In which our heroines decide that velcro might indeed be the answer...

EWH and I had a wonderful little conversation this morning re: Crave and the costuming-experiment I have launched myself into. The problem: how to put these strips of fabric onto this slip in a way in which they can, quickly and easily, be ripped off (and then restored for the next show).  My original idea worked but lent itself more to the "slowly removed and less strips" school of thought rather than the "more. faster. better." one.

So, I started again.  My two options: snaps or velcro.  Now, velcro is used for children and quick changes and is an absolute last resort.  EWH and I both think this way.  I spent all last night trying to justify the use of snaps over velcro to myself.

As EWH and I ping-ponged strategies back and forth, turning the mannequin round and round, it became very clear that small pieces of velcro would be the most effective and best solution.  "I think velcro is the way to go, and you will never hear me say that again!" - EWH.

I rationalized that velcro is what you do for quick changes, and this is just one, extended onstage quick change.

Side note: this particular costume is going to come with a manual.  Expect diagrams.

Failing better

Since last time:

I made thirty children into lords and ladies.
I took many pictures of that process, and never posted them.  There was going to be an epic slideshow.
I have been navigating my way round the greyish world of Sarah Kane.
I will be trailblazing a look called "Tesla Punk" in April.
I solidified some serious puppet time for May and June and couldn't be more excited.

Rather than completely recap, I'm just going to start from where I am.  I am waiting for water to boil so I can dye some elastic yellow.  So I can start wrapping this silk dress in silk strips, which will be ripped off of C. I've been attempting to tackle this "problem" of my costume design for the past forty-eight hours.  My previous solution was just to sleep.  That is no longer an option.  I have a deadline for this test run.

I know I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew, but I wonder about the practicality of my ideas this time.  I find myself wondering, Can I pull this off?  I know I can.  I just wonder how many times I have to fail before I get the product I want.

Here's to a night of failing.  And then failing better.

(I believe there will be a sequel to this post very soon...)

"Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost."

Tonight, I sat in a movie theater and witnessed some of the most dynamic, thrilling, moving, and striking dance theater of my life.  Pina 3D: best sixteen dollars I have spent in a very long time. I usually walk out of an experience like that with one of two feelings: invigorated and ready to make art, or lost, bemoaning my life choices and what I have done so far.  I made a conscious decision as the credits appeared over the final clips of Pina Bausch's dance company: react differently.

At Bennington, I used the word "legacy" to describe my intentions and what was driving my work.  Learning my legacy: who came before me, the giants upon whose shoulders I was lucky enough to stand, things like that.  I used to list many great people, but in retrospect, I think my "legacy" begins with two men -- Gene Kelly and James Joyce.  A hoofer and a self-exiled Irish writer.  The precision of their work both inspires and empowers me. It affects me on an almost primal level, like there is a string knotted behind my womb that the two of them can pull on at will.

I have not thought about or immersed myself in any of Joyce or Kelly's work since I graduated.  There was a week or so in April or May in which I absolutely inundated myself with Gene (and a little Fred and Ginger.)  And the entirety of my last year was colored by Joyce and his words.  I bring this all up for one reason:  I have been feeling very ungrounded lately, and I think re-immersion might be a way to plant my feet back on the ground.

Pina's legacy astounds me.  (I admit I only know what I just saw.)  But, I saw the legacy she left with her company, how she changed them and their movement.  I want that.

I'm sure a normal reaction to that movie is as follows:  I want to be a dancer!  No, but really... I want to be a dancer. I want to reconnect with the one thing that I've felt missing from my life for the past eight years.  I gave up dance for theater, and simply, I think I want it back.

This is all just introspection and reflection.  I think both my copy of Portrait of the Artist and my tap shoes have been gathering dust long enough.

The Working Space

I said I was going to bed.  Inevitably, this means doing something other than sleeping.  In this case, it is posting.  EWH and I are both in the throws of costuming two completely different worlds. She is elbow deep in Churchill's world of Fen, and I have a dragon's brood of princes and princesses creeping up my arms with Once Upon a Mattress.  Our apartment is an interesting juxtaposition of colors, fabric choices, and such at the moment.

The view from my sewing machine into the world of FEN

EWH's POV

I swear this looks a lot cooler in real life (and more chaotic) in real life.