Drawing the Surface of Dance. Annie-B Parson

our bodies, and I want to show that on stage. Dance curator David White described our work as “historically promiscuous,” and, like most of the work of Big Dance, this one is roundly a-historic. Created with Paul Lazar and the Company.

      Based loosely on the language and tone of the absurdist play, The Lesson by Ionesco, a student enters a tutor’s home and encounters a woman playing a man playing a bush moving in reverse. Ionesco is upended here, excavated solely for his flat tonality, his simple sentences and his stage directions. The subject matter of the piece became about learning and studying, in recognition of the tremendous amount of their lives dancers spend in class.

      A favorite Big Dance piece, created by re-purposing a screenplay by Agnes Varda.² I intentionally did not watch her film, but instead used the script as a map for a dance/theater work. A formal investigation on the intersection of film and theater, created about and in Lyon, France, at Les Subsistances.

      Co-created with Paul Lazar and based on a skeletal edit of the Anne Carson translation of Euripides’ play Alcestis.3 Euripides’ ironic and emotional play begins with a woman sacrificing her life for her husband—and ends with her eerily returning from the dead. The play is simply the deepest writing I have ever read about grief and regret and is the most personally resonant script I have worked with. I came to feel that I knew Euripides as a human being. It is strange and thrilling to feel close to someone who lived thousands of years ago.

      A dance/play created from a script by Sibyl Kempson, written in an invented language.⁴ Medieval in tone, full of strange rituals and brutal behaviors. Design by visual artists—costumes by Suzanne Bocanegra and set by Joanne Howard—are equally as important as the script or the choreography. Directed by Paul Lazar. Performed during Halloween in the basement of The Chocolate Factory during Hurricane Sandy for a tiny and intrepid audience. Looking back, we were all pretty sure our enacting of this play caused the storm, but we can’t prove it.

      Ich, Kürbisgeist, 2012: Paul Lazar and Eric Dyer

      A pop-eretta by David Byrne, the first musical that I have made dances for. I spent so many years working on Here Lies Love that at some point I made a chart of it. Though the elements and objects selected are not my own, they seeped into the choreography and became iconic in my mind.

      A very complicated piece that held narrative and abstraction as one, I rewrote the script of Terms of Endearment into multiple poetic forms.⁵ Although I had employed poetics for choreographic structures, I had never used them to repurpose text. Other sources included a very skeletal edit of Dr. Zhivago. Underlying the work was the simple structure of crossing the stage from one side to the other. Co-created with Paul Lazar.

      Alan Smithee Directed This Play, 2014: Paul Lazar, Elizabeth DeMent, Cynthia Hopkins, and Tymberly Canale

      A solo concerned with factuality and unrelated actions as content, and de-sequenced to free these actions of any implied narrative. The beginnings of this solo involved a slavish determination to “dance” all aspects of a Stravinsky nocturne that I could perceive, and then erase the music and leave the “erasure marks” of the music for the audience to see in the dance, but not hear. In this case, erasure marks would refer to rhythm, tone, emotion, kinetics, tempo, and phrasing in the original music. The music was eventually replaced with a percussion work by Julia Wolfe for four hi-hat drums. There are two Short Ride Outs, one female, danced by Wendy Whelan at the Lynberry Theater/Royal Ballet in London, and the other for Aaron Mattocks at the Kitchen—the first cousin of Whelan’s Short Ride Out.

      Short Ride Out, 2015: Wendy Whalen

      Directed by Ivo Van Hove to the music of David Bowie. I served solely as choreographer on this. But I drew a chart of it because the timing of Bowie’s death, just after the premiere, made the play feel momentous. Bowie was a giant influence on performers and dance makers as well as musicians. At a time when many artists were paring down their statement by embracing the quotidian, he insisted on a deep theatricality with his saturated colors, his shape shifting identity, his makeup, and even his relationship to living on the planet itself. There was a perfect strangeness to his performance—he wasn’t alienated; he was alien. And his dances: the specific abstraction, and the a-symbolic. I have an enduring image in my mind from an early album of his fingers held in an asymmetric shape to express messages from somewhere we don’t know, have never been—a territory he always insisted on, claimed, and owned. The scale, the stratosphere of his music, reaches past the planet itself at times. He never claimed to be from here anyway.

      An evening of short works in honor of Big Dance Theater’s 25th anniversary. This show was an experiment in breaking the structure of the ubiquitous 75-minute long-form piece that I had been creating for many years; I was interested in how short pieces operate. Works included: Short Ride Out, Goats, and Summer Forever. In the middle was a 15-minute piece called Intermission where the audience came onstage, had a drink, a snack, and played some party games.

      A duet created for a corporate event for a rock musician in which I was charged to make a dance inspired by the iconic Italian 1980’s design group, Memphis. Incorporating the designer’s hot pink and teal chromatics and pop imagery, I choreographed a dance about the intuitive nature of friendship and duality, a subject that continues to interest me in the studio and in life.