Artists Reach Out: Tara O'Con

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.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody

Tara O'Con

Tara O'Con
(photo: Jon Burkland, Zanni Productions)

Tara O'Con says her bio is threaded throughout the interview answers given below. So...read on!

Tara O'Con in The Grand Paradise,
a work by Third Rail Projects
(photo: Darial Sneed)

Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

Some numbers: March-June 2020 (estimate):

Performances cancelled: 55
Rehearsals cancelled: 20
Directing gig cancelled: 1 
Teaching artist workshops cancelled: 3

Total Gross Income Loss (estimate): $10,673

As for non-monetary impact...

I was also scheduled to lead a workshop at the HERE Festival in Pasadena, CA at the end of March. HERE is a summit for the Immersive and experiential industries spanning performance, theater and tech. While this was not an income loss, my trip and lodgings were paid for; the in-person relationship-building opportunity in the immersive and experiential community is priceless. I’m hopeful that they are able to reschedule that when it is safe to gather again.

To round out this picture, I’ll share that I am currently In Residence at Town Stages as part of their Sokoloff Arts Creative Fellowship Program for 2020. Even though we are doing our best at staying connected virtually, and the staff is amazing at keeping us tied to resources and facetime with the team (shout outs to TOWN!), without access to physical space, the development of a new performance project is certainly delayed.

I have not exercised the physical manifestation of my creative process as an independent maker/choreographer in a full-focused capacity for many years now. However the dawning of 2020 and the extended opportunity to have TOWN as a creative homebase has lit that particular fire in me once again. For the first time in a long time, I’m wanting to make something resembling movement in a physical space and share with people. I do think there is a welcome opportunity here to imagine what may feel like for us when the time comes and conjure that into my visioning.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

In the beginning:

I came out of the womb early and started dancing soon after. I attribute this to following after my Mom who was (at that time) a dancer (and still is in spirit and in Zumba), and my father, who holds a major appreciation for ballet, as well as my childhood obsession (never realized outside my living room) of being Clara in The Nutcracker.

Fast forward:

Since graduating college in 2003 as a Dance Major and moving to NYC, my artistic practice has involved performing, making, and administrating in various combinations throughout years which has brought me to where I am currently.

Currently, according to my website, that means:

I am an artist, facilitator, and transformation coach. I specialize in building empathy and trust inside interactive environments, and supporting people as they create big, empowering change in their lives. I draw from over a decade of experience as a choreographer and performer across many theatrical settings both as an independent artist and as a collaborating-artist with Third Rail Projects.

As a designer and director, I create interactions and experiences that put as much emphasis on being-with and caring for people as they do on disrupting reality, examining perspectives, and pushing boundaries. My workshop and consultation offerings center around how to craft meaningful audience-centered experiences in immersive storytelling environments. In all of my work I bring my passion for thoughtful user experience, audience-centered design, and a commitment to meeting people where they are and expanding what’s possible.

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning? How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

Right now? Stillness. Silence. Listening. Following intuition. The power of less is more, and the power of observation. This way of being as an artist and as a walker through life, has been cracked open inside of my performance practice over the last decade. Always coming back to the mantra of slowing down and the power of active listening in order to be truly present with myself and with the people I am sharing space and storytelling with.

A colleague of mine, Janet Howe, recently said to me in a conversation about their practice, “It’s about humans being human together,” and that really nails it for me in terms of what I’m envisioning and where my head is at.

Personally, I’m much more interested in digging into presence and connection than I am about artifice and spectacle. I believe there is magic and virtuosity and rigor and darkness and lightness and joy and integrity in being real and vulnerable and embracing dualities.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

I have been putting a lot of energy into developing my own care rituals and putting new attention into my writing practice. Outside of that, I have been connecting to my communities through coaching, participating in the occasional impromptu remote collaborative art project put together by some fellow artists of Third Rail Projects to help raise funds for TRP’s Artist-Emergency Relief Fund. I’m also just starting to become involved with my local neighborhood COVID-19 response organization.

Aside from all that figuring out how to live and be in community day-to-day stuff, I am about to put out a podcast with two colleagues which was actually in the works before the pandemic, but remote life and changing times in our respective fields have kicked that into gear--which is exciting. I’m not gonna share what is yet but stay tuned! I am also engaging with a personal calling to make a (dance?) film in my apartment.

In the bigger picture, I have been deeply inspired by so many amazing and prolific people in this time (artists, witches, social justice organizers, coaches, somatic practitioners, etc.) speaking truth to power and about listening to our planet and to our hearts and bodies. It gives me hope.

