Choreography: Not Just for the Professionals
Have you heard of synesthesia? Scientific American magazine defines it thus:
“Synesthesia is an anomalous blending of the senses in which the stimulation of one modality simultaneously produces sensation in a different modality. Synesthetes hear colors, feel sounds and taste shapes.”
I have a relative who, for each sound that she hears, sees a corresponding colour in her mind’s eye. Synesthesia is a natural occurrence, it is “biological, automatic and apparently unlearned, distinct from both hallucination and metaphor” (http://www.apa.org/monitor/mar01/synesthesia.aspx), so for a large portion of her life, my relative assumed this was something everybody experienced, such as when hearing an orchestra play music seeing a riot of colour in her mind. When she realised that this was a rare gift, she “felt sorry for everyone”. Understandably, she has a huge love of music.
Since starting on my dance journey, I have started to think that dancing is a learned, “poor man’s” synesthesia. So often now, when I listen to music, whether it’s Shostakovich or Sia, I see in my mind dancers moving in time to it. It is music visualised.
However, for the first few years of this journey, I didn’t consider the idea that I might actually be able to transplant the movements in my head into reality. But one evening whilst chatting to my first ballet teacher, I casually mentioned that, a long time from then, when I had more dance experience, I would like to choreograph something to a favourite piece of music. The next thing I know he had rallied the troops and I was diving into the deep end.
Sometimes that’s what it takes, a whimsical comment followed by someone with authority handing us arm bands and saying “Sink or swim”.
I admit, I have done a bit of both!
If you, however, are thinking of taking the plunge, here are some thoughts from a novice.
Don’t box yourself in with your choice of music
The first piece of music that inspired me was an instrumental and quite classical in its composition. It was not long after that I started classes with a teacher who would, on occasion, stroll into class and say “We’re not using boring ballet music today” and had us doing the barre to funk and soul and the grand allegro to Michael Jackson and Prince. I learned then that ballet wasn’t just for Tchaikovsky.
For Lyn’s last show in Scotland she very kindly allowed me to choreograph a piece to Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit. Yes, classical ballet, and I threw the flapping Swan Lake arms (technical term) in for fun.
The beginning of "Ballet Class" to Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit.
If a piece of music is inspiring this creative surge inside your mind, it doesn’t matter what it is. Go with it.
Really know the piece of music
Using Teen Spirit as my example, I started by listening to the song relentlessly, really getting to know it thoroughly. Now, I am the sort of person who likes to use counts to “map” the choreography—it’s just the way that my brain works, even though not everyone likes this technique (others might use, for example, lyrics or phrases in the music). I played the song several times in a row counting the sets of 8, and then I put together a table (a Word document—it doesn’t get any sadder) with the sections of the song and how many 8s were in each.
Then I got to work finding steps for each count.
Ballet geek.
Whilst this technique is definitely not for everyone, it shows that by the end of the “research stage” I knew that piece of music very, very well. This helped not only in finishing the choreography but also in the moment, mid-performance, when I made a mistake and needed to find my place again.
Look for inspiration
At the start of several of the pieces I’ve worked on, I have had blurred images in my mind, unclear outlines of the shapes I wanted to the dancers to make. Occasionally I simply knew that I wanted that moment to look “jagged”. I went online and, using Google Images as my tool, I trawled through photos of “ballet”, “contemporary ballet dancers”, “modern ballet”, picking out the images that seemed to fit the idea I wanted to convey. This really helped when talking through the meaning of the piece to the dancers or simply inspiring the steps in the choreography.
"Jagged".
One dramatic piece, unperformed but very close to my heart, was set in the 1940s. I looked for ideas and images from that time to inspire the choreography. Not only did I find inspiration but a little authenticity, something I felt was important for something serious in tone.
Work with people you know and trust
I have been very fortunate in that each time I have braved choreographing a piece, I have had good friends volunteering to participate. This has meant working with people who know me well, who have the courtesy to laugh at my terrible jokes or be patient when I get flustered. Whilst I still went along to each practice feeling nervous, within the space of 15 minutes I would find myself relaxing and able to really immerse myself in the project.
The Teen Spirit ladies. Crazy, talented, fun friends.
It’s quite possible that you will not be able to work with people you know well. If that’s the case, perhaps find a willing friend to run through things with before presenting it, but also remember those dancers who have volunteered to take part are approaching new projects with open hearts and minds. No one is there to criticise or judge; everyone is there for the love of dancing.
Experiment and ask your dancers to improvise
A couple of times in my endeavours I have got so far through the music and then struck a choreographer’s block or found that I really needed more than myself and the mirror to try movements before I could truly judge if the ideas worked.
So I have sloped into the studio, confessed as much to the dancers and asked for their help. Having more people to work with, seeing if patterns did actually work, or saying “Any ideas?” has always been fruitful. One person’s improvised movement might spark a whole avalanche of ideas.
No matter how much of the steps are yours alone, choreographing is a collaborative work. Asking for suggestions or experimenting is not a failure. Everyone brings their own experiences and knowledge into the studio, and it’s wise to tap that wealth of information.
Have a basic plan, but be open to change
In the same vein, it doesn’t matter how beautifully laid out your table of steps is, if a particular sequence is not working, or you’ve choreographed it for Natalia Osipova and your dancers are not quite at that level, be calm and relaxed about changing things. Ultimately, your goal should be that your dancers can perform with confidence. They will be able to do this if they are certain and happy about the steps.
If someone is brave enough to say “I don’t think this is working”, you are not allowed to beat them to death with a pointe shoe. Collaboration, remember! Take a deep breath, say thank you and ask if they have any thoughts on how to proceed.
Ask for help
And it’s also wise to ask your teacher for help. This is a learning experience, is it not? Thus your teachers are the obvious people to teach you. They would not be encouraging you to choreograph a piece for others if they don’t have confidence in your ideas and ability, and you are not letting them down by asking them to be involved.
Simple choreography is also visually effective
If the Oh God of Computers has blessed me (thank you Terry Pratchett for your inspiration), below is the link to a clip from a Teen Spirit rehearsal. As I warned you previously, there is Swan Lake flappage—fun, but not hugely taxing movements at any level. However, even from a basic count-through, you can see that simple doesn’t mean boring.
Even if your dance dictionary isn’t massive, you can still create fun or striking pieces. Don’t shy away from the challenge. Simplicity also means less stress for the dancers (less of that panicked “What’s the next step??” look) and cleaner, more confident movements.
There is no denying that reaching the heights of Pina Bausch, Akram Khan or Frederick Ashton takes years of study and training, and there are no short cuts. However, that doesn’t mean we can’t experiment—the learning starts somewhere. And not only will you start learning the art of choreography, but you’ll be building on your dance repertoire knowledge. I can’t tell you how often I approached a teacher, hazy choreography idea in my mind, said “What’s that movement where your leg does this, whilst your arms are doing that?” and I have found myself learning something I had only ever seen before.
If you are quietly harbouring dreams filled with dancers, please don’t be afraid to speak up.