Still Life Dances

April 28, “Still Life No. 7”

Choreography by: Lauren Simpson and Jenny Stulberg

Some weeks ago, I had the honor of not only watching Still Life No. 7 but also moderating a post-show discussion about audience engagement for Simpson and Stulberg. Yes, I am behind; I call it slow blogging.

As I took my seat in a studio at Margret Jenkins Dance Lab, I gazed at the stage to take in the program notes that were projected on the wall. They included the standard information about the music, dancers, costumes, etc. I knew Simpson and Stulberg were trying a new format, but I didn’t know how much information they decided to provide. After the standard preliminaries, they offered additional notes: “Information and opinions about frequently asked questions you may or may not want to know before watching this dance,” which was followed by a series of questions (and answers):

What is a Still Life Dance?

What painting did you choose?

Is it good?

What does the dance mean?

No, tell me how to look at it. How should I watch this dance?

I don’t want to say anything stupid in the post-show discussion. Please help.

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Already, Stulberg and Simpson were engaging with their audience. I admit, most of the time when I sit down to a performance on my own I comb the program, check my phone, etc. Having the program notes “live” so to speak encouraged me to be in the space with others more; I even had a lovely chat with the person sitting next to me. The streaming questions and their answers suggested that we (the audience) watch Still Life No. 7 with curiosity and by “letting the dance fall on [us].”

Looking back at the scribbles in my notebook, several threads emerged. I’ve translated them here in a form that captures how Stil Life No. 7 unfolded for me. They are not necessarily linear, but points of contact and represent how the dance fell on me.

  • Bodies on the floor.
  • Light from stage left creating shadows.
  • Synchronous feet and leg rocking.
  • There was often no sound and space between movements, which allowed time for catching up or reflecting.
  • Then I noticed the sound of the costumes rubbing on the floor and then sniffs, coughing. “Yep” and “yeah” seemed to say “it’s ok,” “I get you,” or “I am with you.” Here, life breathing into the abstract.
  • The repeating verbal nonsense (purple church, tractor, Trader Joe’s) reflected how the stories in our heads can keep us from finding pauses or stillness in the everyday.
  • Coming to the piano, signing at it but not playing it.
  • The film at the end directed the gaze, directing us to see the particularities of movement, bodies, costumes.

Together, these observations reveal a dance steeped in different kinds of curiosities. Simpson and Stulberg drew us into a landscape that kept asking us to consider the stillness between light, sound, and movement and how that stillness is not empty but full of possibilities. How much light do we need to see others? To be with others? SCan it be enough to hear each other?  Stillness can connect us with each other.

The post-show discussion revealed a curious audience that was attentive to the not only the dancing on stage but also the dancing in their minds. While hesitant at first, the audience eventually warmed up and engaged very directly with Simpson and Stulberg about their work as well as how they engaged. I felt we could have talked for hours. Between the dancing and discussion, it was a full evening that challenged me to draw out the curiosities between myself, the dancers and the audience. As I made my way home, I pondered the fullness of stillness, noticing the shadows on the sidewalk, the sound of feet on the pavement, the rush of vehicles on the street, and the stories in my head.

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April 14th, “Still Life No. 8” Edge Residency 2018

Choreography by Lauren Simpson and Jenny Stulberg

I’ve written about Simpson and Stulberg’s work for years and always look forward to a display of small quick gestures that play with sound, space, and sight that contain surprises of unusual directions, gestures, and glances. The audience on Saturday, April 14th seemed much less familiar with their work. I noticed short bursts of laughter and gasps from the audience, which encouraged me to experience “Still Life No. 8” on its own, as something new.

Simpson and Stulberg did not reveal which still life painting from the de Young Museum this movement study is based on. Instead, they wrote: “The eighth work in our series, this dance acknowledges the labor and life of the table and performers.” Multiple forms of labor were clearly articulated as the dancers kept pushing an industrial looking table (designed by Giacomo Castagnola) into different positions around the stage, locking and unlocking its wheels. As the trio of dancers worked (and danced), they kept checking in with each other with simple phrases like “yep” and “ok.” Their costumes looked like uniforms and they seemed concerned with getting “it” just right. 

