BIO
I was born and raised in Athens during
the ravishing ‘80s. Rumour has it that I came out of my mother’s body in my dad’s
ancient Giulietta, while Freddie Mercury was singing “...love dares you to
change our way of caring about ourselves…” All this happened on a freezing-cold
December night; weirdly though, I never made peace with winter –or cars-. The
years went by and I started dancing around, rather bashfully in the beginning,
then quite shamelessly. I trained in contemporary dance all throughout my adolescence.
Then there was a pause. I went on to study Molecular Biology & Genetics in
Alexandroupolis, then moved to Philadelphia to do my Diploma, then relocated to
Geneva to do my doctoral work, then packed my bags again and landed in New York, where I lived until 3 months ago. These last years, while trying hard to avoid
exploding my lab, I continued working on two things that made me happy: writing
and dancing, that is, storytelling. I continued training in contemporary and
created a bunch of stories. In fact, my first novel is soon to be published and
I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. What also makes me happy is
that in Kinitiras, I have the space and time to begin experimenting with
staging it as a dance performance.
-///-
THE 1 MILLION $ QUESTION: WHAT AM I DOING IN THE LAB?
I studied
biology for the same reason that got me involved with contemporary dance: I
loved the human body and all that it can do when it is given the appropriate
time, space and energy. Biology provided answers to the “technical” questions
that baffled my mind over the years; dance, on the other hand, provided
answers, or better yet, allowed me to deal with issues far more instinctive,
feelings that were impossible to explain with words or biological phenomena.As a child I
trained in contemporary dance under the ISTD (Imperial Society of Teachers of Dancing)
system, yet after high school, I dedicated myself to biology, first as a
student and then as an academic researcher. This went on for about a decade.
During this period, my “day” job did not allow me to have a formal,
professional dance training. My training was sort of an “evening” activity, if
I may call it that; it consisted of not only classes but also research on the
work of contemporary choreographers, elaboration on personal ideas and story
creation, as well as participation in workshops and amateur performances,
wherever it was that I had landed with my baggage.
For the last few years, I lived
in New York where, in parallel to my work as a scientist, I intensified my dance training. In fact, during the last year of my stay in NYC, I continued my training
following the classes of Brice Mousset, the Artistic Director of OUI DANSE (www.ouidanse.com), since
I was captivated by his unconventional movement but also by the striking use of
storytelling in his choreography.
Recently, there
was quite a shift in my life directions; science moved to the background and my
involvement with dance became more and more systematic. I decided to devote
myself (or at least try to do so), to what always made me genuinely happy, that
is, storytelling; storytelling with words or movement. Thus, I completed my first “big” story made
out of words: a novel called “Nikitas Delta”, which will be published in just a
few months. In fact, before I’d even finished writing it, I’d imagined it as a
choreographed performance, a dance theater. Only the idea of this dream seemed
unrealistic and way off charts in the beginning, yet in time, it became less
dreadful; it became clear to me that, if I continued training and if I could
find the right people to work with, it could come to life. Thus, I began visualizing
the images I was creating with words as scenes of a dance theater piece. I’ ve
already created a detailed outline of the staged scenes, the dancers’
positioning on stage, some short phrases of choreography, and I’ve come up with
the ideas for scenography, props and music.
I have no
professional expertise or experience relative to the undertaking of such a
creative task, yet I have a sincere and deep desire to experiment on it, and
this is why my participation in the Lab will be a valuable opportunity for me
to set the basis for this project. I acknowledge my lag in formal dance
training, as well as the lack of previous original creation compared to other
dancers, and I hope that my application is not considered as a lack of respect
for their hard work, but only as a profound personal desire to go back to the
process of learning and experimentation.
Essentially, I
am looking for a space to learn, to experiment and elaborate on my ideas, to
meet other artists who might stimulate new concepts and, eventually, to take a
leap; to bring Nikitas one step closer to the stage.
-///-
DAY 1 July 3rd,
2013
“Intention”
We take a
step forward because we wish to go somewhere. We drink water because we are
thirsty. We eat because we are hungry. We speak because we want to be heard. We
argue because we want to understand and be understood. We fight because we
believe in a just cause, whatever that may be. We fall in love because we want
to be loved.
Everything we
do, we do it for a purpose. Or at least, this is what I think. Behind every
action and every word, every thought or every dream, there is an intention. A
driving force. The motivation that steers our wheels.
