Dance is science, introspection, social bravery, research, revolution and art. Effort and rigor sustain these practices.
Dance is an intersection between intellect and doing. In the studio and classroom, I do everything within my power to encourage independent artists and artistry. I believe that independent and explorative thought feeds a deeper relationship between human and task, human and material, serving richer artistic possibilities. Ultimately, I believe that curious and independent artists uniquely support robust community, and contribute to global sociocultural health.
I believe that an engineer has just as much to gain from studying dance as does a lifelong performer. Everyone in the room practices risk, vulnerability, visibility and voice, introspection, conversation, anatomy, physics, joy and creativity.
I encourage active internal dialogue by posing questions and puzzles, and allowing time to synthesize experience. This is the practice of research. I offer imagery and metaphor to make familiar the unfamiliar, and I pose directed questions that encourage independent discovery. I believe that every body looks and feels different. I root the practice of subjective exploration in anatomy of bones & muscles, as well as in personal histories, identities and desires. No one's body or ideas are ever “wrong.”
In technique class, I encourage subjective physical honesty as a method for sustaining a long and healthy relationship to movement. I actively share my knowledge of anatomy and kinesiology, and we approach dance as a technique driven by efficiency and functionality. Anatomical information is a foundational tool for ease, exploration and play.
I see it as my responsibility to hold space in the studio, in seminars and lectures. Space is a container for community, dialogue, networking, play, radical change, and bravery in being seen, being visible.
The kind of bravery that is developed in a dance, anatomy, history or composition class is inseparable from bravery in a larger community and from bravery in learning and change. In dance, you often have to execute an idea—fully, physically and visibly—before you know if it is “right.” This kind of boldness requires a willingness to learn from failure, and a trust in the community of practice. My dance spaces are not silent spaces: they are spaces filled with mutual encouragement, humor, applause, questions and community dialogue. Together, we encourage expression of identity, sensation, emotion, ideas, qualities. We practice seeing and understanding the expressions of others, and we draw connections between others and ourselves.
Finally, I believe in joy. Some days, and for some people, joy is a radical act.