******

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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Artists Reach Out: Kathleen Kelley

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.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody

Kathleen Kelley

Kathleen Kelley
(photo: LWT)

Kathleen Kelley is an Associate Professor of Dance and Technology at Montclair State University and the Artistic Director of the intermedia production company Proteo Media + Performance. Her body of creative work pushes against a modernist model of authorship and instead explores collaboration, mutual support structures, and feminist modes of community. She is interested in the effects of technological enmeshment on the body, which leads her to create dance films, interactive installations, and live performance events that incorporate digital media. She is a 2019 Gibney Work Up resident artist, a Chez Bushwick Artist in Residence in 2018, and a 2015-2016 LEIMAY Fellow. Her recent video work includes cinematography for the dance film "Future Becomes Past", an official selection of over 12 film festivals; choreography for Maya Beiser's music video "Air" that premiered on NPR's First Look; and direction and cinematography for "Territory" a short poetry/dance hybrid film that was published in the TriQuarterly literary journal. Her recent performance work includes the premiere of "Frozen Baby" at the Work Up 5.1 series at Gibney Dance, "Separate Oceans", an evening-length premiere at Theaterlab NYC, the interactive installation "Digitized Figures" at Gowanus Loft, and showcase performances in Movement Research at the Judson, the SOAK Festival, the CURRENT SESSIONS, Nimbus OFFLINE choreography series, and HATCH series amongst others. She serves on the Editorial Board of the journal "Dance Education in Process", and mentors fellow artists in writing, production, and film development. She has a BFA in Dance and a BA in Psychology from the University of North Carolina-Greensboro and an MFA in Dance from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

Kathleen Kelley
(photos: above, Steven Weiss;
below, Mitsuko Verdery)

Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

I was lucky enough to finish directing the Spring Dance show at Montclair State, which wrapped up three days before the University shut down. After that show, I was planning on turning my focus to the development of my next evening-length show, imminenthumans. I have no idea when I can keep working on it, because it is very much about the people and personalities in the room. I also recently wrapped up production on music videos for the performance artist José María, and that release is delayed until July. I have a couple other collaborative projects that were getting started, and I just really hope that they can continue!

The biggest shift is actually a positive. I have been dreaming about starting a performance festival that was curated around concepts of the “future” and whatever that means. After the pandemic started, my company (Proteo Media) decided to move this festival idea online and we’ll open Post/Future Performance Festival June 1st with 28 artists sharing work in incredible ways. Planning it has been the one thing giving me hope these days.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

I started in ballet as a young kid and have had dance as a central focus in my life since then. My current practice brings together bodies, video, and other technology, but it all comes from this deeply-ingrained dance perspective. I started working with dance film in grad school at the University of Illinois and took a transformative workshop with Alla Kovgan that really shifted how I thought about it. And now, my undergrad students are very influential in how I think about how technology impacts our emotional experiences.                         

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?

In general, my practice has been shifting towards collaboration as its primary motor. I am practicing working with mutual support structures and making things happen together. And specifically right now, I am practicing leash etiquette with my parent’s dog Sarah who is my newest best friend. She is my daily walking partner and we are working together to build our connective relationship. I’m not sure what I’m envisioning as the “after” right now, but I’m trying to lean into (and remind myself) of my belief in dailiness.

How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

I care about people, relationships and communities, but in my own introverted way. I’m not the big group kind of person--I want to build deep, weird, creative supportive bonds with other artists and make things happen together. That is my mission right now: I want to make beautiful things with beautiful people for the rest of my life.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

Lots of zooms and calls and emails and walks. Building this online festival has involved one-on-one conversations with amazing people and asking them: “What are you dreaming about now? And what are questions that you had before this that are coming to a head now? It’s been very inspiring. I am lucky that I had already been working pretty digitally so I can just dig into that a bit more.

Briefly share one self-care tip that has special meaning to you now.

I’m working on asking others (and myself) “what are you feeling now?” instead of “how are you doing?” or “how are you feeling?”. It is helping me stay present in the changing experiences of each moment.

******

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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Artists Reach Out: Paul Singh

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.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody

Paul Singh

Paul Singh
(photo: Andrew Jordan)

Paul Singh earned his BFA in Dance from the University of Illinois, USA. He has danced for Gerald Casel, Molissa Fenley, Jane Comfort, Risa Jaroslow, Will Rawls, Douglas Dunn, Christopher Williams, Kathy Westwater, Faye Driscoll, and Doug Varone and was featured in the inaugural cast of Punchdrunk’s American debut of Sleep No More. While abroad, he was a dancer in Peter Sellars’ opera The Indian Queen, as well as for Peter Pleyer (with collaborators Meg Stuart, Sasha Waltz and Jeremy Wade) in a large-scale improvisation work in Berlin. Paul has had his own work presented at the Judson Church, New York Live Arts, Joe’s Pub, Dixon Place, La Mama E.T.C, Center for Performance and Research, Dock 11 (Berlin), and in 2004 his solo piece Stutter was presented at the Kennedy Center. Paul has taught contact improvisation around the world, leading intensives and advanced workshops for teacher training purposes and beginner studies. He currently teaches varied technique classes (partnering, floor work, contemporary technique, contact improvisation) for Movement Research, Sarah Lawrence College, and The Juilliard School.