The same is true for movement, whether we’re talking about moving our feet to go to the park or moving our limbs across a stage to dance. A movement without intention is essentially meaningless; it does exist, and we all do engage in it because we are mere human beings, but it makes no sense.
The same stands for
dance.
If I move just for the sake of moving, then what I am trying to do is to
impress you. Even worse, if I move just to move, then you will probably not
understand why I am moving. And thus, you will most likely feel nothing. You
might witness beauty, “geometry of the body” as I call it, but you will not
feel your heart skip a beat or your brain engage in unexpected and potentially
life-changing thoughts.
So, I chose to
move because I intend to have you move with me. And, you don’t need to move
your arms and your legs, no, just your heart.
I move
because I intend to tell you a story. A funny story, an emotional, a weird one,
anything that makes your brain think and your heart beat.
Thus, when I
close my eyes and I start seeing figures moving around space, they’ re not just
lifting their arms or kicking and turning; I’m seeing creatures who use their
bodies to tell stories. I’m imagining of
human beings whose intention is to lift your spirit and soul out of your corpse.
I’m seeing
Nikitas and Kaiti, Argyris and Lilly, Vassilis, Marina, all of them, detach
from the pages, rise up and take you on a journey.
So, welcome on
board fellas.
And just go with the flow.
-///-
DAY 2 July 4th, 2013
As I walk into the studio, I wonder what this day will turn out to be.
I make hypotheses
and try to argument for or against them (I am a trained scientist, after all...) I think of the most complicated scenarios (I am also a storyteller…) and the
most complex tasks that we will be asked to perform. Yet Ana
surprises me. She asks something very simple: to pick one of yesterday’s tasks
and repeat it, in order to figure out whether its execution will be different
today. It sounds easy at first, but in the process of doing it, I realize that
my execution is indeed quite different. It has transformed. It is now almost
entirely focused on one sense, the sense of touch. I am now focusing on using
my feet and palms to make my environment (the floor, walls, even the air) part
of my movement.
Then we partner up; Maria T. is my fellow conspirator. We exchange tasks. She gives me a guiding line: “You have no spine. You are not to stand in a straight line, ever.” Hmmm. I think for a moment. Then she adds: “Think of a snake. Imagine how it moves. This is what I want you to do.” Her task is precise and clear for me to understand. And so I engage in a long, snaky-ish movement, where the ground is my friend, and the height is my enemy. My spine is, obviously, inexistent.
Before we call it a day, each one of us takes the floor. “This is me today” is our opening
line. We each perform a small improv solo based on today’s tasks. And when we are
all finished, Ana raises a bright point, one of my favorites. “Think of how
watching others dance affects you” she says. “I learn” is
the first phrase that comes to my mind, as I have realized this and talked
about it so many times. And I continue. “I observe how others use specific
parts of their bodies to exude a specific emotion or shape. I draw inspiration
out of them”.
So when I walk out of the studio by the end of the day, I'm thinking that after all, this day turned out to be even more complex than I thought. Because it was based on
simplicity!
Less is more,
fellas, less is more.
-///-
DAY 3 July 5th, 2013
Well, things move pretty fast today…
After warm-up,
we dive directly into deep waters. Ana mentions one phrase: “Figure out your number
1”. She articulates it further. “What would be the first step, your first step in the process of
creation? That is, what is your number one act when you want to create a piece
of choreography?”
Blank.
Gasp.
Back to
basics.
Ana is
probably thinking that we’ve lost it. She thus elaborates more. “I am not
asking you to create an entire combo, people, I’m just asking you to figure out
what is a starting point in choreography for you. Try to figure out the
process, not the endpoint ‘product’. And breathe, people, breathe!”
Gasp again.
This task is
to be explored physically, as requested by Ana, yet I see most of us running to
our notebooks a.s.a.p. We obviously need to think-write-draw something-anything
that will help stimulate our imagination and set our thoughts clear before
taking it to the floor.
I, too, take
a moment to contemplate. Not that long though, as it has always been clear for
me that number one is establishing a
story (a word that raised an intense conversation later on between myself
and Xica). And when I say story, in this particular case (that is, for this
precise task and in this particular period of my life), I mean a character play
outline, a plot. I already have one in my head and heart: my own little novel,
“Nikitas Delta”.
