Making Dances, Taking Chances
“Making dances is hard work, and it doesn’t get any easier,” says Trajal Harrell, a New York-based choreographer. Harrell knows what he’s talking about; he’s been creating his own pieces for the past 11 years, perpetually struggling to come up with innovative movement ideas and develop work that is both intriguing and authentic.
Choreography can be intimidating for anyone. There are an infinite number of movements to choose from—and yet, in the studio, sometimes it feels impossible to come up with anything new at all. Through trial and error, professional choreographers gradually develop processes that get their creative juices flowing best. Some start with research in the library; others explore the physical sensations that their emotions generate in them. And some use game structures or chance to make decisions.
Whether you are thinking of starting a dance composition class, looking for ways to spruce your current class up or simply searching for inspiration for your own choreography, read ahead for tips from the pros.
Restrictions
Experienced teachers and choreographers agree that creating choreography begins with one thing: limits.
“People do best in any kind of creative work when there’s a limitation,” says Maida Withers, professor of dance at the George Washington University in Washington, DC. “You can explore so much with just a little bit of movement material.”
Withers is a fan of short, specific exercises that restrict the number of choices her students can make. “For example, you can ask them to do three movements in eight counts,” she says. “Later you can expand on it, but you start with something really simple.” That, she says, gives the students something specific to focus on, and limits their ambitions. Instead of trying to create the next world-class dance piece, they simply need to find a few movements that interest them.
Withers has a wide variety of exercises she uses. She might ask her students to bring in three gestures used by family members, and string them together. Or, she will tell them to create a short phrase with a specific number of entrances and exits. Later, the students will be asked to shape their phrases—adding dancers, playing with space and dynamics—but starting simple keeps the students from becoming overwhelmed with options.
Choreographer Liz Lerman, also based in Washington, uses a range of exercises to help dancers create movement, too. She agrees that creative inspiration doesn’t have to happen all at once.
“I’m not overly precious about the first generation of movement,” says Lerman. “I say, ‘Go ahead, do the cliché, get it out.’ Later, I can say, ‘I think this is too literal; I think the audience will be bored.’” But in the beginning, the main objective is to stop being stuck.
Liz Lerman Dance Exchange
Photo by Enoch Chan
One of the most specific exercises her company, the Liz Lerman Dance Exchange, uses to generate movement ideas is to begin with a sentence from a piece of text—a journal entry, a dream from the night before, even the morning newspaper. Dancers then assign a movement—one that has a beginning and an end—to each word. “You can’t skip a word, even ‘the,’” says Lerman, adding that the teacher can outline additional limits, such as requiring that each movement start and finish in a neutral position. Later, the movements can be shaped, adapted and formed into a polished phrase.
Although Lerman’s group is known for its work with non-dancers, she says that focused assignments work well for everyone. “These tools are hugely useful for experienced dancers, too—they feel like they’ve found a treasure trove.” A virtual toolbox of exercises the company uses to generate movement ideas is available on its website, www.danceexchange.org.
Rather than ask his dancers to create original movements, Chris Elam usually comes to them with a simple choreographed phrase. The 32-year-old wunderkind—whose Misnomer Dance is currently one of New York’s “it” companies—then employs a range of exercises that require the dancers to improvise and manipulate the movements, helping him to better see what works.
Elam calls one of his exercises “real time coached performance.” As his company members begin dancing a choreographed section, he will call out new directions, such as switch roles or adapt a movement to the floor. “They do it as if it’s a performance, and that creates a heightened sense—the dancers make remarkable decisions,” he says. “Associations emerge in the moment, and it creates a way to look at the work and re-layer it.”
Other well-known New York choreographers use similar limiting scores to inform their choreography. Trajal Harrell says he might give his dancers very specific directions about how to move their upper and lower bodies, working with a strict floor pattern, and then develops his choreography based on what he sees.
Or, he’ll present his dancers with a job to perform. While working on his last piece, Harrell asked his dancers to take off various articles of clothing. “You generate a lot of different ideas,” he says of watching the different ways people perform everyday tasks.
Elke Rindfleisch, a German choreographer now living in New York, works similarly. Lately, she says, she’s been focusing on vibrating body parts. “Often, I have a specific movement phrase, and I take it and ask, ‘What if we do that while your leg is twitching?’ Then I give another instruction,” she says. “It’s a very layered process.”
For Rindfleisch, who explores movement as communication, modern dance is about incorporating one’s individuality and asking questions of the audience. She offers advice to younger choreographers, “Challenge yourself, take a risk. If you push through your threshold, you might find things that surprise you and real freedom in your expression.”
New ways of seeing
The need for a choreographer to continually deepen and take risks comes up constantly in discussions about making dances. But what does it mean to make movement that is honest and challenging, and how can it be taught to young composition students?
A first step is expanding what and how they see. Pat Catterson, who performed with Yvonne Rainer and now teaches dance at Marymount Manhattan College, encourages her dancers to look to their surroundings as potential inspiration for movement.
“I send folks out with their coats and notebooks, and ask them to see 10 things that inspire movement in them,” says Catterson. “Maybe it’s a pattern on a building, or a plastic bag blowing in the air or the rhythm of someone’s walk—anything that strikes them.” And then she asks the students to come back in and begin creating movement with those impressions in mind.
But “seeing,” for a choreographer, doesn’t just apply to the outside world. It’s also about learning to view dance in a deeper way. “The most important part of composition class is discussion of each others’ work. It helps them see more,” says Catterson, adding that seeing more deeply into dances—and understanding what others see—gives students a better sense of their options.
Chris Elam agrees completely. While a young student at the American Dance Festival, Elam asked various teachers on faculty if they would view a brief video of his choreography and discuss it with him. The experience, he says, was invaluable. “It gave me a sense of different ways of seeing, and made it so clear that it’s a relative process.” His advice for young choreographers? Show your work as much as possible, and listen for feedback. Rather than taking comments as criticism, try to develop an awareness of how others perceive dance.
In addition, says Elam, “I really recommend videotaping.” Watching their own work on video can give students a sense of the movement choices they favor, and help broaden their conception of their choreographic possibilities.
An accepting climate
A range of useful exercises and a robust class discussion may still not be enough to get students to push past their comfort zones. The missing piece is the role of the teacher, and the climate he or she creates.
Despite having taught at GWU for many decades, Maida Withers still loves to watch students strike out on their own and find their own styles. Creating an accepting classroom environment plays a big part in that, she says. “Students need to know that they don’t need to please you. I’m interested in having them make dances that are relevant for them.” Withers adds that the teacher’s role is to be open to new movement forms that students may bring, and to help them determine how it can become more interesting.
Pat Catterson agrees. Students should be encouraged to make work as much as possible. “But give them faith, belief in their own choices,” she adds. After all, a big part of what makes a dance art is the imprint it bears of the choreographer’s spirit. She says, “You can go in and fix anybody’s piece, but then it isn’t theirs.”