Documentation

1994: This was the year I was born on the small island of Oahu to my parents, Norma and Reynaldo Valdez on my sister Kristen's second birthday. My parents always tell me the story of them cutting the birthday cake and having to leave her party to go to the hospital; and 1 hour later I was born. From that point up until this present moment, my identity is being shaped into who I am right now. All of the experiences that have accumulated in my life have influenced me. And who I am now will change because as long as I am alive and creating new experiences my identity is never set in stone. Both my creative practice and choreographic work as an artist are the framework for expressing the of the people, places, and memories that I have experienced in my life.

This body of mine remembers and embodies the traces of those experiences, and that embodiment is amplified through my practice. The question "How does memory reside in my body?" and an exploration into identity have been the overarching themes for my work, 1994-Present. On the journey to having this work come to fruition, I have been able to further define my practice and what my interests are in terms of the art I want to create. Through both regular studio sessions, and reflective journal writing I created a work that  seeks to answer the questions: How I express and define my identity? and How I will continue  to explore this topic?

These are some of artifacts from my process in creating this work, and as I look back on what has come out of it, the more I surprise myself. Looking at the small pieces of journal entries, and short rehearsal clips I look back into those moments and remember that I had no idea what the project was actually going to be. But I know that I trusted my instinct, followed my interests and persisted with my practice and gradually a work came out of it. And while the piece itself is still a part of the process it is essential to look back and pinpoint the artifacts that have helped to create it.

It's like walking in the city after a heavy rain has passed. The storm is gone but the traces are left.

Sandy Point 

I attended a writing intensive at Sandy Point, held by Jenny Kemp. This intensive was just short of a week long and during this time we spent about four hours everyday writing. Kemp would provide a stimulis for the writing tasks, often they would be a word or sentence, and other times it would be be an instruction, prompt, or picture. 

Some examples of this include: 

 "My head is hurting"

"Did you hear that?"

"I'm going to spell it out for you."

Bonsai Tree, A full Moon, The Devil

From this writing intensive I noticed that many of the journal entries were memories. It was as if I was taking stock of these seemingly insignificant moments and memories in my life  that I had not thought about for a long time. The flow of consciousness nature of the writing tasks allowed me to  just write, and for me, writing down these memories seemed to be what felt the most natural. It helped to unlock my interest in exploring my identity through the idea of accumulation of memories, and the question "How can I express the history of this experiences through an embodied practice?". During this week these memories became important again, and would prove to play a vital role in the creation of my new work.

The following are the journal entries are from a sections I titled: Creatures of the Night and Release

Release: 

These journals entries became the raw materials that I used as reference for text that I would end up reciting in the final work. 

Working with the body: Rosalind Crisp Intensive

The week long workshop with Rosalind Crisp proved to be a life changing intensive. The tools she practiced have contributed to the set of scores and tools that I currently use in my daily practice. From the start of the intensive she wasted no time, and even as we introduced ourselves and met for the first time she had us moving. As soon as we stepped foot into the studio the movement exploration would start. We'd start slow at first with a simple instruction or a tool she introduced. But as we the sessions went on and we acquired more and more tools, there was the freedom to move between them, manipulate and interpret the tools, or just abandon them all together. Through focusing on the body and following these tools as movement generators I noticed that certain images would arise organically. This was revolutionary for me because I have been accustomed to thinking of an image first, and then I would move based on that imagery, whereas through this practice it was the opposite. By fully diving into the materiality of my body I was able to widen the scope of possibilities and choices that I could make as an improvisor. I became curious about what my body can do rather than what I wanted it to do. 

The experiences and relationships that I've had in my life are a part of what defines who I am, but by working with just the body and through using Rosalind's tools a I am now able to fully embody and engage with those memories and that history on a deeper level.

The following is feedback that I acquired from a conversation I had with Rosalind Crisp at the end of this week long intensive: 

Thank you for your willingness to dive into the work with me Angela. 

You said that you felt you'd gone on a journey, and enjoyed the practice of working with the Materiality of the body. Functionality is an interest for you already. And my tools helped you to notice that images can arise from your engagement with the materiality of the body.

You talked about how practicing with your body and deepening engagement with it means images can pop up when they want, come through the body rather than the body imitating an image. You feel now that there is no longer a disparity between image and body. Image is not just something you think is happening in your head. You talked about the need to start simply. Rest and stimulate. Feeling where it is that day. Time for tuning in. Simplicity. Choosing. Not too many choices. BREATH as a support. 

I think you're very resourced and aware of not looking too hard for an image, rather, being busy creating the conditions for it to arise. I appreciate how you have begun developing a dialogic relationship between your material and you the maker. Keep going! And keep finding ways to share this in performance.

