Tariq O’Meally: How Can I Be of Service?

By Charlie Maybee

Tariq Darrell O’Meally is a Washington, D.C., based artist, curator, and educator. He is the founder and artistic director of Tariq Darrell + the Unum Collective, as well as the Visiting Artist Series program guest curator at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center at University of Maryland College Park. Holding a BFA in dance and choreography from Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, he has taught at such institutions as CityDance School, Dance Institute of Washington, Hollins University, Coppin State University, and many more. O’Meally was recently selected as an artist in residence at Dance Place for the 2020-21 season.

I was struck by this quote in the “About” section on your website:

[Tariq’s] work focuses on being a Contemporary dance artist striving to transition into a post-contemporary context. That is to say that if Contemporary work interacts with the fierce urgency of now; then post-contemporary exploration integrates what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen, intersecting these concepts with the vulnerability and necessity of being human.

What happened in your past work? What is happening currently in your work? What do you think will happen in your work-to-come as you navigate this post-contemporary framework?

An article in the Huffington Post about post-contemporary work by artist and writer Daniel Maidman says the three tenets are creativity, skill, and empathy. Nothing that we do is new, but how we do it is, so that’s creative. Knowing your craft, having the skill to see what its boundaries and limitations are, and being able to weave that creatively. Then empathy--understanding how that exists in the world, and how art is for people to engage with, understand, and find meaning inside of that--will enlighten their experience. This is my interpretation of what these things mean in my physical practice.

I always think about the first lesson I learned: our job as artists is to pass it on, which is something that Ann Reinking said. And I thought of this notion of being constantly of service; the black women I’ve been raised by have all been social workers in some formal capacity. When I start thinking about what titles I give myself, it goes: social worker, then educator, then curator, then choreographer, and dancer is last. Above all I think, “How can I be of service?”

Tell us about your curatorial practices and projects that you’re working on right now.  

Curatorially, I’m into this notion of citizenship and what I’m terming “neo-legacies.” If what is past is prologue, how do we build futures that don’t look exactly like our past? I’m thinking of history or legacies as a vehicle and not a coffin. As a curator, especially thinking about this idea of time with post-contemporary work, I’m interested in what legacies have been grounded for the last 30, 40, or 50 years in American concert dance. I don’t know, whether because of scarcity of resources or access, if we’re building in the same way that Graham, Ailey or Horton built (organizations that we would call grassroots organizations). They built these things that transformed the world in tandem with other things happening around the globe. As a curator, I’m interested in what legacies we’re building; how are we starting new ceremonies that are turning into traditions; and how do those traditions live and grow into legacy?

I’m curious about curation as a mode of selecting what you feel will be the most impactful. Can you tell us about any moments where you felt like things aligned in your curatorial practice or moments where it didn’t go where you wanted?

The interesting thing about this selecting thing–it’s a very different power dynamic to be in, especially as someone who is still a vulnerable artist in my own right. So, hopefully for next season, there’s space to think about what makes the most sense for the time and moment that we’re in.

What does the community need? What does the artist need? And more importantly, to your question, what is the service we’re providing and who is it in service of? In that context, this season I specifically focused on emerging, millennial artists of color. I wanted to create a platform both because I’m still very much a practicing artist and have now stepped into this position where I’m trying to create as many jobs as I can with the power that I have. I’m allocating resources to give to people who don’t normally have access to them, and I’m planning and considering what the future of the field should look like by investing in artists who work with that in mind, both in product and process.

Going back to your list of job titles, what does being a social worker/caregiver look like from your perspective as a dancer, performer, and curator?

I think the form shifts. When I think about the idea of a container, I’m struck by the way that the contents often take its shape. So, in terms of social work or taking care of people, it’s not always on a one-on-one basis, but what is the care that you’re giving to the many people that you’re interacting with?

I think American concert dance has been negligent in a broad, generalized sense, but everything is in such a scarcity mindset that the idea of giving is not the same. Who is investing in training or apprenticing people now? Who is taking the time to craft the next generation? How are we, in educational institutions, thinking about viable and tangible professional development. How are we making work not just about how we feel, but about communicating and making someone in the audience feel seen even though they don’t know anything about anyone else. I’m starting to live by the quote, “What is understood doesn’t need to be explained.” I think so much of dance right now is simultaneously understood, but not, somehow. We need to do the work of considering the entire ecosystem right now.

When I think of social work, I think of my mom working in Northwest D.C. taking care of homeless people who are also HIV positive and all of these different vulnerable communities, and bringing them home for dinner consistently, or watching my family members bring people in and support them at the drop of a hat. God rest her soul, one of my best friend’s mother and grandmother, back when my stepdad left us, came over with all of this food for me, my mother, and my sister. That care, support, and showing up was profound. No one asked for it and I’m not sure they even had it to give in the first place, but they saw a need and did the best that they could. As an artist and curator, I’m trying to do my best at being intentional and purposeful in the work I make, the words I use, and the work that I bring in because whoever did that for me previously saved my life.

That’s so interesting because I feel like it’s going to change now that the world is dealing with COVID-19.

To that point, I’ll offer that it’s too early to tell what those changes are going to be. We’re too inside of it right now. I would encourage everyone, especially those who have the space--and I recognize that not everyone does--to really take a moment to reflect on what the lesson is. I don’t know what it is yet for myself. It’s massive, dramatic, completely out of my hands, but I may be able to step back and go, “Okay, what am I supposed to learn in this moment?”

