Gracias a tí / Thanks to you

Pieces of Her Spring 2013 Showing

Natalie Marsh, Daniella Aboody, and Rosa Navarrete

Photo by Ariel Aboody

This past weekend I was at UC Riverside for a conference with the Congress on Research in Dance. I presented a solo for a dance I have been developing since April of this year, called Pieces of Her. The dance was to honor and bring to light my grandmother Luisa. I wanted to represent her on stage and express through Multimedia Art the various ways that a person's identity can be observed.

WHO ARE YOU? I asked myself this question earlier in the year because I felt as though the distance from my family in Perú and the sound of my voice was changing. My accent (which I fought to get rid of at the age of 12) is gone. So where do I live? I go to Perú, and I'm not fully Peruvian. In fact my family tells me not to speak in certain situations for the taxi man might charge more hearing my American accent. In the states, I can get by but let's face it there's nothing "traditionally" American about me. At some point in a conversation everybody seems to get curious about who the heck you are, who you represent, or who your people are? And sometimes people just straight off make assumptions without even asking. I've been called Philippina, Mexicana, Iranian, Indian, and when I curled my long hair years ago even Brazilian. Go figure! The confusion comes when I am around a certain group of friends. It happens! Our identities get challenged, questioned, and even sometimes replaced before we can even say -- Wait a minute!

This question then evolved into a desire to understand my history and culture. Fearing I could lose my Peruvianness (crazy right?) I went two generations back and focussed on my Mami (a term of endearment I call my grandmother, Luisa). She still lives in Perú, and she's battling skin cancer. She's a doll really, this woman. Here's a picture of her so you can see for yourself.

Luisa Soto, August 2013

Mami inspires me to do research on my identity when it comes to being Peruvian, understanding home, owning the relationship I have with my body, and being a woman. I have written down memories, anecdotes,  conversations, and this December I will be interviewing her in person. Mami makes me question who I am, and who I might have been had I not come to the States at the tender age of five. Unlike my grandmother and thanks to food hormones, I tower over my aunties in Perú, and I'm pretty loud compared to a lot of the women in my family. This makes me more "American." BUT----like my grandmother, I can be shy and be a worry wart. So you get the picture, this is what I do. Compare and contrast as well as write things down to move with them and see what happens to my body in the process.

What happened at the conference? 

Well I presented a solo with revisited choreography and some new themes. I re-edited the video I had cut together for The Garage performance September 4th and 5th. I did a powerpoint presentation and talked about the use of Multimedia Art and why I feel okay with multiple elements participating with each other on stage. I was asked about "layers of self" - and I talked about how it feels as though the video, the sound, the mask, the live performance (all present on stage) are layers of who I am split into multiple pieces. The experience feels like how it feels to be in my head, I explained. There is too much to discuss when someone wants to know who you are, especially when you are a brown girl. I finish with, I am okay with competing elements on stage, for now. 

But before talking to the audience and the power point presentation I gave a small performance. I danced a new solo segment. After rotating motions that help me center into my body as I wear the mask I go to the floor and mop. I mop the way my grandmother does everyday in Perú. Doing this act allows me to go into a new magical place inside of myself. I discovered this part of myself when I was showing my IMS Mentor, Peggy Hackney, the new solo performance on Thursday--two days before the conference. I could feel my body reveal something I had not felt alone in my living room. The room I was performing in was in fact the room where I had rehearsed in March, and maybe this allowed for my body to forget that in fact I was performing. This magical place inside of me means I forget that I am performing. My body reveals a moment my grandmother has felt before. As I raise my arm to protect my head from an invisible fist I feel a heavy presence pushing down on me, my legs know how to move, where to go, how to shift, my arm instinctively goes above my frontal bone (forehead), and I look upward at that heavy presence that looms as I mop the floor. I try to distract my thoughts from what's about to happen: I think about dinner, finishing the mopping, turning down the radio, changing the diaper -- anything to have an out of body experience as I tense up my muscles. My cells have done this act before, the act of protecting myself. I forget I am performing and relive a state of fear. These shapes I do with my body is something I have never had to do in my life here in the States. I have never had to protect myself from any mans fist, except in Karate class and even then my instructor was cautious. What I discovered was that somewhere in this research, through exploring my family's history, and my grandmothers journey---I have found a body memory in me. Now, abuse in my family is not something that I am proud of discussing out loud, but it was a reality for a lot of women in Perú. My grandfather was once a hot-headed man. And most of the people in our neighborhood back in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and unfortunately even today have physically abused their wives. My grandfather would never do it now. He has, thankfully, evolved to speaking his mind. Still,  once he lived his life with regret and rage. The woman re-incarnated in me knows that his internal pain was expressed externally upon the one who loved him most, Mami Luisa. She would never leave him. She was fifteen. She was a mother.