So this is a
brief summary of it: Nikitas is the principal character of the book and his
life story, which takes place during some of the most important historical
events (WWII, Occupation, Greek civil war) that ravage Greece during the past
century, is narrated to a third character (Eleni) by people who met him. The second
principal character is Kaiti, the woman with whom his falls in love during
WWII. Nikitas and Kaiti are two completely different human beings. He is weak, vulnerable,
fearful, quiet and always prone to sickness. He is constantly afraid of people,
emotions, surprises, life itself. He is essentially an anti-hero, with no
courage at all. She is all the opposite. She is fearless, persistent and brave.
She sees no obstacles. She joins the Resistance with no reservation. She is everything
he is not. And yet, despite their differences, these two fall for each other
deeply. They create a bond which is mesmerizingly powerful to those who live
around them.
Their actual
story goes far beyond what I just explained and involves numerous other
characters, but what intrigues me to work on for now is this difference of
characters. Fear versus strength. Cowardness versus courage.
I decide to play with both traits. First, I become Nikitas. I am weak and afraid; as a shelter, I use a stool that I find in the sound booth of the studio. My movement is vulnerable. My weight is not well balanced. There is fear and doubt in my eyes. I turn around all the time to watch over my shoulder. I hide. I try to make myself invisible and small. Then, I become Kaiti. I am strong and fearless. My movement becomes more linear and clean. My lines are stronger and more precise. My eyes also look different. Very different. They are more focused. My entire body language is more dominant.
And so for a
long period of time, I play around with this human character difference; it is
my starting point, my number one act in the process of creation.
Tomorrow, I’ll
continue working on it. I’m pumped.
Cheers
-///-
DAYS 5+6 July 8thand 9th: "OUR DAYS WITH ANDREAS"
This Norway-born,
Porto-based, cockroach serial killer came to Athens and, straight after
treating us with frozen yogurt and juice, he got us writing down our own thoughts
on some of the most fundamental aspects of choreography. I kind of got drifted
and thus wrote a loooong (5-page) manifesto, but I will show mercy on you and
only share part of it. (If you are a masochist though, you can always come to
Kinitiras and peak at the full-length text that hangs on our black wall…). So
here I go:
‘TIME’
My one and
only rule as to when I work, that is, when I spend time creating a story, is
the following: whenever, wherever inspiration comes, use it, work on it. I no
longer separate life from work in a strict manner. If I am out with friends and
something that is said inspires me or generates an idea in my brain, then I’ll
retract, sit back in a corner perhaps and make a note. If I don’t have paper,
I’ll just spend a few seconds to memorize my idea. If I have an idea about a
combo, then I’ll definitely find a way to note it down and work on it later on
in my house. In other words, no particular time of the day is a ‘waste’ of
time. Every moment has the potential of being a time during which creation
might emerge. I thus consciously chose not
to frame my work in a time schedule. I actually teach myself to stop thinking
about time and just produce work whenever it comes. And you know what, this is
not a “luxury” or laziness (although it does create quite difficult survival
conditions); it’s the opposite, in fact. I have realized that from the moment I
stopped considering time, I became more creative and more productive.
SPACE.
In contrast
to time, space is quite more “ruled” for me. I have one absolute pre-requisite for
the space I do my writing at and this is for it to be quiet, that’s all.
Now, in terms
of space for choreography work, I feel that it should be anything that provides
me with a good floor and a few interesting spots, that is, objects or
structures (walls, ladders, chairs) that could be used within the choreography
and perhaps lead to the generation of a site-specific performance. Also, as
opposed to my writing, during which I need quietness and isolation, I more and
more realize that, during the process of choreographic creation, the presence
of other people around me helps quite a lot.
RESPONSIBILITY TOWARDS YOUR WORK.
How am I responsible
towards my own work (whatever that may be)? This is an interesting question… I think
I feel responsible to create piece of work which is completely honest, that is,
a piece of work that does not aim at merely impressing those who watch or read
it, but a piece of work that says a truth about who I am or what I have
experienced. This being said, I feel responsible of creating something which is
firstly honest to myself and then to the others. I also feel responsible of
exploring the possibilities of a particular project to the limits. That is, if
I have a given space in which I can work, I feel I should at least try to
explore all the available material, tools or structures of that space and see
how they could be used in my work.
HOW DO YOU ACTUALLY WORK ON A PIECE?
The past few
days while working on Ana’s tasks, I realize that I work like this: first, the
idea I have (in this particular case a book story) is written down as a plot,
that is, I put down in words the backbone of the story so that the people who
will perform it get a general idea of the storyline (if they haven’t read the
book). Then I divide it into pieces (scenes), which I describe in full detail,
that is, I write down in depth the scene set as well as the kind of emotional
context the characters performing must exude. Finally, I draw small sketches that
depict some basic elements of the scene (performers’ positioning, lighting, outline
of combos, etc).