Do you see the possible effects of COVID-19 flattening out the entrenched hierarchies of arts organizations?

If we think of the dance ecosystem as a body, COVID-19 cut the body open and revealed that there was already cancer spreading in the heart, lungs, and bones. What has been exposed in the response of organizations to this emergency in relationship to artists is very telling. Seeing how treacherous contracts have been for cancellations, which I understand to a degree, but it makes it so the artists don’t even get a percentage, despite the fact that the work they do starts long before they are presented.

I think this crumbling of these larger organizations is important. The anarchist in me is like, “Dope!” But it’s important to remember that the people on the board, or the people in charge, are not the people on the ground who have lost their jobs and who actually do the day-to-day work that they’re passionate about. You teach people how to treat you; I think dance has taught people that “We’ll do everything for free; we’re about the work.” We have not trained to be our own advocates on a legal level. These organizations are crumbling, which is terrible in one respect, but, in another, if the sky opens up, it doesn’t fall. There has to be this clear reformation and reimagining of what wasn’t working and how we can do it better in the future. I think American concert dance was on life-support to begin with. We’re in a moment of time-of-death--death as in transformation. But how do we transition? How do we pick up the rubble and build a new house?

How would you define the moment that you find yourself in?

Transparency. Struggle. I’m in space of recommitting to why dance is important; examining it and being clear with myself about what that is. I’m leaning toward a space of stillness, reflection, and contemplation. Although I do feel burnt out in this moment for trying to think of different ways to help, when those moments arise, I continue to ask how many people can be helped and what can be offered. I’m a bit adrift and I think that’s okay.

Articles talk about how the world is grieving because whatever the world was prior to January is now gone. Just like 9/11 was transformative, we’re shedding a different layer of innocence or naivety about what life is, especially in the American context. It’s time to look at what that was, grieve, be sad and angry, and then let go. I’m trying to be available and not attached to what I think needs to happen, what should happen, or what will happen. I hope others are giving themselves the time and space to cope and adjust. Grief is like a giant lake: you can only swallow one cup at a time, but if you try to drink it all at once you’ll drown.  

Photos: top, Hollins University, second and third by Chris Frenzi

Editor’s note: The opinions and views expressed in this article are the author’s and subject’s and do not reflect the opinions and views of Dance Metro DC, its board or staff.

Lucy Bowen McCauley: One Day At A Time

By Justin Metcalf-Burton

Lucy Bowen McCauley, photo Jeff Malet

For nearly 25 years, Bowen McCauley Dance (BMDC) has been a fixture of the Washington, D.C. regional dance scene. Based in Arlington, Va., the company founded by Lucy Bowen McCauley has been performing locally, nationally, and internationally since 1996. I first knew Lucy as faculty at Maryland Youth Ballet where I was a student. More than a decade later I now know her as my artistic director. I was particularly excited for this season’s March 29 and 30 production at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater, which is now tentatively postponed until June 2020. Like dance companies around the world, BMDC has taken a serious hit because of the COVID-19 pandemic, losing rehearsal time, performances, and teaching income. BMDC Executive Director Helen Chamberlin and Lucy joined spoke with me late last month.

How are you?

Lucy Bowen McCauley: How am I? This week has been stressful. I feel less creative. I’m teaching my Dance for Parkinson’s class online. I have been getting feedback that my last class was extra creative and that made me feel good. I miss creativity, I miss the dancers terribly, and I miss being in the studio. We all miss our routines. What we do is so physical and group oriented that the stay-at-home order has a special sting. With keeping the company running, time is not super available. We applied for a PPP [Paycheck Protection Program] grant on the first day it was possible. The board has been very active, the finance committee is meeting weekly, and extra fundraising has been going well. The company had reserves to help us through, so there are positives. And, last but not least, I don’t miss being in the car and in traffic all the time [laughter].

Helen Chamberlin: Thanks for asking. I’ve been taking it day by day. We have now lost one-third of our revenue from performance cancellations, Dance for PD cancellations, and potential community-engagement events in schools. We really started upping our virtual presence with the online Dance for PD program, which is really becoming a bright spot for the people who do it.

How has the company pivoted after the loss of the spring season?   

L.B.M.: The loss of the Kennedy Center shows is a budget-destroying event, as well as morale- and income-destroying for the artists. We lost a performance at the Car-Free Earth Day festival in NYC, and a commission with the National Chamber Ensemble. And, as you know, we lost the classes that you were teaching through the Kennedy Center as well as other educational community-engagement programs. This may not be recoverable within our season, which ends in the end of June, because not much work will get done before then.

We followed the CARES Act and submitted on the first day that applications were being accepted. That’s specifically for salary and rent. Our board chairs sent out an upbeat email [to company supporters and ticket holders] asking for help and that brought in several thousand dollars without being heavy handed. We’re trying to get our dancers some money and until we can all get back in the studio.

Lucy Bowen McCauley’s “Lissajous,” photo by David Moss

H.C.: We tracked the CARES act, but as the act was going through Congress it was changing, so we were trying to get good information, but recognized that the information [was] changing. The challenge was our bank -- BBT -- was still having conference calls the morning of April 3 when we were supposed to submit, because the banks were trying get clients registered on April 3, but we weren’t given the application until Monday [April 5] to apply. That weekend was a little tough. You knew banks were processing bigger clients and you knew money was going out the door, so was there going to be enough for us?

