dancemaker

by Lauren Warnecke, MS

In 2010, Alastair Macaulay seriously pissed me off.

His gross review of NYCB’s Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier, and specifically his comment on their waist sizes, sent shockwaves through the interwebs. I wouldn’t say that he’s necessarily done it again, but there’s a little buzz beginning on the social media about his new editorial on naked dancing.

437px-Bakst_Nizhinsky — Naked or nearly naked dancing is not new: the bare-chested Nijinski shocked his 1912 audiences with the overtly sexual L’Apres Midi D’Une Faune

I’m hardly shocked that Macaulay’s first paragraph, and most of the essay, are comparing modern experimental dance to porn and strippers. To be honest, I fully expected to be writing another rant about sensationalism in dance writing….. but I have to say, I’m aligned with Mr. Macaulay on a couple of points.

Dancing in the buff has serious implications that you can’t avoid (no matter how much we want them to). It’s an artistic choice that instantly personalizes dancers and makes them into real people, with legs and hips and – other parts. Depending on the degree of naked, your costume (or lack thereof) also creates the distinct persona of sexual beings, and if that’s what you want, then go for it.

But…

Naked is not a decision you should make lightly as a dancemaker, or, in my opinion, frequently. That’s not because I don’t want to see naked people; it’s because the one thing that you think is so extreme and unique and impactful is actually quite overdone. It’s sort of like making a dance to Barber’s Adagio. Like it or not, most audience members are going to have preconceived notions about nudity. Maybe you can prep them in program notes and pre-show talks to depersonalize the dance and see the beauty of the human form in motion, or maybe you’re okay with the influence of the giggling twelve-year-old boy in all of us seeping into the overall impact you want your piece to have. If not, find another way.

I’m not frustrated by nudity in dance because I find it offensive. Rather, I’m put off by the fact that the choreographer couldn’t find another way to represent vulnerability, or truth, or love, or whatever. Getting naked isn’t as extreme as you might think… I’ve used it (more than once), along with almost every dancemaker in my acquaintance.

My point is: Go ahead! Get naked if you have to, but recognize that there will always be that guy giggling in the back comparing your art to a strip club. Just, whatever you do, please don’t make a naked dance to Barber’s Adagio…

Contributor Lauren Warnecke, M.S., is a Chicago-based dance artist, educator, and writer. She trained at the Barat Conservatory of Dance before earning a BA in Dance at Columbia College Chicago. In 2009, Lauren completed her MS in Kinesiology at the University of Illinois at Chicago, with a concentration in Motor Control and Learning. Lauren is a Visiting Instructor for the department of Kinesiology and Nutrition at UIC, and teaches master classes and seminars in ballet, modern dance, creative movement, and dance pedegogy. She is certified in ballet by the Cecchetti Council of America and a member of the American College of Sports Medicine.

In addition to teaching at UIC, Lauren owns and operates Art Intercepts, under which she creates, informs, and writes about dance. The primary mission of Art Intercepts is to bridge the gap between the scientific and artistic communities to present programming that is informed, inventive, and evidence-based. Lauren is a freelance writer/blogger and maintains monthly columns at Danceadvantage.net and 4dancers.org. and was featured on a panel of nationally reputed dance writers at the 2012 Dance/USA conference. She also works periodically as a grant writer and production/stage manager for artists in the Chicago dance and performance community, and volunteers for initiatives encouraging Chicagoans to engage in local, sustainable, and active lifestyles. Lauren likes to hike, bake scones, and dig in the dirt.

by Lauren Warnecke

I consider myself to be an organized person. I mean, I guess I know I’m an organized person because I usually end up where I need to end up on time. I usually pay my bills on time. People hire me to organize performance projects, and, as far as I can tell, they all turn out ok. I’m organized, but I’m also a dancemaker. Like most other working artists I can’t survive unless I have multiple jobs. Last fall I think my brain got to capacity. I had taken on more than any organized person – or rather any person – should, and it got to the point that some things were starting to slip… like remembering to brush my teeth and pay the cable bill.

Things float in and out of my brain. It’s the curse of being a creative person. We’re not linear thinkers. I am often simultaneously thinking about the role of the American housewife, the importance of the right index finger, the best way to engage new audience members, if I have any clean pants, and what to have for dinner. One thought leads to the next in a stream of consciousness that, heard by another person, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. This is an awesome problem to have, but can also be frustrating when you are 1) trying to communicate with people who AREN’T non-linear thinkers (and yes, I realize I just used a double negative there), or 2) trying to communicate with someone who is also creative, but not your kind of creative. That’s pretty much everyone.

dance making — What a dance looks like in Lauren's head

But it all makes sense to me. I just don’t have room for it in my brain. Enter 2012. Even before the confetti was falling on a new year, I had resolved that I needed a new way to organize my thoughts. I love paper planners, and though I completely embrace technology I’ve never found a techie tool for storing a to-do list effectively. You either have to categorize things, rank things, or otherwise pigeon hole your thoughts into a few characters. By some sort of divine intervention (that is, the “freshly pressed” feed on WordPress.com), I came across a post about a newfangled organizational tool: WorkFlowy.

I’m in love with workflowy. It is new(ish? I think?), but its brilliance is in its stark simplicity. WorkFlowy is a big, fat, unlimited capacity, bullet-pointed typepad, that you don’t have to save, can open up wherever you have the interwebs, and share with whomever you please. No categories. No muss, no fuss. No pigeon holes. Today on my WorkFlowy, I brainstormed marketing ideas for an event I’m managing, added bananas to my shopping list, and wrote this article.

Apart from shameless promotion for a new thing I found that I love, the point is this: in order to keep ourselves surviving and making work we have to keep seven jobs. In order to keep seven jobs, we’ve got to be organized. In order to be organized, you don’t necessarily need WorkFlowy, but you need some sort of interface that works the way YOUR brain works. That could be a paper planner, an iPad or a sheet of loose leaf paper. For me, I think it might be this. Until, of course, the internet goes away… but I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.

Contributor Lauren Warnecke is a Chicago-based dance artist, educator and writer. She trained at Judith Svalander School of Ballet and Barat Conservatory of Dance before earning a BA in Dance at Columbia College Chicago. In 2009, Lauren completed her MS in Kinesiology at the University of Illinois at Chicago. She is an adjunct instructor for the Department of Kinesiology at UIC, the Performing Arts Coordinator at the Menomonee Club for Boys and Girls, a member of the Cecchetti Council of America, and Neurotransmitter to Synapse Arts Collective (read: too many jobs).

Lauren created and maintains Art Intercepts as a platform for dance that is informed, inventive, and evidence-based. In addition to writing at 4dancers, Lauren is a columnist at Dance Advantage, specializing in dance injuries and prevention, dancer wellness, and evidence-based teaching practices. She also enjoys her freelance work as a grant writer and production manager and likes to grow strawberries, bake scones, and dig in the dirt.

Naked Dancing: A Cautionary Tale

The Curse Of Being Creative (Why WorkFlowy is Amazing)

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