Choreographing

photo by arantxa villa

Choreographing

second year erin o’keefe 

It starts as a ripple in the back of my mind; like a rusty penny in a clear blue pond. I move towards the natural inclination I feel. I sit, stand, walk, fall, and then turn, stretch, pointe, swirl, jump, contract and

pause…  

Think: Did that feel good? Did that feel right? Yes… Then do it again. If I remember it, I do. 

I don’t often write it down. I remember the swaying, and when I have time, I recall it as best I can. I start again, searching for the feeling of completeness I had felt at the time of origination: the time I first felt all the pieces slide into place. Then I cut the cake again, and remove the parts one by one. They all taste different to me; but I don’t think about that. I think about the process by which they were made into one. I retrograde through motion and take out what I don’t like and keep in what I don’t like all the same, hoping the movement will grow on me. 

Then I think about music; get distracted by music, inspired by music, moved by music until it controls me. I am sewing together my dance and the track I chose, until they became one in my head. They are codependent, and cannot live without each other. I find that their marriage is a happy one, but not without its ups and downs:

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven… 

Think: What was on 8? 

I forget a lot and remember what I shouldn’t. 

I shake my head and move again in a circular way:

within my own kinesphere

and into a new pattern I move around and around

out of my own circle           often times around myself

  because the angle pulls me                               because my arms are an extension that

      and then I pirouette a la seconde I fall            move around the axis of my center 

and my legs are no different