Folksay video entry 07

Folksay video entry 06: The Music

The Grant

The scene: 

Washington, DC. Wednesday, June 4th, 2008. 5pm. The conference room of Dance/USA and the offices of CityDance Ensemble. 

The cast: Paul, Dina, Betsy and Mother Nature (soon to play a starring role). 

The plot: Assemble and deliver a major grant request for funds for a specific effort in Washington, DC to the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities. The deadline: 7pm.

Fade in video: A table layered 3 inches deep in paper. Hands assembling frantically, someone jetting into and out of the room with more materials. Staplers flying. The mood: efficient. We've done this before. 

Fade in audio: Over a 60s Dragnet score. "Grant writing is an art. Its complicated, involves an absolutely byzantine set of steps, words, documents, signatures, support forms, paper clips, staples and sweat. Its also the life-blood of most arts organizations. This is particularly true for new projects, where grant money awarded makes the difference between a project going forward or grinding to a halt. The stakes are high, planning essential. You never know what can happen."

Camera pull-back: The process is winding down. Cut to the clock showing 5:15. Things are good. The last pieces are being assembled. The cross-check is being done. High-fives all around. 

Dina: Who's delivering this thing?

Paul: I can.

Dina: I thought Alexe could drive it there.

Paul: She's gotta get Natalie and I'm going that way anyway before getting the kids. 

Dina: Got it. Thank God its not raining anymore. That would be a mess. (fade in slight undertone, an ominous score, the harbinger of act II {note to producer: use live instruments if possible, go Midi and sampled if not -- can we get John Williams?}).

Betsy: Good job. Dina - great work getting all this together. 

All: Yeah, this is a good grant. Its exciting. Now we just have to get it delivered.....

Narrator: "Earlier in the day it had rained and rained hard. Sheets of water and torrents of rain, knocking out power around the DC area. But the sky had cleared and the streets dried. As the clock ticked towards 5:30, all was in hand."

New scene: Paul, standing by the window, looks out (exterior shot from across the street showing him looking) and sees dry streets. He looks down at the big blue umbrella --"Nah, I don't need that. Its not going to rain again and that thing is ridiculous. I'm going to feel like an idiot carrying that thing." 

Dina meets him in the hall with a box to carry the 10 copies, each over 60 pages, with the original, signed in flair, on the top. On the desk is a plastic bag in which to wrap everything. {shot lingers on the plastic bag}.

Dina: Here, use this.

Paul: Nope. Waste of a box. Don't need the plastic either. Gotta be conscious of all this waste -- I can just carry this stuff. Its just a bus ride and a two block walk to the Commission. What could happen? 

Dina: OK. You SURE? 

Paul: Yup.

Dina: REALLY SURE?

Paul: Yup.

Shot at street level: Paul departs 1111 16th Street, crosses the street and arrives exactly in time to catch the bus up 16th. Money is tight, time is good. No need to grab a cab. Getting on, he looks up at the sky and smiles.....

Wide shot: In the distance, the sky is turning green.

Scene 3: Crowded bus. Wall-to-wall people. Everyone is grouchy. Paul keeps banging into people with his back-pack. He holds his 10 copies like a $100,000 newborn. Anything could happen if he gets jostled and drops them. Disaster. "You know, I should have just taken the bag. Or a cab."

Mid-way through the journey, up the hill at Meridian Hill Park, the sound of thunder rumbles over the engine and traffic. People start looking out the window. The anxiety level increases (fade in score).

Paul: "Uh oh." (definitely award winning dialogue here)

Wide shot: Exiting the bus, Paul steps onto a dry street. Two blocks to go. 

Sound: Thunder. Close. Very close. Surround sound calls thunder from two directions. The storms are converging.

{with a backpack containing a 17 inch laptop and assorted electronic equipment, and 10 loose copies of a grant, running is not an option}.

Heading down Harvard street, the Commission offices are only two blocks away. Dodged a bullet.

Cut to: One drop of water, tracked from the clouds, falls, slowly, endlessly down, zeroing like a buzz bomb on the cover page of the grant. Slowly descending. Slowly like a smart-bomb. It falls and falls and then splashes onto the page. Slow-Mo: Paul looks down at the dot of water. Then up. Then....The sky begins to open. At the mid-point between 16th and 15th the rain starts. No wind. Just straight down. Droplets the size of golf balls (artistic license here). Ducking under a tree, Paul takes all 10 copies of the grant and stuffs them under his very thin white linen shirt (good planning). "No problem. I'm so close what could happen."

At 15th street Neptune turns on the faucet. Think flood. Deluge. Sea World. Flipper. 