The following are the tools we had practiced during the intensive, and some notes I had taken during the sessions. 

The following is a journal entry after a studio session during the intensive with Crisp on 10/8/18, I found this to be a good reminder to not forget about breath. That although breath was a focal point of my previous project, it does not mean I should forget it because that work has passed. It is all still a part of the process.

My body felt sluggish, tired and drained before I started my practice. A part of me did not want anything to do with moving, but here I was none the less.
Thank God for a light filled and empty studio with windows that gave a hint of the outside world.
...Breath....the focus of today was breath. Breathing deeply and fully. Filling up the expanse of the space in my body. Not forcing the body to do much, and allowing my body to pull and push the many surfaces towards and away from each other.
Whether abstract or literal, the attention to detail and focus on the concept of breath in; expand, breath out; contract, helped to awaken the body.

Kiah: Research Intensive with Don Asker

The following are journal entries and notes taken during a research intensive with Don Asker at his remote property in Kiah, NSW. During this intensive we were able to look at his research as well as take part in his outdoor practice. Although I have always thought of myself as reserving my practice to the neutral space of the studio, I found that partaking in this site specific practice to be very  enlightening. I found myself being both aware of my surroundings and in the moment as well as constantly being in this reflective state; a liminal space. Finding this liminal space is something that I found essential when performing and creating 1994-Present, because this work needed me to be both here and there. Attending to the space while also dropping into the physicality and embodiment of memories. Looking through these journal entries from Kiah, I realized that the experiences I had there helped me find that tricky place of embodiment.

In this first journal entry, it depicts a drawing of a tree growing on the sand dune. I felt I had a lot in common with a tree growing on infertile ground because it reminded me of my experiences with diaspora and finding stability in unfamiliar places. This became a catalyst for me in terms of wanting to explore the concept of my own identity as an artist.

These journal entries came from an outdoor practice held in a heavily forested area. We were out there for an hour before we sat and reflected.

This final drawing depicts my point of view while sitting on a sand dune looking out onto a river that carved its way into a heavily forested area. It was our second excursion out to this part of Don's property, and this journal entry reflected on returning to the same place again.

Outdoor Practice and picture documentation in Kiah NSW

Scores and Solo Studio Practice

The following are the scores I developed while in the studio. For my individual practice I wanted to use the tools I had gained from my week with Rosalind and incorporate them into new scores that I would create myself. One of the tools I found  very generative  was "one move one beat". This tool, was very simple yet took a lot of concentration. While practicing this tool I found my body feeling a surge of energy in one place at a time. As if the energy was being contained in that isolated arm moving laterally across the body, and when that movement was done I would that surge of energy would shift precisely to the next body part. As I practiced this in the studio, the more the tool would shift and the imagery of containers and moving in and around those containers came to the surface. I would also imagine energy points being made in the space as place holders to be collected again. These scores had been developed from a practice of working with just pure and purposeful movement. And through attending to the body, the generation of movement produced a new score without having to think too hard about it. 

The following is the mapping of the progression of the tool "one move one beat" to these new scores that I had developed for myself. And a short video clip of the new scores being practiced. 

The next score that developed was accumulation. Starting small, and noticing the simplicity of movement but also  building on top of that movement gradually. 

In this particular session I had thought to play with the idea of breaking up the neutral space by placing chairs around my dancing space, which I imagined as the seating arrangement for the audience. Although, this did not make it to fruition for this current piece, I felt it important to note as a concept worth exploring again with more people.

Furthermore, I would also make it a habit to get to my journal as soon as I was done moving write the initial thoughts. Often the session would end with a judgement of myself because I started to think too hard about the movement being generated.

Story Telling: Speaking while moving.

I find this day to be a pivotal moment for the creation of this piece. On this day while laying in constructive rest,  I was trying to rack my brain for why  things would start off so generative, and by the end of a two hour session just feel so mundane. I had been working with trying to define the physicality of my memories and had decided to try and tell the stories while moving in the space. 

In order to first drop into the physicality, I moved around to the song "Blue Moon" by Elvis Presley. Noticing and attending to my body and staying curious with the movement; consciously but effortlessly making these choices. And as the music faded I kept moving, feeling the traces of the physicality, and what had just occurred...and then I started to tell the story.

When I said the story out loud  the movement fed the words, and the words fed into the physicality. It did not feel awkward to say the stories out loud, and because I have been interested in using these memories as a way to construct my identity I felt that it was important to speak these memories as part of the embodiment of them. 