Above: Paul Singh with Justice Hatch
(photo courtesy of the artist)
Below: Singh with Jack Blackmon
(photo: David Gonsier)

Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

Of course. I was supposed to be in Paris right now co-hosting a queer contact improvisation festival. That is one of six CI festivals I was either headlining or teaching in that have all been canceled because, as you can imagine, incredibly close proximity partnering is just about the most dangerous art you could be practicing right now.

I also had a few small commissions for my choreographic duet work with my dance partner Jack Blackmon. And, of course, the evening-length work I’ve been chipping away at for a few years now. But, in truth, it’s my teaching assignments at The Juilliard School and Sarah Lawrence College that I’m missing the most. We were really getting somewhere. But, I’m still looking forward to teaching at Lion’s Jaw, if it happens, starting two new podcasts, and co-facilitating a virtual queer CI lab and jam for Earthdance later this month.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

I went to college to be a doctor. What else does a smart, brown, first-generation child of immigrants do? When that didn’t make me happy, I slipped into music performance (voice and clarinet). It’s the only other thing I knew how to do. Then, one end of semester, a dancer friend put me in her thesis work as a comic relief character; the department saw me and suggested I audition. On a whim I did. I’d never taken a ballet class in my life.

A few weeks later I was sitting in my dorm room wearing a tuxedo, about to sing in my juries. I had just gotten a phone call saying a family member had died and, a minute later, the dance department called to say I was accepted. So, death and dance are always inextricably woven together for me.

So, I switched majors one more time. (I took my first ballet, modern, and contact improvisation class all on the same day.) But, to this day, I’m still not sure why I did it. There are two great mysteries in my life that I can’t explain and shouldn’t. Becoming a dancer is one of them.

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?

The words “personal practice” have been on my mind well before this all happened. It shifts for people, chapter-like.

At the moment, I’m reading a lot of queer theory to get ready for that queer lab/jam I’m co-leading. It’s challenging because the academia behind it all is intense. But so is being a queer person in this world.

I‘m practicing self-forgiveness as I try to navigate a routine-less existence. I know people want to make schedules and need them for purpose. I want my purpose to find me instead of hunting for it.

This is my day to day:

I wake up. I crawl out of my bed on hands and knees. I’m staying in Michigan in a house with amazing carpeting. It’s plush, so I crawl. I tip over to sitting and massage my feet. I make them ready to support my weight to standing. Then, I have some coffee, which I’ve started drinking.

Then, I take a ballet class (every morning). It feels violent, like an assault on my body. I take class out of guilt that I need to make a schedule, practice something, stay in a shape. But I also need to be told what to do right now. I find myself changing the exercises, improvising when the teacher is speaking, literally trying to break free from it. That makes me happy. It feels like purposefully-instigated resistance, and I want to remember what that feels like. That is a practice for me now.

Then I either read queer things or work on two podcasts I’m creating. Then I run. Not because it’s freeing. It’s more of a challenge. Running is also a little violent in a way; cutting through space, feet jarring the pavement, moving towards an attainable distance but also wondering what you’re trying to escape from.

Also, I’m a brown man running in Michigan and that is on my mind every time I see a truck go by. I say a little prayer for Ahmaud Arbery every day I turn out of the driveway.  Then, I eat dinner, watch something on Netflix, and get excited about resting.

I want to try shattering all my habits for a bit, queering my routines. But I’m not quite there yet. I’m still too much a slave to some kind of imposed normal. I did start Insta. I’m waiting to impress myself with it. Not likely. Twitter may come next.

How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

I want to be on the side of forward thinkers. I do agree that the way things were was not working. And I want to help change that--or, in the least, help bring light to problems and possibilities.

I like my day to day. It gives me room to dream and off-road.  I’m excited about the podcasts. One of them is recording conversations with great thinkers about social justice, sustainability, and embodied somatic practices. Big themes, yes, but so many lenses to address them with.

The other is a walking podcast. I want to make sound scores for people to listen to as they locomote. Hopefully I’ll have ones for different times of day, different states of being, ones for solo and duo adventures. It’s basically the sound of my voice creating imaginative worlds for you to bloom into while you move through space. It just feels like we could all benefit from taking advantage of one small sense of stability, one of the few things we can control--talking a walk.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

My practice has been carved out of the world we have now. This new regime has created it. I have handmade my existence to make this world function for me.

We are such slaves to time. We fight it mercilessly for gain. I think I want to use the way I’ve become to befriend time. Create a new mythology about myself. Use that to engage with the world again. But in truth, I think I’m one of those weirdos that is thriving a bit in this state. I like the space to re-create, make space, catch-up, etc.

I think my practice right now is making me ready for when we can be together again. I guess that means I’m indirectly practicing hope. The heart-break of no contact improvisation is chipping away at me though.

Briefly share one self-care tip that has special meaning to you now.

My self care tip: Crawl on your hands and knees. Pause a lot. Lie down on the floor in an X and stare at the ceiling at least twice a day, and then follow the body to find your way back up again. (Don’t plan or pre-fix any pathway, just follow.) Get out of bed really slowly in the morning. Let the day come to you as it starts. Fight with time; let her be an ally some hours and your instigator, others.