Scene: Paul, hunched over like an 85 year old with advanced osteoporosis. Save the grant at all costs. Crew expendable. Laptop expendable. Save the grant. 

He hits 14th street, the Commission in sight. He steps towards the curb. Closer. Closer. And misses the light. And the rain has a sense of humor. Forget flood. Hurricane. Noah -- "What's an ark?"

45 seconds later he hits the steps of the Commission. Water tracks into the door. Pigpen done in a pool. Drowned rat. 

Laughter -- he's friends with all these people. 

He realizes he cannot get the grant out of his shirt. So he unbuttons it. Oatmeal. The grant is the consistency of oatmeal. Peeling it away, layer by layer, he gets to the original, pressed close to his chest. The cover page is last. And half of it sticks to his chest as the other half separates. He looks down. Alexe's signature, in marker, has bled onto his rib cage. The first CityDance tatoo. Very romantic. 

"Umm...yeah. Here's the facilities grant." 

"What's it for?"

"The new space on 14th. Dance floors. Lighting. Walls......

Plumbing."

Sound of thunder. Laughter. Fade to black.

Narrator: "Grant writing is an art....."

More than the sum....

By Paul Gordon Emerson

What makes a dance company work? What are the intangibles of success -- the things that don't show up in the box score? For me the most fundamental ingredient lies with the people in the studio, in the company, being far more than the sum of their individual parts. There are lots of ways that that can be realized and expressed, but one that isn't talked about enough is the "extra mile" ethic. Today was one of those days. 

Here at the end of the season, 7 days from the 2007-2008 season's last major public event, everyone is tired. Everyone is nursing injury. Some of those injuries are more significant than others, but every nagging knee and aching ankle affects our ability to get things done, and when you're a week out getting things done is absolutely essential. You don't take the stage at the Music Center at Strathmore half prepared. You got all in or you don't go in at all. But you also have to be smart about what that means. Its easy to say "I don't care how much it hurts, I have to dance full-out." Wrong. You have to dance smart and, sometimes, you have to dance not at all. Kathryn whacked her neck totally out of place, and while she would have fought through it she did the right thing -- she went home to take care of it. That's actually the epitome of teamwork and of professionalism -- know your limits and adhere to them. 

But that's not what this is about. This is about Gisele, who is the newest member of the company. This is about someone who has walked into an established culture and done so carefully and quietly. But more, its about this -- today, after Kathryn left to take care of herself, Gisele stepping into ALL of Kathryn's parts in "Folksay" having never rehearsed them with the cast. She watched in the back. She studied. She observed and she learned. And suddenly, instead of a crippled rehearsal things got done. And while we were working on "Ghost of Tom Joad" I spotted her in the back, in the corner, learning Kathryn's movement. I didn't ask her to do that. I didn't even THINK to ask her to do that. But I damned sure saw her doing it -- out of sight. It wasn't for my benefit. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. She was being a teammate in the the very best sense of the word. 

If I were to give a young dancer a word or two of advice about how to make it in a dance company, I would recall today. I would remind them that dance companies are a team. They make it collectively or they fail collectively. And they succeed when people do things without being told to do them. They step up. They make sure that, in a moments notice they can walking into a part, or onto a stage, and keep the company running at its best. You'd think this would be obvious, but its not. 

My respect is earned by many things, but one of the most fundamental ways to earn it comes from the intangible -- and that is in the recognition that a successful company is more than the sum of its parts. I've watched this season as Ja'Malik has made sure he knew parts that weren't his, just as, in years gone by Eileen Mitchell would stay in the studio sometimes right through lunch to be absolutely sure she was ready to nail her parts. Those things matter. Deeply. They are about caring for the people with whom you work -- all of them. Not just because someone might get injured and you need to step in for them; for the other people on the stage whose work has to be honored and respected. And they are about respecting the audience and the stage. For me that's motivating. It makes me work harder because I know that people are in there doing more than you ask. 

Christopher, who isn't even supposed to be dancing, is in the entire concert. He's the Rehearsal Director. But he was needed and, wrecked knee and all, he's on stage. I could run down the entire list of dancers in the company and give you an example of where they are going beyond. Today was a specific, but special, illustration. Today was something that sets a tone, sets a standard, and does so without calling attention to itself. Things done for the right reasons are usually done quietly. You just set out to do them and that's the end of it. 

What could have been a wreck of a day became a very good day. That's what makes a company work. That's what makes a team. And today was a reminder of how rich, remarkable and unexpected that can be. 

