summer 2025

Well, hiiiiii! Um so it’s been a while. I do this thing in the summer where I sell my soul to the American Dance Festival and send lots of emails and make spreadsheets and babysit adults in exchange for a seat in some big theaters and small rooms and a studio with neon green walls. So yeah, I am trying to give myself some grace about the fact that I haven’t been writing or creating much and trusting that the scales will even out here soon. I am going to try to string some words together that make sense of the last three months of my life… the things I saw (like 57 dances), the people I was with, the books I read (14!), and the big drive that brought me back here, to St. Louis, after nearly 5 months apart. Oh yeah and I started this in St. Louis but now I am back in URBANA, ILLINOIS at last. So yeah. Here we go. 

DANCE I SAW

Set & Reset

Can I be honest for just a second? I sort of hate writing about dance. Phew. Air has been cleared. This may come as a surprise given this whole thing, but it is my truth. I think this comes from sort of hating the way I have read about dance. Of course, there are exceptions to this and there are several people who write about dance in truly beautiful ways, yet I always have this feeling that dance criticism in general just doesn’t do it justice. I am sort of sick of this way of writing about dance that is Liz Lermen (no disrespect, Liz) Critical Response Theory-esc synopsis of what just happened on stage. I think this is a useful tool, but it's often so dry and boring to me. And like, sort of redundant? I get that not everyone can see dance with their eyes and it helps to fill that gap, but I love dance so so deeply (seriously, I am working on a second useless degree about it) and I really don’t care to read about dance I haven’t seen. Once again, at least not in this way. 

There is something about seeing dance live that is, and I know I use this word more often than I probably should, but MAGIC!!!!!! I Want To Read About That Feeling! I want to know what a dance does to YOU. The living, breathing you who will go home and brush your teeth and then wake up the next morning and do it again. The you who has some nervous twitch that only your closest companions notice. The you that misses someone and has dreams that they let die and longs to own a boat or something. Do you lean forward in your seat to try to become it? Where do you feel the dance in your body? What does it do to the air around you? How does the movement make you long for something? Does your mind ever trail off mid-phrase and where does it go and how do you re-enter? 

I’ve recently got my hands on The Essential Jill Johnston Reader and HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS, she is brilliant. This is the first time I have read about dance and felt it in my pinky toe. Between this and what I just wrote about and the fact that I am insisting on taking up valuable space in your email inbox, I am going to write about a dance that I saw last night. 

Set and Reset by Trisha Brown was originally choreographed in 1983 and performed for me (and 600 other people) 42 years later. This was a part of the Rauschenberg Centennial and also happened to open the American Dance Festival where I have gotten to work (at a computer, mostly) and see work (in a theater, mostly) for now the third, hot, sweaty Durham summer. The program also consisted of two Rauschenberg collaborations with Paul Taylor and one with Merce Cunningham (danced by the Brown company). Historical, trailblazing, epic, blah, blah, blah. 

Here is where I could give a dance history lesson about the significance of these collaborations, but instead I will direct you to this article by the New York Times if you’d like to read more about all that. Also, I am only going to write about Brown's work because, believe it or not, I am not the New York Times and I can do whatever I want (within reason). And guess what, Trisha’s work was my favorite of the night. There, I said it! I’m allowed to say that right? If not, don't tell anyone. 

Per my earlier question, this is a dance that had me, Marlee, leaning forward in my seat in an attempt to get as close as humanly possible to the atmosphere and arithmetic of it. I use this word arithmetic because there is something deeply mathematical about this piece. The way space is used is geometric and she wields ratios with a deeply nuanced matter of factness. Brown’s choreography is somehow so many opposing things at once over and over again; like a kaleidoscope constantly changing my perception of things I have seen a thousand times. There’s a multi-dynamic, poly-sensational essence to the way Brown crafts movement. This happens at a micro and macro level; any single dancer is embodying multiple qualities at a time and the stage itself is holding even more. The way it flows is somehow seamless and puts me at ease while also being entirely unexpected. It's collective, but deeply personal. Unison is at play but not in control. She takes moves I know so well and makes me feel as if I have never seen them before; virtuosity is completely redefined. Sure their legs move up in a way that one could describe as a grand battement, but it is somehow nothing at all like that. The effort and intention shape its recognizability into a move about limbs flying through space instead of some sort of attempt at a position.

I don’t think I accomplished what I set out to do, but oh well.

etc.

OKAY…. I saw a lot of other dances that I had the full intention of writing huge beautiful eloquent thoughts about, but I did not because I WAS TIRED, okay? So, instead I want to take a second to write some sweeping statements about things I noticed this summer while watching a lot of dance from a variety of aesthetics and places and realities. I also want to say that many of these thoughts are mere infants and need A LOT MORE fleshing out. 

I think there are many audiences dance is made for, but I can sort of break these into two major categories with tons of little sub categories underneath; dances made for dancers and dances made for the general public. I am by no means implying that one who is a dancer will not enjoy dances made for the general public or that the non-dancers can not appreciate dance made for dancers, but I do feel this distinction in both my experience with work and the way I hear people talk about dance as a form. 

I feel hesitant to even write this next sentence, but here we go…. I think we need more dances that come from a place of joy. LET ME EXPLAIN! I do not hold the view that art, dance more specifically, is meant as a place of escapism. I actually have a very real issue with this take. THERE IS A LOT TO BE BUMMED OUT ABOUT RIGHT NOW! YES! MAKE A DANCE ABOUT THAT! Buttttttt, I am starting to feel that joy may be the most radical form of resistance. And no, I don’t mean this in a toxic optimism, ignore all the terror in the world around us, ignorance is bliss type of way. I guess I feel this pattern that work deemed most “respectable” is work that comes from a place of suffering. We see something brave or vulnerable or raw about that. But, I don’t know, I guess I am starting to find the endearing just as brave. I saw a lot of work this summer that was a bit apocalyptic and I guess all I am trying to say is that our reaction to “the end of the world (as we know it)” has the potential to be more than gloom and doom and a fog machine. 

