It’s hot in the city today. The studio is glorious but not air conditioned.
I take it slow.
Moving, stretching, organizing, trying not to overheat.
I focus on breath and sensing my skin.
Despite my work last week with the text, I decide to let go of it. I want to resist having to “make something” in favor of continued exploration.
There is more to discover.
I review what I know, letting the languid heat of the day direct my intention:
I want to keep working with a fluid body, connecting a sense of flow into the different landmarks of my body.
I take what I did on the floor last week, a liquid flowing through different landmarks of my body, and draw the pathways of those initiations:
I number them, and then translate the image into my upright body:
I like the resilience and the abandon. It makes me slightly nauseous to do.
I don’t what to do with any of this, but I love the sensation of navigation, of teaching myself how to get to new places in my body. From the body -> on to paper -> back into the body.
A process of mapping that isn’t about getting anywhere.
I journal a bit and contemplate how to move forward. This dance I’m building seems to have many parts but no container. It seems that I’m travelling through an internal terrain.
How do I take a viewer with me? What else is needed?
I will keep looking and re-framing. Eventually I will uncover something.
I think about the limits of solo practice while I cool down. In truth, even though I’m spending this time by myself, my body holds the imprints of so many. Even the studio I’m in, a home for downtown dance in New York City, contains residue from others.
Perhaps in solitude I can reveal a connection to many.