?"

I arrived shortly before Perron as the restaurant opened for lunch. The first women to arrive after me shared my look of uncertainty, but I was sure I would recognize Perron once I saw her. I imagined her with those wild tendrils of hair she described in her book.

I was carefully negotiating glances between my phone and the hazy rain outside when Perron arrived, warmly bundled up, small grocery bags in hand. She had stopped in a grocery store to pick up the last ingredients for cranberry sauce for a Thanksgiving repast.

“I am always in charge of the cranberry sauce," she said. "People know it’s what I bring."

After unbundling and settling in, we ordered lunch, and I asked Perron how she was feeling.

“In general, I wish I could sleep more than two hours at a time,” she responded. “I’ve just traveled from Japan. Traveling changes my sleep patterns.”

Perron had just returned from Japan to judge the Youth America Grand Prix competition. In her Dance Magazine blog entry My Week in Japan, Courtesy YAGP, she details the competition and dedication of the young artists she met during her stay.

“I’ve always wanted to travel to Japan,” Perron stated. “I tasted this plum wine there and brought it back for Thanksgiving.” Coaxing pleasant feelings of nostalgia, the taste of this wine reminded her of the thoughtful designs of Japanese gardens and the beautiful architecture.

VENUES FOR WRITING

Back in the US, Perron remains in the thick of the New York dance scene. Witnessing and participating in the transformation of dance criticism and reviewing over the past 40 years, she has seen dance writings repurposed to accommodate evolving technologies and the need for instant information.

More blogs, social media outlets, and self-produced videos are popping up to cover what was once tackled by expert writers and critics. Magazine and newspaper reviews have become obsolete. As the needs and expectations of the dance world change, so must the ways we write and talk about dance.

“This does not mean that respect is lost for traditional critics and those who have been around a long time. Publications like The New York Times and The Washington Post still wield so much power,” Perron offered. Perron has been writing a dance blog as part of DanceMagazine.com for over 6 ½ years.

Today, information is just a click away. To reach the largest audience, dance writing must appear on the Internet and be user friendly. While many sites still support longform articles, others—like Twitter—prefer it short and sweet. Perron's blog posts and articles serve the in-depth reader, while her Twitter feed offers audiences quick links back to substantial information.

“There is something interesting about the challenge of saying something in 140 characters,” she says of tweeting. Within this new medium, you must choose your words carefully, saying just enough to entice the reader to want to know more.

“I see so much and there are people in New York and the world who don’t get to see what I see, so I like to be able to say something about it,” she says. Twitter challenges her to say it creatively and quickly.

Perron today, at right, with Olsi Gjeci
in Vicky Shick's Everything You See
(photo © 2013 Anjolo Toro)

WHAT WE WRITE ABOUT

Whether you write serious criticism, lively reviews, blog posts or tweets, the new digital media can offer space for your purpose: assessing dancemakers' aesthetic choices, uncovering the history of a dance form or its cultural relevance, examining how the art fits into the current political climate, and more.

“Ultimately, the responsibility lies with the writer,” Perron said. “The role is to respond honestly with your whole self on many different levels—not just thumbs up or down.”

“It is our responsibility to provide context…to say what the roots are…how [these artists] emerged, and what they have done before,” Perron added.

It’s important to open one’s eyes to the present and not become, as Perron would say, trapped by one's past.  Even in repertory companies, dance works will change. Things will not look and feel as they did five years ago. We have to be open to that evolution. 

The night of our meeting, Perron was going to see Chéri, a dance-theater piece by choreographer Martha Clarke, starring Alessandra Ferri and Herman Cornejo. “I like to see incredible performers challenged with something new," she said.

She also talked about how she continues to be excited about the fusion of forms in dance.

“Some people don’t like that word, fusion,” she said. “I’m not sure why.”

This sentiment possibly stems from conversations Perron has had with artists like Akram Khan, a British choreographer of Bangladeshi descent. His work combines contemporary dance elements and kathak, a form of classical Indian dance. In a 2008 blog post entitled Excited. Touched. Stimulated. Taken aback. Revved up. Honored., Perron wrote, “Khan likes the word confusion better than fusion, and to allow different stories to overlap or intersect. Somehow a lightness and a heaviness at the same time. A western-ness and an eastern-ness at the same time.”

“He is exciting to see," Perron told me, as we continued our conversation. "I can see both aspects of style and form so strongly” in Khan's East/West fusion.

WRITING PRACTICE

I asked Perron if she had a daily meditation practice or ritual approach to writing.

“My practice of writing is very haphazard, but I do have a daily movement practice,” she said. “I do exercises in the morning in my bed and in the afternoon. These exercises help to center myself in my body. I still see myself as a dancer first.”

Although she considers her writing approach haphazard, she likes to start writing early. Write a few sentences, then write a few more and print it out.

“I also show it to my husband. He’s extremely helpful,” Perron added. “Once I print it out, I lie down on my back and mark it up with a pencil.”

Perron attributes the effectiveness of this practice to the fact that “when I lie down, it’s closer to my heart, and I want to make sure it’s coming from my heart and not in there for just [arbitrary] reasons. If there is something I don’t feel strongly about, maybe I’ll take it out.”

A lot of her daily exercises and writing postures, she said, derived from her chronic back problems. Lying down helps relieve the stress on her back. This gesture, to me, speaks to the wealth of information that our bodies hold, how we exist in our bodies. We function as a result of the choices we make. If we listen, our bodies will inform new choices in movement and on paper.

THROUGH THE EYES OF A DANCER

“It never occurred to me to write a book,” Perron confessed, “but as you get older, you think about what you leave behind.”

Perron with Harry Sheppard,
students at Bennington College in the 1960s
(photo by Josef Wittman)

Whether intentional or by a marvelous accident, Through the Eyes of a Dancer became a way for Perron to reconnect with herself. Her writings propelled her back to memories of dancing with the Trisha Brown Dance Company, spending time in SoHo, and teaching at Bennington College, the Vermont liberal arts college that attracted Martha Graham, Doris Humphrey, Hanya Holm, and Charles Weidman, all pioneering legends of American modern dance.

We get a glimpse of Perron's dancing/writing ritual: how she would stay up late Thursday, stalling to work on final details until around midnight. After a pint of Haagen-Dazs coffee ice cream and a dose of procrastination, she would resolve that “there was nothing else to do but sit down and write the damn thing.”

She remembers dancing and choreographing a lot in the 1980s. “When I did more writing, I danced less, and when there was more dance, there was less writing.”

Perron talked me through her process of scanning old documents and articles into a machine as she prepared to write Through the Eyes of a Dancer. Like magic, her past would travel into her technological present in the form of Word documents.

“The scanner enabled me to edit my writings from 40 years ago. It was an interesting project for me because of the time travel aspect.” Something about words and digital documents provides something close to permanence for a famously ephemeral art form.

Parallel to preserving her writing, Perron once started a project to transfer 1970s dance works from their old, unstable formats on VHS and beta tapes to DVD. However DVD proved equally unstable. Discs would become corrupt and, just like that “all those years went up in smoke," she said. "There are tons of video, but there is nothing stable. I couldn’t save the choreography, but I could save the writing.”

Dance happens and then it’s gone. Recorded artifacts are not the same as live performance, and this, partly, drew Perron to writing which presented its own distinct challenge.

“How do you write about something that disappears?”

