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chorus with main event, or make up your own names for the forms). Did they just seem to happen, or did you help create them by some action you took? 4. Review the dances you’ve made from the perspective of the Six Viewpoints. Do you “stack” the Viewpoints in a particular order when you choreograph, for example, first creating dynamic movement and then placing it in the space? After identifying your comfortable ordering, try rearranging that order and use it as a structure for improvising a dance. 5. When does movement become dance? And how is dance like an ordinary movement? Use these questions as research for an improvisation. Try working with and without music. 1 I N T E R L U D E 4 Notes to Myself: Wait! No room for form with love this strong. —rumi, “No Room for Form” The poet trawls the depths for material, not knowing what, just being magnetically attracted to the hunt. . . . Pulling stuff up in the net. That whole process of trawling, pulling in, collecting can be so juicy and thrilling. Being in love with the material and surfing that love crest. Not caring, just blending. Then the naming phase kicks in. What have I got in my net? And how do I justify this luscious activity to others? It has to be something recognizable, be “for some reason,” or be usable. Then the collectors ask: well, can you bring me back more just like that? And the pressure is on. Who knows if there is more like that down there? Cleverness was invented to fool the collectors. But I can end up fooling myself. Naming, framing, forming. If it happens too soon on the hunt, I end up with house sparrows for lunch. Leave a little more time, create that space, MA, that the Japanese speak of, before calling it a dance, before knowing just what it is. In that space, that’s when it tells ME what it is. A satisfying dinner, a delicacy, a glass of port before bed. Lingonberry jam on toast at breakfast! INTE RLUDE 59 ...

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