Two Men by Soloist Renado Tozer

I unfortunately didn't get the pleasure of seeing the Zumanity show, but when I heard there was a male pas de deux, I had to see!

http://wn.com/two_men__zumanity

Firstly, I must say The sheer athleticism of these two men, Johan Silverhult King and Patrick King, is simply amazing! 

For five minutes I watched as pair have an emotional and physical stand off; battle each other, caress, push away, lust, control, accept, deny, cuddle. So beautiful and the way the bodies move so intimately together....Any idea how intimate and thrilling it is to leave your life in someone's hands and hope they don't drop you? As a former gymnast, I find all of them highly erotic,  sensual, yet and powerful!

And then there's that kiss. A lusty, pain-staking long awaited kiss, that lingers, and brings this beautiful and rollercoaster of a love story full circle. A story that can really be only told through them, because its a story of their own person relationship--The two men have been married for over 25 years now!!

I wanted to learn more, so I research a bit and came across an article.

In an interview with Steve Friess, from the November 11, 2003 cover issue story from The Advocate, the men describe their personal trials, and how they ended up dancing with Zumanity...

 "We never thought of it as being a gay dance," Patrick insists...Adds Johan: "To us, it's just a relationship. It has always been a human story, whether it's men or women or a man and a woman."          

The dance that led the Kings to Vegas started after the move to Italy as a way to create something together after years of Johan merely following Patrick's direction. It wasn't intended for mass audiences, but word spread among friends and the couple went on to perform a 45-minute version at Rome's World Pride celebration in 2000. That same year, they auditioned for Cirque du Soleil recruiters scouting in Italy.

The Kings heard nothing until August 2002, when Cirque -- with Zumanity in mind -- invited them to perform a 12-minute version of the dance on a yacht off St. Tropez for an elaborate private party thrown by Cirque founder Guy Laliberte. "They asked for something sensual, provocative and athletic, so by the end we were naked," Patrick recalls. "We had Ivana Trump with her jaw hanging to the floor." That being precisely the effect Cirque hoped for from Zumanity, the couple were signed within weeks to become a part a slice of the variety show!            

Awesome!!       

I think there is something incredibly brave about this piece and the story behind it is admirable, beautiful, jaw-dropping, and inspiring! I truly hope that I may have the pleasure to inspire as they have! If you want to check them out more here are their websites:

http://www.patrickkingdance.com/

http://www.salonkexperience.com/salonk.php

Dancer: Renado Tozer

Photo: Walter Zamojski

THE SPIRIT OF SPIRITO by Nicole Moscou

I had to admit, the posters intrigued me. Spirito looked like something I would love to see. I own a small ballet school, and I often feel the need to see dance performances to keep my own inspiration going. Still, I made excuses. I was tired. I’d never heard of 127th Street Dance. It was going to be late. My weekends had been busy. But all of these excuses were thrown out the window when my sister (also my student) called to tell me that she’d auditioned and had been invited to join the company dancers in the performance. I bought my tickets immediately, and I’m so glad I did.

The eclectic collection of pieces had me enraptured from the start. I kept forgetting to breathe. The choreography was brilliant, and the dancers themselves were so committed to what they were doing. The level of expression and passion in their dancing were amazing, and I have to say, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. 

The choreography was original and unconventional. Often, I feel that the trend is to fit as much as possible into a short piece of music. This is impressive, but it all happens so fast, it’s hard to appreciate it. Some of the best moments in Spirito were the ones where the dancers stopped moving, or just breathed in the moment, or continued a progression long enough for the audience to appreciate the intricacies of the movement. 
The emotional energy throughout the pieces was also amazing. One piece would make the audience laugh, the next struck them silent. In some, I found my leg muscles moving right along with the gravity-defying leaps; in others, I nearly slipped into a meditative state. Several times, the tears fell freely onto the program I was clutching. For me, it awakened something inside of me that had been set aside for all the paperwork, the class progressions, the business of ballet. It awakened my dance spirit, and allowed me into a world where I speak the language. It was a beautiful moment that I never wanted to end. (And in case you were wondering, my sister was beautiful in the performance, and I’m ever grateful to 127th Street Dance for giving her that opportunity.)

If Spirito comes anywhere near you, it’s not something you want to miss. Dancer or not, you’ll leave with a dancer spirit.

