Dear friends,
Welcome to Artists Reach Out: reflections in a time of isolation. I dreamed this series of interviews out of grief for my work both as a documenting arts writer and curator of live performance. In this time of social distancing, we are called to responsibly do all we can to safeguard ourselves and our neighbors. It is, literally, a matter of life and death.
But there's no distancing around what we still can share with one another--our experiences, thoughts, wisdom, humor, hearts and spirit. In some ways, there are more opportunities to do so as we pull back from everyday busyness out in the world and have time to honor the call of our inner lives.
So, let me introduce you to some artists I find interesting. I'm glad they're part of our beautiful community, and I'm eager to engage with them again (or for the first time) in years to come.
Sara Juli
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Sara Juli
(photo: Brett Deutsch) |
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Sara Juli in
Tense Vagina: an actual diagnosis
(photo: Kristofer Alan Thompson) |
Sara Juli has been creating and performing comedic dance-theater for two decades and has performed her work extensively around the world. Sara is the 2017 Maine Fellow for the Performing Arts, is a Mid-Atlantic Arts Foundation USArtists recipient, a National Dance Project recipient for 2019-2021, and is touring her newest solo,
Burnt-Out Wife nationally. Sara is Chair of Bates Dance Festival’s Advisory Board and an Affiliated Artist of Bates College. She is the Founder/Director of Surala Consulting, a fundraising consultancy supporting arts organizations and individual artists.
www.suralaconsulting.com www.sarajuli.com @sarajulimoves
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Sara Juli in Burnt-Out Wife
(photo: Nick Pierce) |
Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?
In 2018-2019, I imagined, wrote, choreographed and built a new solo performance piece about the decay and detritus of marriage over time--
Burnt-Out Wife--the largest production of my career. I invested deeply in an incredible collaborative team including a dramaturg (Michelle Mola), set designer (Pamela Moulton), costume designer (Carol Farrell), sound designer (Ryan MacDonald), illustrator/graphics designer (Devon Kelley-Yurdin), co-songwriter (Sorcha Cribben-Merril), and lighting designer (Justin Moriarty). We worked for many months on creating a Pepto-Bismol-pink bathroom, where the character dances, laughs and sings-out her emotions and secrets.
I feel beyond fortunate that I was able to premiere the work in Portland, Maine, thanks to a commission from SPACE and Portland Ovations and additionally grateful I was able to bring the show to New York City through a commission from Dixon Place and American Dance Festival. I was also able to perform the show in Concord, NH and Portsmouth, NH--the latter on March 7-8 when everything was just starting to shut down. However, my tour was just getting started, and my hard work was just starting to pay off.
Thanks to receiving the National Dance Project, I had a robust tour scheduled for 2020 and 2021, which is now either cancelled or tenuous, at best, for the foreseeable future. To have invested so deeply both artistically and financially into the creative process, and to not be able to share/tour the work, nor receive any (much needed) compensation is devastating. This work is my livelihood in every sense of the word.
Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.
My parents enrolled me in a creative movement class in New London, CT when I was three years old. My teacher, L’Ana Burton, still calls me her first dance student, a title I wear proudly. A few years later she founded and became director of the Connecticut College Children’s Dance Center where I danced technique and improvisation classes until I was fourteen. L’Ana taught me to find portals into my imagination and to access tools that would form movement thoughts and ideas that had depth.
At Conn College, during high school, I met Martha Myers who encouraged me to attend American Dance Festival where I enrolled as a student for six summers. My undergraduate experience was at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs, NY where I was a Dance major. As a senior, I took a two-week intensive workshop with Deborah Hay. The workshop was long, slow and meditative. I lost myself fully in her practice of harvesting magic and, literally one day, something clicked. I had an actual
AHA! moment where I unearthed an artistic practice and voice (literally) that I have been cultivating and growing ever since.
In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?
Currently, I am practicing a combination of parenting, exercising, stress-eating, calling friends and family, cooking for my family of four, and trying to make, find or borrow money to live. A lot of my time is spent on meal planning. How is it that breakfast and lunch are so close together? Why does the biggest meal of the day come at a time when I’m most exhausted?
Envisioning is a difficult practice these days, and I have good days and bad. On a bad day, I envision never being able to perform live for audiences again. As a performer who physically touches audiences heavily during shows, I envision that part of my work not being possible anymore. I envision needing to get a job in a different industry. Maybe I could be an Event Planner? Maybe I need to work full-time as a Development professional and let go of my artistic practice?
On a good day I envision there being a space where my solo work can be performed safely. I envision people’s need for laughter, and my gift for making audiences laugh. I envision writing and performing a stand-up comedy show that gets picked-up by Netflix or Hulu. I envision the
Burnt-Out Wife tour resuming. I envision a teaching platform where I can help empower our artistic community to fundraise in a landscape that is primed and ready to donate to the cause. I envision so many things each day, it’s hard to keep track.
How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about? How does your practice function within the world we have now?
I most care about my two wonderful daughters. I expend a lot of energy trying to give off the appearance that all is well. And some days all is well.
We are self-isolating in a home that I love, with a yard and fresh air in abundance. We are trying to get a dog. We are so lucky and blessed. We’ve been playing Four Square, Scrabble, dancing in our underwear, watching Broadway musicals, and painting rocks as part of another attempt at a garden. My husband and I are taking long walks together. We argue. We are kind. We are scared. We parent our children as best we can.
I am learning to move slower and to stop and smell the flowers. (No, literally I smelled some daffodils in our yard the other day--who knew?) We are finding silver linings.
I think about the relevance of the arts and my practice during times of crisis. I think about being a housewife. I think about my mother. I think about laundry--all the time. I think about recording myself singing a song in my bathtub. I think about “becoming a digital artist” and get lost every time. I think about my value. I think about death. I think about keeping my children safe. Mostly, I think about finding a new normal for my children and myself, and about a future where dance exists, and I am still a part of it.
Briefly share one self-care tip that has special meaning to you now.
I have been e-exercising with a group of newish dance friends, who I know from Bates Dance Festival, each morning at 10am. I look forward to seeing their smiling faces, laughing, chatting and then sweating our asses off together.
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DISCLAIMER: In addition to my work on
InfiniteBody, I serve as Senior Curatorial Director of Gibney. The postings on this site are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views, strategies or opinions of Gibney.
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