The following is a journal entry from the first time playing around with this concept in the studio

The following are thick descriptions from the first time I showed this aspect of the work to other people. These descriptions depict the inside perspective of the work as well as the outside perspective. I found that these descriptions helped to distinguish what was clear about the piece and what needed further attending to.

Inside:

I speak of the goblin that used to find its way into my dream world as I would fall asleep as a kid. The goblin that would touch me and leave me feeling paralyzed and in excruciating pain. But he’s a charismatic character, one that almost used to entrance me as a child. A shift in physicality, I feel my body tense up as I speak about the sensation of the goblin touching my leg. I sense the burst of energy I had that night so many years ago as I charge through this space taking a few steps forward. I am speaking about going to my parents room. I slowly back track my way in the space, seeing the long hallway from my parents bedroom to mine’s. I am feeling my way through the dark. I’m sinking down now slowly, calmly, and carefully making way to the floor. I remember trying to feel reassured, to be brave, but my body feels tense and alert; on edge until I am able to find a quiet calm to the end of the memory.

Outside:

She is recalling a nightmare she has had as a child. She stops grabs her leg, body tenses up and she is in an energized stillness. A surge of energy forward she pushes through the space needing to get somewhere. Perhaps recalling the way she travelled down the hallway to her parents room as she speaks about it. Hand touches head she speaks about her mother saying that the nightmare is all in her head, the weight of the head is felt. She stops and slowly retraces her steps backwards; a sense of awareness in her steps backwards feeling the space behind where her. Slowly melting back onto the floor, the feeling of a tenseness and calm all at once, the memory is done being recalled as she rests now on the floor. 

The following is a voice recording of the embodied stories I told

Studio Practice Clips

The following are short video clips of my studio practice. After this first showing I got the feedback of perhaps trying to drop into the physicality of these stories. So in the next few studio sessions I tried to pin pointing the action words from the journal entries from Sandy Point (ex: shaking, always shifting, seeping, zipping) while noticing what I was doing when I was moving. I incorporated my scores I developed from previous sessions as a sort of background support for the physicality. Sometimes I'd slip into those scores, but I'd also make the choice of "stay with that" or "leave that" (as per Rosalind Crisp's tools).

It is also important to note that while in studio practice I would put on music from the 40's, 50's and 60's. I had been interested in identity and how the accumulation of these memories play a role in how we choose to identify our selves, and I chose to play music because helped to bring out these memories. Also, aesthetically I acknowledged that I have a taste for the music of these eras, but also  I found that I could drop into full embodiment much easier when I let the music take over.

The songs chosen for the piece were all songs that hold significant meaning to myself. In the end all three songs were by Elvis Presley; "Blue Moon", "Peace in the Valley", and "Harbor Lights". All were reminders of my child hood, and brought out the sadness, joy, nostalgia, and reflective feelings of the memories.

Performance Reflections.

This is a collection of reflections written after some of the performances of the piece 1994-Present. I found that reflecting daily on the performances really helped me to accurately document the progression of the piece. 

2/11/18

Remember to breathe I mutter to myself behind the curtain waiting for the black out. Lights fade, one more deep breath and I walk out to present my work. Starting this piece is like looking out on the edge of a cliff and all of a sudden you decide to jump, and time is just irrelevant. Blue Moon starts to fade in the lights fade to a nice warm glow. One more breath in, and I start to move, swaying slowly at first really trying to focus on my breath and take my time. Letting my mind drop into those memories and letting my body drop into the physicality. Remembering that subtlety is good and that there is power in stillness. I am taking my time. I see my hand in the light I’m mesmerized by the light hitting it, so I watch it for a while. Then it sweeps around, I follow it for a little bit then let it go. Swirl, lunge, stop, notice breathe, drop in again. I look out beyond the row of heads, I remember I am here but also there at the same time. A liminal space. I keep moving and notice that the music has faded out yet the world of my past is still fresh in my mind. I’m on another cliff again, I take a deep breath and jump. 

Maybe it was because I took my time and allowed myself to release into my work and trust my intuition, or maybe its something about the energy of an audience but the words just flowed out of me. Once I dove into the stories of my nightmares as a child I could not come out of them. It was like catching up with an old friend…I felt safe being 100% myself. I remember even hearing a laugh in the audience. 

A few days ago a butterfly followed me for a while before fluttering away. In filipino culture we believe that butterflies and moths are your passed loved ones visiting you. I’m thinking of the butterfly as I tell the story of dancing with my grandma before she passed away. Thinking about what a coincidence it was for that butterfly to follow me around in my state of unrest about this piece. 