OUR GOODBYES

After lunch, I mentioned to Perron that I was looking for yarn store, and she kindly walked me to one that she’d passed only hours before. As we said our goodbyes, she left me with a thought that will guide my own intentions as a writer.

“Writing should lead the reader. I don’t want it to just be information. I want it to make a statement of some kind.”

A statement can come in the form of insight, approval, objection, or total rejection. Some notable statements appear in two of Perron's Dance Magazine blog posts--Blogging about the Process of Choreography—Ugh! and Is There a Blackout on Black Swan’s Dancing? In each of these posts, she ignited heated dialogues that drew a range of reactions in the dance community, from outrage to satisfaction.

Perron is a strong advocate for the arts and artists. Through the Eyes of a Dancer provides rich insight into dance within an historical framework. Moreover, it captures the essence and virtue of living a life through both movement and words.

 

BIO

Wendy Perron danced with the Trisha Brown Company in the 1970s and has performed with many other New York City choreographers. Her own group, the Wendy Perron Dance Company, appeared at the Lincoln Center Festival, the Joyce Theater, Danspace Project and other venues in the US and abroad from 1983 to 1997. She was one of eight choreographers profiled in the documentary film Retracing Steps: American Dance Since Postmodernism. She has taught at many colleges including Bennington and Princeton, and was associate director of Jacob’s Pillow in the early ’90s. In addition to contributing to Dance Magazine as editor in chief for almost 10 years, she has written for The New York Times, The Village Voice, and Ballet Review. In 2011 she was inducted into the New York Foundation for the Arts’ Hall of Fame, and she still performs occasionally with Vicky Shick and Dancers. She was artistic adviser to the Fall for Dance festival and has adjudicated for Youth America Grand Prix, the American College Dance Festival, and New York Live Arts. Her new book, Through the Eyes of a Dancer (Wesleyan University Press), is a selection of her essays, memoirs, and reviews spanning 40 years. Read more about it here.

At the turn of the year....

Thanks for reading and supporting Dancer's Turn in our inaugural year. We look forward to bringing you interviews with more exciting dance artists in 2014. And we wish you a happy, healthy, creative New Year!

Eva Yaa Asantewaa

Editor-in-Chief

Writers:

Troy Ogilvie

Jazzmen Lee-Johnson

M. Soledad Sklate

Evan Teitelbaum

Jaime Shearn Coan

Anita Gonzalez

Melanie Greene

Isabelle Dom

Komal Thakkar

Amanda Hameline

Alejandra Emelia Iannone

Sarah Elizabeth Lass

Jookin’ in its Prime: A Snapshot of Ron Myles

Ron "Prime Tyme" Myles
(photo courtesy of the artist)

Jookin’ in its Prime: A Snapshot of Ron Myles

by Alejandra Emilia Iannone

He told me I could call him “Ron,” but he’s probably better known as “Prime Tyme.” Dubbed Ron “Prime Tyme” Myles by a friend from his hometown neighborhood  of Orange Mound, in Memphis, Myles admits that he has always been one looking to “shine in front of a camera.” Now based in Los Angeles, he is a Bessie Award-winning dancer and choreographer, and an ambassador for the mesmerizing dance form called jookin’.

Smoother than buckin’ (a dance characterized by explosive, wide movements and spins) and similar to glitchin’ (where sporadic, sharp movements are interspersed within other slow movements), jookin’ developed on the streets of Memphis. With roots in the gangsta walk, a dance popularized in the late 20th century, jookin’ was initially done to gangsta rap exclusively. Nowadays, however, one might see jookin’ performed to all sorts of music--including R&B, pop, classical, and dubstep--and in a variety of contexts. As Myles sees it, it doesn’t matter what kind of music is playing when one is jookin’, as long as some music is playing.

“Gangsta Walk”

danced by Ron “Prime Tyme” Myles

Music: “Gangsta Walk” by Young Jai

Fundamentally, jookin’ consists of a step and a glide of the foot. These movements are punctuated and ornamented with remarkable feats like toe stands, toe glides, and torques onto the inside of the dancer’s ankle. As Myles explains, since there are so many directions and many ways to step, one could even write an alphabet using these movements. Myles tends to glide in patterns that reflect whatever is going through his mind as he dances, using his feet to write his thoughts out in cursive.

Much of his movement is improvised, but, he points out, jookin’ need not be pure improvisation or personal expression. So jookin’, like any dance form, requires flexibility, strength, focus, and practice. Also, the shoes matter. The dancer must wear shoes with a sturdy toe tip. For Myles, some of the best options out there are Air Jordans,  Nike Air Force Ones, and his favorite--Prada sneakers.

Myles became acquainted with jookin’ eight years ago while watching some friends from school dance. At the time, he thought they looked a little crazy, but he found himself wondering how his friends could move that way. Eventually, his curiosity deepened. Could he learn to move that way, too? Lucky for Myles, there was a dancer in the family.

Memphis-born street dance prodigy and world-famous jooker Charles "Lil Buck" Riley is Myles’ cousin. Bonded by family and their common love for dance, the two would practice together at home or in the streets of their neighborhood in Memphis.  Myles also trained with other teachers to learn hip hop and ballet. Yet, he identifies Riley--who taught him the fundamentals of jookin’, included him in performance opportunities, and collaborated with him--as a playing a key role in his own development as a dancer.

Together, Myles and Riley have already achieved great success, even receiving a 2013 Bessie Award for their performance at New York's Le Poisson Rouge--an evening fusing music and movement, and featuring composer Philip Glass, cellist Yo-Yo Ma, new wave string quartet Brooklyn Rider, Galician bagpiper Cristina Pato, and jazz trumpeter Marcus Printup.

Myles learned of their Bessie nomination while performing at the Vail International Dance Festival. Surprised and honored, he says he had a good feeling about their chances. But, he also remembers thinking that “the chance was 50/50 because the other nominees had produced great work.” When the award citation was read and Myles heard the phrase “intricate footwork,” however, he knew. 

At the award ceremony at the Apollo Theater, he was overwhelmed by the audience's supportive, energetic response.  Receiving the award affirmed that he and Riley "had put together a great piece that could go a long way," Myles said. Indeed, he aspires to "spread jookin’ all over the world, show what it is, where it came from, how it has evolved, and what one can do with it.”

And he is certainly making moves to achieve all of this. Myles has made his mark on stage, screen, and in studio--dancing in the 2011 film Footloose, starring in commercials for Pepsi and Adidas; headlining performances at the Vail International Dance Festival, and teaching hundreds of youth through Colorado’s Celebrate the Beat program.

When he isn’t dancing and choreographing, Myles spends his time acting and making music. Currently, he is developing a mixtape of original music, and just finished working on the film Frank and Cindy (coming to theaters in 2014) in which he plays the role of Dwight. Someday, he hopes to have a principal role in a major motion picture that incorporates jookin’.

Ron "Prime Tyme" Myles
(photo courtesy of the artist)

When in California, Myles regularly performs on the streets of Venice Beach and on Santa Monica's 3rd Street Promenade and gives indoor performances at Hollywood club Boulevard3. As he sees it, both environments have their perks--a captive audience at Boulevard3, expansive audience on the streets. He enjoys both.

In 2012, Myles and Riley collaborated with YAK to create a dance film set in New York City’s newly renovated Lincoln Center. Beautiful movement, striking imagery, and creative use of space aside, the last ten seconds of their film invite critical thought about the relationship between artists and arts institutions.

