Sweet Surrender

You may find this hard to believe, but sometimes the best and most productive moments occur when you are completely and utterly exhausted.

There is a pretty obvious reason for this. You're too tired to think, too tired to feel, too tired to hold back and too tired to judge. Its this surrender that allows you to do, and to do so honestly. Its a challenging place to be, and certainly one that doesn't leave you inspired to work. But work you should and work you must, because good good things can happen...

Such was the case Friday morning.

By this point in the week, I was basically done. Physically I could work, though I'm not going to lie, my body was (and is) sore, tired and begging for mercy. But that's about it. The reserves of good will, artistic availability, and indeed, any kind of creativity, were very near empty. But I had my hour of training. The musicians were there. The director was there. It was time to work.

I knew exactly what I wanted out of that hour. Days before, I had planned it out. One run through cold (meaning no technical warm up before hand), setting the music, then another run through. It was an absolute necessity.

Well, as it turns out, the director had plans of his own. He wanted to do scenario BS or something. My wheel takes up so much space that there is no scenario. There are a couple of blank canvases in the background but that's about it. He comes up to me and tells me to focus on the "jeu", to forget the technique, that he needs to see I'm more than a gymnast (didn't you hire me because you saw I was more than a gymnast?), all kinds of crazy things that he needs.

Well you know what? I'm tired of being stepped on when it comes to my creative process. I'm tired of being told that the way I work is wrong, or not good enough. My artistic counselor at school made me believe that I didn't know how to work properly, but since leaving school, I have learned to have faith in my way of working and to have confidence that the way I work is not only effective, but is the right way for me to work. I'm not here to fulfill the artistic needs of others at the expense of my own. Not any more.

I tried to explain my needs to him, I tried to assure him that things will fall into place, that I know where I am in my process and that I know what I need. I tried to explain that a lot had changed and evolved since the last time he saw me. But I couldn't help but feel it was in one ear and out the other. So instead I said yes to his rules and played by my own.

I ran the number. It was the first run through since I since I finished the choreography, the first run through where I did all the technique, and the first run through where I had the stamina to be able to do all the technique. It was glorious.

The director came up to me and was all smiles, assured me that it would be super, was super. I received quite a lot of compliments from those who saw it. What a relief! But that doesn't change the fact that I need to run it another 98 times before we open. If only I could make people understand that.

German Wheel is a funny beast. Maybe its just me (and probably is it) but I feel that there can be no distinction between the artistic elements, the technical elements, and the theatrical elements. Everything is based on or around this unstable, heavy thing. The artistic is still technique, masking the struggle behind the theatre is also a skill to be developed. I need to work on all three things simultaneously otherwise the work I think I'm doing is of a much lesser quality and incomplete. In other words, with German Wheel its all or nothing.

Our rehearsal started late and went over time. I had still done only one run through. I had told at least three people involved that I absolutely wanted to do the number twice. The composer was about ready to go off to lunch, and I was so tired I could have easily let myself off the hook. But I kept hearing that voice that had insisted on two runs, and I put my foot down.

It was hard, but I got through everything again. In some instances, better than before. By the end, mind you, I had nothing left. I no doubt looked unhappy with the entire affair, but in truth, I was too tired to even smile. It takes a lot to reach that level of exhaustion, but let me tell you, it is one of the most wonderful and beautiful things to feel that you have given absolutely everything you had to give. And I have no doubt that that feeling of emptiness at the end of an artistic/physical feat is akin to the kind of bliss achieved through meditation. And what better way to refuel the soul than to make plenty of space for all the good things to come?