The city is sweltering today. 98 degrees in New York is a messy, smelly business.
I enter the studio feeling sticky and disoriented. It’s strange to be in a place that feels so familiar and unreal at the same time. Like a piece of clothing you used to love that no longer seems quite right.
Despite my sense of strangeness and dislocation, it feels luxurious to be in the studio. It’s been 10 days since I danced and my body needs attention.
I start of the floor, feeling a little dizzy from the heat. Heel rocks. X rolls. Legs swings.
I reorient to my body in this new place, in this particular time.
Loose limbs, spirals, deep plies.
I work with the heat instead of against it.
I’m excited to keep working on my little study and spend some time tightening it up, remembering. Cutting a few loose edges out.
I work with the voice recording of the text and find the rhythm of the words in my movement. It keeps puzzling me and I get confused. I do it again, and again.
I work myself into a frenzy over it because it feels good to be exhausted.
As I’m dancing, I think about how to create more ambiguity. The text still feels a bit superfluous even though I enjoy dancing to it.
How to express an idea without giving it all away?
I need more elements, more layers, more fractures.
I have an image in my mind of a red and white checkered table cloth as a backdrop? floor piece? material to fold with?
I want to connect gesture with a material sense of crafting, molding, making.
At some point, I hit a wall. The heat is too much and my body can’t keep up.
I lay down in a big X shape and let my weight drop. What is the sensation of your own flesh relaxing on the bones? Of your organs falling into place?
I breathe and stretch a little, trying to cool myself from within.
Drawing helps me wind down, find relief.