Body Talks (Mind, Bodies & Thoughts)

Baile! Baile! Ballet!

Fun is not really what comes to mind when I think about Ballet. Aesthetic, grace, control, technical, structure, allure, pattern are words that I’ll associate to the form generally. So is it surprising then my first ever Ballet class gave me so much joy? Yes…But no.

Let’s be honest: within the first few minutes of the class’s begining, I was totally out of my depth. Struggling with counting and the order in which port-de-bras and plie were coming one after the other. Half of the time, my head was slightly bent towards the trained feet of the class mate in front of me, trying to grasp a basic understanding for each task thrown at us in one blink!?

In case I haven’t made myself 180% clear, it was a tough class! And a tough one to choose when never having done Ballet before. Indeed it was tough…And liberating at the same time, therefore I found it Fun.

As a self-trained dancer, I’ve always struggled greatly with technical contemporary dance classes. They often gave me a starting point to explore my own moving style but I was never being able to engage fully with the process behind the delivery. I also have an issue with the way its teaching creates limitations within the dancer’s body by confining the engine within a world of patterns, lines, linearity. I see dance – or shall I say the act of dancing? – as much a communication’s medium that can serves the composer’s purpose(s) as an art itself which can (ab-)use and/or canonize the body. Contemporary dance, to me, is then rather frustrating as it doesn’t seem to allow this kind of versatility unless you relegate technique back to the bowels of the Earth*.

In that sense, I should have been terrified by the idea of starting Ballet. Instead I was very eager to find myself in a structured position. I wasn’t worried about looking good. Neither I was worried about getting it absolutely right. All I cared about was whether I’d be able to go through the “ordeal”. Surprisingly my body didn’t fight it. In fact, it adapted itself much better than I’d have imagined. Of course, my port-de-bras was asymetrical and my plie a bit of a zig-zag style! But how these imprefections could matter when my physicality was given a lease of life within the strict conventions of such an old form?

I have no idea what learning Ballet will bring to my practice, let alone to my process when making performances. Perhaps, at this stage the point is elsewhere and all I should care about is the experience, not the end result. At least, for now.

* Directly borrowed from M. Bulgakov’s Notebook.

Donc Je Suis Malheureux?

Came across, this morning, a quote from French symbolist poet, Jules Laforgue. Borrowed by Gertrude Stein – or maybe the publisher – it cleverly introduces the reader to the atmopshere of Three Lives, before having reached the novel’s first line. I didn’t pay much attention to the quote at first although I thought there’s something beautiful about it. After reading a few pages, I went back to the quote and it hasn’t left my mind since then.

I’m not sure why it’s resonated so strongly but its ambiguity is fascinating me. Laforgue’s quote is very simple, easy to understand but yet very complex. Depending on one’s mood, the time of day, the season or the type of weather, it can be interpreted in different ways. Not as witty as Oscar Wilde’s, there’s something quite light-hearted about it, ironic even. despite declaring officially his unhappy state, the author seems to celebrate it. It is poignant. As poignant as reverse optimism can unexpectedly be!

It was sunny today and I was feeling quite inspired by the place I was having a coffee in. Still the quote’s meaning gave me something to reflect on: was that nostalgia? Was that acceptance? I don’t really know but I like the fact it gave me hope. After all, ce n’est pas ma faute ni celle de la vie…

Worries of the Day

The closer you get to that point of feeling ready to make work again, the scarier it gets, I find…And today, is no exception. Some Soul music is on in the background with dozens of questions running through my veins:

– Where do I start? How do I start?

– What will it be about? Is it about the process? Is it about the end result? Is it about research on a long-term project? Is it about getting back on a saddle?

– Is it personal? Does it have to be personal? Do I want to make it personal? Do I have issues to address?

– What do I want from the piece? Do I want it to be a piece or some work in progress? Do I need to worry about that just yet?

– Can this new work be challenging to me: in its process, duration or execution?

– Can its approach remain organic all the way through?

– Can I find the right balance between reading, thinking & making?

– Can I find the right balance between planning & making?

– Will I be able to control the pressure?

– Is it too early to think about the practicalities?

– What about the audience? What about my relationship to them? Will it be (again) about spectatorship?

– Theatricality or live Physicality?

– Am i already putting barriers before even starting? Do I have reasons to worry?

Maybe worrying is a good thing. Maybe it’s a (good) sign I know the kind of relationship I’ve got with my work, and with my practice in general. Maybe, it’s a (good) sign I’d like to take my practice/work to a next level?

Maybe I shall keep these questions as a premilinary point of reference to go back to when I’ll face my first researching day on this new project.

Dress(es)

Presumably there’s nothing wrong buying a dress. After all, it could be for any occasions and mine was perfectly understandable: I’m a performer; I love Burlesque; I have a (current) fixation on dresses. So What’s the problem? Or – shall I say – why do I have a problem with wearing dresses?