As the film shows, the filmmakers and dancers were asked to cease filming and leave the grounds since they had not received permission to use the space. Myles wasn’t inclined to comment on this experience but, when pressed, he thoughtfully replied, “I can understand. But we are making something beautiful here. We are making dance. So, why not let us do this--dance where art is?”

Frankly, I can't think of a satisfactory reason.

Lincoln Center is an oasis of artistic creation, education, and preservation. It seems counterintuitive to have to ask permission to make a work of art in a space that self-identifies as being dedicated to art.

One could argue that, regardless of its mission, Lincoln Center is private property and ought to be respected as such. But is an arts institution ever really a private organization? Is the space it provides ever exclusively its own?

Might arts institutions serve as official representations of the artistic community and illustrate the creativity and industry of the artists whose work inspired their creation? Might these institutions serve as a safe haven for makers, or at least a reminder that art still has a place of significance on this ever-changing planet?

BIO

Ron “Prime Tyme” Myles was born and raised in Memphis, Tennessee, in a neighborhood called Orange Mound. Growing up the only dancer in the area, Myles described his friends and family as his greatest inspiration and motivation during this time. In 2009, Myles moved to Los Angeles with his cousin and close friend Charles “Lil Buck” Riley, and since then has become one of the premier interpreters of the style of dance known as Memphis jookin’, often in partnership with Riley.

Helen Simoneau: Movement Across Borders

Helen Simoneau in rehearsal
for among the newly familiar
Photo: Rachel Shane

Helen Simoneau: Movement Across Borders

by Melanie Greene

Leaves rustle and gently connect with the scratchy pavement. The air whisks a cool crisp breeze underneath the lining of my jacket, while I mentally negotiate the best combination of layers to complement the changing season. The sun’s rays warm the molecules of cool air around us....

One modest October afternoon, a pleasant chat with artist, performer, and entrepreneur Helen Simoneau became a welcomed addition to an otherwise normal day. We discussed dance, art-making and her December residency at Baryshnikov Arts Center (BAC). Simoneau was in New York for business meetings and performances, and I caught up with her during a brief intermission between engagements. Somewhere between a showing, a meeting, and a quickly-approaching plane ride, we managed to steal time to relax outside a small café in Williamsburg. We sat on a wooden bench that stretched the length of the café window, while the afternoon sun fought with vigor to penetrate my Canal Street sunglasses.

Before we began our conversation, a quick shuffle of our movement cleverly hinted at our lives as dancers. To prevent the relentless sun from blinding Simoneau, we gathered our belongings and switched places. Stepping through the strap from a bookbag here, avoiding the spill of a drink there, we settled on opposite ends of the bench while my shades served as a brown barrier between the sun’s rays and my retinas.

After an exchange of greetings and light conversation, I began by asking Simoneau how she felt, to which she replied, “I’m feeling good because I just performed last night. I feel in my body and grateful that I’m able to reconnect with my dance community here in New York.” This sentiment illustrates one piece of an interesting puzzle that roots Simoneau’s work and practice in both New York and North Carolina, where Simoneau currently resides.

I was first exposed to Simoneau’s work in North Carolina where I grew up and attended graduate school. During a North Carolina Dance Festival, she presented a solo, the gentleness was in her hands. Surrounded by three golden anchors of light, Simoneau moved as a lone figure within a triangle of light, completely mesmerizing. She moved in angular, awkwardly isolating ways complemented by soft, delicate extensions and undulations. Her head and torso would snake through space supported by long lines that journeyed from her hips into her feet. She was enchanting and, ever since, I’ve been excited to see and hear about her work.

Having moved to New York, I am fascinated by how other artists navigate across interstate lines. Simoneau’s dual state, as well as her international presence, situates her work and company--Helen Simoneau Danse--in an interesting state of mindfulness that radiates throughout her work as an artist, performer, and choreographer.

Here and below, a trio of scenes
from Simoneau's among the newly familiar
Photos: Steve Davis

Residencies                       Process                       Work/Time Separation


   Precious                 Movers              Thinkers               Community/Core


Boundaries                               Borders                              Limitless limits


Simoneau's three-week residency at BAC landed on her radar because she was familiar with artists affiliated with the organization and, from them, heard about the supportive nature of its residencies. This opportunity offers Simoneau a platform to invest in what her work needs without the pressure to produce a polished final product.

“BAC is meeting me where I am with my process,” Simoneau said. “Sometimes performance expectations hinder the creative process because you simply try to get to the end too quickly at the expense of exploration.”

For three weeks, she, along with several New York-based artists, will call BAC home as they work on two dances in different stages of development and process.

Process

For many artists, the process is a very important component of choreographic practice. Simoneau realizes that her works often reflect something that is currently going on in her life. Certain themes and ideas just develop subconsciously. “It is not usually my intention, but I noticed that I tend to work out things in my life through my work."

Interestingly, these findings reveal themselves over time when one has a chance to step back from the work, which explains Simoneau’s advocacy for work/time separation. Establisihing some distance from the work allows you to reexamine your choices as a choreographer. The work becomes not so precious and lends itself to a quizzical, choreographic eye.

Simoneau in performance
Flight Distance III: Chain Suite
(photo: Steve Davis)

Work/Time Separation

Time also helps you see the potential and possible evolution of a work. It can offer clarity and create an opportunity to witness the fact that a work doesn’t stay fixed. It is an ongoing process informed by decisions made in the past and present. “I am there and present [in the work],” Simoneau added.

Once time has past, this clarity and participation makes it possible to seek avenues back into a work.  With the luxury of time, she believes, “you begin to see patterns and unconscious choices." You can also make space to entertain the divestment of labor involved in a work that can make it easier to edit away unnecessary material.

Delving more into the process of creating work, Simoneau spoke of her gratitude for the women and men with whom she works and performs. “I work with dancers who understand me and my process. They are invested in the work, therefore are invested in the process.” Among many things, this process involves seeing and being with dance works over time. Dancers also contribute in the creation of material. “I’m excited about the dancers I work with,” Simoneau said. “I am inspired by them and confident that I can let go of material and trust that they will continue to inspire me as movers and thinkers.” 

For the BAC residency, Simoneau will work with a group of dancers who she hasn’t seen in nearly nine months. “It is a pleasure to work with this particular group of dancers and, when we don’t meet, I miss it. We are a community, a core.”

from Paper Wings,
developed at American Dance Festival
(photo: Grant Halverson)

A Company With Many Homes

I’ve seen Simoneau’s work in several North Carolina venues, and I'm fascinated to witness how her work translates and transforms within New York spaces. When asked about creating and presenting work in both locations, Simoneau admitted “Every year, I’m more clear…I realized [years ago] that there were several resources in North Carolina that I was not utilizing.”

Booking studio space in New York can be expensive. In North Carolina, there is a community that really values the arts. Resources and rehearsal space that may be more difficult to obtain in New York are more accessible in North Carolina.

She knows that reaching out to people for support is key. “Ask for what you need,” Simoneau suggested. “Be willing to bring your ideas to the table and prepared to offer suggestions about how to get there.” Instead of imitating the journey of others, Simoneau found it more advantageous to figure out what she needed and devise her own plan to get there, stepping outside the box to see past traditional models. 

For instance, Simoneau’s residency at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts (UNCSA) brought dancers in for three weeks and gave them access to free studio space and classes. One big "Yes" later, Simoneau is in her fourth year working with UNCSA.

“I think [UNCSA] said yes because there is value for them in having professionals take class and interact with their students. We usually end up having students peek into rehearsal, sometimes understudying. We also end up having an informal talk with the students about life after graduation. They always have tons of questions.”

