Have you ever felt like setback after setback was coming your way, like wave after wave
-- but you got through it, because you weren’t getting tossed around alone? Though perhaps with those challenges not to the same degree, that’s a bit what it felt like being a part of Melissa McGill’s In The Waves.
I’ve been a dancer for almost two-thirds of my life, and therefore been in many rehearsal processes and performance runs. Never have I felt like I was in such a tight-knit community, and also the performance run filled with so many unexpected obstacles.
Even the rehearsal process filled me with some uncertainty. For one, my performance partner had to step away for health reasons halfway through -- leaving me with a new partner. For two, the final structure only came together on the last day. That’s not something I’m used to, having a piece fully ready only the day before opening day -- but which I now understand the reasons for; it was important to first spend time bringing the group together and formalize ways of moving together cohesively.
Caring for a creative community
Yet even though those things had me feeling just a tad uneasy, I also felt incredibly cared for. It was clear that those running the project (Artist Melissa McGill, Choreographer Davalois Fearon, and their team of assistants) centered care and community. On rehearsal days, they provided lunch -- delicious sandwiches, fruit, granola bars, and seltzer water. There were snacks for us on rehearsal days. Bug spray, water, and sunscreen were also always available.
Davalois also asked us to name access needs (anything particular need we needed to stay safe and comfortable) in our warm-up circles. She and Melissa always asked us to take care of ourselves and not be afraid to name what we needed. I knew that I’d stay comfortable and healthy throughout the process, and the same for my new community of artists. The first time I truly felt that community spirit was when we enjoyed yummy Oreo cake for one ensemble member’s birthday, on the second rehearsal day. What a lovely gesture from the leadership team!
Our creative community
I also knew that I, and everyone else in the ensemble, was being very fairly compensated for our time and efforts. I understand that artists don’t always have the means to provide that for artists in their ensembles. I will just say that it can make a real difference in how it feels to be part of a project; one can be more willing and able to give their all if they know they are being well cared-for in return.
Similarly, I’d argue that keeping performers fed, hydrated, and feeling supported is not only generous, it’s smart; with their physical and emotional needs met, performers can be more physically, mentally and emotionally invested -- and help create better work as a result.
Nevertheless, a stunning result
However uncertain I felt walking into that last day without a set structure for the work in place, what resulted was -- and I might be biased -- uniquely breathtaking. We walked, ran, and gestured with wave paintings -- panels made from ocean plastic painted by Melissa as ocean waves. Shades of blue and white blended and diverged as we moved from formation to formation.
These waves were in conversation with the waves just beyond us at Newport’s Rough Point, crashing into the cliffs, and the wind -- the waves and the wind different on each day (it was always a thrilling question as to what nature would bring on each performance!).
The work demonstrated how art can shine a light on urgent issues with beauty and joy (a lot more pleasant than watching cable news, right?); underscored the connectedness of all beings and places on this third rock from the sun; demonstrated that, aesthetically and stylistically speaking, less can be so, so much more (big shout out to Davalois for making largely pedestrian movement so layered, cohesive, and visually intriguing).
Our performance and rehearsal space, the lawn at Newport, RI's Rough Roint
Cancellations, weather, COVID….oh my….
I think the beauty of the work, combined with its awe-inspiring location of a rolling, perfectly manicured lawn and ocean as far as I could see, kept me breathing easy when several obstacles got in the way of our performances. Our community of artists also helped me there; I knew that we were in it together.
First there was a hurricane, then a COVID scare (causing two cancelled performances and everyone having to come back with a negative antigen test). On the third-to-last day, we waited out wind and rain, doing the second performance of the day but not the first.
On the second to last day, rainclouds overhead hung threateningly and a few drops fell -- but with a minor delay to let grass dry and walking the terrain of the piece, we decided that it was safe to proceed. With all of that, eighteen scheduled performances became eleven. In all honesty, it did help to know that even if performances were cancelled, we’d be paid.
Beyond that, I felt okay with having fewer performances; with eighteen chances to perform, it was okay if we had a few less. What we did was enough. I felt surprisingly calm waiting to hear if a performance planned for fifteen minutes away would be on -- either way, I was supported and in a wonderful community.
Melissa McGill's lovely wave paintings
What I'll take away
All of that considered -- unplanned and planned, uncertainty and beauty, adapting and steadiness and something spectacular -- I bring away so many amazing memories and warm feelings. I now know what it looks and feels like for artists to be fully supported, and get through the inevitable unexpected roadblocks together.
When I wear my costume wave t-shirts or baseball hat, or spot the small piece of wave painting (which Melissa generously gave us to take away from the project) now hanging in my closet, I'll remember all of this fondly and lovingly.
And all of that came from two weeks of rehearsals and performances. To me, the human capacity to quickly connect, support each other and create with each other -- even with people they don’t know -- is rather remarkable!
"Never doubt that a small group of committed individuals can change the world -- indeed, it's the only thing that ever has" once said Margaret Mead. Personally, I’ll multiply that many fold when that small group of committed individuals are artists. They know how to ride the waves -- hand in hand, back to back, lifting each other up and gently letting each other down. I’m not sure about you, but that’s how I want to handle life’s unpredictabilities and challenges.
Rough Point with clouds overhead -- but the show went on, safely and thoughfully!
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