What are you doing to stay motivated?

L.B.M.: I’m very motivated. I don’t have to race out the door in the morning, which I like. I usually get up and do a workout because that energizes me and if I don’t do it in the morning, I don’t do it at all. This company is very dear to me and I want us to have our 25th season. I think the show we’re sitting on is an absolutely beautiful show that I believe in. I believe in our Dance for PD program and I believe in what we do in the schools. So motivation isn’t a problem.

People ask me, “Why don’t you just choreograph a new dance while you’re at home?” I listen to music and I’m reading more and feeding my soul, which always ends up feeding my choreography, but I’m not writing the “great American novel” in dance right now. I’m trying to keep the company afloat, keep myself in shape, and take care of the dancers. There doesn’t seem to be a shortage of things to do. My motivation is great. The creativity is maybe not A level right now. But it will come back.

Often art becomes tied to crisis as a way of processing cultural trauma. Has quarantine inspired you to think about your work differently?

L.B.M.: I can’t tell you what it will be, because we’re all going to be changed, we’re all going to be different. I have never been much of a choreographer for what I call ‘message pieces.’ I don’t feel like I’m dying to do a coronavirus piece. I know some people will. I have seen choreographers do pieces in their apartments in like a six-foot square, and I thought it was interesting, the claustrophobia of it all, but I didn’t think I needed to add to the mix. Sometimes it looks like something that should stay in the privacy of one’s own home anyway. I’m not the best with the message [pieces], but it will definitely influence my art. If anything, I want to do something where we all start in a cluster like an amoeba and we move together touching each other instead of using all this space. And the dancers will all be a little different. We may be rehearsing with masks on when we finally get to return.

We bring the joy of dance to people. Even if a piece isn’t always happy, the joy of watching bodies in motion, in sync with some incredible music and some interesting ideas, that joy is going to come back. I don’t know how it will be exactly; I don’t have that crystal ball. I’m trying to take each thing one day at a time.

A Reflection on Readjusting with Chitra Subramanian

By Shianne Antoine

Chitra Subramanian, founder of chitra.MOVES

Chitra Subramanian is the founder of chitra.MOVES, which she created in 2018. This collective of diverse female dancers performs a fusion of hip hop and Indian dance. Based in Washington D.C., chitra.MOVES has performed in many venues in the Northeast and presented its first evening-length work, Temple, in December 2019. Subramanian currently works as a manager at Lee Montessori Public Charter School.   

Tell me about chitra.MOVES.

This collective has its roots in Cleveland. Before I moved to Cleveland, dance was a hobby – I ran a non-profit in D.C. and that occupied most of my time. In Ohio, I didn’t have a traditional job, so I focused on exploring areas that I previously didn’t have time for. I was creating and figuring out what my movement style was – drawing from those inspirations that surrounded me. I was classically trained in Bharartanatyum, an ancient Indian dance form, for most of my life and began seriously training in hip hop after college. I thought now that I have this time to focus on dance, let me go all the way. The collective started in Ohio with dancers not only from Cleveland, but from Pittsburgh, my hometown. I was also training with the street dance community in Cleveland, which has roots in krump and popping.

I had the opportunity to be considered for a global Bollywood dance competition in New York. Our work was selected and we made it to the finals! I’m still tied to those original dancers. When I came to D.C., I wanted to continue this idea of bringing dancers, specifically women, together who have different backgrounds not only in dance, but beyond.

How has COVID-19 affected your collective or your art?

Everyone is readjusting as much as possible. I work with a range of people, some of them dance full time and some juggle many things. Personally, this has been a good opportunity for me to step back, re-plan, and reflect on how I want to move forward. I’ve been thinking of ways to focus on things that I didn’t have time to before, specifically my branding, so I’m working on that.

I’ve also been taking [online] classes from different people that I respect. I’ve been grateful that I have this opportunity because I do have a flexible job. But, I know many of my dancers are teaching studio classes online and feeling overwhelmed with adjusting. I think the overall energy has been, “We just got to keep it moving,” which has been cool to see. My next goal is to explore how I can start teaching again.

Did chitra.MOVES have to cancel or postpone any performances due to COVID-19?

There were teaching opportunities in the summer that aren’t going to happen. I was really hoping to participate in something in July, but at this point, I highly doubt it’s going to happen.

I have to say, this whole thing happened at a time where nothing was formally lined up for my company. August to February was crazy busy – after February, everything was calm. That’s when [the pandemic] hit, which is weird. I was working on a second presentation of Temple at Joe’s [Movement Emporium] for November, but we might need to push that back to spring 2021.

What are you learning right now as a dancer/artist by being socially distant?

It’s a new kind of discipline we must have. My discipline is doing some kind of movement two hours daily. It may be in different sections of the day because I have two young girls [seven and five years old]. I’m pushing myself to practice the aspects I want to grow in. I’m being organized about that – so if I’m taking a class consistently, I’m being mindful in how I’m taking that information, applying, and practicing it meaningfully. Now that we’ve been home for a while, I’m back to creating again. It’s fun that we can all learn and grow together through this virtual space. It’s also nice having the ease of going to class without having to drive; of course, nothing can replace the face to face.