Traveling, especially overseas, and sharing work are important components of her aesthetic. “It’s scary to be in a vacuum," she notes, "because there is nothing to push up against.” 

Presenting and experiencing work widely seems vital to growth as a performer and artist. You might ask the same questions, but get different feedback. “Work is relative to the context in which it exists," she says. "It will be different in every place, but it should still find relevance in different contexts as well.”

After my conversation with Simoneau, I realize that as artists we often see and create opportunities out of necessity—a way to reconcile living and breathing the work we want to create and nurturing the individuals we want to be in this space, in our communities. Our intersecting paths are diverse and intricate from end to end, but it is possible to live what you love, love what you live, and, along the way, meet inspiring people who help to make your journey more clear.

BIO

Helen Simoneau is a native of Québec, Canada. Her company, Helen Simoneau Danse, is based in both North Carolina and New York City. She had the honor of winning The A.W.A.R.D. Show! 2010: NYC with her solo the gentleness was in her hands. This work was also awarded 1st Place for Choreography at the 13th Internationales Solo-Tanz-Theatre Festival in Stuttgart, Germany. She returned to Germany as one of three finalists for the Kurt Jooss Prize 2010 in Essen for her quintet Flight Distance I.

Simoneau has been selected to choreograph for the Swiss International Coaching Project (SiWiC) in Zurich, the Bessie Schönberg Residency at The Yard, Bates Dance Festival’s Emerging Choreographer Program, and the American Dance Festival’s Footprints series. Her choreography has been presented in Austria, Brazil, Canada, France, Greece, Italy, Spain, Switzerland, and has toured throughout Germany and the United States. Her work Flight Distance III: Chain Suite was recently presented in a nine-performance tour of Montréal, Tokyo, and Busan, South Korea, marking the company’s debut in Asia. Simoneau is a Bogliasco Fellow, a North Carolina Arts Council Choreographic Fellow, and a Fall 2013 resident artist at the Baryshnikov Arts Center in New York City.

For more information about Helen Simoneau and Helen Simoneau Danse, visit
helensimoneau.com. Also, see Simoneau's choreography reel on YouTube.

Upcoming: DraftWork at Danspace 

Saturday, Dec 14, 3pm (FREE)

Click here for information and tickets.

Christina Jane Robson: A Bud in Bloom

Christina Jane Robson
(photo by David Gonsier)

Christina Jane Robson: A Bud in Bloom

by Sarah Elizabeth Lass

I first saw Christina Jane Robson dance when we both took Alexandra Beller’s intermediate modern class at Dance New Amsterdam (DNA) in March 2013. Her strong body and languid movement captivated me but, more than that, I was struck by her delightful, friendly energy and joyful spirit. She warmed not only the room but the people in it. I left with a big smile and a light heart and, glancing around, I’m sure I was not the only one.

I had heard from a close friend of mine--who had met Robson at Bates Dance Festival's Young Dancer’s Workshop--that Robson had recently joined the ranks of DNA’s permanent faculty and had a regular advanced modern technique class. “You have to take her class,” my friend insisted, “It’s amazing.” 

Eager for more time with Robson and intrigued by the powerful, yet fluid dancing I had seen in Beller’s class, I suited up and headed to the studio.

Almost ten months later, I am hard-pressed to miss a single one of her classes. She has steadily gathered a devoted group of students, addicted to her high-energy, physically-challenging classes, all of which Robson cheerfully leads with compassion, a sense of humor, and an eclectic, ever-changing playlist.

Robson in action
photo by Ben Wolk

She has also grabbed the attention of critics and theatergoers, a standout in the work of a large number of notable dance makers, including Séan Curran, Monica Bill Barnes, David Dorfman, Alexandra Beller and Kendra Portier. Rachel Rizzuto of Dance Teacher magazine recently commented, “It is nearly impossible to watch anyone else when she is on stage. Her presence commands attention and relaxes an audience member at once.” For Rizzuto, Robson is the “modern dancer to watch of this next generation.”

I am similarly in awe of Robson’s dancing but also curious about her path into the world of teaching and how, by the end of every class, she has people shouting, cheering, and laughing. I want to get to know the person who, time after time, creates a room where anything feels possible, and who has woven together a warm, supportive community that has grown steadily larger thanks to these uplifting, inspiring two-hour treats.

After one such class, we met to chat over a couple of jumbo iced coffees–her acknowledged and happily-indulged vice. I invited Robson to share more about herself, her life, and her approach to her own practice and the one she shares with her students. Notorious for her sense of humor, I was laughing out loud from the moment we sat down. 

At my suggestion to start “at the beginning,” she happily launched into the story of her birth, and ticked off her vitals upon delivery. Weighing in at almost eleven pounds, the very large infant Robson joined just one older brother, rounding out her small family in the Tewksbury, Massachusetts, a “blue collar, working, football town” of around 30,000 people, just north of Boston.

Since childhood, she has considered herself a bit of an odd duck among her older brother--a “computer science genius,” she says--who was always the academic of the family; her father, who custom fabricated hotrods; and her mother, one of the most personable, good-humored people. A typical day in her household consists of “my dad watching TV, my mom failing to bake something, and my brother taking something apart.”

Despite her “odd-duck” status, Robson can see a bit of herself in each of her family members. “I am like the artsy, social butterfly,” she says, “but I think I got my mom’s sense of humor.” As for the creativity that is now apparent in her dancing and teaching, Robson traces this back to an unlikely culprit: her father. Robson’s admiration is clear as she speaks of his careful, detailed construction of car engine models, a process in which she sees an amazing amount of artistry.

As for childhood activities, Robson acknowledges that she just wanted to do everything her older brother did, much to his annoyance. So, when he took up hockey, she followed suit, really her first taste of movement. “I was so bad at it,” she recalls. But, she adds, “I would skate as fast as I could and slam into the boards, just because it felt good.”

A concerned parent, watching Robson in practice, approached her mother and suggested that the girl take dance classes. Robson’s mother enrolled her in a local school–Tammy’s Dance Connection–in the same shopping center where the family owned Toon Town, a record shop. “I lived in that store,” Robson reflects, thanking the family business for helping her memorize, by age six, all the words to Salt-n-Pepa’s “Let’s Talk About Sex.”

When it was time for dance, Robson’s mother would close up shop for five minutes and walk Robson over to Tammy’s. Beginning in ballet at age four, Robson soon added jazz and tap, and began competing regularly. Despite mixed feelings about dance competitions, she acknowledges their benefits. “You learn how to perform at a very young age,” she says. You can perform anything and everything.

While she was exposed to a variety of dance styles, tap most captured Robson’s heart. “I was big time into tap dancing. Like all my time tap dancing. I did a lot of conventions and jams and had private lessons and competed in competitions,” she explains. Now, fully immersed in and focused on modern dance, she says, "Tap still really influences my moving body. I think I still strive to find shading and tone and rhythm in my body in any full-bodied movement phrasing.”

When she wasn’t in Toon Town or tapping at Tammy’s, Robson’s childhood consisted of “neighborhood-wide” football games, dodge ball, and street hockey. “I grew up in a suburban neighborhood chock-full of families with several children of all ages,” Robson recalls. Probably because of this, Robson has always loved kids, and has worked as a nanny since arriving in New York in 2009. She even credits one incredibly supportive and generous family, with whom she lived and worked for several months, with allowing her to continue dancing throughout a time of financial hardship.