Folksay entry 05: The Musicians

Folksay video entry 04: Lynn Frielinghaus

An Appreciation: Part One

by Paul Gordon Emerson

Late spring is always a time of transition. Usually it surrounds a graduation or a wedding, but dance companies live on something of an academic calendar as well, and as we head into June there are people of exceptional grace, talent and, honestly, brilliance preparing to make changes that will take them out of our day-to-day CityDance lives. The loss each departure will bring is enormous, and I wanted to take a moment to offer an appreciation for them as those days get closer. 

The most vital contributor to this blog has been someone whose name, until now, has appeared nowhere on it. Every bit of video -- the stuff that has made this something special -- has been filmed, written and edited by Ludovic Jolivet. The magic of seeing dance on a blog, as opposed to just reading about it, has been conjured by him. His understanding of how to tell a story is rare under any circumstances, but in dance, and in dance on film, its unique to my experience. Ludovic has always understood that what matters is life, the heart and the spirit, and that dance is a vehicle for our humanity. He is a choreographer, a dancer, a visual artist and perhaps the most deeply honest person I have ever met. His work has an unfettered genius to it that has made several of his dances all-time favorites at CityDance concerts for 9 years. 

Ludovic has transformed CityDance, and the lives of the people he touches, subtly, and as a colleague I have never had anyone in this field from whom I have learned more. Ludovic understands the camera as a voice, not as an end. He crafts art through experience and through a well-earned combination of hope and sadness that transforms mops into people and people into props of larger societal machines. His art is the story, and inside that story, the love he bears for the things he speaks to. 

We live in such a process-oriented, outcome-based society. Life in America in the 21st century is predicated on deadlines and deliverables. Dance companies are no different. We set goals and milestones and then step on the gas (or bio-diesel) to get to the other side. We make dances on deadline because that is the nature of our world, and we do so knowing that those deadlines may upend the very art that is the reason we are here. Some things cannot be done by 5pm. Ludovic not only understands that risk, he rejects it. Faced with a choice of making work for us on a deadline and locking in to office hours he simply said "that's not me," and left the cushion of CityDance's regular employment. Normally that's just a change in daily destination. But for Ludovic, who is in the US on a CityDance visa, it meant, potentially, a change in continent. He chose the change in country. Rather than surrender a sense of what it means to make what he believes in, and knowing that his inspiration doesn't work on a calendar, he stepped onto an immigration ledge. It drove me nuts. But opportunity, and obligation, are different for every person, and what I saw as his opportunity he saw as his obligation. 

If art is about integrity, and about inspiration, then the leavening agent in it is courage. Ludovic has shown me, and all of us who know him, have seen his dances, watched his films or just encountered him at random, an unrestrained, and deeply personal, courage for as long as I have known him. It is something I am reminded of every day, and far too often found myself wanting in. 

We rarely come upon people who change our worlds by their quiet determination to be who they are regardless of the risks. Most of us do not face the choice of a job in a country they want to be in or a ticket out because they cannot be the artist they are by having to live under deadlines and objectives. CityDance has been graced by one such person since a crazy June day in 1999, and we are richer for it in ways that permeate everything we do. 

Fortunately, the world is such that, even from France, Ludovic Jolivet will always be a part of our world here, whether in the form of return trips to make dances, videos made across the internet or detailed guides on the right technology for the right moment. But that distance will be felt deeply by all of us, and by me most of all. Moral compasses cannot be bought in stores, and integrity comes in unexpected ways. We are at our best when those stand close by. Ludovic's departure in just over a week will make more distant these things. Its on us, his colleagues and friends, to impart what he shares and to take it in and then give it back to others. But you can never replicate an original, and that is Ludovic. 

Take a moment and scroll back through those videos below. There's an artist behind them.  

The Directing Process

By Greg Halloran

I set dances via the Labanotated score. Labanotation is the written language of movement. I interpret the symbols from the written page into movement for the dancers. Directing via Labanotation is a unique art form. It takes years of study, just as becoming fluent with any other language, and can sometimes become time consuming interpreting the score. I have always enjoyed both my analytic and artistic sides so early on I enjoyed my Labanotation training. I enjoy choreography but I will never be known internationally for my own works. In directing from the score, I can play a major part in bringing world renowned choreography to life.

The process of reconstructing (or restaging) dances from the written score is different for each director. I personally don’t like to restage dances that I am not familiar with or from choreographers I am not accustomed to in their styles. I have reconstructed dances from choreographers such as Doris Humphrey, Ted Shawn and Charles Weidman to more current choreographers as Clay Taliaferro and Victoria Uris. I am more prone towards the Humphrey/Limon style but having danced in Folksay in 1989, and having the privilege experiencing Sophie Maslow in her coaching of this production, I felt comfortable in restaging this work. I am experienced in interpreting the older styles of modern dance from the 1930’s to the 1950’s. I find this a fascinating time in modern dance history as American choreographers strived to develop modern dance accessible and about the average person. It is also a very different way of moving which can be beneficial to current dancer’s training. Current choreography often doesn’t tilt or twist the torso the same as historic modern dances.

