The Good, the Bad, and the Choreographer's Block

" Choreography is simpler than you think. Just go and do, and don't think so much about it. Just make something interesting."                - George Balanchine

It usually starts with a piece of music. Mostly I am caught off guard, only once have I ever intentionally searched for music for a piece of choreography I was commissioned to do. Every other time it's the sudden realization that without knowing it I have started to naturally move to the music. Then I think "I could dance to this!". So I'll listen to the music over and over again, allowing my imagination to invoke ideas, memories, concepts of what the music makes me feel. Sometimes I feel great sadness, or a carefree happiness, or even just imagine colors mingling and merging in my mind - and those times I want to express what that color makes me feel.

At some point it starts coming together in my brain; I may not know the exact theme right away, but I know the feeling I want to convey and that is where I begin. Sometimes I have to hold on to ideas for weeks and months without an outlet to express them in, but, other times I get lucky and I am presented with a venue and dancers who I can share my ideas and emotions with and who can express these feelings with the athleticism of their bodies. This is when the hard work really begins.

The first couple of rehearsals go well; I teach small sequences of the dance so as to merge them together later. But at some point, the choreographer's block sets in (yes, I insist that choreographer's block is a real term). Suddenly I feel that I cannot find the right movements and transitions to fit smoothly into the choreography. Rehearsals are frustrating as I try to get dancers to where I want them but seem incapable of bringing to life what's in my head. I stop sleeping and lie awake at night thinking and thinking, listening and listening, allowing the music to organically express to me where I should go. I try to listen to what the musical artist behind the piece hopes to ennunciate to me as well - after all, it is important to remain true to the musician's artistic dream as well.

But finally, one day, as I'm listening to the music for the thousandth time, I experience a moment of clarity. Simpler is sometimes better, I realize, and so I stop striving for complicated formations and go with a more effortless idea. It starts coming together and before I know it time flies and the piece is finished. Now comes the fear. I begin to worry and dread putting the choreography onstage in front of people. What if no one likes it? What if they don't understand it? What if my choreography is unoriginal and not any good? This is the moment when I lean on other artsists and remind myself of a fellow artist's words: "You have to remain true to yourself, create something original, then just hope that everyone likes it." And then I just let go. :)