A Phoenix, Buried

If any of you came to X-Works this past weekend, then you might have enjoyed many of the pieces presented in the show. You might also have wondered what any of them meant! I know that most of modern dance is confusing to understand especially for those that are not exposed to the dance world very often. I personally try to not take a literal approach to my choreography for two reasons: 1. I want each person to be able to interpret it in their own way and have it affect them on a personal level rather than just taking away from it what it means to me. 2. It's a little terrifying to put out there all the personal emotions that often go into a dance piece, particularly this one, "A Phoenix, Buried".

However, I decided that I would explain the reasoning behind this piece to give you all a taste of what runs through my mind. Scary, I know.

So this is my explanation of why I made this piece and what it means to me.

This solo is actually an adaptation of a solo that was choreographed on me 4 years ago by my old ballet instructor, Tricia Graf. She gifted me this piece of choreography when I had to leave the school due to moving to Anderson in the middle of my sophomore year. Originally this piece came out of a lot of angry and frustrating emotions that I experienced during the move to Anderson and my attempt to push God out of my life during that time. As many of you know, my pushing God out attempts didn't work very well. I was going to youth group at Bethany Christian Church and just getting slammed in the face every week with the realness and authenticity of God and who He was. He had never left my side throughout the whole ordeal of the move, the continuation of my parent's rocky relationship, and the feelings of loneliness and hurt I felt . I was getting an overdose of God at that point in my life and it was the only thing keeping me stable.

Coming back to this piece 4 years later, I wanted it to be representative of my life again. But clearly my life has changed a lot in the past 4 years, so the ideas behind the dance would change as well. "A Phoenix, Buried" is about my struggle of meshing my old life(who I used to be, what I used to do, how people used to perceive me) with my new life. This is manifested in the mash of balletic and modern moves throughout the piece. Ballet represents my "old life" and Modern represents my "new life." This is also fitting because most dancers start their dancing career(as I did) training in ballet; it is the foundation most dance forms are built upon. In the same way, my life is built upon itself and I could not have gotten to where I am in my life now, without having first experienced the life that I did.

The dance starts with Ashley at the barre, in typical ballet fashion, but right from the start, you realize that this isn't a normal ballet piece. From the start you can observe the fight going on between trying to be one way, and having something else always seeping back in. This continues throughout the piece with thrashing, chaotic movements and floor work immediately followed by a series of tendus that are interrupted by contractions and contortions of the upper body.

The barre is also a very important part of this piece. In ballet, everything starts at the barre. You begin every class warming up at the barre, you use it to train, you use it for balance, you always come back to it. So in this piece, the barre is always there. Even if Ashley isn't dancing with it, or paying attention to it, it's always there. That foundation will always be there, and that small nagging presence of who I used to be will always be there, in the back of my mind.

The end is somewhat abrupt; the dance has come up to the present time, and the future is unknown. Therefore, the dance cannot continue until life continues to happen. At the very end, Ashley ends in a pose behind the barre, not in the center spotlight. To many this might look like a lighting error, but that is the way I wanted it. In the light is where she is supposed to be, but that ever present barre is keeping her from it. In the same way, the light is where I am supposed to be, but that presence of my "old life" all those expectations of who I am supposed to be, are keeping me from being where I need to be, preventing me from where I should be.

This piece isn't supposed to end with things all wrapped up in a pretty bow, that's not how life ever is. If I wasn't so aesthetically opposed to ending a piece with continual movement, that probably would have been a more logical ending to symbolize the continuation of life. I prefer to think that someone just pushed stop on the dance as if to say, "Well that's the snapshot that you get to see, tune in next time for the continuation of this story." And of course, there will always be a continuation, until I die. Then I can continue the dance in heaven, and won't that be beautiful! :)