~ Nicole Moscou


*Tickets for SPIRITO available at http://www.kpcenter.org/performances/spirito

Performances at Kirkland Performance Center
July 18 & 19, 8PM

The Work-Life-Dance Balance, by Corps de Ballet Dancer Ciara McCormack

I am a person of many passions- I am a dancer, of course, but I am also a writer, a teacher, an administrator, and a business owner. How I find the time to do all of this isn’t the question, because, in all honesty, I don’t. Each week, I spend a combined 55 hours rehearsing, sending e-mails, chasing 3 year olds, doing accounting, demonstrating proper posture, filing papers, and (every once in awhile) writing articles.

Yet, each job I do could easily be a full-time job, and each additional commitment steals time from the others, making it impossible to do each job to my full potential. On top of the stress of having a busy schedule, it’s stressful to know there’s more I could be doing for each occupation. I could be stretching and going over my choreography more at home, spending more time on lesson plans and curriculum research, or putting more effort into my business accounting and marketing…

So, why is it that I am still taking on new projects- applying for new jobs, saying yes to extra tasks at work, adding more shows to my calendar?

1. Because I’m still testing the balance point between all of these roles- I love working with little people in the classroom just as much as letting my body free in the studio and feeling the satisfaction of checking something off of a to-do list. I can’t eliminate any one of them, but I can continue to re-adjust the ratio- taking on more classes at the expense of a couple hours at my day job, adding rehearsals at the expense of frequently reviewing local performances. If a change doesn’t work, I can always try a new one.

2. Because I know what I want to be when I grow up. Eventually, I tell myself, I will be in charge of an arts-education non-profit that connects professional dancers to schools through long-term residencies. My purpose now, early in my career, is to say yes to everything that will contribute skills, knowledge, and experience to make that goal successful.

Beyond work, there is the job of having a personal life- having a relationship, allowing time for relaxation, celebrating and enjoying the company of people outside your home and office. After that, I do my best to sleep and do my chores, but learning how to truly balance that part of life with the rest of it- well… that’s the hard part. 

6 Steps to Overcoming Adversity in your Training, by Corps de Ballet Dancer Tira Sweet

The last couple of years, both in and out of the studio, have been filled with great triumph and even greater adversity. As a dancer, it is common to hear how much work you have left to do; your pelvis isn’t neutral, you aren’t pulling up enough, you could be using more rotation. You’ve heard many of these corrections and more over the years, but how do you process them when you’ve fought so hard and fallen short? 

1. First thing is first, stop beating yourself up. It is natural to make mistakes, even as you’re learning. Oftentimes dancers hear a correction and think that everything they’re doing is wrong, despite vast attempts at fixing the problem. Technical strength is a process. Some things go right, and other things go wrong. 

2. You’ll never be “perfect”...and that’s okay. A wise man once said to me “Once you’ve reached perfection, you might as well be dead. We all make mistakes until the day we die.” Not to be overly morbid, but I think he has a point. We’ll always make mistakes, it’s human nature, but what matters is what you learn from them.

3.   If you’re willing to put in the time and effort that it takes, your greatest weakness can become your greatest strength. Work hard, be specific, focus on refining your craft. Just don’t obsess over it. Often you’ll find that once you’ve worked on that area enough, you gain confidence in showing off the progress that you’ve made.

4. Take time to appreciate your strengths. It’s not being vain or narcissistic, you’re just giving yourself a confidence boost. Telling yourself what you perceive to be a strength can help you avoid focusing on the negative.

5. Take pride in being a PERPETUAL student. I don’t mean for this to sound daunting, but we will always be students of some sort. Regardless of whether you’re enrolled in a school program or not, the universe will always have something to teach you. Be patient, as these can be applied to your training.

6. Surround yourself with people who support you. Find a “safe haven” so to speak, where you are pushed to work hard, but can let your guard down while doing so. This allows for more progress, when you’re not stressed out about it all the time. Gather with people who will help you recognize your strengths, and help you with the hard stuff. Simple words of affirmation can go a long way.

For me, my safe haven is here at 127th Street. I am pushed to excel not only by myself but by all of the company members. I am continually inspired by each one to better myself as a dancer and as a person. Thank you.  