Okay this next one is maybe my least fleshed out and I could use a lot more research to back what I am trying to get at, but I want to try to put into words this pattern I notice. I feel like the post-modern movement in dance is often reduced to “dance can be anything done by anyone” and is remembered for the ways it made dance this more simple and less elevated form. Can I just say that I am a little pissed off by this synopsis? Or maybe I am pissed off that there is often little context beyond this take. YES! Dance can be anything done by anyone and post-modern choreographers did A TON to make dance more accessible, butttttttt there is something a bit infantilizing about this as the only takeaway of a deeply athletic, experimental, expansive time in dance history.  As if to everydayify a form of art that was once only for the rich and the white and the skinny and the “talented” is to make it simpler. When, in fact, post-modern dance completely complicated and challenged and changed dance in ways much larger than making it more pedestrian. Ways that still feel revolutionary when I see them fifty years on. 

I’m a little annoyed with an obsession with narrative, or the desire to assign meaning to everything. I get it, I do this too, all the time. I think there are dances I would like a lot more if they were not trying to be about something and just let the movement speak for itself. Like, no this is not a dance about fascism just because you say it is. This is not to say dance cannot be about things like fascism, just that it doesn’t need to be about some big life-altering theme in order to be worthy. Ugh IDK this take feels wrong now. Who am I to say what a dance is or is not about.

MY BODY IN MOTION

I got to take class a bit more this summer than the last two. This was mostly in the form of Jenna Riegle’s brilliant classroom. Taking a class from a really phenomenal teacher is such a blessing. It feels like I am getting two classes for the price of one because I learn just as much about moves and I do about pedagogy. 

I performed this little improvisational solo as well this summer. This was my first time performing improvisation as a piece of solo work and…. It was like really scary. I am very comfortable with improvisation in general, but doing it alone in a room full of people whom I admire felt so different. I felt pretty awful afterwards, despite getting very kind feedback. There was this little voice in my head telling me that I was lazy for not setting choreography and that everything I did looked stupid and cliche and I should have just not shared anything at all if I didn’t have something more fully formed. WHICH IS LIKE THE ANTITHESIS OF EVERYTHING I FEEL! I’m not sure exactly where this voice came from. I’d like to work on making it a bit quieter. I don’t have much performance anxiety, but something about this very informal showing always feels so high-stakes to me. I am also realizing that I am a bit more of a control freak than I would like to admit. Letting go of set-phrasework is a sort of relinquishing of power. Exposing parts of myself I usually keep hidden. Trusting myself in a way I am not accustomed to. 

I also had the pleasure of dancing in Space Station this past weekend for the third year in a row. I’ve said it many times, but this is quite possibly my favorite performance experience every year. It always feels like I am being welcomed back to something I didn’t fully realize I missed. I got to work with Kara Beadle this summer. And well, I married a car. Kara’s process taught me a lot about developing character and worldbuilding – two things I hope to do in my work. It also reminded me that humor is just as powerful as fear. 

BOOKS I READ

I have been reading a lot this summer and want to share a few favorites. ALSO I just want to say that, yes, audiobooks count as books read. I don’t feel like backing this claim right now but want to say it. I am having fun on Goodreads! Sometimes I even use it like twitter. 

My favorite book I read this summer was Martyr by Kaveh Akbar. His writing is so beautiful to read and the story is so brilliantly tragic. The type of book I can’t wait to read again someday because it will feel so different the second time around. Another favorite was Yellowface by R.F. Kaung. I have never hated a protagonist more than this one (compliment). This whole book is completely infuriating in the most hilarious and real and incredibly written way. I also really enjoyed Sunburn by Chloe Michelle Howarth. Lots of pining and a slow start, but subtly poetic and a nice coming of age story.

I’ve also read a bit of nonfiction that I enjoyed. Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking is a book I have tried to read a few times since I lost my mom, but the way she writes about grief has always felt too potent for me. I am happy that I finally revisited and finished it. While Didion’s writing feels a bit out of touch at times (I also read Play it As it Lays this summer), I can’t help but keep turning the page wanting to know more. I just really resonate with the way she writes about grief. I also read The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth by Beth Allison Barr and like….. Jesus was a feminist and every Chrisitan should read this book. Finally, I read Dinner for Vampires: Life on a Cult TV Show by Bethany Joy Lenz of One Tree Hill. One thing about me, I love a memoir. Another thing about me, I love a cult. Terrible story, great book. 

IN THE WORLD OF DANCE! Like I mentioned early, I have been reading some Jill Johnston and highly recommend. I also read Steve Paxton’s little book Gravity and enjoyed it. I especially appreciated the rambly way he writes and the random breaks in continuity. 

Right now I am reading Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh and listening to Ma and Me by Putsata Reang. Always eager for recommendations! 

I feel like I just said a lot but also maybe nothing of any real substance…. OH! I also got a stanley cup and pet some chickens and walked a dog and fell in love and saw a snake and then another and then a third and I think that means I should quit my job and i ate imos last week and i thrifted this really nice table and i moved again and i started eating my eggs scrambled again and well yeah. Thanks for reading. As I get back into my routine I hope to make this a more regular practice. Talk soon…

xx,

Marlee