******

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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Artists Reach Out: Katherine De La Cruz

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.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody

Katherine De La Cruz

Katherine De La Cruz
(photo: Chello Cruz)

Katherine De La Cruz is a dancer and choreographer based in Brooklyn, NY. She is a graduating senior at Hunter College where she double majored in Dance and Anthropology. As an anthropology student she was a McNair Scholar and was awarded various departmental honors. She conducted research in North Carolina under the guidance of the MURAP program at UNC Chapel Hill.

Her anthropological research led her to study her childhood passion: Dance. As a Dance Major, Katherine has danced in numerous student pieces as well as choreographed two original works. She danced at New York City Center’s Fall For Dance Festival, performing alongside Monica Bill Barnes in her piece, The Running Show. Her first work, Autumn Heat, premiered in Fall 2019. Her senior choreographic project, Pixel Element, was not premiered due to the COVID-19 outbreak.

Due to the shift to distance-learning, Katherine was thrust into the world of filmmaking. En La Luz is a dance film born out of an uncertain and depressing time. It is a work that speaks to the inner strength one must find in difficult times. The work focuses on the way light can be manipulated, shut out but eventually let in. While this is Katherine’s first shot at directing, film has become a new medium through which she aims to create and explore. She will continue to dance in her living room until she can dance in stages all over the world.

Katherine De La Cruz
(photos: above, Joshua Pacheco;
below: Nykeema Williams)

Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

This semester I was working on my final choreographic project of my undergraduate career. The piece, Picture Element, was supposed to premiere early May at The Kaye Playhouse in Hunter College. However in March, Hunter College closed its doors and moved to distance learning. This meant that my piece was left unfinished and was not presented. I was also going to take part in the Estrogenius festival but was unable to due to the pandemic.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

I loved dancing from an early age but was unable to train consistently during my childhood and adolescence due to financial issues. I mainly trained in ballet, on and off, in middle school and high school. I was always drawn to the arts in general so I participated in any arts-related after-school program I could find. I took acting classes, fine arts and dance classes through those programs.

I stopped dancing in college and pursued an anthropology degree but then, in senior year, I was drawn to dance again and decided to take an extra year to pursue a Dance degree as well. I began training in modern dance styles for the first time at Hunter College, and this is where I began cultivating a more personal practice with dance performance and dance-making.

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?

For me, dance has become more than just something I do. I have begun to see movement as healing not only within my own body but for people who watch my work. I envision dance that is not just aesthetically beautiful but also invites the audience to be introspective about their own lives and desires.

How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

I think my practice ties in with what’s central in my life, because I see community and growth as most important. If dance can create a space beyond the traditional competitive perspective, dancers can improve not only in their technical skills but also emotionally and psychologically.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

Viewing dance as medicine is very crucial in this time of so much suffering and sickness. Seeking out community during a time of isolation is crucial in keeping the bonds that makes us feel human. Through seeing dance as a medicine for the dancer themselves as well as for the audience, we can create art that reaches beyond the scope of an entertainment experience. I think dance needs to respond to what we are experiencing directly and evolve instead of trying to go back to “normal.”

Briefly share one self-care tip that has special meaning to you now.

Currently my self-care tip is not pressuring myself to be productive all the time. While I like to do different activities to keep my mind and body engaged, I have also grown to be kinder to myself when all I want is to take a nap. Take the nap!

******

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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Artists Reach Out: Eduardo Vilaro

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.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody

Eduardo Vilaro

Eduardo Vilaro
(photo: Rachel Neville Photography)

Eduardo Vilaro (Artistic Director & CEO) joined Ballet Hispánico as Artistic Director in August 2009, becoming only the second person to head the company since it was founded in 1970. In 2015, Mr. Vilaro took on the additional role of Chief Executive Officer of Ballet Hispánico. He has been part of the Ballet Hispánico family since 1985 as a dancer and educator, after which he began a ten-year record of achievement as Founder and Artistic Director of Luna Negra Dance Theater in Chicago. Mr. Vilaro has infused Ballet Hispánico’s legacy with a bold and eclectic brand of contemporary dance that reflects America’s changing cultural landscape. Born in Cuba and raised in New York from the age of six, he is a frequent speaker on the merits of cultural diversity and dance education.

Mr. Vilaro’s own choreography is devoted to capturing the spiritual, sensual and historical essence of Latino cultures. He created over twenty ballets for Luna Negra and has received commissions from the Ravinia Festival, the Chicago Sinfonietta, the Grant Park Festival, the Lexington Ballet and the Chicago Symphony. In 2001, he was a recipient of a Ruth Page Award for choreography and, in 2003, he was honored for his choreographic work at Panama’s II International Festival of Ballet. Mr. Vilaro was also inducted into the Bronx Walk of Fame in 2016 and was awarded HOMBRE Magazine’s 2017 Arts & Culture Trailblazer of the Year. In 2019, Mr. Vilaro was the recipient of the West Side Spirit’s WESTY Award, was honored by WNET for his contributions to the arts and, most recently, was the recipient of the James W. Dodge Foreign Language Advocate Award.

