#theresponsedancesociety

Written by Artistic Director, Amber Funk Barton 

Each time I set out to create a dance work, and in this case a full-length contemporary dance production, the task becomes easier and harder.  Easier because I have a felt sense of a logistical timeline.  I know the bits and pieces I have to bring together. I can easily create a trajectory based on my previous experience(s).  I have a sense of how long it takes me to create 60 minutes of movement and I have a reoccurring team of collaborators which also adds a certain amount of ease.

But every new work, it also gets harder.  The more experience you have, the more knowledge you accumulate.  And thus, I find myself at times becoming overwhelmed by all the creative options I could and can choose.  

I think one of the most challenging aspects of being an artist in any medium is holding on to what you truly want to make.  Not what will be critically received. Not what you know is trending.  Not what you know will tick all the boxes.  It’s easier said than done.  Through osmosis and the ether of sharing via technology and the internet it’s impossible to not have our aesthetic and/or choices influenced.  

What gives me comfort is remembering that everything has been done.  I’m not exactly a unicorn and I’m not re-inventing the wheel, so let’s just take that off the table immediately.  What does keep me going is remembering that it is the way I put together all my influences that allows my work to have a place and hopefully resonate with an audience.  

Take my current interest and subject matter: How to Say Goodbye, the current title of a new full length work I want to make.  Every time I read the title or say it out loud, I immediately think of a cinematic parting at an airport.  I think of a couple breaking up.  I probably think of everything in a romantic context that you might be thinking of yourself as you read the title.  How do I possibly make a work about this without getting too sentimental and better yet, how do I even make this work at all? 

Have I set myself up for failure?

The other thing I like to think about at times like these is that creating a 60-minute work is, I think, one of the most challenging things we can attempt to create in our profession.  Failure seems to be inherent in the task.  Maybe that’s why I keep going back to it.  I like the idea that it will never be perfect. Somehow, that idea takes the pressure off for me as well.

It was also my first time going back into the studio with dancers for my company in almost five years. The past couple of years I’ve been focusing on developing my solo work so being in the space with dancers again was such a treat.  I invited three dancers and as of now I have decided I am not going to be one of them.

It is amazing though, how I still need to dance with them to figure it out; to figure out what I want them to do, to be able to explain as clearly as I possibly can where the motivation of the movement is coming from.  I need to feel it in my body.  My dancers for this process had the patience of saints.  This is quite possibly one of the greatest gifts a choreographer can receive.

Prior to being in the studio, I had many discussions and my own process with composer Marc Stewart to develop the sound of this work.  This is the first time I have collaborated with Marc from the inception of a new work, so to be able to work with sound samples immediately was such a great experience, not to mention the ability to have Marc receive notes and develop the samples as we worked over a period of two weeks was very cool.  

Although I typically ‘workshop’ movement at the beginning of a new creation, this is the first time I have committed to a period of research.  In the past, driven by ambition and timelines, the end goal was always crystal clear.  But now…I’m not sure when it will premiere.  I’m still not sure how many dancers there should be and to be honest, I’m not even sure if it should be a full-length work.  Sometimes I think it should be a film or maybe it’s a book?  I’ve even toyed with the idea that it is a selection of poems that I’ve written.  It was the first time I have felt so much uncertainty during a process which was exciting because it felt like I had committed to working in the present. This is not always a luxury an artist gets to experience.  So, I am very grateful to have experienced a space and time that I know will not last forever.

I like schedules, and To Do Lists and checking off boxes.  I like being organized. I had this idea of what I was going to do and then…for the first time, I trusted myself to just throw it out the window.  One thing I have learned from one of my beloved colleagues is to be stubborn about what I am interested in.  So, I allowed myself to do that.  I just stuck with one phrase and then kept picking at it.

The entire research project lasted about a month.  I spent about two weeks focused on music with Marc and then two weeks on movement with the dancers.  I feel like I barely just scratched the surface of…something.  I feel like I am only on a first name basis with a new friend, but we like each other a lot and we’re looking forward to hanging out again.

