Have you ever been in a car and attempted to get it into a small, on-street parking space? Going forward usually results in your rear end protruding dangerously into the oncoming traffic and no matter how much you shunt forwards and back, progress is both minimal and hard work. So why is it that drawing alongside the next vehicle and reversing in is so much more effective?
Logic tells me that taking the seemingly most direct route will be the easiest, quickest and most practical – and yet no so when parking.
This was reinforced for me last summer when I joined Donald Hutera for a day, along with several other aspiring dance writers at the People Dancing Summer Intensive. Here was a name that I knew, though we’d never previously met – nor had I ever been on a writing workshop before – so I arrived, pen and paper ready, expecting to be given creative tasks to complete – I was ready to write!
As I entered the room Donald was enthusiastically rearranging the furniture to make it look less like a classroom – chatting about how he was feeling sleep deprived and making everyone welcome. We all introduced ourselves, chatted, there was quite a lot of laughter (it felt as if I was at a lively dinner party, but without the food), yet still no writing.
I cannot tell you exactly what we talked about as the conversation just seemed to flow with Donald being a most gracious host whom I’m sure was delicately guiding us, but so subtly that none of us quite saw it happening. Time flew by, thoughts and anecdotes were exchanged… yet still no writing.
By lunchtime I thought – we’ll definitely do some writing this afternoon – and still no… we did move places so we had a different perspective and shared fresh conversations. It wasn’t until right at the end of our time together that Donald asked us to put our thoughts on paper – and he gave us just a few minutes to do so, but the words that came out were gold dust with a unique approach and a distinct voice from each person in the room. There was honesty, integrity and insight. People had written from the heart rather than disappearing into their heads and synthesised the essence of what dance meant to them.
It wasn’t until a few days later that I fully appreciated what Donald had done.
Instead of writing, we talked… Instead of being serious, we were light-hearted… instead of going head on, we reversed.
By taking a seemingly counter-productive approach we relaxed, I’d even go as far as to say disarmed. He took all the pressure off producing something and allowed whatever would happen, to happen. He took us away from those notebooks and pens and made us look up, out and connect with one another.
How many times have I walked into a studio with the pressure of ‘I have to make something’ clouding my vision? What about those sessions where I have been flying by the seat of my pants and the dancers have created something amazing and left the room buzzing? Do we all get caught up in the need for results that we are so at risk of losing the playfulness and joy that comes from the creative process – are we at risk of creating work that is a cookie cutter version of our previous pieces or dances by other choreographers? Do we disappear into our heads and stop dancing from our hearts?
I’ve always maintained that it’s difficult to be ‘creative to order’ and appreciated that so many factors affect creativity – the space, the mood, the time of day – but mostly the approach. The warm welcome, the space to share, the culture of experimentation and finding different ways in – these all contributed in the writing workshop and I know that the same applies in the dance studio.
I don’t suppose for a moment that Donald intended his session to be used as a parallel for how we might deliver dance, he was just doing his brilliant, inspiring thing… and yet that’s the true value of attending events such as these – it gives you time to step back and view your practice, to ask yourself some big questions and not feel as though you have to have the right answer… but to mull, consider or cogitate on it.
My practice continues to evolve because people such as Donald make me ask questions of myself and I firmly believe that as a practitioner that is the single most important thing we do.
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