Reflection on Excerpts

Something weird happens when you show an excerpt of a piece that is nowhere near completion. It feels so vulnerable and raw. I want to shout "don't look at me my makeup's not done" like a little nervous clown. But excerpts are also extremely useful and can illuminate the future trajectory of a process.

Last year, we showed three excerpts of "Dirty Laundry". The first was in June, right before I left for my La MaMa Italy adventure. We performed a ten minute version for Movement Research at the Judson Church mainly focusing on the opening sequence and some investigations we did that spring. After a music mixup at the sound booth, which led to a nerve wracking but funny gesture exchange that people thought was part of the piece, the lights went down and we heard the now all too familiar starting notes of Leikeli47's song "Money" pulse through the room.

In this version, we focused on gestures I created that physicalize the amorphous and round-about language of the office. My constant struggle with what is being said vs what is being implied. The way that white collar workspaces often circumvent direct communication in favor of jargon, over explaining, and grandstanding to assert power.

We piggybacked off of that, chimed in, looped in, got balls rolling, hit the ground running and more in a maddening dash around the stationary bike. All the while one dancer smiled, nodded and appeased the invisible middle manager, boss, or audience that requires black fems to behave in pre-scripted modes of being.

In August, we performed an excerpt for The Conjure Collective's: Nocturne shared bill. This version explored the pendulum swing of emotions when sending out applications and receiving automated rejection emails. In this version I also played with the idea of the bike as a duet partner, a human and machine contact improvisation of sorts. I navigated the heaviness of the bike, its awkward shape and negotiated what support it needs and gives me in return.

This dance came from an exploration on what happens when the bike finally comes off the stand. Does it become a vehicle or a burden? Can we rid ourselves of the pressures and burn out caused by work or do we carry it with us into future endeavors? An audio describing sleepless nights caused by sunday scaries started us off and eventually Nia emerges from the titular dirty laundry pile which had been missing in the MR@Judson version. The phrase work was a meditation on rejection and the blows to self worth dealt by these increasingly impersonal, sometimes A.I managed, job application review processes.

In December, we performed another short version at The Space at Irondale. We were invited by Monica Bill Barnes and Company to be part of their curated evening of short works and excerpts for The Keen Company Mixtape. This experience was extra special because I have worked with Monica Bill Barnes and Company in different capacities since 2019 either on stage or off stage. It felt like a huge deal to present my work in a program alongside Monica Bill Barnes and Robbie Saenz de Viteri who I look up to and respect in this field. Anyhow let me not get too mushy. I'll leave the rest in draft for a "Reflections on Mentorship" blog lol.

This version featured an interview/conversation between me and Robbie. He called me to ask how work was going and how I felt about the prospect of working like this for the next forty years, a vision I promptly shut down asking that he didn't even put this thought out into the universe. At the end of our conversation I admit "I'm just doing stuff to get paid at this point." A common sentiment specially for young people in the U.S as we're seeing entry level jobs decimated in favor of A.I and other anti human labor practices.

Excerpts are fun because they help me learn what is impactful for audiences. So far the bike as a symbol of work fatigue and stagnation has resonated with audiences. The relay race paired with the sounds of google chats notifications and office jargon create a needed tension for the audience which I hope makes them invested in seeing how the rest of the story unfolds. From the experience of presenting these excepts I also gained important information in regards to pacing for the piece. What scenes could be drawn out or needed to be tightened up. The stage can often be as much of a lab for experimentation as the studio.

I am interested in questioning what are the stakes and what is the challenge for the performer. Physical rigor is not only entertaining but, in the realm of performance, it also brings about empathy for the subject and an emotional investment into the world we are building.

Recently, I saw "The Table" presented by Pink Fang, directed by Mei Ann Teo, choreographed by Erika Chong Shuch and featuring maura nguyễn donohue as the lead performer. This work which also tackles exhaustion, success and defining what is "enough", really moved me in its depiction of this relentless race it feels we are all on these days. It made me reflect on how I define success for myself, the pitfalls of coveting and the way life can just unfold like a tornado of disjointed scenes if we don't stop to be present in the moment. Most of all, maura nguyễn donohue's performance moved me because of it's raw unfiltered depiction of grief. How can pain can drive us to spiral into a maze of anguish that feels inescapable?

In my work, I want audiences to empathize with us, root for us and maybe even mourn with us the death of versions of ourselves we designed for a different world all together. Maybe versions of us we didn't even craft ourselves. Roles that were conjured from an immigrant parent's wish for material stability, worthiness and respect. Maybe my life can't neatly answer the immigrant prayer for the American Dream. All I can be is the amalgamation of all my experiences, a tapestry of the ugly reality.

Image Descriptions and Photo Credits:

1. Banner image featuring Katherine on the bike at Judson Memorial Church. She balances on one pedal while the other leg extends in a penché behind her. Audience members watch seated at either side. Photo by Rachel Keane.

2. A photo of Nia balancing their body by pressing their hands into the bike seat and shaping their legs as if straddling a horse. Katherine is at the foot of the bike. One leg sti

3. Two black and white images of Katherine, Nia Sadler and Esther Nozea performing different configurations and poses around and on the bike. First: Katherine and Esther balance on one leg in a flat back position with the gesture leg extended directly behind them while Nia does a penché on the bike. Second: Nia and Katherine step one leg through the bike while staring to the side at Esther who does her best corporate smile impression. Photos by Rachel Keane.

4. Two images side by side from the Conjure Nocturne tech rehearsal. First: Nia laying on the ground pedaling on the air framed by the bike wheel. Second: Katherine in a plank framed by the bike wheel. Nia facing away from the audience seated infront of the bike while turning the pedal. Photos by Conjure team.

5. Three image strip from the Conjure Nocturne performance. First: Katherine sits with her leg extended underneath the bike and her torso propped against it holding the bike closely in her arms. Second: Nia moves backward with their torso bent forward while their left arm extends upwards and behind them. Third: Katherine pushes the bike forward while in a precarious horizontal position torso just hovering above the ground. Photos by Daniel Stewart

6. A wide angle shot from above of us performing at The Space at Irondale. Audience looks on while we move through our relay stations. Photo by Edward T Morris.

7. Two photos of me directing during tech rehearsals. In the background of each one Monica or Robbie look on. Photo by Edward T Morris.

8. Nia and Katherine do a floor-work sequence flanking Esther who pedals on the stationary bike. Photo by Edward T Morris.

9. A photo of Katherine on the bike. Hair floating above her. Nia and Esther in motion at either side balancing on one leg in a attitude position about to run forward away from the camera. The gaze at each-other for a split second. Photo by Edward T Morris.

10. A black and white photo of Katherine looking disheveled and raw under bright stage lights. She holds her palm outwards in-front of her with her elbows bent. Her top has fabric textured fringe on the arms and has miss buttoned buttons down the front.