In creating Pieces of Her I asked a lot about WHO I AM. What I did not expect, was that in the process my body would find itself revisiting a connected chain to WHO SHE WAS. There is a link between our blood, and our gender. Something that is inherent in ancestry, maybe, but definitely something that will help me claim the power behind survival and truth behind the traumas that the body can hold onto. We are not defined by the scars we carry, but by the invisible tissue of strength and love that binds us close together. The older I get, the more I realize how lucky I am to have women in my life who have sacrificed so much of themselves to see me get to where I am. To make sure I did not have to grow up in a violent environment. 

Look now, Mami, here is your arm and oh my how I can push back. Look here, Mami, this is your mouth and oh my how I can speak loud. See this, Mami, my legs…and fear not, for I know the power I posses. I can kick, I can embrace, I can stand because of you. I am here. Little by little, in this dance, I can find out who I am because of you.

Mirame ahora Mami, aqui esta tu brazo y mira como puedo empujar. Mira ahora Mami, aquí esta tu boca y escucha mi voz como puedo gritar. Vez esto, Mami, mis piernas…y no te preocupes, reconozco el poder que ellas tienen. Puedo patear, puedo abrazar, y puedo pararme por ti - yo estoy aquí. Poco a poco, en este baile, puedo encontrar quien soy gracias a ti. 

Pieces of Her Spring 2013 Showing

Natalie Marsh, Rosa Navarrete, and Daniella Aboody

Photo by Ariel Aboody

Montmartre, Gratitude, Capitalism, Corporatism, and Generally the Strange Places my Mind Takes Me

It is raining. The slippery drops run down my face. I am not afraid of the affect it makes on my intricate nervous system, the tickling. I am not afraid of the water getting in my eyes, impairing my vision slightly. I am not afraid of my skin getting wet, shoes and socks soaked, blue pants still somewhat weightless from the water. My sweat begins to become indistinguishable from the rain drops. I read a buddhist affirmation today on the desk in our small studio. It is in French, but what I got from it is that every day is precious, life is precious. If it were not precious, I wouldn’t feel the weight and sorrow of people suffering and dying in all the places of this world. And so, even if I feel this sorrow, I can still walk with gratitude and knowing that what I am experiencing at this moment is precious. And the rain, wow, somehow I always feel most alive in the water.

Running Montmartre is special in the rain. A rainy Thursday morning in November means less tourists crowding the charming cobblestone roads. Umbrellas, however, can be a problem. If I were not so tall, I might have had an eye poked out a couple of times. I wind my way around the roads and let my body respond to the information of people coming in different directions, cars trying to make their way through, and the uneven slipperiness of the stone underneath my feet. I focus on breathing and letting my shoulders relax. My body does the work, knowing, gathering information, researching the space, and producing the medicine it needs at the same time.

I run by the painters standing in the rain, their easels underneath umbrellas, trying to make a livelihood even in the damp morning, and I realize that as often as I have climbed up the steep slopes of Montmartre, the only thing that I have spent money on was a postcard. I do not participate in the commerce, neither selling nor buying. I am only a witnesser, an observer taking advantage of the streets laid out before me, the pathways, the view, the warm cheery feeling of people, and the spacious peak giving breathing room above Paris. What does it mean? Am I only taking? And why do I think self-worth is wrapped up in commerce?

In my post about capitalism, I asked, “is it a bad thing to pay an artisan what they’re worth?” And I realized that I was equating self-worth with money. But is an artisan’s work, her? It is easy to associate self-worth with the money we make, the notoriety we receive, the appraisal and approval of others. And of course, there is the livelihood aspect of this. We must all earn a living in order to survive. So how do we disassociate self-worth from money?