Photos by Vycktoryja Selves

Home Away From Home

Home Away From Home

By Scotty Flores

I miss my family. I miss being within 5 minutes of my friends. I miss chasing after my neurotic puppy whose fur you can find on every couch, rug and sock.  I don’t miss the triple digit heat. I miss driving alone with my parents and our long talks that keep us up past 2am. I miss cobalt blue glass in every corner of the house and the sound of a million keys jingling coming home from work.

Moving to Seattle to pursue dance has to be one of my best decisions to date. However, being far from home is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. This will be my first summer away from home after a spring semester. I won’t be able to visit until December, that’ll be nearly a year away from my loved ones. As much as I love where I am and what I’m doing, I still get homesick.

I’ve made enormous strides in my time studying, training and living in Seattle the past two years. Looking back at my progression stuns me quite a bit. Two years. And look where I am now. I still have a long way to go, of course, but a lot has happened. A lot of the time I wish I could run to my friends and family to share the joys and pains I’ve encountered these past two years. It’s been quite hard adjusting my life to an entirely new place where I knew absolutely no one.

Seven months ago I auditioned for 127^th St. Dance Co and little did I know how dear to my heart they would become. Within my first rehearsal as a company member tears were shed with one another while working on a new piece. I’m pretty sure about ninety percent of those tears came from me. Those first five hours with the company were physically, emotionally and mentally draining. I loved every second of it. It didn’t take to long to find sanctuary with the 127^th.  

We are all working towards the same goals and want each other to succeed. We push one another other to improve, exceed and shine. We hug, we laugh, we cry and lean on each other. We share a passion for something far beyond movement. 127^th St. Dance Co. has been my safe haven. The company is my family. They’re my best friends.  

Although my heart aches from time to time, I am reminded constantly how blessed I have been these last two years. The opportunity, love and lessons I’ve leaned with 127^th have become priceless moments of my life I will forever value. This makes it all worthwhile. Being far from home hurts, but because of what I am doing, I know I’m in the right place and on the right path.

“Missing is just a part of moving on.” –Unknown

Soloist Renado Tozer on Gymnastics and Dance

Gymnastics holds a huge place in my heart. I was basically raised in a gym, with the taste of chalk in the air and the soft eight inch foam mat below my feet. Gymnastics is a sport that tests the limits of human strength, flexibility, and movement. 

After 12+ years of it, I had to part ways with it due to the strain I put on my body. Fortunately, dance became a wonderful outlet for me, and even better, I didn't have to give up my gymnastics skill set! That's right, I found what is called Acro Dance, and fell in love! Acrobatics adds a layer of gymnastic technical skill (a little flash and thrill) on top of dance skills.  

It is a subset of dance that many dance schools may not teach because most dance studios don't have the necessary equipment for acrobats to practice with. Dance wise, acrobatic performers, for the most part, do not attempt to represent the emotion of a piece of music, however, if you know me at all, I'm a FEELER.

Post by 127th St. Dance, llc.

Come see me and the rest of the company in action July 18-19th at the Kirkland Performance Center!

Renado Tozer, 
Soloist, 127th St. Dance Company

A note on motherhood from the Director

I am a mother. I am an artist. I am a woman. I wear my baby.
It is a sad assumption that mothers cannot have careers in the professional dance world.
I am doing it.
I have been an artist since birth. In its many incarnations, my art has seen the world of the two-dimensional and the multidimensional. In my mid-twenties, after a lifetime of dance and visual arts training, my life felt rested in the art of dance and choreography. I planned to be a professional dancer, briefly forgetting the root of my passion, which was always choreography. For me, it is creation that fills my soul. I didn't know how true that was until I created a human being. After the traumatic birth of my son, Oliver, my body could no longer perform as it once did. But I could still create dance. There's nothing like giving birth to give life and flow to creative juices. I launched 127th St. Dance Company in 2010, at age 33, when my son was a few months old. I was one hundred percent committed to this new life that I knew came to me, choosing me. And I was one hundred percent committed to following my calling as a choreographer. I knew I could do both and I could do both at the same time. My son attended rehearsals, strapped to me in the Ergobaby as I was steadfast in my attachment parenting philosophy. I did not want to leave my nursling, nor give up my career. I knew I had much to say as an artist and I knew I could do it with my baby in tow. So we danced. I taught choreography, managed a fledgling company's dancers, choreographers, finances, insurance, fees of all kinds. I wore my baby until he had weaned himself to only a few feedings a day.

