May Reflections

There's only one way to describe May: Chaotic

I bounced from rehearsals at Governor's Island for How The Land Lies and then from The Shed, to Eden's Expressway in preparation for our works in process showing for Movement Research at the Judson Church. During difficult rehearsals I marveled at the beauty found in Governor's Island, another gem in the city I had overlooked.

In the learning of this repertoire there was little room for reflection but on my train rides home I thought about the themes of the work and my own fears and anxieties surrounding our ongoing migrant crisis. I received news of the NEA cuts during a warm up and on the ferry ride read panicked texts from friends containing screenshot after screenshot of organizations announcing the upcoming decimation of arts funding in our country.

Now more than ever I feel at a loss of what the future will be like for artists specially younger artists like me who are just starting to peek their heads out into the sun. Or I guess into the stage lights?

My metaphors are not good.

I sketched choreographic trajectories while listening to politicians defend or denounce this Big Disturbing Bill our clown in chief is attempting to push through. A bill that effectively destroys health care and welfare programs for vulnerable people. A bill that if enacted would cripple our judicial system. All so that some rich gargoyles can continue to look down from their perches and grow fatter wallets.

What is the place of art and artists right now?

All I know is that the work of art making must continue and I'm committed to this work. Artists' ability to create new worlds and envision new realities is threatening to this regime and to fascism as a whole. It brings me some petty comfort that every movement phrase, poem, and song is a big middle finger to all of this.

Art as critique and meaning making continues to be powerful in a country where anti-intellectualism, conspiracy theories, Christian Nationalism and blatant fascism is slowly being normalized.

In rehearsals I took time to be present. I laid and felt the marley floors, the wood floors, the grass under my body and took a deep breath. I thought about my piece and wondered at some moments "What's the point?"

Then I snapped out of it.

Artists constantly ask themselves wether what we do is enough or okay. But I'd like to divorce from this sentiment. The wall-street bros, hedge fund guys and finance fiends don't ask themselves these questions.

To Do List:

• Braid hair

• Clean bike

• Buy new bike seat

• Check voter registration

• Buy bike bell

• Coordinate costumes

• Buy a wagon

• Call the Senator's Office

• Books studio space

Am I ok? Am I safe?

A sign that you live in a fascist state is constantly convincing yourself that you're safe

... for now.

"What does it mean to be a 20 something, submitting resumes and writing cover letters at the end of the world?"

I haven't answered this question yet. It all feels so dystopian and surreal. A down hill free fall with no breaks but a smile is required through it all. Currently, Black women have been the hardest hit by unemployment. DEI fear mongering will cost us so much as many talented people are now locked out of the careers they were training for.

I'm curious as to how this will manifest in the arts field. Behind the facade of inclusion and smiling images of black artists plastered all over brochures and social media pages, the staffing in many arts non profits is starkly white.

As the temporary gains of the Civil Rights and Black Lives Matter movements are stamped out by MAGA hysteria, will the arts field capitulate to more conservative trends or will we protect the most vulnerable within the arts sector?

I don't know. I just make dances.

Image Descriptions:

1. Side by side images of beautiful grassy views in Governor's Island. A white building and a yellow house.

2. A photo of Katherine with pursed lips and a questioning expression. She's in front of a white wall with black designs.

3. A sketch of floor trajectories and a tiny bike. Notes scribbled around the page.

4. A view of the lower Manhattan skyline in day time under a bright blue sky.

5. A photo of a stained glass window with blue orange and pink panels.

6. A photo of the bike in its stand set up in the rehearsal studio at The Shed.

7. A screen shot from my Linked In profile featuring the "#OPENTOWORK banner.

8. A video still from rehearsal footage at The Shed featuring Nia Sadler on the left and Esther Nozea on the right. They balance on one leg with their torsos reaching downward as their other leg stretches up and diagonally behind them. I sit on the bike between them.

9. A gif from rehearsal footage at Eden's Expressway. Esther and I move through a phrase. We walk together then slowly dive into a balance on one leg with the other leg extended behind us. Esther melts into a tabletop position.