Erin Malley

Suspended trio

"Most of the advice I give to artists boils down to this: If you don’t feel strongly about the project, don’t do it. You’ve got a limited amount of energy, time and resources to devote to any particular thing. You don’t have enough to waste on stuff you’re doing “just to do it”. Sure, that may mean that you’re doing nothing for a while. But this market is so cluttered that doing without passion is pretty much the same thing as doing nothing. This market hates your B- stuff. They want A and it can take a lot of time and effort to get there. Devote the time, don’t waste it on anything less then your best."

Only the strongest - The Mission Paradox Blog (via bridgettelizabeth)

Words of truth!

(via bridgettelizabeth)

break mid-way

I’ve noticed a trend. I have an idea for a project. It seems easy enough to draft. And it’s entertaining to work on and explore the world of that piece. A Sunday drive to a country picnic.

Then when it comes to the second draft, I will put the piece aside. I think to myself “this is just a break and i will work on this after i’ve had some time with it.”

But it never happens. I get sucked into the next project, and never quite make it back.

Rehearsals begin again on Tuesday, and I’m really determined to work through this Murakami piece, see it through to the end. I know in many ways what the piece is, and what it isn’t.

And yet there is this other piecelurking in the back of my mind. So the question is: Do I allow myself a break mid-way to start drafting the other piece? Or do I keep my nose to the grindstone, to break the trend? Can I workshop two pieces without driving myself insane?

???

…hey, at least i’m taking notes for the other piece already. :P

Video excerpts from Hotel in a Bottle, CounterPULSE 2012. Part I of the Murakami Hotel series.

At rehearsal last week, I began to film a dance sequence, but accidentally set my phone to ‘photo’ instead. Good thing dancers have quick reflexes and are photogenic.

I’m a little disappointed in this short clip. Would the full-length work prove me wrong?

Given my interest in Japanese art and in Batsheva Dance Company, I was curious to see how Tabaimo and Ohad Naharin would collaborate. This article on Tabaimo made me want to collaborate with her! However, I don’t see the point in this particular collaboration if there is rarely an intersection, let alone full-blown integration, between the media and the dance.

Heroes

I’m back to rehearsals already. One critical question of feedback that has stuck with me: ‘What is your movement language?” To help me (and my dancers) better understand the future development of our work, I’ve put together a list of my choreographic heroes. Here is my inspirational lineage.

The trouble is, my heroes aren’t just choreographers. What inspires me most about all these artists - in dance, theater, music, film - is that they have a completeness of vision. I don’t watch Sarah Michelson’s movement and think, “Look at her movement language!” as a first thought. I have seen a lot of the movement before, a language created by other choreographers. I’m turned on by the compelling way in which her work is performed, and the way she treats the whole space with equal precision, down to the last design element.

Or Julie Atlas Muz, whose performance Divine Comedy of an Exquisite Corpse (2006) remains a highlight in my mind. She is a fixture of the burlesque scene in New York, and while I don’t normally track burlesque performance, this work was delightful, cohesive and surprising. It begins with herself emerging naked from a bag. It is absurd, to be sure. Yet it makes perfect sense to see a pile of babies fall out of a refrigerator, a bullet flying in slow-motion across the stage, flying monkeys, and lots of naked dancing as the show progresses. It never once mattered to me how much she was “doing her burlesque thing,” because the show presented a complete world.

I’m an unlikely fan of hip-hop, but there was something terrifically compelling about Franck 2 Louise’s “Drop it” at NY City Center in 2007. The work was exquisitely simple craft-wise, fit the music exactly (typically a no-no, but it WORKED) electrifying in energy - you should watch the link. The specificity of movement was astounding, and I adored the fact that the choreographer composed the music - yet another artist invested in the complete realization of his world.

I’ve only seen Laurie Anderson’s work recently (2011), so I’ve not had years to reflect on her performance and obsess on her craft. She is another artist who completes her vision with performance, persona, and music. I adore her (seemingly) stream-of-consciousness approach, how she weaves seemingly random elements into extraordinary tales.

The key linking element between these diverse artists (and others, who I haven’t yet mentioned) is the cohesive integration of elements to create a new, cohesive world. They do not limit themselves to “dance,” “music,” “theatre” or “media” - but create a blend that takes on a life of its own. For me, the question is: How to distill the vocabulary of these artists’ work in a way to better understand my own?

Cinematographic

Since the closing of Hotel in a Bottle, I’ve been excavating my own work. I’ve listened to critique and feedback (both constructive and destructive) and questioned every element of the show. About a week before it opened, I could pinpoint that the central component of the work was the performers’ visual focus.

Murakami’s world is an off-axis one, with a blurred lens and striking, yet forgettable, convoluted storylines. Put the performers in the same position (by carefully selecting the angle and manner in which they see the world), and the assumption is they would have the same sort of subtle, transformational experience as any given protagonist in a Murakami novel. The question is: if the internal lives of the performers have been transformed, how “successfully” does that manifest externally in performance?

Another pertinent question I’m asking of my work right now is “What is the movement language?” Cinematographic would be the best word to describe my physical vocabulary. The movement is best seen from about 10 feet away. It probably explains why creating video design for my work has such appeal to me. Details are of the essence, and zooming in yields satisfying results.

As this piece develops, I’m going to challenge myself to find a larger physicality by “zooming out,” seeing this piece from further away, but without adding extraneous “dancey” sequences. It’s clear to me that my current approach will translate well into a hotel space, so now how to deal with a larger theater? I want to create vocabulary that grows out of nuance into something bigger, and find out what my movement language can grow up to be, and communicate from any distance.

Hotel in a Bottle

Photo by Kate McKinley

laughingsquid:

Kickstarter Expects To Provide More Funding To The Arts Than NEA

Re-vamping “the system.” I love it!

Daria Kaufman in Hotel in a Bottle. Photo: Kate McKinley

xelynnt:

Taken with instagram

xelynnt:

Taken with instagram

Hotel in a Bottle tech rehearsal. Waiting. birds!

xelynnt:

Taken with instagram

lizacostaphotography:

Wonderful news!

From Erin, creator of [ Hotel in a Bottle ]:

“We opened to a wonderfully engaged, full house last night! Hotel in a Bottle is a beautiful show, down to the last detail. 

Audience members looked positively smashing! As one viewer put it: 
 

“Breathtaking performance tonight. Haunting, bold, and magical.”

We’re almost sold out for the 8pm show today.  So we’ve added a 10PM show!

[ Click me now for tickets! ]

The rules still apply: 

1. Wear your fancy attire, and 
2. No late seating.

Share it widely with friends! Even if you’ve seen it, how about a second look? There’s much to see in this work…”

And apparently Haruki Murakami himself [ has taken note ]

I’m thrilled that I got to be a part of this - the arts are important to me.

(via nonpause)