Ballet Hispánico in Annabelle Lopez Ochoa's Tiburones,
premiered November 2019 at the Apollo Theater
(photo: Paula Lobo)

Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

When the pandemic began, I was working on quite a few projects, all under the umbrella of Ballet Hispanico’s 50th Anniversary. It was such an exciting time, as I was also celebrating a decade of leadership with the organization. Which meant, I was producing and curating a two-week season at the Joyce, developing a full-length work for the company, a gala, website, curating archives, and even starting on a book. The organization was on sure footing, and I was so proud of my senior team, the dancers and all the artists that are part of the BH familia.

I was looking forward to giving the organization a well-deserved celebration. After all, how many Latinx dance organizations founded by a Latina, turn 50 in America?  I was also focused on the growing conversation of equity and inclusion via the work we do on stage, in classrooms and in communities. The need for Latinx representation was and still is much needed in our field and in our country. I felt Ballet Hispanico had finally come into its own with the work we were producing.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

I was twelve and living in the Bronx. We settled there after arriving from Cuba six years earlier. The “calling” came after the arrival of a new eighth grade teacher at our parochial school on 167th street. Mr. Chuck Abbott had theater experience and decided to direct You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown for our class. I was selected as Linus, who has a dance solo with his blanket.

Mr. Abbott directed and left the choreography to me. That first performance sealed the deal. I was so taken by the magic, the connection to the audience and flow of rhythm and movement in every ounce of my being. Yes, as clichéd as it may sound, dance found me.

And as a young brown boy in the Bronx, in the early '80s, dance saved me. New York City was a very different place, and those streets, at that time, ate kids up, literally. You fell into gangs, drugs, and many were lost. I was lucky, I fell in love with dance, and it took me away.

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?

My practice has evolved in my 35+ years in this field. Today, I find myself practicing leadership. To be more specific, I am practicing (learning) by building relationships, mentoring others and making decisions that help bring change on a micro and macro level.

To many, running an organization is about taking risks, managing people, and making the big decisions on projects. While that is true, I am most concerned with building platforms where our youth and artists can have a stronger voice and empower other generations through this magnificent art form.

For me the practice of leadership can at times look like a new program I create, or a class that I teach, or when I make work. I am practicing leadership on the ground.

While time consuming and always arduous, I believe as artists we should lead in the boardroom, on the stage and in the field, or else we risk being silenced. I remember once being told that as an artist you have to stay in your lane. I was never ever good at coloring in lanes or lines; it is restrictive. Leadership is about going off-road, and leadership is a calling that deserves a practice.

How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

I most care about sharing my culture, equity, and most of all inclusion. I grew up with the belief that in this country we could find freedom from oppression. And yes, we found that as immigrants, but as I came into adulthood, I discovered that while I was allowed to pursue “the dream,” I may never be accepted as American by the very people who offered me freedom. Which is so sad to me because, I feel so American, even when I am back in Cuba!

What I discovered was the double standard, the micro-aggression, the stereotype and the racism that lingers in the very scaffoldings of our world need to be constantly challenged. The charge to myself is how to wrestle with this reality, where do I find a footing that allows me to bungy jump in through and around this conundrum.

So, I have tried to use dance as a way to expose the layers of misconception and bring about truer stories of the Latinx world, my world. Let me be clear what I mean by “truth” is the voice of individual artists and what they bring to stage.

We, Latinas(o,) are a complex mix of diasporas, history, legacies and tons of cultural baggage. We are many voices and many experiences that cannot be captured and stuffed into a monolith. Though many have tried.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

I feel my practice is more necessary now more than ever. There are not enough of us Brown and Black artists in leadership positions. In order to make change, you've got to be pushing your arm through the door and making sure you are given a place.

The vitality of a community depends on great leadership in every aspect of its ecology. Today, we are seeing how the arts are maintaining us through the pandemic. It makes us share beauty, see truth and most of all confront our emotions during a difficult time. While there are those that might feel we are not essential or can be sacrificed, dance and the arts are a lifeline to human connection.

I might not change the world, but I am part of the many who came before and those who will come after me. I am part of a legacy of change. Some young woman will see my attempts, failures and triumphs, she will witness my struggle but most of all, she will witness my strength and the small change I might leave behind. I hope that small triumph will ignite her calling.

******

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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Artists Reach Out: Eiko Otake

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.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody

Eiko Otake

Eiko Otake
(photo courtesy of the artist)

Born and raised in Japan and a resident of New York since 1976, Eiko Otake is a movement–based, interdisciplinary artist. She worked for more than 40 years as Eiko & Koma, but since 2014 has been performing her own solo project A Body in Places. In 2017, she launched a multi-year Duet Project that she directs and performs with a diverse range of artists.