Release. This section of the work was too be honest was a bit of a blur. But I think in the best way possible. A good blur of not thinking, of just doing. Of pure and utter release into full embodiment. I'm loose and free, but I am making choices and am 100% aware of my physicality. I notice the traces of the past memories, and the embodiment of those stories are still there radiating through my body without any interruption. The image of me hugging my dad as they lower my grandmas casket into the ground makes its way to the foreground of my memory. I pause for a second, the warmth of my body heat and the warmth of the lights near by remind me of that sunny day in June. 

Release its like watching that last rose fall into the grave, returning them and it back to the Earth. 

Harbor Lights. This song sounds like the dust is finally settling. And thats what this ending feels like. I’ve gone on a whirlwind adventure, digging up these significant memories in my past and now I’m just watching the dust fall. My body feels light, yet settled in. I’m happy, and sad, and just remembering and reflecting both on the images of my past and the recent event of performing. Bliss, I think is the best word to describe the feeling of this moment. I turn walk away, excited for whats next but grateful to what has just transpired. 

2/11/18 

My only reflection from this night: 

Much warmup time is needed for the rhythm of the performance to have an easy flow, and for the most embodiment to occur, and second shows feel quite odd. I was not in it because I noticed that I noticed the audience too much. 

My human experience on this earth is the art and my work is its frame. 

6/11/18 

I noticed that this night I was nervous again to perform. I think that from last night I was afraid of being self conscious of my work. Because last night I was not settled into the work. We had a photo run today and running it before hand makes me feel a bit better, more fluid and relaxed about it, less of a performance and more of a practice that so happens to have an audience. I move around the studio again, improvising, doing some of the tools letting the blood flow through my body, becoming settled in the comfort of practice and not performance. 

I remember lying down in the empty studio, trying to calm myself…humming blue moon in my head remembering what the moon looks like when its full and the window of my room back in Hawaii perfectly framing it. It’s like a natural night light. I murmur some of the words from the stories to myself, they come out and settle into my body and for a second I feel calm again. 

The words are a part of the dance, my voice has become choreographed, and is now a part of this embodiment. 

7/11/18

I had spent at least an hour to myself in the studio warming up. Getting the blood flowing, focusing on the tools and bringing it back to my body. The remembered to find the scope of my movement, and the choices that could be made. Becoming curious again with the movement as opposed to trying to mimic and revisit something that occurred from the previous night. 

Scores I gave myself:

Place the energy points in space and grab them, when grabbed send them through your body.Flow: keep moving no matter what.

STOP. notice the pulsing traces of movement that has passed, and try to mimic that movement more subtly.

Cliche is ok, don't be afraid of your modern dance tendencies, just notice and embrace them fully.

 

                                            Video of a warm up done before performance.

It’s time for me to perform. The adrenaline kicks in for a moment as I walk out in the darkness, but I remember my breathe, calm down and listen to the music. Again I start slow and feel the subtleness of the swaying, and feeling the warm glow of the lights. Noticing all of the lines in my hands and the way the light is illuminating my skin, noticing my body in the present moment. Enjoying the subtle movements, and feeling the breath flowing through my body, allowing for the images of the memories to come from the materiality of my body; trusting it's physicality. The music fades and I’m still moving, my body gets tense. Its like I’m on a cliff again, but I know the waters and I dive head first into the stories. I’m lost in them, fulling embracing the memories and feeling the way they are impacting me in this present moment, and how they have come to shape my life. 

I get to the story of my grandmother. For a moment I can see myself in our living room at our annual New Year’s Eve party. My mom says to my grandma she needs to exercise more in order for me to stay healthy so she makes me dance with her. I remember waltzing around, and hearing her and my family laughing. I let my arm fall and the memory fades, and here I am staring into the glow of the stage lights. 

Release, Let go, Move on. 

Peace in the valley comes on and again, its a blur. That feeling of grief, pain, and loss all flood through, it feels as if a dam had broke and I just let it all go. Letting the emotion take over, and I am open and vulnerable but also aware that I a strong enough to share this, because it is a part of who I am. This open, raw, and real emotion with a connection to the people I love the most are such an important part my identity.

Harbor Lights. The end of the piece, when it has all passed and I’m just noticing. I notice the audience for the first time tonight. Feeling the traces of the movement reverberate through my body, and I bring myself back to this moment, watching the dust settle. Hands articulating one finger at a time, trying to grab on to an imaginary energy ball in the room. I was both here in this space tending to it and there embodying my memories and telling my story through my physicality. 

And this moment, and the moments before this that have led to creation and performance of this work are now apart of the fabric of my identity.

Screen Grabs taken from the video recording.