Choreographic Residency: Week 3

I am writing this third week's blog entry 2500 miles cross country in NYC in a friend's apartment in Bed Stuy looking out the window overlooking some beautiful Brooklyn brownstones. Last week, I took my mother -- a feeble, yet surprisingly agile, Philippine immigrant woman whose english is limited -- to The Statue of Liberty. My mother never imagined coming to America as a child, let alone see the Statue of Liberty, a symbolic monument that welcomed immigrants as they arrived to the US amidst a striking NY cityscape. She, Lady Liberty, was spectacular. My mother and I could not believe our eyes as we took the ferry down to Liberty Island and stood beneath her in awe. We found ourselves amazed by the scale and detail of the colossal giant.

I had to explain to my mother the symbolic meaning behind the monumental gift from France, and she was surprised the statue purpose served as a beacon of light for newcomers entering the country. Together, my mom and I read the sonnet engraved at the bottom of the pedestal by Emma Lazarus.

The New Colossus 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" 

As my mother and I stood there, we couldn't help but be baffled by the current administration and their policies fueled by fear and xenophobia.  With Muslim bans and border walls, is this symbolic statue still a representation of America's open arms for refugees? Is she still the "mother of exiles?"  

This is not the first time, however, that the US has turned away refugees or immigrants.  We refused Jews entry into our country even with credible visas.  We had a Japanese registry and internment camp.  The following article paints a cyclical portrait of How America’s rejection of Jews fleeing Nazi Germany haunts our refugee policy today.

A few weeks back, I wrote about how I had difficulty connecting physical, emotional, and mental trauma to the beach.  Being here in NYC is giving me perspective and further information on how symbols and borders can serve as sites of trauma and healing.  

Choreographic Residency: Week 2

As my time here at the Marion Davies Beach House continues, I remain at the beach somewhat perplexed at the enormity of the space; I'm stuck trying to sort out the framing for the work. The area in which I can create is (somewhat) limited to the beach house property all the way to the middle of the ocean.  I can't help but liken myself to Moana as I stare at the edge of the water... wondering "how far I'll go." Oh Moana, finally a Disney princess that looks like me, with unruly textured hair and leather colored skin and island ancestry.  Her plight reminds me of my family's migration story.  My dad immigrated to the US from the Philippines in 1933.  A long 30 day venture across the Pacific proved to be taxing, with some people on the ship not surviving.  My father had to throw them off the ship.  

As my mind wanders whilst I meander around the beach, I keep asking myself, where does trauma exist on the beach.  A place where people relax, rejuvenate, and unwind, how can I portray something involving physical, emotional, and mental trauma?  When I thought of my dad seeking the American Dream and the risks he took for a better life for his family, it reminded me of the plight of refugees today.  Immediately, I thought of the image that went viral of a drowned Syrian boy, a child, washed up on the shores of Greece a couple years back. This arresting image is too real, too hard to even think about.  I'm fighting tears as I write this post thinking about the trauma of what it might be like to flee your home on a over-capacity raft in hopes to land somewhere safe.  

Below is an image of a photo series that my friend's Gema Galiana and Anthony Nikolchev created.  I think the images speak on their own...

La Mujer Tranvia's photo series

Going back the idea of Framing.  The enormity of the beach is overwhelming.  I'm a huge fan of the spectacle.  I fell in love with this performance:  

1000 Gestalten

Since I joined the circus a few years back, I fell in love with spectacle.  Considering my postmodern influence, these two worlds (the spectacle of the circus and the theory-based, academic postmodernism dance) seemed to be conflicting.  My aim is to merge these two aspects of me.  The efficacy of spectacle and thoughtful theory-based work is powerful. I hope the marriage of these two manifests in this project.

Choreographic Residency: Week 1

Remembering my interests

Remembering that memories are reconstructions, &

Remembering the feeling of sand between my toes.

Week one video component

Playing with speed, sound, spectacle, and sand... sand everywhere.