Again, I know I’m not reinventing the wheel but that’s okay because it all feels so very rich and terrifying and interesting to me.

Be stubborn. Because honestly, what have you got to lose?

By Maia Gibb

I entered the #dancehappy class with one intention: to move my body and get out of my head. An attempt to reignite some creative fire, which had gotten all muted and clogged up after a summer sitting behind a desk.

I can't lie. It was a struggle to actually show up for #dancehappy.  Joining a dance class involves this whole process of stuffing down my self-conscious bits. I have no trouble signing up, but the self-conscious bits stop me from actually showing up. To dance is to be vulnerable in front of strangers. Which sucks because I so badly want to be a great dancer. I love, love, love watching dance on a stage – but rarely acknowledge the bitter attached to the sweet – a touch of sadness and a hint of regret.  

My parents stopped paying for dance lessons after a ballet teacher told my mom I’d reached the limits of my potential and a future in dance just wasn’t in my cards. After all, dance classes must have a purpose. Which doesn't exist if there isn’t a future. And that future must somehow justify the current expense. Such  Protestant logic. 

Years later when I was in my early twenties, I became totally obsessed with salsa dancing – going out to do it four or five nights a week. The purpose here was a killer cardio workout and a community with a shared love of a good party. As my body and connection to the music grew stronger, so too did a growing sense of power and freedom. Like learning a language, it’s a bit of a struggle to grasp the basics but once that's done,  possibilities to explore subtler nuances – how to play, joke, manipulate even dream in that new language becomes the real payoff. Again, I misinterpreted bumping up against physical and technical limits with failure. Then after a shattering experience with a home invader who’d followed me home from a salsa club one night, I gave up salsa dancing cold turkey. I mourned the hole an absence of dance left in my life until now, twenty-five years later.

I think it was the name, #dancehappy, that warmed me up to the idea of going to a class again after all these years. #dancehappy sounds like a number of things: light-hearted, no barrier invitation to freedom and laughing and moving a body that doesn’t look or feel like it’s danced for a long, long time.  

Turns out I’m totally right. And the other great thing is that Amber leads a class less like a teacher, who will emphasize body position or choreography – and more like a collaborator. Who offers a starter movement, but who then creates a safe, welcoming space to just do whatever wants to happen. She respectfully steps back and observes and somehow intuits what music or exercise will help (or allow) the group to build through exercises designed to warm up our bodies and to free up our minds – giving us permission to explore how we move and how we respond to a pretty rad play list.  For an hour I danced and my body sucked it up like a thirsty plant.

The following Friday, I went to a salsa club.

Dance is powerful medicine.

My name is Maia and I’m a board member of the response.  I joined because although I have absolutely zero talent at dance, watching a great performance speaks a language that my body recognizes. For some experiences words just don’t cut it. Dance makes me feel.

Of course it doesn’t happen every time. My experience on this Board educates me about how many moving parts must somehow magically come together to so clearly convey an experience to an audience that they feel it too.

This is why I’m excited about the piece Amber Funk Barton has been honing with her creative team during her Massey Residency because. Well. I think she might have nailed it.  

This is Amber’s first full-length solo show – so honestly, I had no idea what to expect.

She showed me a video clip just as I’ve been working through a bit of an identity crisis, struggling with the usual existential dialogue: Who am I? What’s not working in my life? Why isn’t it? Maybe because I’m living the wrong one. Fuck. And repeat.

I’m only oversharing because Amber’s piece basically mirrors my entire internal dialogue.

But I also think it might be about an Alien abduction.

The set is sparse and other-worldly.  Just a circle of light, surrounded by darkness and a leaf-shaped light overhead. The music too is mind-bending, rhythmic, trance-like, punctuated by fireworks or sounds that take my mind into a lava lamp.

It seems she is both exploring the range and depth of what it is to be a questioning, searching human at the same time that something external is exploring (or studying) the entire process through her - manipulating her movements and responses.

