Was there a moment in your life that calibrated you for everything after it? This was one of mine.
The summer after high school, I enrolled in a choreography workshop at Harvard University. Bill T Jones, Arnie Zane, and Lucinda Childs led the course. Dawn to dusk, we were challenged to create work that matters in the world and was so moving, it took your breath away. Feedback was generous and hands-on. The whole group often jumped in and brainstormed about how to polish one another’s work.
We were asked to explain the why behind each dance. My honest answer was, “I planned to futz and experiment with things until I stumbled onto something powerful, and from there figure out how to let it speak for itself.” But, unfortunately, this did not make the cut.
The only correct answer was, “to change the world” or “shine a light on this problem in a visceral way,” or maybe you could get away with, “because whis has never been done before.”
I’d toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night with a coming to Jesus moment about a way to segue from one dance section to another.
We were asked to map out scene by scene, what was going to happen and how the audience might receive that.
I wondered, where exactly is my strong point? Do I have a strong point? Bill pushed us to take more chances. He’d say, “What are you waiting for? Nobody gets out of here alive? Give it everything!”
Each day we made multiple dances and performed them. Solo pieces, duets, and ensemble work. After a morning performance, I was asked, “Did the dance work as I had planned?” I turned to the audience and inquired about what they had experienced. It turns out that they received something wildly different from what I thought I was communicating. (But that they even got “something!” Whew, that was a relief.)
Does this mean my pieces are too vague? Over time, I started adding stories, a football team, a rock band, a forklift, and stage scaffolding. Yes, that helped. I started composing my own music for works and found that was a dramatic improvement. Shaping performance pieces and amping up “impact” soon became my favorite pastime. Bill, Arnie, and Lucinda had raised the bar.
In the evening, they held seminars such as fiscal literacy for artists, the ethics of art-making, invoicing for professional choreography, and managing one’s own company.
It was not the average summer dance camp.
I was fifteen, curious and passionate, and 6 weeks in Cambridge calibrated me for much more than choreography.
Thank you, Bill. Thank you, Arnie. Thank you, Lucinda.
Below is Bill T Jones being interviewed by Julie Chen.
Here is Blind Date.