Well, I didn’t. It seemed to have happened suddenly last weekend when I decided to check a few dresses I keep seeing in that shop on Oxford Street. I was very excited with the idea of trying on these dresses, thinking there’s something to do with them. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm died as soon as I tried the first one on. I felt so awkward – just to put it mildly – to the point of freaking out!

Nearly a week has passed and I still can’t get over the fact I was denied the right to wear a dress. Who denied me that right? That’s the question I’m still trying to answer. What is certain is that feeling awkward in a dress started to make me wonder about my relation with my body but also with my masculinity: Was that the reason why I freaked out? Because I felt totally out of place, looking more manly than I actually am? Was I worried about not being in tune with my (performing) body anymore? Or was that simply the fact I went for the obvious? Choosing a dress that doesn’t give any room for ambiguity of gender or physical diversity?

What concerned me, besides the shallow fact that I truly looked awful – and perhaps more awful than any FDQ wannabe – is the social archetypes our society is still living on. Maybe shall I say: the social archetypes our (western) society is going back to? Perhaps that’s just my interpretation, amidst an uncontrollable moment of panic, but it seems that dresses are meant, and only meant, for women. And for a sole purpose of feeling sexy. Therefore, as a man wearing a dress – regardless his sexual orientation – the logic is he’s becoming womanly. What does it leave me to work with then if I only see a dress as a clothing item, dissociated from its gender connotation? What else does it say if I decide to ignore the dress’s sociological representation?

As I keep thinking over and over about these particular dresses and how they failed to tame my masculinity, I’ve started to regret the experience. Maybe I went to the wrong place? Maybe I chose the wrong item? After all not all dresses are designed to create the obvious stereotypes you can associate to femininity. Maybe I was too presomptuous thinking I would look “cool” in a dress just because I’m interested in defying my own gender?

And now, I’m stuck!…(tbc)

Art Everywhere (I’m in a foul mood)

If there’s an unsaid rule about blogging that we all should apply, with no exception, not rushing a post will be this one. And guess what? That’s exactly what I’m about to do! If not with my thoughts, at least in style…Why? because I’m in a foul mood!?

Let me take you back to the early beginning of my day:

I’ve started it with a clear plan in my head. Full of enthusiasm. Full of confidence. Full of determination…After all, I had 3 good days in a row – on the first 2 days, I was at a steady pace with my (preparation) phase for a potential project I’ve agreed to coordinate in principle while the 3rd day was some good old fun R&D that I haven’t done for years as an actor (more on that soon). So yesterday should have gone as right, right? Of course not…

Being in a foul mood, it’d be sensible to put the blame on these die-hard distractions that make you lose track of time – and their contribution was quite noticeable – but the main reason why this day didn’t go as planned was purely down to my state of mind. My body & soul seemed to be in need of a relaxing day; instead I let my rigidity do the talking, being adamant to stick to my week plan…How little I remembered a tired soul is stronger than a wise mind. I ended up ranting all day: on Twitter, on Facebook, on Messenger…

Ah! The joy of ranting…Think I wasn’t the only one “whingeing” about ‘Art Everywhere’…Saw some feisty comments for and against this “cute” initiative. Personally, I don’t get it: everything about it seems wrong from its title to its format of execution. Branding such initiative ‘Art Everywhere” is not only corny but plain stupid.

Since when do you need 22, 000 billboards showing 57 carefully selected masterpieces by a sample of the general public to tell you can easily access (visual) art? Quite frankly it only perpuates the dated notion than (visual) art is elitist and excluding most of the general public…Then what to make of the graphics, art work for music albums, video art pieces displayed in some shops on Oxford Street? Most importantly what to make of numerous pieces of (visual) art in local galleries in which you can enter, without spending a dime? Obviously, I’m missing a trick here because I’m an artist. And, as one peep on twitter (un-)cleverly stated artists ‘are irrelevant noawadays & have failed to’ engage…I forgot, as an artist I’m meant to make art for myself not to be viewed by an audience!? And of course I see Performance Art as being part of the gang!?

Perhaps I’d be more inclined to see a good side to this gimmick if the chosen art works were to be displayed as it is in the Gallery, and not being reproduced to fit a billboard…What sort of message does this convey? What sort of experience a viewer is meant to get? – Thinking about the twitter peep’s arguments, he was boasting himself about the fact the “common folk” (his words not mine) preferred The Beatles over your pretentious b******** (my assumption not his). Yet, the art work for the Beatles’s classic album was made by an artist…And to add a bit of spice to the irony, a few of these soon-to-be national treasures’s authors had once shaken both art & mainstream worlds for not being “viewer-friendly”.

What will be Art Everywhere’s legacy then? Did I say I was in a foul mood?