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Chapter Seven

Because of the chaotic shutdown of borders and changing circumstances; Chapter Seven was totally devised and rehearsed online from my dining room during the latest Sydney lockdown. The work centred around each performer's individual journey of how to navigate the difficulties in our lives during this time and the way we have adapted to them. I have not met any of the performers in person but have formed an online-Zoom bond by working one on one. The focused individual attention allowed a deeper dialogue with each performer and myself. This actually opened up a unique opportunity to work in a way a group situation rarely allows.

The second challenge has been the group coming together in the studio and threading all seven stories into one cohesive work. What evolved was a huge shift of intention and meaning of the movement created in isolation. In this 'online world', it's a reminder of how important - face to face - is in our daily routines. We change in the company of others and no matter what our differences, we are constantly shifting and adjusting so that we find a way to reach out and to be in each other’s lives.

Here We Have It

One of the biggest myths about dance is that “it happens beyond language and does not require words”
I think in contemporary practice this is proved obsolete.
Mostly because:
A) dance is a language
b) the dancers that I have long admired have always had the ability to use words in the rehearsal room, in an artist talk, in public and civic space, in the club and in silence - very wisely.

If there is one thing I have learnt this semester teaching Dance at VCA it is that dancers require space to speak their ideas into a sounding board as much as the physical act of doing dancing.
AND:
To love something takes work. It is difficult. Rewarding. Tedious. Repetitive. It requires the cultivation of a loving kind of focus.

This work massages through the absurdity of being in the arts, the kind of love and multitudes of approach, code switching and humour it infuses in you, the dedication and highly specialized skill set that is needed, the required “training” for professionalism and the hope to come out of an institution on the other side prepared for a work force that is haptic.

Using the voice, ferociously specific monologue and an acute sense of humour and pacing within dance, this work hopes that it can culminate a deserving "hurrah" of skill and dance before an audience.

  • Amrita Hepi

Wax

The initial idea for this work is seeded in the celebration of the integral relationship between dancer and songman/songwoman. An important pillar of First Nations storytelling, and one that has been of interest to me in my current research and ongoing cultural practice.

This relationship was to be explored by inviting our songman, Jaadwa man James Howard, to conduct an onstage five-piece jazz ensemble, which would be driving and conducting the dancers in space. Unfortunately, due to the most recent lockdown and set of restrictions this wasn’t able to be realised, however James continues to be a presence onstage, continuing the tradition of highlighting the songman/songwoman as much as the performers.

WAX is a celebration of this incredible group of fierce women, chronicling their past three years as kin and in support of each other. Their relationships and bond is what has made their success possible, and I have no doubt, has set them all up for continual growth and expansion.

My deep thanks and admiration to them all.

yindyamarra, Daniel Rileyv