This week, I've been acquainting myself with the space and location, soaking in the sun and trying to understand beach culture.  In the first week, I've been walking around the boardwalk, lying on my Turkish towel in the sand amidst the endangered snowy plovers, catching some gnarly waves in my speedo, picking up trash along the coast, and biking along the boardwalk... All whilst awaiting inspiration to spark. The difficulty in this project, for me, is location and culture.  My work often deals with exertion, exhaustion, and physical trauma; I wouldn't exactly call my work "fun."  And that's where I find myself perplexed in this project.  How, Where, and Why does my work meet the beach?  

The project I've proposed is called, LUCID: Daydreaming on the Beach, an immersive theatrical experience that investigates how our memories and dreams affect our mental health. Within my research, I'll delve into topics surrounding trauma, hallucinations, and panic attacks.  The ultimate challenge will be integrating the relaxed, care-free culture of the beach with such heavy, serious topics.

On my drive from the east side of Los Angeles to Santa Monica, I recalled one of my favorite episodes of my favorite podcast, Radiolab.  In that episode, Haunted Dreams, they discuss lucid dreaming techniques.  One technique is a state test: frequently asking yourself in your waking life, "Am I awake, or am I dreaming?"  This will become a learned habit that could possibly cross over into your dreaming state, granting you the possibility of controlling your dreams. Have you ever had a dream that you could do something that you couldn't do, and then woke up and felt the efficacy to do it?  That happens to me.  I dreamt I could do a backflip when I was a child, then I woke up the next day and tried it a couple times and accomplished it (after falling on my head a few times, but I did it).  Same with Krumping (an expressive form of hip hop dance with exaggerated gestures).  I know all this sounds bizarre, but I wonder if I could lucid dream and control the direction of my dreams, could I then control experiences and embodiments in my waking life?  It sounds very Neo from the Matrix, but I'm curious.  

During this residency, I will keep a dream journal to document my dreams when I wake in the morning, and maybe even some daydreaming experiences.  I will also ask my collaborators to keep a journal for dreams.  Stay tuned next week to see where my questions take me.

The Annenberg Community Beach House welcomes incoming Choreographer-in-Residence Jay Carlon!

Jay Carlon begins the investigative stage of his residency July and August, and will be onsite creating and rehearsing with his company beginning 9/5/17. He'll be conducting two public workshops, Tuesday 9/19/17 at 6:30pm and Saturday 9/30 at 10:30am.

Lucid: Daydreaming at the Beach is the working title for his new piece to be created at the Beach House. An immersive theatrical experience that investigates how our memories and dreams affect mental health, the 90-minute experience collages, amplifies, and deconstructs memories, inviting the community of the audience to engage in conversations about their recollections of dreams and personal beloved spaces. Performances will take place October 7-8.

Stay tuned for Carlon's updates here to learn more!

Jay Carlon was born in Santa Barbara County to a migrant working family and attended the University of California, Irvine for his BFA in Dance and the California State University, Long Beach for his MFA; his roots in California are embedded in this soil and are evident in his identity-based work and performance. In 2016, he co-founded CARLON + LOLLIE, a collaborative team of artists whose creative desires are to re-present our collective and individual psyches by reimagining the conventions of performance and space. He is a performer and directing and management associate with site-based aerial spectacle theatre company Australia’s Strange Fruit, where he has performed at the 2014 Sochi Olympics, the opening of the Wallis Annenberg Theatre in Beverly Hills, and the 2016 EXPO (Antalya, Turkey). Carlon’s immersive, interactive, and site-based choreography has been showcased at HomeLA, LA Dance Festival, 92nd Y, The CURRENT SESSIONS, Electric Lodge, ARC Pasadena, and at Automata Theatre, where he was recently a D+R resident with Los Angeles Performance Practice. Jay has also performed with the Metropolitan Opera, Palissimo, and Schoen Movement Company.