Everyone in the fog

Sometimes, the quarry is like a Greek island in the summer--it's very white, the sky looks unbelievably blue, and it's hot. Very hot. Even on sunny but frigid winter days, if you pick your place, you can lounge in the sun. Wednesday was not like that. It was cool and foggy. Nice weather for dancing. Nice weather for wearing a piece of astro turf like a cape. And very nice weather for listening to the pan band.
One of the most interesting things about working with Alison is how non-linear it all is, at least in the formative stages. She has an idea, she has these willling bodies, and she gets to try to match them up. Most of the time, as you know if you have seen Quarryography or Pilobolus, the results are spectacular. There's no indication of the trial and error process, but that's what we had on Wednesday.

We shlepped that turf back and forth, putting it down, picking it up, rolling, unrolling, laying it out again. We put it here (too far), there (in the way of Rick and the backhoe), and then there (too close to Quilla). And we counted. Sixteen steps. Four counts to unroll. Eight counts to emote on the turf. Roll it up again. Move it. It was a nice cool day for shlepping.

This was the first rehearsal for the community members with the band. There they were, set up under a cabana tent, playing. Improvising longer vamps. Slowing it down and speeding it up. It's all good. And it all changes.

We didn't get to costumes, but I got to thinking that when I wear a hat and sweep that turf around, it pushed the hat right across my face, so I'm looking into the top of the hat. Probably not a good idea, what with the hardness of granite and the slippery ness of loose pebbles.

All that turfing is beginning to make some interesting shapes. I'll leave it to you to check them out. Oh--no pix. It was foggy enough that they look blurry.

Quilla returns

Wednesday was one of those days. It was beautiful--the sun was shining, it wasn't too hot, and Cape Rosier glowed in the light. Of course for the intrepid puppeteers pushing Quilla along on the grass, it might not have felt so idyllic.
As you probably remember from last year, Quilla is a giant porcupine. You might not have seen her as she is now, a skeleton. This way you get to see what makes her move. Galley slaves. In this case, from front to back, Scott Springer, Skip Harbour and Sarah Doremus are the forces that make her move.

It's pretty easy to watch, but very complicated to get Quilla moving. She has four legs, and wheels. And the legs and feet are jointed--she has knees. Walking Quilla from the inside looks a little like rowing, but upsidedown.

Mark was the one who gave the puppeteers directions on how to make her move. For Sarah, this was a first time--the other two did it last year, but that didn't make the ground any smoother.

Finally they moved onto a graveled space, and were able to really move out. Quilla looked fabulous, if a little slim.

Most porcupines aren't so large that three adults can fit inside, but then again, most don't have starring roles in a theatrical production that takes place in a quarry. And most porcupines don't share the limelight with a bunch of dancers and a back hoe. All that makes Quilla very special. Alison is explaining the story and telling Zephyr Martin, who will be performing with Quilla, to look her in the eye.

Meanwhile Mark made some minor adjustments to Quilla with a hammer.

This duck will not be performing int he quarry. Too cute.

Trust me

At a recent outdoor concert by a Cuban hip-hop group, my friend turned to me and said: "This is quite a spectacle to watch." He was referring to the dance component of the concert -- the hip grinds, the slips and slides, the hand gestures. Anyone who has watched MTV or TV dance competitions has become accustomed to seeing this kind of movement. It's part of our everyday world now. Like the way sports are ubiquitous in the media, dance has started to find a place in the mainstream.

And yet, and yet ... I wonder how many people have actually been to a live dance performance on a stage or, in the case of this blog, at a quarry? And how many of us think: Dance? Dance? I don't get dance.

My answer? Yes, you do. Understanding dance is as easy as watching a Cuban hip-hop singer gyrate onstage. You get it. She's sexy. She's groovin'. She feels the music. It makes sense because you're familiar with what she's doing. You've seen it on TV. Or maybe you've even done it at home. (Don't worry; your secret is safe with me.)

"The more you go to dance, the more you see," said Alison Chase, choreographer for Q2: Habitat, which opens this evening and runs through tomorrow at the Settlement Quarry in Stonington. I asked her how she'd like people to "understand" dance -- what skills do they need to "get" it?

"Trust your own responses," she said.

OK, great start. But there's more you can do ahead of time.

For instance: You're at a quarry. The title of the piece is Habitat. There's gotta be a clue in there somewhere.

Also, you can spend a few moments reading other blog entries on this site, OR check out Emily Burnham's recent story in the Bangor Daily News.

The point is: You don't have to go in cold. Or you can. You don't have to think about it beforehand. Or you can. You don't have to know the entire history of dance. Or any of it. But it's also OK if you know all of it.

Follow Chase's advice. You'll get it. Pay attention to whatever draws your eye rather than what you think you should be looking at. You'll feel something. Trust me. Then trust yourself.