Rehearsing WEEDS March 2013

Rehearsing WEEDS February 2013

By the time I became pregnant with my second child, 127th St. Dance was a well-established and baby-friendly company. I gave birth seven days after one of our performances and a month and half before another. I knew I had to get back into rehearsals as soon as possible and had little time to recover. With physical therapy and armed with our Ergobaby, I went into my first rehearsal three and half weeks postpartum. I was exhausted, but I did it! A few, short weeks later, 127th St. Dance Company performed Spirito, a piece inspired by the traumatic birth of my son.

Still of Spirito, performed at Bastyr University with Penny Simkin.

For a while, I told myself that I had to do this for my children, that I had to teach them that they could do anything. I thought I was fighting to make sure they knew that they could follow their dreams. As I get older, I am realizing that I've missed the point. They are here to show me that I can do it all. I can have all of my loves in one place. I can create these beautiful children and I don't have to leave them behind to create my life's work. I am humbled by the work these two young people have done for me.
Gratefully theirs, b

3 and half months postpartum

3 and half months postpartum

Short Reflection from soloist Emily Lubinski

I am a full time teaching artist in Seattle and professional dancer with the dynamic, unique company that is 127th St. Dance.  I direct a high school dance program, teach at a University ballet studio, and instruct a ballet and pointe program at a competitive dance studio.  As a teaching artist, I'm so often alone in the studio with my art and my choreography, and as a dancer I am often challenged so much physically that one can feel very raw when the music ends.  127th St. Dance is a beautiful, hauntingly emotional, daring company of brilliant choreographers and dancers, but it's more than any dance company I've known - it's a home.  We truly are a family.  We not only love our art and our profession, but each other.  127th St. Dance brings that sense of unity and belonging to each of us in the company, and to everyone for whom we perform.  To me, 127th St. Dance means so much more than a company, an art form, or a job - it is truly, at its core, the human experience.

~ Emily Lubinski
127th St. Dance Company, soloist

COUNTDOWN TO IGNITION…

            Saturday. Bastille Day. Seven days to the show. Studio ‘H’ on the fourth floor of the Center House. For those of you who have never been to the fourth floor of the Center House, it looks like a subway service tunnel. Or a forgotten hallway at Costco, bricked up to keep the ghosts inside. Beautiful things happen here. We open the velvet curtains and Cajun music fills the open windows from the stage outside. Sliding accordions and a gravel voice singing about the good-old-boy-life. No one cares. We joke about it a little then the 127^th team goes to work.

Today is the quartet. Dana, Gabrielle, Annie and Kat with Rochelle giving instruction. The company in full will rehearse through the week, taking only one day off to rest. They run it over and over. A beautiful piece where one dancer is surrounded by the three, who move on and off stage like specters haunting her. She dances alternately free then guarded, proportionate to the nearness or distance of the three.

By the third or fourth run through I am crying, hiding my face because the one dancer is me, in the cobwebbed back-halls of the mind. Being hunted by the ghosts of thought and memory. Not the good thoughts, no, nor the happy memories. The good thoughts never come to comfort us of their own free will. The failures, the disappointments, the harsh words spoken unjustly, the hurts given and received out of ignorance or malice. These are the thoughts that come and go as they please. Our daily companions, our ghosts. Sometimes we are good, sometimes we are lights against the coming darkness. Sometimes we are torn down by the weight of our own being.

Monday. Five days to the show. Return to studio ‘H’. Today they will run through the entire rep. It is quiet outside. I sit under the windows, the somewhat summer breeze on my neck and the salt smell of the ocean.

The dancers prepare. Stretch and stow their gear, chatting about body types. Their medium. They start showing off their bruises. Laughing and smiling, they are proud of them: big powder burn bruises. They begin. Five days to the show to do list:

1)      Arch the back

2)      Elevate the head

3)      Keep your chin up

4)      Timing on the jumps

5)      Watch the kicks (Julian almost caught one…)

6)      Maintain center stage

7)      Buoyancy in the last shape of the drum piece

8)      Breathe, eat, sleep like a stone

9)      Rinse and repeat

The dancers know what to do. The choreographers know what they want. Time to tighten the screws. Hit the highs and lift the lows. It takes a village and this work is their baby.

