Learning to fly

Last week I attended a 5-day dance workshop taught by Otis Cook, a former dancer with Pilobolus and one of the dancers in the show they brought to Houston last year. The goal of the workshop was to introduce us to the "Pilobolus Method," which is described on the company website this way:

The Pilobolus Method is, more than anything else, an approach to creative thinking. By shearing away preconceptions of what a dance should be, and by eliciting from others through movement those things that are unique to them, the Pilobolus Method awakens our sense of what is beautiful and possible.

A hallmark of Pilobolus's work is the creative interaction of the dancers with one another. This trait is nurtured through the use of collaboration and group improvisation, which is what we spent most of our time doing in the workshop. We would start by doing improv with our group, trying to keep an eye out for any neat movements that appeared. The challenge was to remember those movements and fit them together into a short dance, making one movement flow into another. I found the transitions to be the most difficult part to create, but by the end of the workshop I started to understand how this method leads to the organic feel of a Pilobolus piece.

The teacher and I did not get along famously well. It wasn't that we didn't get along, but it seemed to take him a few days to figure out where I was coming from. (Hello, I've done improv before!) I did learn a lot from him, though, and hope that this experience will broaden my horizons the next time I have a chance to choreograph. If nothing else, now when I look at pictures of Pilobolus dancers in crazy positions, I'll have some idea how they came up with them and how they make them work.

These experiences are beginning to make me feel that I've become old and inflexible. Ok, I can't avoid the old, but I do try to keep an open mind. Maybe it's just men that are the problem. I had a run-in with a teacher in Atlanta shortly before this workshop, one of the most uncomfortable class moments I've ever had. I won't go into the specifics, but I will tell you that one of the things that bothered me was that he insisted that his way was absolutely the only correct way to do things, and that if I looked it up in ANY ballet technique book, I'd discover I was wrong. I've taken ballet class from maybe 50 different teachers over the years, and I never heard a single one espouse this technique. I told him so in an attempt to explain the look of total disbelief that I COULD NOT keep off of my face. To top the experience off, a bit later in the class he made a general comment about how just because you've been doing something one way your whole life doesn't mean it's correct.

In the first place, I have looked in up in a few books, and they say to do it my way. In the second place, it's ok with me if you have a different way to do something - you run into that with all teachers - but don't act like you're God. And for God's sake, I don't go to ballet class to get insulted. In in way, though, the experience was good. It reminded me of one reason I didn't pursue a professional career: so I didn't have to put up with this kind of sh!t. I don't intend to ever return to this guy's class, which is a shame, because I learned a lot of other great things from him in just a few classes.

Don Quixote, June 10, 2006, Wortham Center's Brown Theater

What a treat. Houston Ballet's performance of Don Quixote as chorographed by Ben Stevenson was a feast for the eyes, ears, and heart. Too bad it took me so long to write this post, or I could tell you more about it.

The cast for this performance included Gregg Garrett (a former company member) as Don Quixote, Connor Walsh as Basilio, and the enchanting Leticia Oliveira as Kitri. I've never seen someone convey so much meaning with a flip of a skirt. Ms. Oliveira and Mr. Walsh danced well together, but the final pas de deux didn't compare to the one Ms. Oliveira and Randy Herrara danced in the "Tribute to Ben Stevenson" performance in (I think) 2003. During that performance, sparks were flying, and I've seen very few other bravura performances to match, even including the most famous of dancers. (I speculate that the sparks were related to their at-the-time recent divorce.) Still, you can't top the fouetté sequence in the final section during which Ms. Oliveria repeated opened and closed her fan. (Damn, girl!) Mr. Walsh made it clear why he was cast as Basilio - the boy can jump. If he can tighten up his turns, he should have no trouble being promoted up from soloist.