After studying with Kazuo Ohno and Tatsumi Hijikata in Japan and Manja Chmiel in Germany, Eiko & Koma created 46 interdisciplinary performance works, two career exhibitions, and numerous media works. Always performing their own choreography, Eiko & Koma usually designed and handcrafted all aspects of their works including sets, costumes, texts, and sound. They presented their works in theaters, universities, museums, galleries, and outdoor sites.

Eiko’s solo project began with a 12-hour performance of A Body in a Station at the Philadelphia Amtrak station. Since then, Eiko has performed variations of the project at over 40 sites. She also collaborates with photographer and historian William Johnston, visiting post-nuclear-meltdown Fukushima several times to create photo exhibitions and video installations, which have been presented in many cities. In the spring of 2016, she was the subject of the 10th annual Danspace Platform, entitled A Body in Places, a month-long curated program that included daily solos, weekly installations, a film series, a book club, discussions, group solo shows, Talking Duets. and a 24-hour photo exhibition of A Body in Fukushima. In November 2017, she performed with seven-hour-long video distillations of William Johnston’s photographs taken in Fukushima at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Cloisters, and the Met Breuer. She was a think tank fellow at Wesleyan University’s College of Environment in 2017-2018.

Eiko Otake performing in Valparaiso, Chile
(photo: William Johnston)

Eiko Otake performing in Hong Kong
(photo: CPAK Studio)

Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

My spring/summer was densely scheduled with performances and creative residencies. All were cancelled or postponed. I rehearsed until March 12 for a performance scheduled on March 24. That was supposed to be the first public event of my three-year artist residency at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Though I spent a long time thinking about possibilities with plants and botanists, now I do not know if the idea will be revived in the future. My July performance in Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn is also postponed. Even when it becomes possible to do so, performing in a graveyard will evoke serious associations to the victims of this pandemic, which will require careful and thoughtful planning.

My fall tours of The Duet Project are also postponed. This will oblige me to change how I prepare towards my New York season in the spring of 2021. I had originally counted on these tours and residencies to further develop and experiment on the project. My collaborators live in different states (one in China), and I am now in Japan without knowing when I can return to New York. It is hard to plan rendezvous so I now spend time recalling past encounters.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

As a child I was a bookworm and often ill. My father was a Communist but worked in a bank. We moved a lot, so I was always a stranger. As a teen, I was a student activist and wannabe writer in Tokyo. At 19, at the time of political despair, I saw a small strange dance event choreographed by Tatsumi Hijikata. I did not like it, but it made me curious to find what it was that I saw. I went to Hijikata’s studio and lived and worked there for three months. Though I joined rehearsals and performed in his choreography, I never meant to stay there long. I met Koma there, and we left to work together. We also studied with Kazuo Ohno. He was a very different teacher. Every class was improvisation.

When we left Japan for Europe, I was a 20 year old, Political Science major drop out, Koma older but the same. We took many classes in a short period. We traveled and performed. Soon, I began having pain in one foot. An operation did not help. I began moving on the floor. I wanted to feel out New York before I stopped performing. When the Vietnam War ended, we came to New York and later immigrated to the US. I danced seaweed, a seal, amoeba, and slug while slowly recovering from an injury. 

As Eiko & Koma, we created many works. But we had very little formal training on anything. We choreographed, performed, enjoyed making flyers, sets, sound, poems, lights, and projections. We collaborated with other artists but never worked with any director or a choreographer since the three months with Hijikata. We performed naked in many pieces, and that made me want to be naked even when I am clothed. So I am not so much a dancer as a performer who does many other things nakedly.

After 40 years of that, especially after our three-year-long retrospective, I experimented performing alone in public places mostly with free admission and liked it a lot. I was very active for four years as a soloist but rarely performed in theaters. I also edited videos and created installations. I work long hours alone as doing so does not cost me. And I can take time.

Now I work with others. I am deep into my current Duet Project and work with artists of diverse backgrounds. I also collaborate with those who have passed away--poet C.D Wright, my grandfather, my mother, and friend Sam Miller. By dancing with the dead, I continue to converse with them. 

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?

Before these Corona days, I had spent a lot of time out of town. I hope such days will return.

I consider myself a perpetual traveler and immigrant. This life has required constant adjusting. What I  am not willing to adjust is what I need to protect. I practice both being insistent and being flexible.

I do not have daily or weekly routines, and I do not take classes. I had mostly rehearsed/performed on sites rather than moving/dancing routinely in studios. I work where I can, trying to do the task I signed up on. On tour, I am mainly a performer. At home, I am a video editor, communicator, and my own administrator. These two alternating periods complement each other. I can do any of these for a long time excessively and repeatedly. 