How do you keep yourself uplifted during this time?

Overall, I do feel a sense of gratitude – it’s like a new family adventure for us, although we do have our ups and downs. I just want to throw everyone out of the house sometimes! From a parenting perspective, I use my experience from running M.O.M.I.E.S [a non-profit social justice education organization for children] and teach my girls “The Great Person Series.” We learn about one person in history for two weeks with hands-on activities. I’m uplifted because I get to be creative and [my children] are learning interesting concepts that they wouldn’t get otherwise. We just finished learning about Nikki Giovanni.

On the dance side, being able to learn from people is uplifting. I didn’t necessarily have the time and energy for all of this before. I have Zoom dance sessions with people I respect and we play around together. There’s been no pressure. It’s not ideal, but it’s been nice.

What do you hope the dance world will acknowledge or change by the end of pandemic?

It’s important to think about what support for artists really is. [The pandemic] has hit everyone hard. Even if you were successful or just starting out, this has affected artists in a big way. I would like to see dance organizations [become] more accessible to all dance forms, specifically in what they are choosing to present in their [performance] spaces. [Dance] organizations are going to have to pay more attention to that.

Online, we’re able to get audiences that we wouldn’t touch when we were performing in a physical space, so how are we able to build on those relationships? What are some things we can put in place now so that those audiences won’t be lost?

I also think we should use this opportunity to leverage more [financial] support for continuing dance in a greater capacity when we get back to “normal.” I wonder what organizations need right now to support our future “normal”?

Photo credits: Dominic Green and Ivan Huang

Christopher K. Morgan: On Social Distancing and Transformation

By Lisa Traiger

Christopher K. Morgan, photo Brianne Bland

As the COVID-19 pandemic continues to keep us at home away for theaters and dance communities, Washington, D.C., dance artists, studio directors, company directors and presenters have been as nimble in this time of crisis as one would expect from swift-footed dancers. With its $2.25 million annual budget, a full-time staff of 15, plus seven part-time, a nationally acclaimed performance series of 30-weeks for the 2019-20 season, and a cadre of community and youth programs serving the Northeast Washington neighborhood, there’s no larger nor more influential player on the local D.C.-area dance scene than Dance Place.

Executive and artistic director Christopher K. Morgan, who took the helm at Dance Place in 2017, continues to direct and choreograph for Christopher K. Morgan & Artists (CKM&A), an independent touring company. Born in Orange County, Calif., Christopher draws on his Native Hawaiian ancestry and diverse, international dance career in his work as a choreographer, educator, facilitator, curator and performer. His work has been called “Transcendent and entrancing” by The Washington Post and, in 2011, the year he founded CKM&A, Dance Magazine profiled him as one of six breakout choreographers in the United States.  

This spring, Morgan was readying his newest work, Native Intelligence / Innate Intelligence, for its world premiere. Touching on charged issues of what it means to be native in a nation where immigration, race and identity are politicized, the piece draws on Morgan’s multiple embodied languages, incorporating modern dance, hula, Hawaiian chant, and live music. The work asks viewers to ponder nature versus nurture: how does what we inherit genetically influence who we become, and how much is shaped by our environment.  

When not in the studio, Morgan is in demand as a speaker, panelist and grants reviewer for his informed and balanced perspective, and has been invited to participate in national and international discussions on cultural appropriation and equity. At Dance Place he oversees the curation of performances by national and international choreographers annually, a school for youth and adults, youth enrichment programs, and continues Dance Place’s leadership in creative placemaking. In the summer, Christopher directs Art Omi: Dance, an annual collaborative residency for international choreographers in Ghent, N.Y., and has taught at dozens of institutions of higher learning. He and his husband, opera director Kyle Lang, reside in the Takoma neighborhood of Washington, D.C.

You are a dancer, choreographer and artistic director of your own company and you serve as the artistic and executive director of Dance Place, the region’s most prolific presenter of dance. You’re a teacher, a public speaker and arts advocate. So you’re seeing ramifications of the COVID-19 pandemic across multiple venues and ventures. How has the pandemic has affected your company? CKM&A was scheduled to premiere Native Intelligence / Innate Intelligence at Dance Place May 2-3, 2020.

Our new evening-length work received National Performance Network Creation and Development funding and was co-commissioned by the Maui Arts and Cultural Center and Dance Place. Then it was to be immediately followed by a performance at Reston CenterStage. The Dance Place performance was postponed while the Reston Center Stage performance had to be cancelled.  

Morgan moderating a panel at The REACH at The Kennedy Center, photo courtesy Dance Place

I’m super bummed about that. Yet, I also feel very fortunate that we have engagements that are going to happen with that same work next year. The Dance Place premiere can be rescheduled for the fall; it’s better to have something delayed than fully cancelled. I feel fortunate that the funding we have in place is allowing us to help care for the collaborators of the work during this postponement. I actually sent them all paychecks in early April, some of that was cancellation fees. Reston (Va.) CenterStage was incredibly generous and left the full fee intact, even though they had to fully cancel the performance, I'm so grateful to them. Dance Place is covering 50 percent of the fee now, and 50 percent when we perform, as originally contracted for all artists on our season.

Where were you in the creation process?