I also must explain what I meant about totalitarianism in that same post; we know that totalitarianism is where the state holds all power and control over what we do in our lives. Capitalism is supposed to be the exact opposite and in the early 20th century, the fascists were responding to the communist totalitarian politics. Benito Mussolini said, "Fascism should more properly be called corporatism because it is the merger of state and corporate power." Okay, well I fail to see how fascism is too different from totalitarianism when both are forms of despotism. Today we have large corporate conglomerates ruling the world, an outcome of capitalism or unregulated capitalism, I don't know. But they decide what is in fashion, what television programs to watch, what music will be popular, what we will eat. In other words, even though we think we have a choice, we don't really. Those of us that have access to a car think we can drive where ever we want to because we have the freedom of a car, but the roads have been previously mapped out for us. Those that can afford to shop at Whole Foods, think we have a choice because we can buy products that were grown, bought, shipped, and sold responsibly. Out of 7,500 varieties of apples grown in the world, only 100 are grown commercially in the U.S. and we have maybe 15 to choose from at the super market, maybe, if we go to Berkeley Bowl. Everything is mapped out for us. And grown, brought, shipped, and sold responsibly, I don't think so. And those that do not have access to these options are still being sold that they have a choice because our lovely culture industry perpetuates this idea of American individualism. We, the great individual (oh paradox, oh paradox!) think we have the choice of individuality, but really we are buying sameness and at the end of the day, it is "we the people," that are being shaped, cranked, and stamped on the conveyor belt.

I feel grateful to run in the rain today. It feels unhindered by the weight of financial exchange. But, when I run, my mind takes me to places and I begin to ask what I am doing here. What is my exchange with this place? And do I always need to look at exchange from a Marxist viewpoint? And so I return to previous posts that I have made. How did I go from the gratitude of running in rain spattered Montmartre to American individualism? I'm not sure. 

C'est Moi?

Kéwé and I explore Malik Market on the periphery of Paris, a place alive with commerce on the weekends and alive with bright colors and graffiti art during the week. I spot this 'R' and as cheesy as it seems, I want Kéwé to take my picture next to it. Why? I remember that when I was a kid, my parents had a lunch box painted for me. It was a red plastic lunch box and on it was a big 'R.' My child mind was forming and understanding symbols for the first time. I knew how to write my name, and my parents told me that these symbols were me. These symbols that I saw on the page were my name and to this day, in my synethesia, I associate the color red with the letter 'R' and in a way identify with these images.

And when I look at this image of myself in this photograph, I see me. That body that I am looking at is me, standing next to a letter that is supposed to be me also. And yet, these are just images. Images like the ones we see on television, where we get information associated with these images telling us how to think about them. I want to pick apart this image of myself. My arms are too big. My skin looks too pale. My chin looks too stubby. I should have worn makeup. And yet these are all false beliefs accumulated over the years. In my rational mind I know that one, the images I am looking at in the above picture are not me. Me is so much more complex and while I am trying to get a sense of my own autonomy, me is not limited to myself as a separate entity from other people. And second, my thoughts are not me either, yet in this world full of information and images, it isn't an easy thing to believe otherwise. So what do I do about it? I recognize that this is a difficult task that will take consistent work, that I must do things that I feel good doing, like writing and dancing. I must do things that are really hard sometimes, like writing and dancing:) and holding myself accountable for how I operate in the world. And I must always have compassion for myself and for other people. Because I am not the only one who has difficulty disassociating myself from the images I see in front of me. This compassion is tough because it means maintaining an open heart when an open heart can lead to heartbreak. It is hard when day in and day out I exchange with people who are tired, depressed, and hardened. But if I choose compassion, maybe I can see beyond the images and beyond the hardened exteriors. If I choose compassion maybe instead of seeing myself in the two-dimensional images, I will see myself in the person standing next to me on the metro.

Living, Working, and Taking (the metro) in Paris

I am living in the 18th Arrodissement in Paris near the metro Guy Moquet. In the mornings I take dance classes at Menagerie de Verre. A two hour class only cost 6 euro here. In the afternoons I go to my nannying job. I live with Kéwé, who is dancing with me in the above photos. On the weekends we explore different parts of Paris and dance in the spaces where we feel inspired. We do this in order to combat against the cold greyness that is this city. We do this so that Paris is not only limited to this greyness because really it so much more.