“There is a playfulness and a love of sharing time with people and kids that is very much a part of me,” Robson says, thinking back on these neighborhood activities and the small, family-based community she calls home. Séan Curran--the seasoned New York choreographer and Robson mentor--acknowledged, “She’s great with kids. She’s a kid herself.”

Christina Jane Robson
photo by Yi Chen Wu

Sitting with her in Think Coffee, I am also struck by her childlike enthusiasm. It’s contagious. She is animated and engaging—her passion for movement clear in her voice and body—moving and gesturing in her seat, still energized after giving a challenging, two-hour class. Apparently, she’s always been this way. 

“I couldn’t sit still in high school,” Robson admits. She got good grades, but school, she says, was never really her thing.

When I pressed her to talk more about her teenage years, it surfaced that she had been a high school cheerleader. “I can’t believe it either,” she joked. She looked for any excuse not to wear her uniform on games days. That uniform included a fake curly ponytail--“not my best look." But she did enjoy the movement. “I never said the cheers. I just did all the moves. The stunts were fun too.”

As high school drew to a close, Robson’s parents had made it clear that not going to college was never an option. Looking for places where she could continue moving and dancing, she auditioned for the dance department at Roger Williams University (RWU) in Bristol, Rhode Island, charmed by the intimacy of the program, with everything housed in one barn.

Asked to present a short solo, she chose one of her competition tap routines. Robson remembers the performance well, laughing good-naturedly at her own naivety at the time. Wearing a purple leotard and black bootie shorts, Robson dove into her routine, fully committed and enthusiastic despite the RWU dance program’s distance from the competition dance world.

The modern dance class that came afterward was, in fact, the first modern dance class Robson had ever taken. She remembers the foreignness of the positions and the vocabulary and, more than anything, the breathing. 

“I just remember thinking, ‘Why are you guys breathing like that?’”

Upon her acceptance, Robson was immersed in the intense and diverse training offered at RWU, and met “the most important person to date” in her life: Kelli Wicke Davis, then head of the dance department. 

“She had this philosophy of ‘throw them in, let them figure it out,’” Robson recalls, speaking of the whirlwind of styles that students in the department encountered thanks to short and intensive residencies from a wide range of visiting artists and choreographers.

Did her perception of her own dancing, and dance in general, changed once at RWU after so many years of dancing in competitions? It wasn’t so much that she noticed that her understanding of dance had changed, she says, but that she felt her body changing. “I remember my body morphing because it had to. How my body moved changed, and I felt that.” This seems indicative of the way Robson connects with her world: from the inside out. “I feel like I dance like I talk,” she laughs.

After four years at RWU and a semester studying abroad in London, Robson began thinking about life after graduation, assuming this meant a return to Tewksbury. Davis, however, had other ideas, and it was thanks to Davis that Robson was introduced to Séan Curran. In fact, when I asked Curran when he first met Robson his answer was 1979: the year he himself met Davis, who had then only just started the dance program at RWU and who encouraged Curran to audition for New York University’s Tisch School dance program.

“Kelli would recommend someone all the time,” Curran explained. “One of these people happened to be Christina.” Not thinking about hiring a new dancer, Curran still encouraged Davis to send Robson to New York upon her graduation in 2009, where she could take his class and he could offer any help or advice needed. 

“I was happy to meet this person,” he says, “but I didn’t think it would amount to much. And then it was Christina Robson.”

Christina Jane Robson
photo by Ben Blumenfeld

Robson had no intention of living in New York. She remains surprised by the series of events that led to her move here. After Curran’s suggestion to just “get here and try it,” Robson packed a backpack and boarded a Megabus. She spent that first summer rehearsing with Curran’s company. Almost five years later she’s still here, and still dancing for Curran along with a plethora of other dancemakers.

Robson, Curran says, has changed his life. What makes her so special? 

“It's her humor, her sense of wonder,” he explains. “She’s easy to laugh and she’s easy to cry.” He calls it her willingness to “sit in her emotions,” and that makes her an essential presence in the studio. “You know the saying, a lesson learned with humor is a lesson remembered? Christina embodies that,” he says.

Monica Bill Barnes, another New York dancer and choreographer who first met Robson at Bates Dance Festival in Maine in 2009, speaks with similar enthusiasm and admiration. 

“She is a complete treasure to work with,” Barnes says. Asking Robson to work with her was one of the easiest choices she’s had to make. “She is hilarious and she is good-natured,” Barnes notes. “She has the right heart and grit to not just make it, but to enjoy the process, and it takes a certain level of grit.”

Listening to Robson talk about her dance career, though, “grit” doesn’t even seem to factor in. Joy bubbles in her voice, and her amazement and gratitude that she gets to dance everyday completely overshadows any fatigue or frustration that might surface naturally with such a physically, and often emotionally challenging profession. “She would go without sleep,” Curran notes. “She is so hungry to keep moving and keep dancing.”

And others are hungry for more of Robson. “I’m not the only one who loves her. Everyone wants her, and she wants to do everything,” Curran says. “She wants to dance and she dances for everyone who asks her. I’m always afraid I’ll lose her.”

Robson’s days are usually full of dancing, but that's not all. Her escape is as delightful as it is unexpected: flowers. 

“Sometimes it's so easy to get tunnel vision dance eyes,” she says. “I definitely crave another perspective or another creative medium when I find I'm drowning in dance moves.”

Robson traces her love of flowers back to the garden her mother and father kept when she was a child and, while growing up, her occasional assistance with her church's flower arrangements. In New York, Robson continued exploring the art of floral arrangements and learning the business.

“I love to work with my hands, and I loved visual arts,” she explains. (At RWU, she had initially pursued a double major in Dance and Visual Arts and had experience with painting, drawing and sculpture. When, during her first year in the city, she passed the Flowers of the World's studio, her interest was piqued. “I loved their spare, minimalist floral design. So I wrote them.”

“I wasn't looking for pay, just knowledge. They wrote me back and told me to come learn. So I went a few times and got a few skills under my belt.” 

As her dance career picked up, time for flowers faded away, though Robson remained very much fascinated by them and interested in their design. It wasn’t until last year, when she saw a Groupon deal for flower arranging classes at Studio Sweet Pea in the East Village, that Robson was able to jump into it again.

“My hands were itching to get back to work, and dance was slow at the moment.” She wrote the studio owner, Lisa Fireman Dorhout, and interviewed to apprentice. “We hit it off immediately. I learned so much about the business as a whole as well as details of design and event work from Lisa. She became a very good friend and mentor.”

“It is so satisfying to create pieces with a live, natural medium. Each stem is unique in its color and shape,” she explains. 

Robson finds countless similarities between her work with flowers and dance. “There are so many similarities in how we shape choreography and how we shape a floral piece: They both work with shape and color and dynamics, how the different stems play off one another or blend, how to balance the energy, how to draw the eye through the piece.”

“I absolutely love it,” she says. “If I weren't dancing I would have my own shop, one hundred percent. Maybe just not in New York. Too much speed and too much pressure.”

Christina Jane Robson
photo by Melody Ruffin Ward

I am struck by how applicable these words about flowers are to Robson’s approach to her own dancing. 

“I see the body as an overflowing vessel of ever-changing qualities,” she explains. As she dances—the curve of her long limbs in a legato phrase dropping into a grounded, punctuated step, her strong controlled balances offset by moments of juicy release—she shapes the space around her, just as she might shape an arrangement of hydrangeas. It’s dynamic and surprising, with a curious phrasing and exploration of rhythm that undoubtedly comes from her tap days.