I guess what I enjoy most about reconstructing dances from the Labanotated score is the insight a score can bring to a particular choreographer. I can’t think of a more intimate way to understand a choreographer’s life than reading one of their dances. I can read history book after history book but to fully live a choreographer’s dance from the Labanotated score brings me closer to a choreographer than any other written material can. I always experience a personal bond with each choreographer I reconstruct. I know I am responsible for bringing their love, choreography, back to life. This is something that can’t be taken lightly.

In conclusion, I find directing from the Labanotated score a fascinating research field. I have directed an average of one dance per year for the past nine years. I was lucky enough to study Labanotation and directing with my mentors Odette Blum and Lucy Venable before they retired from teaching. I guess, in my little way, I am keeping historic modern dance available to today’s audiences and am happy society appreciates all generations of modern dance today.

2042

By Paul Gordon Emerson

Barring a set of devastating changes on the planet or society, someone, somewhere is going to be looking at what dance to reconstruct for the 2042-2043 season sometime in 2041. Chances are they'll look at the archives of works designated American Masterpieces (on their implanted servo-LIB [for library] that connects them to the world database through a thought-link). They'll come upon "Folksay," because it will meet the centenary criteria. And they'll see...?

As a company devoted to history and reconstruction, something we have to take into account in re-staging dances is that we too are historians -- on both sides of the timescale. What we do today becomes the archive for tomorrow, and how we document what is taking place right now determines the success of what someone very likely not born yet does in 2042 to say "here's a bit of America 100 years ago." No one dancing that dance in 2042 will be able to talk to Sophie Maslow or any of the original cast members. The video that we are referencing today will have long-since deteriorated to a point where its useless -- and the only chance of finding a VHS player will be in the Museum of Video and Film in Shanghai (no, there is no museum of Video and Film in Shanghai --- at least not yet) and there's no chance it will work (they don't work now, why should they work then). And besides, the video we are referencing today, which was shot in the 1980s, looks like bad Star Trek footage just after Kirk flips open is communicator and says "beam me up Scotty." 

So, what will they find when the decision to do "Folksay" comes up at the artistic staff meeting? These questions should determine the processes we use -- and it must inform the way we look at how we conduct interviews, what camera angles we use, how many cameras we use, how the footage is catalogued, how the video is stored and to whom it gets sent. They must guide how we manage long-term media -- right now that media is the DVD, but these things will be frisbees in 5 years, and in a decade or so there won't be computers with them or players for them available at Circuit City. The best prospect right now is all-digital storage, archiving footage on a server which migrates data each time an operating system is updated or a drive system is upgraded. It has the advantage of ease of access across the internet. 

But the irony here is, in part, that what is written will remain vital. Words, in print or online, will likely last. So will the paper on which the Labanotation is stored. But someone has to continue to understand how to read that notation, and that takes study. But words don't translate into dance. Images do -- but they have to be images that move. And, most fundamental, people who have "been there" have to stay involved. When I look at the room today, the process of constructing "Folksay" is succeeding because Lynn, Greg and Abby have a life-history with this work and with this artist. Greg noted that he danced "Folksay" many dozens of times. Who in CityDance will assume that mantle -- to get so far inside the work that they are qualified some day to coach a reconstruction? 

When Alice's head rings in 2041 and some 25 year old on the other end says "we're thinking about reconstructing a dance you were in in 2008," how much will someone who will then be in her mid sixties remember? Will we establish a chain of people who, like the great oral historians and the great cultures of our past, will hand down the actual experience of these dances to one another, preserving history as it has been preserved throughout time? And if so, who will start that process? It lives in the Graham Company, and in the Ailey Company, and it lives in the long-storied ballets. But what about all the rest of the work? 

We can, and maybe we should, be putting all our dancers in motion capture suits and creating fully realized 3D versions of all these works -- things that you can go to and watch at every angle -- from the ceiling to the floor, the front to the back -- to understand all the spacial relationships. But it is still a human art, and Gollum, Iron Man and the Panda notwithstanding, it needs to be seen as a human art. 

These are questions we are obligated to ask, and obligated to answer. Its too easy to get caught up in the "what we have to do today and tomorrow" and forget that tomorrow is just over the hill -- just like 1942 is just behind the last hill -- and that its on us to be the next conduit to preservation. If we don't, we've just satisfied ourselves, and forgotten our descendants. And that's not the point behind dancing. 

Folksay video entry 03: Labanotation