All in all, I recognize what’s happening on stage as a physical representation of my own struggle and exploration to know myself better. And also of what it might be like to get picked up, dropped on another planet, and worked over by beings who are curious about what makes us all tick.

I’m pretty excited to see this piece performed live – which it will be at The Dance Centre, March 1-3, 2018. Save the date. It’ll be worth it. And if you pull me aside, I’d love to hear what you think and feel about the whole adventure.

Post written by Maia Gibb

Maia Gibb has been a keen board member of the response. for two years. And really digs it when dance ignites her own creative process. She is a fundraiser, storyteller and freelance writer based Vancouver. She tells stories about being a middle-aged mother, wife, dog owner who is always looking for ways to shake up the mundane through her blog, My Resting Bitch Face.

By Kaia Shukin

It’s funny how we self-segregate: there are theatre people who seem to be separate from spoken work people, who are different from opera people, who don’t think they’ll ever like improv.

The dance community in Vancouver is a small, tight one. We all know one another. We go to one another’s shows.

Maybe this is why dance rarely attracts other audiences outside the usual suspects. Many people who don’t usually go to dance shows or who imagine they won’t like it, find buying a ticket too risky.

So they don’t.

Broadening the scope, bringing this art form to those outside the world of dance, is always a challenge.

So the Dance Cafe is a welcome experiment.  With rather exciting results.

We offered our first one on June 3rd at the Gold Saucer (an artists’ co-op that rents space for performances at reasonable rates).

 Our goal was to offer a short, performance-based show. Followed by a party and an opportunity to meet the artists, ask about our process, the choices we made. That sort of thing. The objective of Dance Cafe was to create a very welcoming, casual environment for people to see what dance is about. To ask questions. Break down some barriers.

And it worked!

Maybe it was the free booze. Maybe it was the welcoming, unpretentious vibe (that just seemed to happen organically). But as a dancer, I’ve never felt so comfortable just putting myself out there to try something I’d be too scared to attempt in a more formal setting.

And I had some wonderful conversations with people who’d never seen a dance performance before.

Let us know if this is something you’d like to see more of!

So excited for our inaugural Dance Cafe!  Come check out some sweet moves by an exciting group of Vancouver choreographers and then hang out with us after!

By Kaia Sukin

         This semester I had the opportunity to intern with the response. During this time Amber was creating work on us that would be performed for the Discover Dance series at the Dance Centre on November 24. We had rehearsals almost every morning, with us interns alternating who would be at these rehearsals because all of our schedules managed to conflict in some way and Amber was kind enough to work around us. These morning rehearsals were the highlight of my semester, every day would start off differently but involve music and grooving to warm up as a group and from there we would set to work on learning new choreography or cleaning existing work. The atmosphere was always so positive, all of us happily working toward a shared goal. These mornings really reinforced what I wanted to be doing with my time, energy and body so wholly.

           During this semester we were also given assignments that were to be completed over two weeks and on our own time. I had the opportunity to create a piece on my 3 fellow interns and also learn a solo that Anya choreographed on me. Those two weeks were a fast and loose learning experience. Dealing with frustration, exhaustion, joy and collaboration while trying to meet at odd hours and with whatever time we had each day. I found I really enjoyed creating a piece on three very different bodies and want to dive into that task much more deeply in the future. Learning a solo from Anya was a great experience because we dance together at school and I have had the chance to see her work in the past and have always admired her choreography and was more than happy to try and embody it for this assignment.

           As a group we had the chance to attend the AGM for the response. and learn a little about what is involved in creating an incorporated dance company. As much as I want to be dancing and performing as a learning experience, I do not take for granted how little I know about what it takes to be an entrepreneur and the minutia of administrative details that involves.

           Amber also started #dancehappy this year in which once a month she teaches a free dance at Yaletown Roundhouse and all of the interns assisted in classes. That was just fun. Those classes had every range of age, gender and background and most had little to no dance experience and were just there to learn and have fun. The openness of the attendees was really inspiring and I really liked going to those classes.