But it is hard. Sometimes at nighttime we look at my videos from Ecole des Sables and practice the choreography we learned there. Sometimes we just look at the pictures of our beautiful friends and the stunning landscape. Sometimes we just listen to the drums.

But the secret is not in Ecole or Sénégal. The secret is in these difficult times. How do we find the creative space? How do we tap into the texture of this landscape?

From the beginning I was taken by the metro. My mind seems to wake up when I'm on it alive with observations and theoretical pensées. In the beginning I couldn't stop moving, always choreographing something. I couldn't stop writing, always making a poem. I thought about what the metro represents. where it takes us. Who is on it. What it means to be on the inside and what it means to be on the outside. And then, I began to take the train to work. I could see above ground. Everywhere in Paris, from every form of public transportation, graffiti can be seen. Various levels of property defacement range from simple tagging to incredible mural art work.

I wonder why I am so taken by this form of artwork. Partially it is my inner rejection of authority. My anger issues cause me to want to deface property. And while I am riding a train that ultimately takes me to market, I watch the remnants of a person at work, working against the grain of money. This artist does not get paid for her work. And this artist is often making commentary about who has access and who does not have access to working for money.

I told a man in a bar the other night that I was choreographing a dance inspired by the metro. What I took from the varied and stimulating conversation was a question I had not asked myself. What is capitalism? Because I have been accusing Paris of being more capitalistic than L.A. or the Bay. And when I went to Edinburgh, I couldn't stop thinking about Adam Smith and my money minded people. I use the word as an adjective as if to explain a way of thinking, a group mentality reified in the murky undergrounds of the metro. There isn't room enough for all during the rush hour craze. Some must be left out. This Parisian ethos tugs at my core possibly because in this, I see where I come from. And yet, I must clarify capitalism. Because like every 'ism,' "individualism,' ect. there are multiple facets to the definition. Entire books are written about this one word.

I looked up the wikipedia definition and it said, Capitalism is an economic system based on private ownership of the means of production and capital goods, and the production of goods and services for profit in a market economy.^[1][2] Central characteristics of capitalism include the process of capital accumulation, competitive markets, and wage labor.^[3] In a capitalist economy, the parties to a transaction typically determine the prices at which assets, goods, and services are exchanged. (wikipedia) 

It then goes on to say that there are varying degrees of regulation on the competition and this is where one of the problems occurs. But of course nothing is so simple. From what I observe when I go to the super market, there is very little competition. The same products ranging from Ariel laundry detergent to Nestle everything, exist in the markets of Sénégal. Perhaps there is a model of capitalism that isn't so terrible with proper regulation. It wouldn't be a bad thing to pay an artisan what they are worth. In other words, I don't think it is private ownership and means of production that I object to because as we have seen without proper check, communism can turn into totalitarianism. And this is what we have today, totalitarianism, with Monsanto, Nestle, Disney, Dupont, ect. ruling the world! 
These are just my thoughts on something I am beginning to scratch at the surface of. 

Update on the Project and Travel News!

Robyn and I have been talking about the project, and it's definitely going to be longterm. We are thinking about developing a book together first, to organize our independent research. The film is going to take a while, but we are collecting visuals and interviewing as many people as we can along the way.

Dance is starting to become a really important factor for my research. I decided to connect my identity journey with my IMS project, which means it's now part of my choreography piece Pieces of Her. A dance theater piece about my relationship to my grandmother, our distance through immigration, and what makes us individuals. It's a tall glass of water, but here I go diving in as much as I can.

I am currently in Berkeley, CA. I am in the process of moving in with my partner, and collaborating on various art projects with wonderful professionals in the Bay and outside. To say that I am overwhelmed is an understatement, but if I'm not doing something I might just shrivel up and die from boredom. It's just who I am.

I hope you are all well. I am looking forward to what the future holds.

More soon!

Upcoming Events: 

• IMS Session 3 (LMA/BF Participant) / Salt Lake City, Utah
• Dance Conference for Pieces of Her (Choreographer) / Riverside, CA
• Life Machine Play (Actor and Dancer) / Berkeley, CA
• Travel to Peru (Research and Short Film for Pieces of Her) / Lima, Peru
• Travel to Brazil (Research continued and Video work for Amara Tabor-Smith) / Salvador, Brazil

Check out my blog for more information!

