"I'm so sorry I can't stay to see your piece," she apologizes as if she needs to. (I choose my dancers precisely BECAUSE of who they are and the stories their bodies contain. Despite the technique or the direction that I might give them as a choreographer, these stories always will bleed through onto the stage and into the creative process. I invite them to.)
Then comes the hard question.
"What is is about?"
I smile. I look away from her supportive gaze. I look at the floor. I look out the window. I take a deep breath. A moment to procrastinate as I gather the truth - no, as I gather the courage to say the truth.
"It's about being on the other side of the military."
* * * * *
As I write, I don't know what more to say. As I cannot understand that challenges that our veterans and current military experience on a day-to-day basis, I don't expect anyone to fully understand what it means to be on the other side of that (insert word here - experience? trauma? loss? pain? lifestyle? culture?).
Dance is abstract and I don't expect that my audience will see what the work is "about," but feedback from showings suggests that something about the feeling is being communicated.
"I see you as a very protective person. In this, it looks like you're struggling. Who protects the protector?"
"From what is 'the protected' being protected? Or are they?"
|May through September at Sunset Beach in Cape May, NJ, |
the flag that draped the coffin of a veteran is flown.
This is the flag that draped my grandfather's coffin.
Thank you, to all those who serve.
Sunset Beach flag Ceremony