Rehearsals have, of course, stopped. In late February, we had just finished a residency to create and fabricate the set at the Experimental Media and Performing Arts Center on the campus of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, New York, for a week. We were just starting to hit our stride having wrapped up the design issues. We were ready to rehearse more frequently and really build the work, then it all ground to a halt. But I feel so fortunate that we have funding in place. We can care for the artists and we can reschedule.

Did you consider rehearsing via Zoom?

We do a weekly meeting with the whole collaborative team to do personal check-ins and I share work-related updates, but I don't have the capacity to add virtual rehearsals at this time with my administrative workload.

I started a small relief fund from the CKM&A operating budget and anybody who’s worked with us can apply for some relief funding. I sent out two relief checks in April, that’s a little bit to help the artists.

Beyond your own work, as a curator do you expect artists to deal with some of the themes we are facing during this pandemic – isolation, uncertainty, perseverance, loneliness?

I think we’re definitely going to see that. What will be the most interesting and perhaps connect with people the most will be themes of isolation and separation. That’s going to be huge and important: How do we navigate that? There will be so many repercussions from this time, health and financial, but also socially. We’re going to feel such a difference and when we get back to not practicing social distancing; it’s going to take a while for people to reacclimate to public spaces. I noticed how quickly I acclimated to circling away from people in the grocery store. And I’m someone who gravitates towards people. I can only imagine how that repatterning of our social behavior is going to affect everything moving forward. An artistic response to that is going to be needed. This will be a huge subject matter for a lot of our artists moving forward.

Christopher K. Morgan & Artists, featuring Tiffanie Carson, Abby Farina and Ashley Rivette, photo Jonathan Hsu

We might also see a lot of dances for small living-room-sized spaces. We’ll be able to exactly imagine where the couch was.

With all public events closed for the near future, tell us about Dance Place’s Virtual Programming and its commitment to artists.

We wanted our virtual programming [to be] a gift to the community. Though we do rely on earned income from classes, they’re also equally part of building and strengthening our community. The warmth and goodwill that have come with [free online classes] have felt important. We had about $2,500 in donations come in through the Virtual Class series in just the first couple of weeks. We thought, if we’re willing to offer something, [our students] will come back, respond and support it.

We’re also offering a Virtual Presentation Series to fill the gap in performances, which is also free. We’re asking hard questions about the virtual presentations and how they will work. We have talked about what happens if this goes on for a longer period of time. Perhaps there will be a limit on the number who can publicly gather, so we could get a choreographer, some artists and some tech with lighting in the theater, but can’t gather an audience. [Perhaps Dance Place] could do a really beautifully produced conversation and that might be a point where we look at online ticketed events. Right now, we want to find the right balance of live events for our community, but also recognize the production values we’re able to put into it.

Christopher K. Morgan & Artists in “On Defen(c)e,” photo by Jonathan Hsu

How does this bode for the longer term for Dance Place and the field at large?

We are still paying our full-time staff at 100 percent and will be able to through the summer from our general operating budget without drawing on our reserves. From a larger perspective, this [situation] is making us think about what happens after this. All programming, not just Dance Place, but dance in general, is going to be changed. This is the tipping point that pushes us as a field to more thoughtfully engage in and design virtual programming.

While this is a very serious health and financial crisis, something like this always creates change and change can be opportunity. How can we … really start to transform the ways that we’re working? Everyone at Dance Place values the importance of live performance and gathering together. And I hope we can do that soon. But if this is part of our new reality, we need to really think carefully about how can we look at what we’re learning from this period and really start to transform the ways that we’re working.

'Holster Buffalo' on Hold: Sarah Beth Oppenheim Hopeful After Seeing the Resiliency in Our Dance Community

By Arielle Ostry

As COVID-19 cases continue to rise across the United States, so do postponements and cancellations of dance performances. While DC-based dance artist Sarah Beth Oppenheim comes to terms with the rescheduling of her most recent work, Holster Buffalo, she also mourns the loss of momentum she associates with her artistic process.

Sarah Beth Oppenheim, founder of Heart Stück Bernie, photo by Zachary Z. Handler

Choreographing under the moniker Heart Stück Bernie, Oppenheim has contributed to the metropolitan Washington, D.C., dance community in multiple ways throughout the past couple of years. She teaches both at American and George Washington universities. With her company, she performed works through the Kennedy Center’s Local Dance Commissioning Project, and she has choreographed as an artist in residence at Dance Place.

Holster Buffalo was scheduled to premiere at Dance Place on April 4-5, 2020, but with the pandemic making group gatherings unsafe, Oppenheim and her collaborators have resorted to connecting online, preparing a Dance Place Facebook Live event for April 18 at 6:30 p.m.

Read more about how Oppenheim is coping with social distancing as well as why she may need to revisit her work due to our rapidly changing country. 

How has the coronavirus pandemic affected your current projects?

Holster Buffalo has been postponed indefinitely, and my last project as artist in residence at Dance Place, a site-specific work for 28 dancers, which was slated for July, has also been postponed. Dance Place has been nothing but supportive and optimistic, and I am incredibly lucky to still be earning 75 percent of my contracted artist fees, regardless of whether postponement turns into cancellation. I am relieved that I can pay my dancers. I think it goes without saying that none of this feels personal, but there is still a mourning period – a sense of sadness and loss.