            For all its emotional content and focus on physical expression, much of dance is in the numbers. I saw finger snapping for the first time today, counting the pace of a walk across the stage. One two three four, one two three four. Although they talk about counts often, watching 127^th Street rehearse, it is easy to forget the one two three fours. They pick up new moves after one showing. Instruction is taken without hesitation or complaint, integrated and rehearsal moves forward. I wish I could memorize verse so quickly and accurately. Point of fact: every instance where they worked the counts today, the dancers got it the first time through. I never saw them go over the counts on the same sequence twice. It amazes me every time.

There are so many elements to align: the many dancers, their positions, their shapes on the stage. All those arms and legs, each with correct and incorrect positions. The dancers get direction like, “Your reach has to come from a place of resistance, not a place of force.” “I want the feeling like you are going to jump right off the stage. But you won’t.” That gets a laugh. And my favorite, “Drop your heart and pick it up again.” Dana holding a pose on her toes for so long she asks, “Am I still up here?”

            Dinner hour comes and goes. Cocktail hour too. They work straight through. This is what it’s all about, pushing through dinner to get one phrase. Sometimes it helps to feel the hunger. There is joy here. There are few rushes Mountain Dew doesn’t market that match the rush of creation when you are getting it right. When the elements fall into place and there is a sense of the inevitable and the new coming together at once. Crackers, peanuts, bottled water: a dancer’s work-time fare. When they get a moment the dancers grab a bite and come back to the floor chewing. Through it all they smile, they play off one another to maintain focus, balance and synchronicity. It is a beautiful thing to see. One of the few times I regret my craft is a solitary one.

            It is five days to the show. Emotions run high. This is a good thing. Difficult but useful. The dancers must embody each piece. Take experience from their off stage lives and use it to give an ‘intuitive emotional life’ to their art. The choreographers ask, “What is bringing you into this piece?” In the months preceding the show the dancers have endured two deaths, stitches, trouble at home at the day job and this is just what they talk about. There is more (life off stage continues to swirl like autumn leaves in a storm wind) but I don’t pry. They are dancers, it comes through their bodies when they move: those ghosts that haunt the dark hallways of the heart and mind. Universal yet appearing with infinite variation. The ten-thousand little things ancient Chinese poets claimed comprised our lives. It never ends, this battle for sovereignty of the body and soul. The story of the dancer and the three ghosts lives within us all. Stand tall. Turn into it, own it and know that you are loved. Be the dancer and the ghost, the flower and the fist. Say, “Yes, this is the energy I bring with me everyplace. How are you?” Anything less, let’s be honest, would be a bit dull. As Bukowski once wrote,

           

some people never go crazy

            what truly horrible lives they must lead

Knock em dead ladies and gentlemen of 127^th. I believe in you.  

An Outsider’s Look into Dance: The Language of the Body, Part 2, by Joe Pierangeli

…let it be beautiful as it may, but get

at least a little meaning in,

this not-much for which we always settle.

            -Hayden Carruth

           

As darkness steals the world from the window frames and the rain continues to fall and the cold refuses to let go, rehearsal enters its third hour. These are the moments no one gets to see. The sweat and the agony. Skin makes a much sharper squeak against the hardwood than socks do. After three hours you begin to empathize. Rehearsal is slated to run four hours tonight.

Hemingway was once challenged to write a short story in only six words. This is what he wrote, “For sale: baby shoes, never used.” The point was to see how much content he could squeeze into a space too small to contain it. Every medium has its physical and conceptual limitations. These must be overcome. Artistic creativity is capped only by the scope of the artist’s imagination. This must be contained. Here are the parameters. I am your audience. Reach me. Make me feel.

The body’s relationship to space is defined by movement. The stage is inherently a limited space. I watch the choreographers pace the boards, hand on hip, pencils twisting up their hair. They lead the dance then watch. Stop the music, give direction, start the music, lead the dance and watch again. They run through the same pieces over and over and over. Measuring space. Pacing the movements. There is no magic formula. No epiphanic moments. Just hard work, dedication and love for the craft and for the form.

 Watching a dance rehearsal is like watching a sculptor work. Only the body is far more fluid than stone or metal. The choreographer shapes it, finds the angles, the posture, the motions that unite them, and the dancers make it breathe. A collaboration the old masters must have envied. Imagine Rodin telling ‘The Thinker’ to change hands. Just to see how it looks. Then change back.