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“Still Life No. 8,” Simpson/Stulberg Collaborations, Counterpulse 2018 (Photo by M.LaVigne)

The zig-zagging movements of dancers on the top, bottom, middle, and sides of the table created moments of tension and surprise. They slid across the table’s surfaces, stopping just as it seemed they might slide off the edge. When the table was turned on its side, they used the sides as walls or screens, moving in and out of them to create a dynamic tableau. The first and last sections had no music, which amplified the labor of the body on, off, and with the table as well as the verbal recognition of that labor between the dancers. The only part with music was the middle section; it was “danced” by the table. Arletta Anderson could barely be seen underneath the table as she moved it across the stage – another nod toward the labor that goes unseen or unacknowledged.

I never quite figured out the end goal; what were the dancers working to achieve? It occurred to me that perhaps that was the point or rather question. What are we trying to achieve with all of our multiple forms of labor? What do we take for granted in those labors (like a table)? What kind of connections do we make or break while we labor?

Like “Still Life No’s 1-6,” I left the theater with a little grin. This time I was delighted by the experience of seeing a table “dance” and by the gasps and laughter from the audience. Simpson and Stulberg have a unique ability to play with incongruity that is insightful as well as humorous. “Still Life No. 8 ” found movements to show us how the unnoticed  – like a table – often get missed in the labor of living. I wonder what will be on display in “Still Life No. 7” April 28th and 29th? Come join me to find out!

June 10th, “Still Life No. 6,” Lauren Simpson and Jenny Stulberg

“Still Life No. 6” premiered as part of Yerba Buena Gardens Festival ChoreoFest, an event of Bay Area contemporary dance curated by RAWdance. “Still Life No. 6” was 3rd on the program so I also saw pieces by RAWdance and dawsondancesf. Each piece was danced at a different location around Yerba Buena Gardens. I brought by 5-year old daughter and we enjoyed walking, and watching dance on sunny Saturday afternoon.

By the time we found a seat, “Still Life No. 6” had already started; Simpson and Stulberg sat on the edge of a raised block in the East Plaza of YBCA Gardens, a cellist was playing (Shanna Sordahl). Despite the typical distractions of being outside (and trying to be still) in a public space I could sense a mood; even my 5-year old could sense it as she sat watching intently for most of the 20 minute piece. As Simpson and Stulberg mentioned in a recent interview with me, this piece did stay within the same vocabulary and virtuosic style they’ve developed. The technical precision was stunning and yet there was so much more to see (and hear) about how and what we remember.

FullSizeRender (5)Because of the site specific nature of the piece and where I sat (on the ground at an angle), I really noticed the meticulous gestural movements of Simpson and Stulberg’s eyes and heads – blinking and gazing, nodding and bobbing. At times they seemed to be following something with their eyes, signaling “it’s ok”, or articulating “yes.” These modes of seeing (and speaking) seemed to acknowledge or respond to something just beyond the audience’s reach or line of sight. Simpson and Stulberg stayed on the block almost the entire time. Close to the end, they balanced on their hips right on the edges of the block. They hovered there for a while before “falling” off and running to the opposite wall where they tired to balance in handstands while reading out loud. I knew from their interview that these were obituaries published in the paper on the same day of the performance (June 10th). When they were done reading these, they moved off the wall and around the area, even moving between the audience, to read more obituaries. They even asked two audience members to join them in reading.

I strained to hear. At first it bothered me – was I missing out on something important? I even got up and tried to move closer. I paused. There is only so much we can see and hear in any given moment. So much of our lives are about straining – to hear, see, understand, comprehend, etc. We can turn up the volume, move closer, turn a page, ask a question, press rewind. But often we can’t. In these moments, what are missing? What does it matter? How much might it matter after the moment passes? “Still Life No. 6” asked us to pause and consider how we see and hear any given moment. Remembering, whether the steps of a dance or the details of a life already past, is part of how we are in the world. I left wondering that maybe we should pause more so that we pay closer attention to how we listen or see. 