Holster Buffalo was about putting extremely difficult content on stage and asking the audience to consider race, inequity, and division in the contemporary American landscape. That is now different. It will look different in some months. Will an audience want to cautiously return to theaters and engage with this sort of material? I think the work will need to shift in response to what we’re all feeling, and how we’re all changing. Which brings me back to a sense of loss for the months of work we’ve already done and have now been rendered outdated! It’s okay. We’re okay. But we can still mourn for this loss before moving on entirely.

Are you struggling with working from home?

Yes. I am missing [my son’s babysitters]. I am missing time spent alone to, well, do anything, but to think exclusively about my art. I can feel my creativity ebbing. I can feel myself falling into a professional slump. But here’s what's amazing about it: I'm spending way more time with my 8-month-old son than my normal work and production schedule would have allowed. I’ve gained roughly three hours to each day by cutting out my commute ... and, ultimately, I feel incredibly lucky that I can keep teaching. I love teaching more than most things, and I would be so saddened to lose the connection with my students at the universities and my friends and colleagues at Dance Place.

Oppenheim’s “Render Edit,” photo by C. Stanley Photography

Any advice for fellow dancers or other dance enthusiasts during this time of social distancing?

For dance enthusiasts, NOW is the time! The amount of archival content being made available by companies and online platforms all over the world (much of it for FREE) is astonishing. I can not take full advantage because we don’t do screen time with the baby, but my goodness. I could otherwise watch performances (historical and contemporary) all the live-long day. It’s great for my students!

As far as advice goes? A day with dance is a better day. I started my first dance company in Berlin in 2005 – from my kitchen rehearsal space. That’s when I started making dance for apartments and houses. So, this sort of feels like returning home.

What have you had to do to shift this new piece, Holster Buffalo, from live theater to the streaming environment?

We’re gearing up right now to create some digital content for a livestream on Vimeo. We’ve been working on material -- some old, a little bit new. Dance Place is excited to support the virtual endeavors of its canceled artists. But, so is everybody right now .... and I don’t want to offer more of the same. I don’t have rehearsal footage that I want to share. I don’t feel confident about suddenly shifting into a dance film type of project. And I don’t want to present something that feels tone deaf to current events.

We’re also trying to figure out how to keep the essence of Heart Stück Bernie in this move to online content. (I am notoriously analog.) So ... stay tuned! One thing we are definitely doing is sharing the “120 Project” documentary online. We have a viewing party set for this Thursday, April 16. And part of our program this weekend will include a live (virtual, of course) Q&A with some members of the cast and a community facilitator!

Oppenheimer’s “Render Edit,” photo by C. Stanley Photography

Who has inspired you the most during this challenging time?

Two fearless leaders in D.C. right now include my boss Britta Joy Peterson [director of the dance program] at American University and my mentor Christopher K. Morgan [artistic and executive director] at Dance Place. They are both the epitome of calm, cool and collected. They have both made themselves available with resources, emotional support and good humor. I am thankful to work for, and virtually near, them. I send a major shout-out for the enthusiasm, digital savvy and love of the entire Dance Place team.

Most inspiring? The way the dance community has come together. Faster than most other industries or fields, we shifted online, we changed our syllabi, we’re offering resources to each other, and we’re largely doing this for free – ensuring access, encouraging joy through movement, and modeling a sense of normalcy amidst the otherwise unknown. One example, Katherine Disenhof’s site dancingalonetogether.org is incredible. I kiss its collective hand, clap the floor at its collective moving feet, thank my lucky stars to partake of all it is offering. I am inspired by our costume designers making masks. I am inspired by our fellow artists offering their services to earn money for other artists affected by cancellations, loss of work and income. I am enamored, but not surprised, by how our dance community is so flexible, creative, generous and beastly in its impact.

Dance Place hosts an online viewing party of the “120 Project” documentary Thursday, April 16 at 7.45 p.m. It will be streamed from Heart Stück Bernie's Facebook page.

Dance Place hosts a live virtual presentation that includes insight into the Heart Stück Bernie process, its “120 Project,” Holster Buffalo footage, and a cast conversation moderated by Ama Law. This presentation is meant to be a community connection point to discuss art and how it’s changing right now. Livestream on Dance Place’s website, April 18, 6:30 p.m. EST (rebroadcast on Facebook, April 19, 6:30 p.m. EST).

Social Dis-dancing: A Conversation with Dancinema Founder, Jen Ray

By Maddie Mitchell

To say that Jen Ray is a Renaissance woman is an understatement. As the founder of Dancinema Productions Ltd., she wears many hats: on any given day, she could be hosting Dancinema workshops and festivals, working as an advisory panel member for Youth Protection Advocates in Dance, leading classes in choreography and Dancinema at a Washington, D.C., middle school, teaching at studios in the D.C. Metro area, or developing programs for young dancers with The JaM Youth Project and the guiDANCE experience.

A filmmaker herself, over the past two years Ray has shifted her focus from creating dance films to curation, education and events presentation. “I love celebrating the work being made all over the world and know my abilities to celebrate, teach and curate are what I am more interested in cultivating than my own skills producing films. With only so much time, energy and money to go around, I have found the most rewards to be when I bring ‘dancinephiles’ together to watch, discuss and connect.” The Dancinema festivals have included, most notably, Capitol Dance & Cinema Festival in the District, which is scheduled for October 2020, and Cascadia Dance & Cinema Festival in Vancouver, BC, Ray’s hometown.

