A great deal has been said about the relationship between the art of dance and the art music.
To me, these two have always been undeniably connected and were never to be separated.
I reckon this has been due to my music background and piano training which co-existed with my dance background and training for a while...
However, fairly recently while taking a course on contemporary choreography, I discovered how easily the music can "make you and break you" at the same time.
Music is an inspiration, but if the movement does not enter into a dialogue with it and merely follows the melody, then the movement can turn into noise that interrupts the music.
What was very interesting to realise was the fact that the first part of my choreography, which was created throughout various pieces of music - drawing inspiration, momentum and feeling from them - which just existed in the background, was [there]; it was [present] and it was [me].
The other half of the choreography was, in fact, me trying to push the movement to reach the end of a music piece or, in this particular case, a song.
I began chasing the music and everything felt uncomfortable, unsuited...
And although I felt I had to push really hard - which is never good advice - I didn't quite know what exactly was going wrong. I mostly thought that I hit a blank wall and was out of "proper" inspiration.
It was only after the unresting eye of my mentor saw it and guided me through and out of this "slavery" to the music that I realised what was really going on.
The beloved music that I so adored had become my "enemy"...
The challenge came a little while later, when after playing other types of music that were seemingly less musically structured - in the pop sense -, it was evident that nothing would work.
So, the next choice was the complete absence of music...Actually, the complete absence of any sound accompanying the choreography.
It was to stand alone in silence and just listen to the movement.
The first couple of times I tried this out were tough.
They were different.
I felt naked and ripped off of my partner in crime - the music and the melody.
But then something wonderful happened; the realisation that music does not need to guide the way. Allowing the movement to do so and removing whatever was burdening it and keeping on the ground is what really made the sequence of movements flow in the piece.
This was something that most of the times happened inherently, but once I got into choreographic my own movement and then choosing my own music it got all mixed up. It was that pressure of trying to reach the end of the music piece instead of forgeting all about that and trying to reach the end of the movement!
That's why this was a valuable lesson to be learned. I had to get it wrong to get it right again.
The pleasure that I got from that piece of choreography - which was also my very first piece of choreographic creation - still cannot be put into words, or notes, or sounds! Because it was pure sensing/touching/feeling..!
A one-on-one conversation with my own bare soul that no longer needed the comfort of music to adorne it.
It was just me and my movement...
[And nothing else mattered...]
That is how I disengaged myself from that "obsessive" relationship with music. Not in the sense that I don't use it, of course.
I still draw inspiration from many different types of music and melodies, but I don't necessarily dance the movement created in a momeent of inspiration while listening to them, to them.
And I still prefer to have music accompanying the movement; just not the other way around..!
And now I do know that silence is good...
To me, these two have always been undeniably connected and were never to be separated.
I reckon this has been due to my music background and piano training which co-existed with my dance background and training for a while...
However, fairly recently while taking a course on contemporary choreography, I discovered how easily the music can "make you and break you" at the same time.
Music is an inspiration, but if the movement does not enter into a dialogue with it and merely follows the melody, then the movement can turn into noise that interrupts the music.
What was very interesting to realise was the fact that the first part of my choreography, which was created throughout various pieces of music - drawing inspiration, momentum and feeling from them - which just existed in the background, was [there]; it was [present] and it was [me].
The other half of the choreography was, in fact, me trying to push the movement to reach the end of a music piece or, in this particular case, a song.
I began chasing the music and everything felt uncomfortable, unsuited...
And although I felt I had to push really hard - which is never good advice - I didn't quite know what exactly was going wrong. I mostly thought that I hit a blank wall and was out of "proper" inspiration.
It was only after the unresting eye of my mentor saw it and guided me through and out of this "slavery" to the music that I realised what was really going on.
The beloved music that I so adored had become my "enemy"...
The challenge came a little while later, when after playing other types of music that were seemingly less musically structured - in the pop sense -, it was evident that nothing would work.
So, the next choice was the complete absence of music...Actually, the complete absence of any sound accompanying the choreography.
It was to stand alone in silence and just listen to the movement.
The first couple of times I tried this out were tough.
They were different.
I felt naked and ripped off of my partner in crime - the music and the melody.
But then something wonderful happened; the realisation that music does not need to guide the way. Allowing the movement to do so and removing whatever was burdening it and keeping on the ground is what really made the sequence of movements flow in the piece.
This was something that most of the times happened inherently, but once I got into choreographic my own movement and then choosing my own music it got all mixed up. It was that pressure of trying to reach the end of the music piece instead of forgeting all about that and trying to reach the end of the movement!
That's why this was a valuable lesson to be learned. I had to get it wrong to get it right again.
The pleasure that I got from that piece of choreography - which was also my very first piece of choreographic creation - still cannot be put into words, or notes, or sounds! Because it was pure sensing/touching/feeling..!
A one-on-one conversation with my own bare soul that no longer needed the comfort of music to adorne it.
It was just me and my movement...
[And nothing else mattered...]
That is how I disengaged myself from that "obsessive" relationship with music. Not in the sense that I don't use it, of course.
I still draw inspiration from many different types of music and melodies, but I don't necessarily dance the movement created in a momeent of inspiration while listening to them, to them.
And I still prefer to have music accompanying the movement; just not the other way around..!
And now I do know that silence is good...
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