Done with the Summer Intensive

Well as you can probably tell by the lack of posts on my end from this summer that the IMS Summer Intensive, was truly an intensive. I feel as though my brain and body have gone through a process of being mashed down into a substance that I am still trying to identify and piece together. I hardly had time to do other work, much less fit in time to film the beautiful landscape that Utah can provide. Thought I'll be back there in October (post Interim period), so I am not too worried.

The point is, my summer was difficult. Sure there was play, fun, down time, reflective moments, but overall the program has a lot information to take in about Laban and Irmgard Bartenieff. And rightly so! Their work, when they were on this earth, is monumental and still being practiced today. Okay, I don't want to paint the experience as gruesome either. I had a lot of fun finding new ways to create movement, express movement, and find healthier passages to allow my body to function in a powerful but thoughtful way. It's actually, now that I think about it, getting harder and harder to describe what the experience has been like. And I think it's because it's A LOT of things. I made new friends, I connected with my body in ways I never knew I could, I experienced the physical, spiritual, and emotional changes of self. I identified things about myself that I want to change. I realized how much I rely on assumptions when it comes to other people. So is this work going to help me in the process of  filmmaking, you betcha. So although this post is kind of vague, I plan on using the tools I am learning from Integrated Movement Studies to describe and develop the process of this film. Step by step, I will be sharing the language I've learned through the images we share.

A quick update on Robyn! She has little internet connection in Senegal, but will be on her way to Paris soon. She's going through a very transformative experience herself. Can't wait to see her next year so we can compact all our information and create something that is meaningful for us. For now, the travel continues!

I am in L.A. visiting family right now, but will be returning to the Bay on Monday. Wow. The summer went by so fast. Onward.

IMS: http://imsmovement.com

Expressivity through Laban Movement Analysis

University of Utah, Dance Studio in Marriott Building

I am learning about Expressivity in Laban Movement Analysis, and I am really enjoying the process. Well, actually it's two in one: Functionality-Expressivity. Let's say you have a choreographed section of a piece where your dancer just puts his arms up and down. That is the functionality of the movement. You might say, "Dancer, please put your arms up and down any way you like." After a while, you decided you want more energy and liveliness in the body, so you think to yourself hmmm, (s)he should be in Passion Drive! (Check out Robin Konie's Effort Bank site by clicking here for more details!) So you tell your dancer to add some weight effort, time effort, and flow effort into the mix of the function. Now the dancer is living in Passion Drive as the Functionality. However, there is something missing---a je ne sais quoi? Of course! EXPRESSIVITY. Hazzah! Expressivity is my new favorite topic in our LMA theory and movement classes because it involves creating images, characters, and worlds to help you achieve the clarity and goal of your choreography and/or movement. That is to say, for example, you tell the dancer -- Your arms remind me of a sling shot being stretched and then released, can you move with that image in mind? And you would explore this and watch the dancer move. Or you can create a small narrative like, You are five years old, you just found out your mother died. You run to your bedroom balcony and reach up to the heavens because you know your mom is living among the clouds. You want to be with her, but your arms get tired and you have to give away to the weight and drop them. Suddenly the dancer is not just moving the arms up and down, but now other parts of the body enliven. The face, the fingers, the tension in the neck, everything is involved. The face of an eager five-year-old reaches up desperately towards the sky, her/his toes are pushing against the ground with desperation, and perhaps the dancer becomes emotional. Then the dancer's body gives up and drops down with weight, but this time (s)he falls all the way down to the floor, defeated and heavy. Not only are you being clear with your dancer, but you are taking them on a journey. In addition, you are watching the choreography become clearer, cleaner, and more alive. The quality has improved. There are many other ways to practice Expressivity, but I was just introduced to it and I'm taking it all in one step at a time.

In our sessions, we will be doing more explorative movements in the next few days. I cannot wait to see what other wonderful tools my LMA/Bartenieff Fundamentals training with Integrated Movement Studies will provide me with. I hope this inspires you to bring some Expressivity into your own creative lives. To me, it feels like freedom.

LMA Effort Bank: http://www.lmaeffortbank.com
IMS: http://imsmovement.com