June 2nd, “Still Life No. 6”: A Conversation with Lauren Simpson and Jenny Stulberg

Simpson and Stulberg will perform a new piece, “Still Life No. 6,” the newest installment in their Still Life series on Saturday June 10th, 1pm at Yerba Buena Gardens – day 2 of the Yerba Buena ChoreoFest. I had the pleasure of catching a bit of their rehearsal before we went to the SFMOMA for a conversation about their new piece. We talked about their process for making “Still Life No. 6,” the value of technique, and how dance can be a response to living in (and with) a Trump America.

ML: As “Still Life No. 6” is a continuation of  your series, is it inspired by a still life (painting) like your other pieces?

Lauren: We wanted to develop some of the ideas we’ve been exploring in the still life series, but we also wanted to shift gears a little bit so we chose a still life installation instead of a painting.

Jenny: The installation “Still Life No. 6” is based on is “Plegaria Muda” by Doris Salcedo, which was on display here at SFMOMA. We walked into Salcedo’s exhibit and were both drawn to Salcedo’s piece: a room filled with tables stacked on top of each other in pairs with dirt in between them and bits of grass growing on top.

Lauren: We didn’t do a lot of research about “Plegaria Muda,” but we read the artist statement, and it explained that each of these double tables represents a grave site of someone that was killed as result of L.A. gang violence, which gave us new ways for us think about still life as a concept and practice.

ML: Does “Still Life No. 6” mark a shift in your work?

Lauren: Yes, I think it does. We’ve taken more time with this piece, which we started in January, partly because we have two residencies. One at Shawl-Anderson Dance and the other with Margaret Jenkins’  CHIME (Choreographers in Mentorship Exchange). This has given us more breathing room. In the past, we rehearsed everyday leading up to a performance. This time it’s different. We’re not in rehearsals everyday so our bodies remember differently, which allows more opportunity for new ideas to emerge. And because we’ve been commuting together from SF to Berkeley we talk less about the work and more about what’s been going on in the world.

Jenny: So on the surface, “Still Life No. 6” is not a big departure (same movement style), but it is the first piece we speak in and it’s site-specific, an installation. It’s an entryway into seeing where else our work can go.

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ML: Do you think your technique or movement structures are responsive to the state a world that is living in and with a Trump presidency?

Lauren: I think that in our artistic process we expend a lot of energy stringing together meaningless gestures and movements, refine them, craft them into an energetic arc, and practice doing them with a deep listening. It’s a way for us to focus our energy in a productive way, but some sort of low impact, peaceful and likely inconsequential way. What we make is no antidote to Trump, but how we make it certainly feels that way, to me at least in those long hours in the studio.

Jenny: None of the pieces we’ve made thus far have been intentionally imbued with any emotional undertones or subtext as we approach our work from a place of form and compositional elements. For this piece, however, we were interested in coming from a place of emotion or reaction to the state of world while still staying within the same movement vocabulary and virtuosic style we’ve developed. We’re obviously not changing the world with this piece, but this process has been a nice way to turn off, but also turn on.

ML: Given that, is there anything you want the audience to know about “Still Life No. 6”?

Lauren: We started to read obituaries, and noticed their form and tone, how they encapsulate a life. While driving to rehearsals we’ve talked about the unnecessary deaths we hear about, and then turn off, and get on with our day. So we decided to try and incorporate some of that into the piece. Toward the end of this work we read obituaries from that day out loud. For us, this is a kind of prayer. We are playing around with this idea and are not sure how it will manifest yet.

Jenny: I think we are reading these obituaries to call the audience to stop, notice, and listen. It’s a hard balance; you want to give full attention to news about lives that are lost, but you can’t all the time because it can be too overwhelming. With the stillness that we continue to put into our pieces we are trying to call attention to those aspects that we don’t normally give time or attention to.

Lauren: When a choreographer makes the same dance over and over again, they often get criticized for it. Visual artists, however, can make a series of the same thing over and over again and it’s ok. A series is a way to learn about what you’re doing. It’s worth it to us to keep doing whatever it is in this small gestural world if we keep figuring out what it is and “x.” The “and” is what we are trying to figure out. How does our talking and running around the space that we do in “Still Life No. 6” speak to our small gestural material?  

I look forward to talking with Lauren and Jenny after their June 10th performance; check back at here for more!