Despite her busy schedule, Ray still managed to find time to discuss her dance and film background, the ways in which Dancinema and her work schedule have been affected by the current COVID-19 crisis, the switch to virtual dance education, and the importance of diversifying and remaining flexible as an artist and business entrepreneur.

Dancinema’s founder Jen Ray

Can you talk a little bit about your dance and film background and how that led to you founding Dancinema?  

From a dance perspective, I was always interested in more than just performing. I liked directing, I liked costumes, I liked lighting, so I always had diverse interests related to dance.

At university, I joined the dance team but decided to take time to explore other disciplines. In that exploring, I discovered film studies, and I realized, “Oh my god, this is dance” -- and not just dance, but also the past of dance and the future of dance. With film, people want to understand camera movement and how you express your movement and express ideas through rhythmic editing; they want to show music through visuals, and that’s exactly what dance does. 

I think any dancer who crosses into film is already going to have this inherent sense of timing and movement that a strictly film person might not have. Dancinema is that middle space where dance and film intersect. 

We’re obviously going through a crazy, unprecedented time right now. How has COVID-19 affected you as an artist? What has been the impact on your work schedule and any current projects? 

It’s funny, because I think a lot of people are immediately like, “Wow, I’ll have all this extra time,” but for me, I’m just as busy as ever -- it’s just more online than in person now. I’m grateful to still be working, but I have a lot of the same demands on me as before, and I think that’s because I was diversified to begin with.

That’s a big lesson that younger dancers, or anyone really, should take out of this. If someone’s entire focus is on training for the purposes of performing, that’s not actually a good plan for longevity, pandemic aside. There could be an injury or something else that prevents you from performing. The future will always favor people who are willing to have diverse skill sets. So I’m grateful that I have different things going on -- if something’s not going as well, I can count on the other. 

Many of us have been heavily relying on video during this time as a means of communication and connection. Given that Dancinema primarily showcases dance on film, are you able to keep creating and producing work during this time?

I’m not hosting Cascadia Dance and Cinema Festival (Vancouver) this year because our regular theater is under construction. It’s my first year [since its inception in 2016] that I’m not doing it. I feel like we’re going to have fewer submissions to Capitol Dance and Cinema Festival than ever before because so many people worldwide are affected. There are projects that would be in progress right now that I know are not getting made because people aren’t able to be around each other, so that kind of collaboration has been put to a halt.

Jen Ray of Dancinema with students from her Step and Repeat dance film education program at the 2018 Dance & Cinema Festival in Vancouver, BC

I feel like we’re going to get a lot more entry-fee waiver requests this year as well, which is tough, because I want to be able to consider people’s films. But the reality of being a one-person business [rather than a bigger organization with financial support such as grants] is that every waiver that comes in is me giving away my time for free. I think it’s going to be a slower year all around for [films] being made and [films] coming in. 

Do you think in the aftermath of COVID-19, more dancers will leverage video technology or incorporate film into their work? Do you think that this quarantine will actually open up any creative possibilities for the dance industry in the future? 

I do think that it’s a push for everyone. We all knew that the push to virtual education has been happening, but I thought it was going to be consumer-driven and choice-driven and gradual. And what happened here is none of that [laughs]. This was completely unexpected. But I think that it’s making everyone immediately adapt while also thinking about the long term: How do we make this so it’s not just a three-week adaptation, but a program that we can build out going forward? I think there’s a clear world before this and after this.

How have the studios that you teach at adapted to the pandemic? If there’s been a switch to online programming, can you talk about what the experience of teaching virtual dance classes has been like? 

Some studios are offering live streamed classes -- mostly with Zoom -- while others are developing platforms that are more like a full online program with pre-recorded materials. Everyone has different demands now. Something that’s definitely changed is what you teach. You can’t teach grand allegro; you can’t do triple pirouettes. So realistically, they’re not training to be the same athletes they were before, and you have to modify what you’re doing, space-wise and for safety. And interacting with kids on a video conference call is not like being in the studio with them at all. I don’t need to sit down at another restaurant ever again if I can get that experience back [laughs].

One thing I’m concerned about is bullying. On Zoom, we can see a little part of each other’s [private] worlds. I can’t even imagine a kid who has to clear out a space in their house that maybe they share with their brother or something. It just opens up so much more of people’s personal lives in a way, and I’m super sensitive about that for kids.

Any tips for how to stay stimulated and creative (and sane!) while we’re isolating at home?

I think the biggest thing, which is also a challenge for me, is getting away from screens and apps for a set amount of time a day. Making time and space for quiet is really important. Go outside and enjoy fresh air. And definitely find the joy in cooking; I love cooking.

If you’re someone who suddenly has more time, there are so many amazing online programs, so many books to read, so many movies to watch. Treat this like a sabbatical -- you don’t have to apply and get chosen to go to some cabin in the woods for a summer to have your retreat. This is your opportunity. And there’s a global consensus that it’s a weird and different time right now, so I think there’s an opportunity to make the most of it.

From the English National Ballet’s video “Curing Albrecht.”

What dance films do you recommend to watch online while we’re under the stay-at-home orders?