As a teacher, Robson is also in the midst of shaping a unique class sequence. Though she did not begin teaching regularly until about a year ago, her class already has a distinctive flow and feel to it. Barnes, who has taken Robson’s class, sees maturity in her class sequence that one would not expect from such a young dancer and teacher. 

“I really feel like it was one of the most clearly articulated, thoughtful, intelligent classes that I’ve taken in a long time,” Barnes says. “I think she’s quite extraordinary as a teacher.”

Robson’s first taste of teaching–in 2010 at her alma mater–was a bit terrifying, she admits. She was surprised that anyone wanted to hear what she had to say. Davis was present and Curran was in attendance, and Robson remembers her meticulous lesson notes, which she checked constantly throughout the class.

Since that class Curran has continued to act as a mentor to Robson in her teaching, and for that she is incredibly thankful. “I think that discourse between old and new teachers about how to teach is so important,” Robson says. It seems that this discourse is paying off. “She is becoming a fabulous teacher,” Curran affirms. “All the NYU kids just want Christina!”

About a year ago, Kendra Portier, another Robson mentor and for whom she often dances, let the young artist substitute teach some of her classes at DNA, the beginning of Robson’s regular teaching commitment. When her nerves started acting up, or attendance was low, Portier offered steady support and encouragement, remembering that it took months before she, Portier, had gathered her own regular group of students.

Now, with a weekly class at Peridance Capezio Center and occasional stints at Gibney Dance Center, Robson has collected a loyal group of admiring students. One of them, Michelle Rose, who first met Robson through her administrative work with Barnes, says, “I know I have a lot to learn from her. I think she has a real gift for being able to explain something and have it make sense, without becoming too ‘teacher-ish.’”

Robson believes that she, too, learns a lot from her own teaching.

“I feel like I’ve had the most growth since college,” she says. “You need to be so clear, and show what you’re trying to convey through both metaphor and physicality.”

It has also been a humbling experience. “I’m letting people witness failure in my own body,” she explains. Now she feels more comfortable about improvising and being watched. Robson dances throughout her classes, feeling that because of this experience—of being “inside” the class with her students—she can lead the group thoughtfully and intelligently through each physically challenging and creatively stimulating sequence. “I’m physically experiencing class and then relaying that information live,” she says.

Curran notes, “She’s in her body. Not all dancers are in their bodies the way she is.”

Of the class sequence itself, Robson admits that it often feels a bit like “ping pong.” Always sporting a track jacket zipped up to the chin--Curran lovingly calls this the “ragamuffin chic kind of rehearsal look”--Robson begins her class with around 30 minutes of non-stop movement, jumping from guided improvisations, to something closer to fitness conditioning, then to yoga, then to ballet. She follows this with a handful of smaller, more technically-focused exercises. Everything ends with a gigantic, full-bodied phrase that sends student flying through the space, letting them draw on all the sensations gathered in the previous hour.

Robson--a dancer from no specific school or lineage and one who has skipped from hockey, to tap, to cheerleading, and to modern dance--knows the importance of being, as she calls herself, a “keeper of all sorts of languages.”

“Nobody can just dance for one person anymore,” she explains, “And there’s something kind of gritty and awesome about being a mutt.”

“I’m trying to figure out how many different ways I can challenge my body instantaneously,” she elaborates. Her classes, therefore, are structured just as she might structure an intricate flower arrangement—lots of different shades, colors, textures, and details all woven together to create a vibrant, unified whole.

That said, Robson is not interested in any kind of final product when it comes to class, rehearsals, or life, for that matter. 

“She is very into the process, whether she’s in the class or teaching the class,” Curran explains. “Christina is a dancer who is interested in the making and doing.”

Just as flowers whither and fade, a dance exists in one moment and is gone in the next. Robson, however, is unfazed by such a dilemma. 

One day, while guiding a class through a sensory-based improvisation, Robson stopped everyone and encouraged us to live in each movement, find something new and surprising in each moment, to let go of deciding, to not think ahead to our next choice. 

“Now, now, now,” she chanted like a mantra as she sailed through the air.

Being around Robson, it’s easier to let go of the stresses of everyday life and of the expectations we have for each other and ourselves, and to just find a childlike joy in and fascination with the present. Robson reminds us to live fully aware and conscious in the “now,” because, although moments pass, and what was strong and vital inevitably wilts, something new and wonderful always blooms afterward.

BIO

Christina Robson began her dance training in her small hometown of Tewksbury, Massachusetts studying with Tammy Aspell of Tammy's Dance Connection. She graduated Summa Cum Laude from Roger Williams University in 2009 where she studied Dance Performance and Visual Arts. In the Fall of 2007, Christina studied abroad in London and trained at The Place. Christina currently has the joy of working with folks like Seán Curran Company, Monica Bill Barnes and Company, Alexandra Beller Dances, Heidi Henderson/Elephant Jane Dance, Kendra Portier | Band Portier, David Dorfman Dance and an artist's collective called The Space We Make.

In addition to continuing to pursue her professional performance career, Christina has also started making her own work., creating her first two original works on students at Colby Sawyer College and at Roger Williams University, where she will be returning this Winter 2014 to premiere her first evening of works.

Christina is thrilled to have most recently had the opportunity to teach at Dance New Amsterdam (DNA), Roger Williams University, Gibney Dance Center, New York University Tisch School of the Arts (SADC), Hofstra University and Peridance Center.

Jacqueline Green: A Clean Slate

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater's Jacqueline Green
in Wayne McGregor's Chroma
Photo by Paul Kolnik

Jacqueline Green: A Clean Slate

by Sarah Elizabeth Lass

As one of five children, Baltimore-native Jacqueline Green grew used to being in the company of others. However, in 2011, this versatile, talented, long-limbed beauty who has now captivated so many joined a different kind of company: Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. Since then, she has grabbed the attention of audience members, critics, and choreographers, gracefully tackling works from Jiri Kylian’s technically-precise Petit Mort to Rennie Harris’ soulful Home.

It may be difficult to believe that 23-year-old Green, featured in Dance Magazine’s “On The Rise” (May 2013), began her formal study of dance just ten years ago. In fact, it was only at her mother’s suggestion that Green auditioned for Baltimore School of the Arts (BSA).

“My sister went to a very good academic school, and my mom was always doing research on schools,” Green recalls. BSA stuck out as an outstanding academic institution, but when her mother suggested it, Green admits she was surprised. “I was just like, uh, I don’t dance,” she laughs, “When I thought of dance, what came to mind was Fame.”

“I don’t know what convinced me, but I auditioned,” she says. “I felt extremely naked in my leotard and tights, and I remember thinking it was weird that somebody was touching your body.” 

One of a handful of selected students, Green then plunged into an intensive and accelerated course of training. “After six months I was on pointe,” she remembers.

It's not uncommon for dancers to begin training at a very young age. Did Green find this relatively late start to be a frustration or an obstacle? On the contrary, she believes it worked to her benefit.

“I had no preconceptions about dance, or habits I’d picked up when I was three,” she says, “I was a clean slate.”

Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell--associate professor at Towson University, an Ailey star for thirteen years, a BSA alumna, and one of Green’s teachers during her junior year at the school--believes that this clean slate is what lends itself to the “quickness” in Green’s learning. Fisher-Harrell--a self-proclaimed former tomboy who auditioned for BSA with the goal of one day dancing in a Michael Jackson video--says of Green, “She entered the school as an open book, and I think there’s a beauty to that. You are a blank canvas.”