Now under the Corona emergency order in Japan, I spend my days working at my mother’s small house that she left me. At the same time, I am at my Virtual Creative Residency hosted by Wesleyan University Center for the Arts. The invitation came a day before I left New York. Unlike travelling to residencies with a set project and working in facilities provided, I took time to imagine what I wanted to do virtually and how. During the required quarantine, I built the architecture of a virtual studio, with different rooms.  I have worked on various short pieces, dialogues, writings, and experiments, taking as much time at each as needed.

Off my laptop, I take walks, cook, sleep, read, listen, watch and take baths, all longer than usual. I think a lot about New York and friends who are there. Not sure which I call practice and which not. Many I call work, even when I talk to friends. When my mind is in the details is when I feel I am working.

Days and weeks pass somehow faster with my calendar blank. I have been in Japan for seven weeks with nowhere to go but this neighborhood and this virtual studio. Imagination can travel, however. And I have many memories to taste.

I believe I am shaping my “later work.” I want to articulate better with or without words. I observe not only my body but also other beings move. Time and landscape are moving. Visibly. There are often earthquakes here. Japan’s spring is windy. Plants grow rapidly. Society is moving. The virus is moving. Some bodies get ill. That is movement, too, sadly.

Socially and politically, are we moving or being shuffled? Sometimes, I hurry to pick what is being pushed away. In that, I practice, rather consciously, how to resist momentum. The momentum is often dangerous because risk-taking becomes pleasure. From time to time, I practice sabotage, trying to devolve to the time when nights were dark, when our bodies crawled on the floor. I was awake all night until I saw morning light. 

What am I envisioning? Long ago, I decided I do not end a writing or speech with a question. It sounds too smart to be me. Instead, I try to answer my own question. They are clumsy and temporary. I do not have to laugh or smile but I want to have an inner grin. I want to grapple with things, taking necessary time. I want to remember I do things that way.

My mother had a good death. I hope to die a good death, a personal death. I wish no one is deprived of a good death but many people are.

I will remember this sadness.
The morning light in a small garden.

How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

I have a hard time answering “what is most” questions. It is hard to prioritize what I care about. Various matters I care about are connected in the bottom. Islands are not actually separated. They are branches of a tree.

An answer seems to change depending on where and when and what I am capable of doing and inclined to do. I often do things I can only do then and there. I would rather regret doing things rather than regret not doing things. That is effortful. I want to make myself available for that effort. To become trusted, I need to trust myself. I love performing because I make many decisions while performing. I betray my preparations and choreography. By doing that, I learn to trust myself.

I do not choreograph in studios. Going to places is my choreography.  A resolve to go and a promise to dance. Being in Fukushima or Death Valley informs what I do in these places.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

I really do not know how it functions if “function” implies being useful. Since I came to Japan seven weeks ago, I have edited several short video works. Most are the footage shot some time ago but, because I am editing them now, my choices reflect my current mood and needs. A friend said she played my video on her cell phone screen. She felt it was like seeing a bird sitting on her palm. That surprised and pleased me. I make things without really knowing how they might function.

While editing, I make many small decisions. It is a dance. From time to time, I find possibilities of beauty that are not pretty. I am aware that many people continue to be busy during the pandemic. Friends send each other digital offerings. I do some of that because I want to share, but I am also hesitant. That is why instead of reaching out often and wide, I created a virtual studio where those who want are invited to visit now or later.

I am not making things only to share virtually. I eagerly wait for the time we can gather. I imagine showing the works in a real place. People then might notice I made these during the pandemic. They remember the time. I also experiment with tools we use such as Zoom. They have default settings with default choices. That are not real choices. I try to ignore or stretch “the look” of technology even a little bit, but I realize perhaps it's better to learn how and when not to use it.

In all, I am practicing self-curation. By selecting collaborators, learning places, and working candidly with others, self-curation becomes actually a series of co-curation. And that I think remains important for many of us, perhaps increasingly so now.

Please visit me at my Virtual Studio at https://www.eikootake.org/virtual-studio now or later.

******

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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Artists Reach Out: Ayako Kato

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.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody

Ayako Kato

Ayako Kato
(photo: Ralph Kuehne)

Called “moving everyday sculptures, artfully cast in naturalness” (Luzerner Zeitung, Switzerland), Ayako Kato is an award-winning Japanese-native contemporary choreographer, dancer, and improviser originally from Yokohama, Japan. She has been directing her company Ayako Kato/Art Union Humanscape since 1998 through interdisciplinary collaboration with over sixty musicians/composers in eight countries and 34 cities throughout the US, Japan, and Europe.

Venues/festivals include A Race in Space Festival, Lucerne, Switzerland; DOEK, Amsterdam, Holland; Tabito Art Meeting Festival, Fukushima; the International Festival of Arts and Ideas, New Haven, CT; The Art Institute of Chicago; the Jay Pritzker Pavilion of the Millenium Park, Chicago; Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago; Chicago Jazz Festival; Links Hall, Constellation and beyond.