Would it matter if ‘The Thinker’ rested his chin on the left hand versus the right? Rodin thought so. They say 90% of communication is body language. Dancers just throw out the leftover ten. I suppose it’s up to the individual. But the next time you are introduced to someone, try to shake their left hand.

There is an essential disconnect in the artist/audience relationship. Actually there are two. The first is in the transposition of content from the artist’s mind to their medium, be it dance, literature, painting, sculpture. The second exists between the medium and the audience. It is in these disconnects that the challenge, the trick, the terror and the joy of art dwell. They are the birthplace of symbolism. They are why critics have jobs. They are why no love poem now or ever has said ‘I love you’ twelve lines in a row then ended. To tell your sweetheart how you feel, one must talk about everything except love. Only then will your feelings translate. Don’t say I love you, rather say, “…I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have laid my dreams beneath your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.”

This is all the more true in the case of dance. How would one communicate the frenetic air of a wedding party? The sadness of a funeral, using only the body? Try it. Write a love poem. Choreograph a dance. Then ask again whether or not the right hand versus the left matters.

At one point during Barbara’s piece a dancer asked, “Where are the arms on this?” She held them out, one to each side and I thought, why is she asking? There they are, right there, what’s the problem? She was asking: are the elbows straight or bent? Held firmly or soft?

Each audience member brings their own imagery, their own back story. This is one of the great gifts and challenges of art. Enter essential disconnect #2.

For me, when her arms were bent I saw a tree branch, something soft, pliable, something that sways with the wind. When they were straight I saw a steel beam, rib of the skyscraper, post and lintel, something strong upon which lesser objects stand. Barbara answered that she wanted the elbows bent and relaxed. But what I remember most is that the wrists were to be bent also, held softly and when she showed Barbara her interpretation of this, the dancer held her hand just so, and the wrist was there, at such an angle, that it looked just like the hand of Michelangelo’s Adam, on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, reaching for the hand of the creator. Amen.

An Outsider’s Look into Dance: The Language of the Body, Part 1 by: Joe Pierangeli

We flipped on the light and opened the curtains. The windows looked out on the clouds and the moving trees. We swept the floor while the dancers filed in. They began their warm up. Fascinating, the movements of a dancer. Not just in the act of their art, but in mundane every day things. Walking across the room. That last sip of water. Changing a pair of socks. There is a vitality, an awareness of motion lacking in the average man, the average woman. It is more than the interplay of muscle and bone and the angle of the sidewalk. There is intention. There is grace.

            Dancers talk with their bodies. In plain conversation. Telling, perhaps, a story from the work week, or where they ate dinner last night, the toe will tap this way or that to emphasize specific points. A flourish of the hand. A sudden change of stance. It comes naturally to them, like fingers touching the chin of a poet in thought. Or an astrophysicist walking past his front door. This was my introduction to the language of dance.

            Rehearsal started when the iPod dock came out. This particular dock cycles through the colors of the rainbow while playing. Music and the body are the only tools a dancer needs to create their art. And sometimes they don’t need the music.

            “How do they remember all that?” I asked Barbara Caioli, choreographer and artistic director, in reference to a staccato list of instructions from resident choreographer Rochelle Rapaszky to her dancers as the music blared.

            “Your body remembers.” She said. “You use your brain until the body takes over.”

            It must hurt to slam your feet and knees and elbows on the hard stage over and over. One dancer wore a wrist brace and I thought about that until they started dancing. As a writer, I couldn’t help but try to quantify how many words are contained within a single movement. Take for example, hands clutching the throat that certain way, or falling prone to the floor. The body is more than a means of conveyance from birth to death, a biological system that once wound down can never be started up again. The body is a tool of expression, a voice, common to all cultures, all languages, yet owing to none. As their movements flowed from one to the next like rhyme, the choreographers spoke about projecting emotion to inform the movements and determining focus to bring the steps to life. This is the content of dance. The language of the body.

it's not brave if you're not scared

Choosing to move space, to shape it according to a specific vision is no simple task.  Beyond the choreographer's vision, there needs to be a willingness of spirit and vulnerability from the dancers. 

A rehearsal room is filled with creativity, sweat, some blood, hormones, and a breath of anticipation and exhaustion like in no other place.  A synchronic rise and fall of breath is key to a successful rehearsal and, ultimately, to a successful show. 

Choreographer and dancers need to work collectively and begin each moment with a renewed sense of curiosity for what will next occur in the process.

Love to all creators of movement.