NW4W '25
New Works 4 Weeks Festival
May 22-June 14, 2025
Writing two.
4/23+26/25
Since January, I have been attending as many showings as I can. An initial one where I introduced myself to the artists and proposed writing a reflection on what it means to create as part of New Works 4 Weeks. Being in the periphery as an OMNIVERS resident and program alum, I often questioned my purpose in the room. I think it’s the feeling of wanting to earn trust, to have a responsibility, and to serve beyond oneself. Time and trust are perhaps the biggest takeaways from when I finally did meet with some of the artists for their reflection.
I proposed two dates with a block of time, along with an open invitation to all the artists for other suggested times and dates — scheduling is always work. I met with Charles on a Wednesday morning at Red Eye to quickly pivot for a more relaxed environment in a local coffee shop. On Saturday I met with Marggie, snem, Jess, and Rachel at MOVO.
TRUST + FEEDBACK
Throughout his time in cohort, Charles reflects on the impact of giving and receiving feedback— from people you may know in the community and those you are just beginning to know. Balance this with your own needs and how a feedback protocol serves you and your work. There is a lot of learning. There is a lot of quiet. There are also moments of laughter, shifting, and nods or “hmmm”s that show a group agreement. Trust is being formed. Listening is crucial.
snem affirms this in the separate reflection by noting the importance of recognizing where people are coming from on any given day—what perspective they bring into the room with. “Seeing a choreographer create movement and then making a choreography note when giving feedback is important to know.” It allows the artists receiving feedback to choose whether that piece of information is important to them, either in focusing on the movement of their piece or to remove that portion to allow dialogue or audio to take precedence.
There is also feedback you receive from someone you are getting to know that may inform your work differently than from a person you’ve known for years. Both can exist, but as the artist, you decide which one is crucial for your work. As I proposed this question of feedback protocol to both gatherings, there was a consensus about wanting “critique”, but also needing to balance the vulnerability it takes to create.
Jess made a great point of reminding us that critique is also a gesture of generosity, “It is important to teach people how to critique”. A testament of the protocols and its service to the artist, either in the moments of creating or year later.
PROCESS/TIME
I met with these artists in late April, asking them to reflect on their process since December. As they head into final showings, tech, and performances, they all feel like they’re still trying to understand what their work is or will be in the next few weeks.
Rachel summarizes one of the hardest parts of any creative: scheduling. With four other dancers and independent lives, she estimates that over six months, she’s really only had 30 hours to work before the show. Charles shares a similar sentiment, stating he only has 4 more rehearsals with his cast, while Marggie is set to “lock in for May”.
Artists wear many hats: creators, performers, costume designers, sound researchers, friends, collaborators, caretakers, partners, and so on. Of course it is natural to ask oneself if art-making is necessary. If it is that important. snem captures this by asking “What do I have capacity for?” and quickly concludes that WIP (and IA) are that container—a place to bring heavy questions and know people will catch you, hold you and your work. This has been occurring over the past six months being in cohort, navigating a room with both strangers and familiar faces. It can be daunting, but revealing.
“I am in the process of learning what it is to be in process with others and in a larger work,” Rachel acknowledges. We hold ourselves to high standards and look at others to see what they are doing and how. We try to find a formula to create, to lessen the stress, but what this container of Red Eye does well is hold up a mirror to remind you that you are doing it. You are in process, and that is valuable. The artist is always pushing beyond themselves, consciously or subconsciously.
INDIVIDUAL WORKS
As we wrap up on conversations, I circle back to the question that sparked this “Reflections” series: “How do you want your work to be experienced?”.
Charles notes the hindrance of placing art under umbrella terms or disciplines. They are restrictive, invoking a mindset of comparison seeking more of one thing and less of another. Instead, he focuses on the “humanity of people”, the complexities, vulnerabilities, and layers of being oneself and being with others. His current work navigates those crevices, welcoming the ephemeral experiences from audiences in real time.
Jess states her work is “For the Karens, to heal the Karens. For the 16 year old self when she needed to hear certain things.” Silliness is present. She shares her fear of being seen as silly in aspects of her life and how this work is bringing out “the radiant weight of experiencing being silly. Of being weird, sweet, and sentimental.”
snem frames their work as a forever in process snippet of a larger piece that will grow and collect over the next two years. The standard we set for ourselves as artists is to produce a complete work. Though, these conversations and larger ones in the community are embracing the permission for the artist's work to continue on, folding into each other, pulling from within and growing anew. snem notes a moment when they quoted a line, but couldn’t remember its source, only for their partner to remind them it was their own. This new work lives in this dialogue, “An experiment to hold the conversation on stage.”
