Still by Lesley Loksi Chan

Yesterday, I was supposed to meet with Lesley to do some filming for our newest collaboration. Sadly the weather was dark and dreary, so our plans were foiled by mother nature. She did pass off a first copy. The work has no name just yet,  but like the last one is based in my house and focuses on doors. Last Friday we watched the footage that we shot earlier in the week and decided that we would make two films instead of one. In those moments of watching my body flicker across her laptop screen and discussing what worked, how it might be pieced together a few quiet but profound things happened. They were compounded when I watched the first cut of the film yesterday afternoon.

For some time, I was able to watch the movement one step removed from myself and I actually liked what I saw.  This should be a given, it is my art, why would I not want to see it or like it? Like many dancers, I am hyper critical.  It has become less of an issue over time but, somehow seeing my work through her lense is painting a different picture for me, accelerating the process and freeing me up to create in a new and unexpected way. The beauty of dance for film seems to be the ability to zone in on the action at hand, rather than trying to catch the larger and general picture like rehearsal or performance footage. The angle and the focus seem to make all the difference in the world.

Seeing myself a bit more clearly, I am becoming aware that the power behind my work is in its intimacy. What my work offers to an audience is a glimpse into a more private place where they can see the world anew. It is the fragile moments that are the most powerful. When I look for this, everything else falls away.

In truly collaborative and interdisciplinary work, your choice of partners is key. Lesley said something to me which really struck a chord last week, and it reminded me of how lucky I am to be able to work with her.  It was something along the lines of “when I see you sometimes I can see you the way that you were when we were kids.  Like past and present colliding.”  Lesley and I have known each other since we were about ten, maybe younger.   I am convinced that we are closest to our truest selves as children. There’s less artifice but the personality is all there.  I think that it isn’t often that an artist gets to work closely with someone who can see this spark of childhood, let alone have known that spark of a child. In those moments when the two worlds collide, I like to think that I am closest to  my true self and very thankful that Lesley is able to capture them.

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