TEXT BY ANNALOUISE PAUL
Images by Annalouise Paul
Dance was born outside, perhaps dance can return to outside? We practise in a community, by this I mean, in class, rehearsal, performance and in communion with other bodies where we seek to connect, to dispel loneliness, to find purpose, find tribe and belong.
Community is not a dirty word.
From the start of lockdown, the liminality of my practice, heightened by the positive pursuit of dancing, experienced seismic shifts as a result of working on an outdoor veranda. Regardless of the weather or time of day, this public building became my space for making loud dance because there was simply no other place to go.
I feel immense safety outdoors, there is no fear of being kicked ‘out’ because I already am out and because there is great appreciation from the unusually high number of joggers, cyclists, dog-walkers at this time. Random passers-by invade my inner world, their desire is to connect whilst I work inwardly and privately, interrupting as they go on their way.
‘May I take a photo of your feet? I need some inspiration at this time’ a woman asks. This was early days. ‘It’s such a lovely sound. Every day is like a mini-concert’ says another.
A small boy on a scooter catches me off guard, ‘Are you making a show?’ he asks. ‘Oh probably, eventually, I am just practising right now’. ‘Are you making a show?’ he repeats and now I’m compelled, ‘Yeah, I am practising a show.’ ‘For everybody?’ he anticipates, ‘Yeah for everybody’ I appease.
Maybe I should make a show? Isn’t it better to just witness practice in action? Does practice have to result in performance?
Central to my solo practice is the constant questioning of identity that arises out of code-switching between contemporary and flamenco, albeit three decades now, it never ends. This year, I lose touch with a global diaspora of contemporary-flamenco makers, my tribe and find deeper sanctuary in the meeting of my languages as I work in isolation, in public.
Locked down and locked out.
I am a squatter. No, wait, it’s an outdoor residency!
I breathe a sigh of relief when I arrive each day; the space is all mine and so it begins.
Between two worlds there is expansion and contraction.
Outdoors is a focussed contraction of practice and expanded giving of performance. Drawing on energy of passers-by, in lieu of an audience, I push further. It is neither one or the other, but something new altogether.
In a moment with myself, I find the ‘click’.
But then an interruption. A beat, a sound, a dog, a child and today I feel warmed by their presence, whereas on other days my back is to them, avoiding the brash sun streaming onto my face. The air shifts around me and there is joy in the meeting of new souls along the way.
I am attuned to the position of the sun now. Shadows on corrugated iron and wind whipping against the boats sails form new choreographic scores.
COVID testing. I am moved along. Politely. Itinerancy is nothing new to my practice.
There is a wharf, a stone’s throw away. High noon is the best time there, the tide pounds in, its pulse pushes against the fixed meter of my metronome. Listening is far away. My feet have permanent shoe-strap tan marks.
Come September I need medicine. I wake at 5am to watch my favourite fenomenos perform live to their masked audiences during the Seville Biennale. My heart full of joy and sorrow, I log out and go back to bed.
Lamenting isolation. Collaborators come and go. Shibari burlesque. Flamenco antigua. Carnatic chant. Bass clarinet. A dramaturg.
Senior Krumper, ‘You’re an OG. You know what that is? An original. You got information those kids need and want.’ The veranda is a crucible.
An unexpected text comes in. ‘There is alchemy in what you’re doing. Shifting energies, moving things. Power and magic.’
But right then, the green door on the veranda whips open, ‘Can you stop that? Can you move down there? We’re on a residency.’ Points to ‘down there’. Slams door. My heart races.
Artist thy name is fraud!
What is does it mean to practise in public?
Why must research be hidden from public view?
We don’t live in a world where dance should be hermetically sealed, do we?
What kind of art are we interrogating if it can’t be shared?
And what kind of artist is being cultivated inside this petri dish?
In early November, the show must go on. This inside-out dancing must be witnessed. I truly hoped that scooter boy would return, but he didn’t.
‘I loved “Flamenco for Everybody”. It was a necessary moment for many who needed to be uplifted.’
‘Reverberating against the wooden walls of the old Drill Hall [it] bounced back awakening us to a call to rise and lifted our spirits.’
‘My friends told me about you - the lady who taps. I do hope we get to see you again.’
Process becomes public. It’s unchartered. It is an unknown area of practice that doesn’t have any clear guidelines around it. It’s an experience and opening up of practice. People witness practice and what process means. Interruptions bring about change, the disruption of practice disrupts the flow and creates space. Embracing the noise, the disruption, the interruptions, the virus, we awaken.
ANNALOUISE PAUL BIOGRAPHY
Annalouise Paul is an award-winning choreographer and performer who creates dance narratives inspired by histories and ancestries, diasporas and stories of living traditions. Her career spans three decades collaborating on inter-cultural projects in London, Los Angeles, Auckland, India, Malaysia and Singapore. As an emerging artist, Annalouise danced for Bill T. Jones, Aletta Collins, Karole Armitage, Cristina Hoyos and Michael Jackson. She trained at the Laban Centre, London and with leading Flamenco maestros in Spain. Original movement methods Dance DNA and Hidden Rhythms are internationally recognised in Asia. Annalouise won an Australian Arts in Asia Award in DANCE and NSW Premiers Export Scholarship in 2013.
LINKS:
DANCER ON THE VERANDA
https://www.annalouisepaul.com/dancerontheveranda
WEBSITE
https://www.annalouisepaul.com/
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Dance was born outside, perhaps dance can return to outside? We practise in a community, by this I mean, in class, rehearsal, performance and in communion with other bodies where we seek to connect, to dispel loneliness, to find purpose, find tribe and belong.