Malcolm's blog

Prettiest day of the year: cool breeze, bright sun. I lie on the grass. Nature inspires me--even just a lawn, even the breeze rustling the leaves above the pavement. Here, on this concrete plane, the cicadas still chatter, the ants still creep on my skin, the flowers still bloom…and I am still an animal. We are still part of nature, still animals breathing air, sweating, eating, having sex, having babies…no matter how many shopping malls we erect to protect us from the outside.

We're in the Poconos on a breezy day that has just turned hot. I meditated briefly while my daughter napped. I imagined black beetles scurrying under my skin and consuming me from the inside out. Like locusts, they left nothing but dry stalks of bone. Far from an unpleasant sensation, it felt wonderful: calming and cleansing. I have been much experiencing death imagery in the last few weeks. It comes to mind when I turn off my inner critic and just listen. Yet it is not imagery about separation (from home, family, familiar things…); rather, it is imagery about connection.

I studied at the Cunningham Studio from 1997-99. I had just finished my BA in Dance at the University of Massachusetts and was looking for a new challenge. Cunningham technique is rigorous and helped me strengthen my body. Yet we were a mismatch.

I have mixed feelings about the hubbub focused around Jill and Kevin's wedding dance (see below). It strikes me, watching the video, that these guys are really enjoying themselves. I relate to their ecstatic expressions as they troop down the aisle. This pleasure from movement is essentially why I dance, so, in a very real way, we are practicing the same tradition. My genre is different from theirs, but I recognize the passion and celebrate their work. Well done!

7_17_09 This month's topic is, what is success in dance? It is a topic I wonder about a lot. We are a small dance company. We have not performed for millions in big stadiums like U2. (In fact, I don't think our work reads from far away anyway. It's kind of close-up dance.) We do not have the following of Ailey. There is very little chance that we will appear in history books. We perform for small audiences, usually. (We have rarely performed in large venues.) Our yearly budget is extremely small. From the measure of wealth or fame, we are as unsuccessful as they come.

A magnificent summer day: sun bleeds through the upper layer of leaves on the tree above my head, which cast shadows on lower layers, a jangled chiaroscuro. A chill breeze mercifully runs through the leaves and against my bare knees--so refreshing!

I am struck by how much my mood depends on ordinary comforts: a mild temperature, enough food and sleep, dry clothes, etc. How easy it is to ruin my ease with a simple change of environment: heat or cold, hunger, etc. This delicate balance is, I believe, what draws me to explore winter in this new piece.

I have felt depressed for the last few days. There seems to be no single reason. It's a bit like a skipping record: the needle just keeps looping. I get caught up in my thoughts, which always seems to be a mistake. My mind tends to be more critical than my heart. My intuition gets muffled. Thank God for dancing! It takes me out of my head and into my body.

I'm at a bit of a turning point in my artistic career. I am considering the direction in which to take my work next. Forefront in my mind is the question of the value of art in general, for those that see it, versus the value of art for me alone (even if no one else sees it).

It was one of those shows that make me question what it is I'm trying to do. There were many positive elements. We performed well. The pieces looked great in the space, flanked by lush paintings of people wrapped in tight embraces. As we rolled and stretched together, we complemented the figures hanging all around us. The Red Gate Gallery was just large enough for our work, so that the audience got right up close, which is the best way to see us.