She is a recipient of 3Arts Award in Dance; 3Arts Residency Fellowship at the Camargo Foundation in Cassis, France; “Best of Dance” in The Chicago Tribune; Links Hall Co-MISSION Fellowship; Players: The Fifty People Who Really Perform for Chicago by Newcity Stage, Meiner Achievement Award; Chicago Dancemakers Forum Lab Artist Award and beyond. www.artunionhumanscape.net, Ayako Kato Dance on Vimeo

Ayako Kato
(photos: above, Ralph Kuehne;
below: courtesy of HMS Media)

Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

Yes. I have been planning to present Inception: ETHOS Episode II, the second iteration of my ETHOS trilogy project, in September and October 2020. I have been envisioning the production with six dancers and two musicians as site-specific at historical buildings and natural environments through Chicago Park District's Night Out in the Parks program. The studio I usually use is also currently on lockdown. So, without being able to rehearse, the piece cannot happen either.

Other than that, MuCCC Dance Festival in Rochester, NY, planned in mid-June was postponed to mid-July through the beginning of August, and the Dance Shelter artist in residence concert I am involved with in Chicago at the end of June is postponed. November’s collaboration with Bob Eisen for aMID 2.0 Festival is pending, and another collaboration led by Rika Lin with Japanese artists was postponed because the travel grants to support them are not happening.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

Let me answer by following the haiku poet Basho's biography style:

In my body, there is a thing identified as IT which is thin, sensitive, and loves to sway in the wind. Eventually, IT made dance as my lifelong pursuit. One time, IT fell into dejection and I almost dropped my passion. Another time, IT was filled with competitive pride, and never calm. Once I wished to be more useful for society with other means, yet I couldn't be so because of IT. Even having hoped to gain more security, the wish was prevented because of my love for dance. IT also has been breaking the dream of intensive scholarly achievement. Then, eventually, with incompetence, my path connected to the Way of dance.

Zhuangzi in Taoism, Basho in haiku, Zeami in Noh Theater, Marcel Marceau in Pantomime, Maya Plisetskaya in ballet, Jorge Donn in dance, Kazuo Ohno in butoh, John Cage in music, Cunningham in choreography, all these predecessors had followed and connected with the Way. All followed their nature and embodied the universe within and outside of themselves through their life, and they are my inspiration.

To see and embody the intangible, letting go of ego, following nature, and being one with nature is my particular practice.

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?

I choreograph the intangible through movement, physicalizing imagery. Centering, grounding, and emptying are the key practices to restore and heighten my awareness upon existence. Through meditation and somatic exercises, becoming an empty conduit allows us to open up and further connect with the environment within and outside ourselves. From the center of gravity, or Dantian, the spheric worldview reaches from past to future and engulfs the synchronic present. The metaphysical awareness travels through moments and locations both internally and externally, shifting from micro to macro, establishing tensegrity and forming the anatomy of society, humanity, history, the world, nature, and the universe.

Since 2017, I have been envisioning a resonant bird's-eye view of Stoicism, Taoism, and Indigenous tradition for the ETHOS trilogy project, advocating nature-multicultural-centrism rather than human-Euro-centrism. Embodying the worldview above, the ETHOS physically invites the audience members to experience multidimensionally the past from the present (ETHOS I), the present from the past (ETHOS II), and finally, the future from the past through present (Final Episode) to perceive the new ethos for the coming age.

How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

My practice and visioning align with recognizing the dignity of being and treating each other with respect and equity. Interestingly, when we recognize our own center, we also notice others' centers. This principle applies to recognizing identity and dignity in ourselves and others. This cannot be achieved overnight, yet can be improved little by little through our practice.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

Seeing means seeing the intangible. Beyond the differences in languages, ethnicities, cultures, genders, ages, and species, humans have the ability to read the air, think of others/other things, and take care of each other and things, both living and nonliving things. How much awareness we can holistically build up in ourselves is the key to improve ourselves through our internal bird's-eye view.

My anatomy teacher Irene Dowd said, "The environment affects us, and we affect the environment." Gregory Cajete states in Native Science, "The land nurtures humans and humans nurture the land."

In the smaller fractal scale, how our body is functioning and how our mind is moving at the moment affect the intangible tensegrity of the anatomy of the society, world, and the earth. It becomes clearer because you sense the impact of how your state of being and movement is influencing the next moment.

Briefly share one self-care tip that has special meaning to you now.

Listening to myself carefully and sensing happiness here and there is my self-care tip. In that sense, I am taking action on things I have been dreaming of, postponing, and couldn't touch on before honestly in the way I want and can. That includes reaching out to people if they come to mind; organizing an online anatomy study group; making rice bran pickles that need to stir every day; planting seeds (I am living on the third floor) with the potential to expand it to the rooftop (the proposal letter has been sent to the landlord!); planning to compost on my own. Finally! I need to balance those with homeschooling and my work, so I need to be careful not to be too ambitious. Yet, as others might be feeling, I am seeing that this period can be the prologue for a new social system to coexist ecologically, improving a new ethos, stepping away from Capitalism. So, as much as I can, I want to move, tuning into the movement of nature to strengthen my tie with IT now.

******

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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