The Day I forgot My Notes
It was yesterday, and we had just finished the half of rehearsal where we work on the trio/slow section of the Reich piece we’re preparing for the Liminal Space show on December 11. Laura had arrived, and I knew it was time to move into the section that gives me a panic attack/ulcer/wide eyes/jumpy feet/and a desire to run around the room.
Thank you Steve Reich.
You see…I had carefully orchestrated steps, gestures, freezing to VERY specific parts of the music. I have my own notation language.
And I must say, the dancers were thrilled. THRILLED. with the demanding nature of the music and the tasks I had given to them. See below:
So…back to yesterday. I forgot my notes. Kind of crucial as I don’t even try to keep all of the individual dancers’ parts in my own brain. Gotta free that bad boy up for more ideas. I send out movement and counts and then trust the dancers to remember them from there on. It’s a tall order. So…I forgot my notes. And I KNEW that I couldn’t remember it all. So what did I do? I threw it out and started over. I have to say, the dancers were relieved. Less counting this time and more instinct. More listening, I think. And I like this direction we’re headed much better.
Funny how things work out, eh? Sometimes you just have to forget your notes.