This must be
in a good shape before I actually step in a studio. Once it is, then I take it
to the floor. I will not however start thinking in terms of step combinations
at this point, no. I will spend a lot of time experimenting with the kind of movement that fits well with the
particular scene I am working on. I will explore the generic movement that can
best express a character’s state of mind and emotional context. For example, I
have created a character who is, by nature, extremely fearful and shy, very suspicious
and very introvert. To bring him to life on stage, I will first spend a lot of
time on trying to find (on my body) what sort of movement better illustrates) a
person who is scared all the time: shoulders that are always shrugging, eyes
that are always looking sideways, knees bent, torso always dropping forward to
name a few. On the contrary, if I want to embody a powerful, fearless
character, I will play around with a much stronger body language: clear and
straightforward look, uptight body posture, strong use of limbs, etc.
After this
period of exploring, more well-defined phrases will start developing, without
however excluding the possibility of continuing with experimentation all along
the way. Media placement in the work will come later on.
Although
there is definitely a sequence of events that I think I am following, the
entire work process is a dynamic process, a process that can change, depending
on the stimuli received. In this sense, every step of the work is potentially
changeable or removable, even the original concept (if it just doesn’t make
sense anymore)!
ATTITUDE TOWARDS YOUR BODY IN YOUR
WORK
The mind
works –at a certain extent- in mysterious ways, yet I feel that the body can be
more easily manipulated. That is, with time and continuous practice, one can
find out and understand his body’s needs as well as abilities. Many times in
class, I have found myself thinking how this particular combo does not suit
well my body structure. I think that this sensation only comes empirically
though. Only once you try a movement on your body and really work on it, will
you be able to understand if it suits you, if it makes you ache, if it actually
looks like what it is supposed to look. But then again, it’s not only about
what suits your body, it’s also about what you like seeing your body do. In fact, for me, it’s much more about the
latter than about the first. Practically speaking, this means that if I really like
a kind of movement, I will literally push my body to my limits to see in what
ways I can adapt it to my body. If I then see that the visual result is awkward
(aka ridiculous), I will drop it...
I realize though
that this attitude means that I really haven’t yet learned how to listen to my
body; but this is why I train daily. It is something I am still learning
(empirically); no one can teach me what my body can or cannot do, I have to
find out on my own.
...Anyone still with me?
Cheers
-///-
July 11th, our 1st
day with Androniki
This petite, but so-full-of-energy, young woman comes in with one word written over her lips:
love.
Loooooooooooove.
Love
everything your body can do, love every spot it can take you at, every weird
position it can think of, every emotion it can potentially exude; ultimately,
enjoy your being while you are moving, have fun with your body. What a simple
in conception theory, yet how meaningful in practice…
We dive in
straight away, just like we did with Andreas the other day; only, today we get
very physical. Very very physical. So for me, love makes its appearance ASAP: I
am given the space and time to use my body as a tool to say something, whatever
that is, independently of whether it’s pretty or not. And I love this.
We engage in
a number of games: we follow the space’s lines with our eyes and then with our
spine too; I find this really interesting. Then, we use specific parts of our
bodies to fall down on the ground; I find this even more interesting. We use
our shoulders, chin, nose, knees, butt or chest to drop (by gravity) to the
ground. I enjoy this so much, even though I now realize that a lot of the
things that my body ended up doing must have looked really weird.
In the end, Santa Androniki opens a box, a bag and a
piece of cloth and takes out a bunch of items: a plastic bag, chalk powder, two
long ropes, some tree sticks, some coins and a piece of thread. She asks us to
use them either to create motion with them or make a sound out of them. I am
for some reason instantly drawn to the rope. I start playing around with it. I
step on it, I wrap myself with it, I throw it out the window and then pretend
I’m bringing it back in. I explore my possibilities. Some weird stuff come up,
some interesting too.
And gradually
this game comes to an end.
Now, as I sit down to make my notes, I do feel the
looooove, Androniki. A looooot of love.
It has been a
love day, a lovely day, an Eros day!
Cheers
M
July 12th, Day 2 with
Androniki
This girl is
here to stimulate every single cell of our trillion-cell body!