AAADTs Rachael McLaren, Jacqueline Green, and Glenn Allen Sims
Photo by Andrew Eccles

What Green did bring into her training was a joy for movement, something she now recognizes she had at a young age, when she still had no idea that dance could be a career. When I ask about any activities or hobbies before dance, she thinks for a moment and responds, “Even before dance, I loved to dance. I liked music and I liked to dance around the house with my best friend. We were the queens of nineties.”

Even though Green does not see her later start as a hindrance, it certainly does not mean that she had it easy. She remembers her beginning ballet class with Anton Wilson, and how much she struggled with one of his combinations. 

“After a month I finally got it, and I felt that success, and I wanted to keep going.” With each small victory, like the one in Wilson’s class, dance became Green’s passion and joy. “It was a slow love affair,” she admits, “but it fills you up like nothing else.”

Green’s teachers recognized this desire to keep going, this hunger, drive and, perhaps more than that, a willingness to work. Fisher-Harrell says, “It’s not that Jackie did everything perfectly, but she really wasn’t afraid to work. When things didn’t happen right away, you never doubted that she would get it.”

Fisher-Harrell admits that if there is such a thing as a “model student,” Green was it. “She is just a joy,” Fisher-Harrell says, “She has this attitude like, ‘Yes, I am here and I want to learn and I am happy about it.’” For Fisher-Harrell, this kind of work ethic is everything. “Your work ethic is all you have, and that starts from the first moment you walk into the studio. It’s about how you take care of your body and how you stay in the practice of dance. You have to be in constant research of the next level.”

Green herself was struck by this work ethic when Fisher-Harrell came to teach ballet at BSA during Green’s junior year. Green remembers thinking, “She has it, and she’s still working.” This insistence on growth and improvement was something Green saw and absorbed early on, and is something that Fisher-Harrell believes is essential to the success of any professional performer. “I always thought of myself as a student, even as a principal dancer. If you approach things that way it keeps you hungry, always seeking,” Fisher-Harrell says.

As her time at BSA drew to a close, Green began to look for a similar opportunity in higher education. “You got to go to college,” Green says, “An education is priceless.” Just as BSA impressed Green and her family years earlier, the Ailey/Fordham Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) Program similarly offered excellence in both dance and academics.

Upon her acceptance, Green relocated to New York. “I think I always had it in the back of my head that I wanted to dance, and then I came to New York and realized people were doing it,” Green says. At this time, too, she saw her first performance of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. “I became a groupie,” she laughs, “I would run over to City Center after class!”

I asked Green about her experience in the Ailey/Fordham Program and her day-to-day schedule. 

“In many ways, college is harder than being in the company," she explained. "You’re a full-time Fordham student and a full-time Ailey student.” Indeed, Green’s days were packed from early morning until late evening with academic classes, dance technique classes, rehearsals, homework as well as the time she spent alone in the studio.

Despite an already demanding schedule, Green began to apprentice with the company during her junior year. By senior year, she was officially an Ailey member. How did she handle the many obligations of being both a full-time student and company member with one of the world’s most famous and highly-acclaimed dance companies?

She laughs and says, “I made it work.”

Jacqueline Green
Photo by Freddie Rankin

Green reflects on her first two years with the company with maturity and a level of insight not expected from such a young professional. Green’s first year included an eleven-week international touring, marking the first time Green left the country. “The first year was about learning the repertory and knowing how to tour and stay inspired,” Green says, “You figure out how to be with the company and be your own person.”

What, then, inspires her?

“Anything. Anything can inspire me.” It could be something from one of her favorite TV shows, Scandal, or the long walks through foreign cities that she enjoys taking while the company is on tour. As Green mentions her co-workers, her voice sparks with admiration and enthusiasm. Clearly, she feels joy in working with such talented people everyday. “We can be just cracking up on stage, and that reflects to the audience, they feel it too.”

Beyond her professional duties in dance, community outreach--such as the educational work the company did in Argentina this September--also gives her pleasure and a sense of purpose.

“The passion in these kids,” she says, trailing off, her amazement clear in her voice, “You see it and you absorb it.” Outreach, Green explains, helps to refresh and renew Green’s practice and approach to her own work. “It takes me back to that first year,” she says, in reference to the beginning of her own training ten years ago.

This is, she believes, her biggest artistic and personal challenge. “Going back to that clean slate, it’s always the challenge.” Green explains that after learning the repertory and getting accustomed to life in the company, as Green did in her first year, things can get comfortable. In approaching each new day of dancing and each piece on which she works, Green says, “I need to open my brain, absorb new information, and not do it like I would do any other piece.”

Jacqueline Green
Photo by Andrew Eccles

We talked about the various roles Green has tackled during her time with Ailey. She has dived into so many different ones.

Discovering her character starts with the movement, she says, and then develops during the rehearsal process. “Whenever we’re rehearsing something I think, ‘What kind of character does this movement make me?’”

After that, Green picks a hairstyle. She has sported high, fountain ponytails, mohawks, braids, and more. This light, playful spirit does not only pertain to her approach to character development, but also to her daily practice as well. “I like to be the performer,” she admits. “I’m a crazy kind of girl—I have the crazy-colored tights, and the tie-dye leotard.”

“She’s just a fun-loving girl,” Fisher-Harrell confirms, “Faithful, fun-loving, and caring.” This vivacious personality and kind spirit endears her to friends, teachers, and co-workers. “You know what I love about her?” Fisher-Harrell asks animatedly, “She’s sweet! You can tell in the studio, with her friends and in her interactions with her colleagues. They just love her.”

Green's ability to commit herself wholeheartedly to something foreign or uncertain, without judgment or premature analysis means allowing herself to be vulnerable.

“You let go of all those fears, and you become vulnerable again," she says. "That’s how you started everything. That vulnerability is courageous, and it took me awhile to figure that out.”

As Fisher-Harrell says, “Her journey is what is so fascinating, how she takes material and progresses through it.” With such an outstanding work ethic and unending dedication to personal growth and discovery, I can only predict that Green’s return to the stage this season will be a joy to witness, each performance a lesson in renewal and rejuvenation.

BIO

Jacqueline Green (Baltimore, MD) began her dance training at the Baltimore
School for the Arts under the direction of Norma Pera, Deborah Robinson and Anton Wilson. She is a graduate of The Ailey/Fordham BFA Program in Dance. Ms. Green has attended summer programs at Pennsylvania Regional Ballet, Chautauqua Institution, Earl Mosley’s Institute of the Arts and Jacob’s Pillow. She has performed works by a variety of choreographers, including Elisa Monte, Helen Pickett, Francesca Harper, Aszure Barton, Earl Mosley and Michael Vernon. In November 2009, Ms. Green was the recipient of the Martha Hill’s Young Professional’s Award and the Dizzy Feet Scholarship in 2010. She was a member of Ailey II and joined the Company in 2011. 

For more information on the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater's New York City Center season (December 4-January 5), click here.

Vicki Igbokwe: To Keep Me Sane

Vicki Igbokwe
(photo courtesy of the artist)

Vicki Igbokwe: To Keep Me Sane

 by Anita Gonzalez

I’m sitting with 32-year-old British choreographer Vicki Igbokwe in the café at The Place, a contemporary performance center in London that nourishes creative dance work. I’m thrilled to be in the company of a dancer who markets herself as a choreographer and an Olympic mass movement coordinator. 

