The Last of Autumn

I like the word Autumn better than the word Fall, but I use them both to describe different aspects of the season. Autumn sounds softer on the tongue, so it makes me think of warm hued trees bathing in October sunlight as the sun cuts a lower path across the sky. It is still and reflective, peaceful with a hint of melancholy.

I am more observant in Autumn, more in the present moment because, unlike summer, the trees and sky change almost daily, the colours go from firey to dull in a matter of days. The sky sings out in a brilliant blue then descends into steel grey in less than an hour. The morning light is different than the evening light. Each tree takes its turn in the spotlight before they are all reduced to their bone structure. If you're too busy driving to work or doing the laundry or--typing on your blog--you can miss it.

 But then Fall, to me, is the final phase. When the wind blows and strips the leaves. When winter becomes more present, and the colours begin their fade to monochrome.

 Nothing gold can stay as the saying goes. But everything that leaves returns again in another form. I enjoy the ephemeral beauty, the fleeting hues, and one way or another I process it and turn it into something new.

Come Together

Among the many stereotypes that exist about artists, there is the one that says they are difficult, moody, and temperamental. So under that premise the idea of a collaboration between artists in various fields and their art forms would sound like a recipe for disaster. Many artists like to cling to their purity of vision and non-compromise, but if you have ever watched a director's cut of a classic film and wished he/she had left well enough alone without that extra 23 minutes and alternate ending, well......
    To be honest, in the performing arts there is more necessity for collaboration. You've got actors, dancers, directors, choreographers, lighting designers, set designers, script writers, composers, and costume designers, all contributing to the final product. It creates an exciting energy whereby plenty of individual egos exist, but the final result is what is important. Some artists become more important than their work, so that even a crappy Picasso sells because it's....a Picasso, rather than being evaluated on its merit alone. But I digress. I'm just writing today to bask in the afterglow of collaboration. Flatlands Dance Theatre's concert, "Collide", paired up choreographers with artists in various fields: film, music, lighting, painting, acting, and sculpture, to allow each discipline to enhance and compliment each other. And I never saw a flash of temperament or a tantrum anywhere near.

I, myself, worked with visual artist, Carol Flueckiger,

and inspired by the themes of her paintings and prints, plus their color and mood, I saw a dance in my mind that played off her ideas of clothing and its' creation, along with the history of a garment and its life cycle/recycle. (I came up with the title, "Thrift Store Blues", almost immediately, rather than the usual endless search for just the right words, that often finally coalesces at 3:00 a.m. during a bout of insomnia). We had to make decisions as to which images to use with which section of the dance, and how many to use without the dancers and the images fighting for the audiences' attention.

My solitary work had happened months ago when I first selected music and then flailed around my house coming up with movement ideas. From there I was collaborating first with my dancers, then with Carol, and finally with the lighting designer and the projectionist. In that sort of situation almost everything is adaptable. I once dropped an entire chunk of choreography from a dance, three minutes worth, because I realized right before the concert, that it did not belong. I've changed dance movements for dancers, if they were struggling to do them and I knew I could give them a simpler step that would make them look better onstage. Compromise does not always dilute a work. Sometimes it is necessary.

In the end, the audience is twice the winner. The artists learn about each others disciplines, and all receive the exposure that art needs. I won't say my ego has never been bruised, and I haven't yet read the critic's review of this concert, but I feel satisfied with a very successful collaboration, and a need to do it again.