Our days with
Androniki are in complete contrast with those we spent with Andreas. We think
with our bodies and we try things. A unique experience, which she guides with
lots of loooove, again ;-)
Today she
brings in Christos and Giwrgos, two musicians. One plays the guitar and the
other one the bouzouki. We work together as a team. Literally, TOGETHER. They
either follow our movement or we follow their rhythm; quite a difficult task
which requires a great amount of focus. We then continue with yesterday’s game:
here I am back with my snake rope, experimenting with its utility and possible
use in choreography. This time though, I tie one end to the small ladder
beneath the sound booth. I want to try out something new, an idea I had this
morning. I imagine that the tied end is a reference point from the past to
which I am still attached. I imagine a continuous struggle between the processes
of detachment and attachment. I want to let go of it, but it somehow constantly
pulls me back. It’s a constant battle. During this session, we add sound. I ask
the boys to play music while I am not moving. When they stop playing, I move.
It’s like we’re establishing a dialogue. They speak with music, I speak with
movement. Interesting moments occur. In my mind, something is very disturbing,
but that will be my thing to resolve. My body though, feels quite strong. I
like the idea of battle. I am in a battle right now, as a human being, as a
social human being. We are all in a quiet war with all those things that have
defined our lives. And it’s a battle that will last for years. It’s frightening
but it’s all worth fighting it.
Androniki,
thank you ;-)
-///-
July 15th, day 1 with Kiriakos
After experimenting
with live music during our sessions with Androniki, we now have Kiriakos take
us through the notion of (musical) scores, that is, any sort of sound that can
accompany a choreography. To be completely honest, “accompany a choreography”
is not a precise statement; I think of this, while we are brainstorming today
with Kiriakos. Music (not necessary a melody, but any combination of sounds – I
am just calling it here “music” for simplicity) can serve dance in many other
ways. It can accompany a choreography, indeed, that is, it can succeed movement, but it can also
generate (or at least function as a base for) choreography, that is, it can precede it. Both are equally
interesting. As a matter of fact, the second seems very intriguing to me; it is
great if one can work in collaboration with a musician and have him create an
original score for his choreography, but this is not something one can easily
do.
This
relationship between music and movement works my mind a lot. Music can inspire
movement and movement can inspire music; it is a feedback relationship, a very
intricate one. One that can generate wonders.
And I am only beginning to explore
it.
July 16th, day 2 with
Kiriakos
This will be
brief.
When our first day with Kiriakos started, my vision and understanding of
what a score is was this:
48 hours
later, I realize that a score for choreography can be this:
!
July 22nd +23rd,
workshop with John-Paul Zaccarini
FAILURE.
Stop.
Breathe. Don’t panic. It’s only failure. Yes, it’s ONLY failure. In fact, it’s
great that it is A failure. Why? Because, there is definitely something you can
learn out of it. Perhaps something enormously great.
I think that this
is the whole point of our workshop with John-Paul: how can failure be used as a
tool
in choreography. Because it can. In fact, it must. I suppose it’s just like in
science. We make our greatest discoveries after we have tried and failed 1000
times. Failure, that is, errors, continuous tryouts and a lot of questioning,
if well managed (emotionally -and physically in the case of dance-), can lead
us to creative routes we would have probably never even imagined had we
succeeded from the start.
What we work
with during these days puts me in a state of alertness. I realize that I need
to be constantly aware of what I am doing so that I can recognize asap the
presence of a failure. And, I need to do this not in order to punish myself for
it, but to make something out of it. Or at least try to.
July 25th, one day before
the performance
I sit here on
the blue couch of Kinitiras, waiting with the rest of the gang to do a quick
run-through. I am listening to my piece’s music and I’m trying to visualize my
body moving to it. But I cannot do it because I am actually engaged in another
action, that of typing on my PC these words. I do multi-task in general, but
this is quite a particular moment. It is the moment when what was lying in my
subconscious is now emerging to the surface as an emotional truth, one that
affects me deeply. This has happened to me once again, when I put the final
full stop in my book. Something like a lighting strike hit me then. I realized
what I had been writing about. And now the same thing happens today. The pieces
come together again and I find myself realizing what my story is all about,
what it means to me and the people I love, how it is going to affect both of
us. And thus, this moment weighs on my heart heavily, yet with lots of
appreciation for what is now in the past, joy for what lies ahead and recognition
for those who left in peace, those who came in silence and those who will come
and go in love.
Cheers mates,
peace and loooove ;-)