Igbokwe’s “urban contemporary,” choreography melds house dance, waacking and modern concert dance. She’s just returning from the Sadler Wells Summer University, a think tank for dancers, artists, and creators. As I watch her eyes, Igbokwe’s mind tumbles over new thoughts and ideas. This artist, now well situated in her career, realizes that her early life experiences directly influenced how she created opportunities for herself and others. So how does a life story manifest into dance practice?

If I go back to come forward, the dance for me is all about a release. 

 

Personal history, her father’s passing and her mother’s illness, shaped Igbokwe’s 

spiritual passage as a dance artist. She speaks of dance as release, reflecting back 

upon personal challenges she faced as a burgeoning teenage artist. 

 

My dad was a barrister. He practiced here and in Nigeria, and my mom was a 

councilor for the Labor Party. We had always danced in my family. Coming from a traditional Nigerian home there is always music, Sunny Adé, Fela Kuti… music and dance was always in the house. She (my Mom) would go to these traditional weddings, or African women’s association meetings. They would bring the kids and, after the meeting, there would be the food and the music and the dancing.

Igbokwe’s mother passed away in 2009 following an extended illness. As a teenager, the choreographer grappled with challenges of taking care of her mother while developing her own independence.

 

My Mom became really ill, and I ended up becoming her caretaker from the age of 14 and looking after her and my three younger sisters. I was coming home from school and making sure that mom was OK and making sure that my sisters were OK, and it was a very tough time. I feel like a fifty-year-old woman in my mid-teens, and I need something that is just for me to do. And at school I was always choreographing on my friends. A teacher told me about a summer project that was happening here at The Place. She said, “this would be something just to do for you.” I would learn technique classes, and I absolutely loved this dance thing, this creative thing. And from there I got the bug. 

   

The bug of dancing helped Igbokwe to feel young, and most of all happy. Later she attended college. Choosing an art career over a law career disrupted family 

expectations. Although she first concealed her arts degree from her mother, she later confessed that she was pursuing her heart. 

 

I found the hobby was something that just kept me sane and made me a bit whole again.

Uchenna Dance in works by Vicki Igbokwe
(photos by Irven Lewis)

Igbokwe’s most recent work, Our Mighty Groove, draws from her early experiences of house club dancing. Zoe Anderson describes the September 2013 performance at Sadler's Wells' “Wild Card” series.

“A woman in an extravagant hat cuts through the crowd, clearing space by sheer force of personality. Delicately taking the hat off, she starts to dance, with rippling shoulders and slicing arms. The crowd presses in for a better view, and then falls back again to give her more room.” 

In the work, Igbokwe immerses audiences in a house dance environment and lets them observe multiple characters entering a 1970s club. The dance fully utilizes the personality of each of her dance artists. 

 

I’m doing what Mommy did and the ladies of the African women’s association.

 

Igbokwe attended primarily white universities that challenged her sense of self. The buns and tights she had to wear for classes felt, to her, like alien outfits. Outside of the university, she worked with Hakeem Onibudo of Impact Dance. He encouraged her to improve her teaching by becoming an exercise teacher at fitness studios. Before the exercise course, she was “really engaged but rough round the edges.” Hakeem advised her that, as an African girl, she should work on her smile and people skills. 

 

He was the key figure back then, a big brother, and he came from Nigeria as well. He understood that transition.

 

Even though she softened her classroom demeanor, Igbokwe held onto her cultural grounding, naming her company Uchenna Dance. Uchenna, the Nigerian first name given by her parents, means “God’s Will.” She honors her parents by choosing this as her company’s name. 

Igbokwe established the company in the middle of the recession. Her goal was to create a company that had an identity separate from Igbokwe as an individual choreographer. It was a precarious time. 

 

I thought, “give it a go” rather than “what if.” I wanted to create something bigger than me--or that will be bigger than me--that can add to the British dancing that we have here, right now. This thing of seeing myself within dance as a Black woman as an African woman, as being a woman, as someone that absolutely loves dance and ballet and also likes house dance and waacking and knows the history and the technique behind these styles.

Waacking and house dance are popular dances with poses, explosive kicks and fast arm movements performed to driving urban music. 

To promote social dance as contemporary choreography, Igbokwe started Cultural Explosion, an annual event showcasing artists working with urban vocabularies. Because of the “knock back” against her own work, she created a platform that is experimental, vibrant and infused by street, social, African and informal dance styles. Cultural Explosion invites choreographers from around the country to experiment with hybrid styles. 

 

For me this work is about finding the similarities in those forms, the get down, the essence. 

 

There have been three “cultural explosions,” each opening up networks for sharing ideas and practices. Open classes invite artists to exchange styles. The event aims to build artistic languages and bring the underground to the British Dance scene.

If we don’t do it, it won’t get done.

Igbokwe’s deeply imbedded ideals of fusion come from her heritage and from her experiences with training across disciplines. She wants to merge multiple dance styles. 

 

I know about each of them in their individual forms. But what excites me is when they come together. When you’ve got a dancer that has the aesthetic of a contemporary dancer but the essence of an African dancer and then the rhythm, that punch of an urban dancer, that’s what gets me going. That’s what really excites me. To find bodies, dancers, I’m excited. That’s what my passion of merging these styles together is. I love the use of the back and the spine. I love the groundedness, but at the same time I love the lines. If you can get your leg up there, I’m yours.

 

When I first met with Igbokwe, I wanted to know more about her involvement with sports. She was a Nike Athlete and UK Master Trainer as well being part of the creative team, at the 2012 Olympics, working on all four of the opening and closing ceremonies. Her title was Mass Movement Coordinator and her team worked with a cohort of choreographers, dance captains and creative directors. Each team developed their own choreographed movement and the vision for their segments. The Mass Movement team lead by Steve Boyd worked to make the choreography and vision a reality.

As we chat, I realize the woman in front of me sees the athleticism of training and the invention of dancing as similar processes. Whether she works with large-scale movement or with individual artists, she views the process of dancing as coordinated release. I consider her earlier statements. 

 

I found the hobby was something that just kept me sane and made me a bit whole again. When I’m dancing I feel young, I feel happy, I don’t think of the stress that I’ve got at home.

Igbokwe finds happiness through the physicality of dancing with others while 

bringing a unique aesthetic to the British dance scene. Her work encourages 

experimentation with styles, values precision in practice, and honors personal 

relationships.

BIO

Vicki Igbokwe is the Creative Director of Uchenna Dance, a company that delivers high quality, dynamic experiences in dance for all--be this as a participant, spectator or project partner.

Starting her career as a street dancer, she later trained at Middlesex University graduating with a BA in dance studies in 2004. In 2011 she graduated with a MA in cultural leadership from City University.

As an independent artist, Vicki wears multiple ‘hats’ that include choreographer, teacher, lecturer, manager and producer. She is also a founding member of the ADiaspora collective a creative collaboration with Alesandra Seutin of Vocab dance.

As a choreographer, she undergoes practice-based research, which sees her fusing Waacking, Vogueing, and House Dance (club dances) with West African and Contemporary dance.

Career highlights include being a sponsored Nike dance athlete and master trainer (2005-10) and a Mass Movement Coordinator (creative) on Opening and Closing Ceremonies for Olympic and Paralympic London Games (2011-12)

To learn more about Uchenna Dance, click here