Rachel’s work sits at the intersection of many things: political, cultural, psychological, organizational, individual vs group. All of these topics an individual cannot be an expert on, a notion felt for Rachel in this process and in her daily life. She recalls her felt responsibility to learn everything about organizing and advocacy as to be knowledgeable and understand any references presented to her at any moment. She has since reminded herself—and centered her work—-around the importance of being human. This work is about moving the needle, understanding one another, and embodying the complexities of being in proximities to one another.
Unfortunately Marggie had to leave before answering this question. However we do know this: it is a solo, she began this process with the intention to trust herself and the way she works, and she has a goal to challenge herself as a performer and be in reflection. Speculation, part of witnessing art and offering feedback, is a tool to unlock narratives, images, and possibilities. Perhaps these known insights of Marggie’s work echo the ways these artists have grounded themselves in NW4W and in the cohort.
Jess perhaps summarizes best in saying that each individual has made an intimate choice to be there. Whether arriving and exiting with oneself, or with a broader connected set of individuals, this process for many years has created opportunities for artists and audiences to arrive and depart with a deeper understanding of who we are with each other.
My time with these artists and the full cohort (Bri, D, Taylor, J.H. Shuǐ Xiān, aegor, Akiko) can easily be summarized as inspirational. An overused word, but I have been grateful enough to see snippets of where they come, as both artists and individuals. Each showing has a check-in, allowing an outpour of where the individual is coming from and holding in their world. Sometimes, it’s the world itself in its political, economic, or environmental state. These artists are aware. These artists still choose to create and open themselves to each other. Where individually we may feel isolated, they are in studios, bedrooms, theaters, gardens—thinking, feeling, and being everything at the same time. When I consider all of this, it is inspiring to see them show-up with everything they have. I hope you, as the reader do too.
Writing one.
3/6/25
Background.
In December of 2023, I had left my own rehearsal and bumped into a mentor and friend. In the cool air exchanging “How are you?” I had confessed not being happy. Despite receiving a grant to make new work, purchasing a condo, traveling, being healthy, and feeling supported by my family and community, I was feeling less than. No matter how much I reflected on all the good things, it was not enough. A week or so later, I made a phone call to a friend to discuss grad school as an option. Perhaps learning something new in the periphery of dance could fill this void. I remembered the writing I had done for my own shows. I also remember being tethered to reviews as a measurement of success. Who dictates what voice is heard, what perspective exists on the work being created, what is unsaid? In the context of dance, why are BIPOC voices only highlighted during a performance weekend? Why are conversations not happening throughout the unseen effort and unheard dialogues? Somehow, what existed in myself and what I witnessed in the field was not enough.
In Practice.
“Reflections” emerged at the nudge of this friend, from the desire to seek answers for myself, and from the walls formed by circumstance. My reflective dance work and desire to learn by listening to others formed this writing practice—offering a choice in how the artist's message translates into writing by fact-checking what is said. On a larger scale, it offers the public a deeper relation to a work before, during, or post performance. Independently I reached 3 artists, 4 sought me out and 2 of those offered compensation. A total of 17 writings were made during 2024. All different just like the artists themselves. I found it impossible for my own voice to not exist at times. Whether in my inquiries, misunderstandings, or inspiration. Sometimes, scheduling and extra layers of being a stage or production manager became difficult to ignore in relation to when the softness and deepness of reflecting occurred. I saw my own timelines at odds with artists at times. I learned—and am still learning—to slow down, to listen harder, and be present honestly.
With Red Eye.
Through “Isolated Acts”, a curated rental, “OMNIVERS”, and co-curating their fundraiser, my relation to Red Eye continues. Built on mutual interest to support each other and welcome experimentation, our relationship shifts and finds each other anew through dialogue. Each program invites the artist to shape and ask what they need while considering their role in the larger community. How do artists support each other? My own interests, questions, and desire to grow found fertile ground at Red Eye. The primarily solo work I create emerges from within to find its place amongst others. So does this practice of “Reflections” find itself seeking to support the NW4W artists.
Through June 2025.
Leading up to the premiere—perhaps after—I set out to have a minimum of two writings. This being one, giving context of who I am and where I come with “Reflections”. The second, focusing on the artists able and willing to meet with me to reflect on their experience holding and seeing each other. Their work, their hopes, their state of being. The one-on-one modality of “Reflections” in 2024 would be difficult to pursue with 11 artists. So, with Red Eye, the artists, and myself, we find ways to shape a mutual relationship. An ongoing conversation of what it means for performance art to be held beyond the theater, a documentation serving the artists in the room, a reason to continue growing with each other, and a practice to share art more than ever. These may be reasons why I continue with writing—even if it is new to me—but I hope this experimentation and in this trying, that we may all feel more connected, seen, and heard by each other.
Photo: From Red Eye
Further ways to intersect with Red Eye
https://www.redeyetheater.org/