Yes! I'll suggest more uplifting, inspiring and happy ones, rather than others I also love but find more challenging. We need a boost right now! Here are some of my all-time favorites (in no particular order) and the links to watch:

• Confrontation - Shannon Janet Smith & Steven Butler

• Letter - Željko Božic

• Ingrid Silva: The Journey - Ben Briand

• Lil Buck with Icons of Modern Art - Andrew Margetson

• Colorwise - The Seaweed Sisters

• Curing Albrecht - Morgann Runacre-Temple & Jessica Wright, English National Ballet

Artists Are Affected: Malcolm Shute On Choreography That Parses Relationships

By Shianne Antoine

The growing COVID-19 pandemic has turned all of our lives upside down. Each of us is affected, whether by social distancing, staff meetings via video chat, closed studios, or cancelled performances. Talking with Malcolm Shute, my former college dance professor at Towson University, helped me gain a sense of the possibilities for continuing to one’s creative work through this pandemic and beyond.

Malcolm Shute founded Human Landscape Dance, an internationally known dance company based in Washington, D.C., in 2006. He earned his MFA in dance and choreography from the University of Maryland College Park and is a certified movement analyst through the Laban/Bartenieff Institute of Movement Studies. Shute currently teaches multiple courses at Towson University, including a course on the evolution of vampires in film and dance composition.

Malcolm Shute, Human Landscape Dance, photo by Kanji Takeno

How did Human Landscape Dance begin?

When I went to grad school in 2003, I had been dancing with multiple companies in the D.C. area, but felt a strain of wanting to go in the direction of performing my own work. I focused on choreography in grad school. My heart was leading me to create in the off-campus community. Near the end grad school, I reached out to my very dear friend Alex Short to make work together. He and I have worked on Human Landscape ever since.

We call it Human Landscape because I’m very interested in the connections between people and the environments we live in, including other people. Most of my work is based on relationships and partnering; I look for connections -- what makes people part of their landscape, and, particularly, connections with people. It’s always been a playful process conducted among friends.

How are you and the Human Landscape dancers handling social distancing?

That’s the primary tension right now. I’m fortunate that Alex (Short) is still willing to dance with me. He and I are basically family, so I’m not worried that we would infect each other since we mostly socialize and dance with each other. I’m grateful that I’m still able to move with somebody because it’s my “bread and butter” and the fabric of my reality. I realize, as people separate [physically] more and more, I find myself going stir crazy. Why can’t I just go into the studio like I have every day for the last twenty years? It’s a huge challenge. Some dancers want to rehearse via Zoom, so I’m working on how we can create a coherent piece. It’s a Band-Aid on the problem of social distancing, but I don’t do social distancing! I social cling, smear, groove! It’s been a hell of a challenge; I haven’t quite figured it out yet.

The company had a performance at the Dance Loft on 14 scheduled for the weekend of April 18-19. What are the ramifications for postponing or cancelling? Are you taking a financial hit?

There have been financial losses. We hope to perform our D.C. and Baltimore shows in the future, but we won’t recoup everything even so. We’ve had to postpone our Japan tour for a year as well. A lot of work goes into presenting a show long before opening night, as you know. There are promotional materials that are now wasted, building support which has lost all momentum, and technicians and designers who may not be able to work a revised schedule. 

But, most of all, the work itself suffers during these setbacks. Dances need to be polished and performed multiple times to meet their peak. Our work is built to the specific bodies of the dancers; after a certain point, it is not transferable. I’m afraid that some of our dances may never be performed. That said, it is better to lose dances than to lose lives. It still hurts, though.

Malcolm Shute with Alex Short, photo Nathan Harmon

What have you been doing to help occupy your time?

I’m video editing more now. I would rather spend this time making art and finding fulfillment rather than spinning my wheels. [The company members] are also tossing around the idea of an online concert. For not just Human Landscape, but for many groups. The idea is in the beginning stages, but it’s one I hope to pursue, particularly since I’ve lost several shows as a result of this [pandemic]. I know many of my friends have as well. We have this captive audience who are stuck at home, bored, and looking for something new and interesting to spend their time upon. I hope this necessity is going to generate some sort of invention or genre.  

I’m fortunate enough to still have a job [at Towson University]. I’ve spent a lot of time working on teaching online. I’ve got a level three dance composition class about creating group choreography. Now, my students don’t have groups to work with. The impressions I’ve been hearing about from their isolation have inspired me to work harder to narrow the divide.

I’ve also been hanging around the family a lot. My 12-year-old daughter is really into ballet, so we’ll do a ballet barre together and, as you can imagine, that is something I haven’t done in a very long time!

What do you hope the dance world will acknowledge or change by the end of this pandemic?

A renewed sense of how lucky we are to get to do what we do. Our culture discourages connection: We look at screens all day, even before we were isolated socially. I feel that what we [dancers] do – communicating with each other in a room, performing cooperative relationships -- is such a gift! In some ways, I feel that it could be a solution for the world: “Make dance, not war.” I hope the pandemic serves as inspiration to create more work for the sheer pleasure and privilege of getting to do it. I hope we become more supportive of each other, having been separated. It makes me more appreciative of the support I’ve gotten over the years. I understand why we’re here. I just hope when we congregate again, we’ll return with a vengeance.