So I got in my head that we would do 26 solos. We would film them somehow, probably/hopefully outside, and link them together into one, 30-minute work. I’d solved a lot of problems by deciding on this, but now I had some new problems.

Who would choreograph these 26 solos? Because it sure was not going to be me.

How would we keep these 26 solos separate so they could stand on their own but also connected?

How/who would film it and where?

And a million other issues that had to do with just the school year in general…

By now (in this, Part 3 of my story), it’s about the middle of the summer and I’m still getting my head around 26 solos. I quickly realized that this is how I was going to continue to use guest choreographers (Keep in mind, I was trying to make sure we were rehearsing remotely, because I was convinced that even if we went back to school, I may not be allowed to bring in guests into the school building. And remote rehearsals are tricky, as mentioned in part 2). I thought I might hire a number of guests to choreograph 1 or 2 solos to keep the work manageable and to keep within my guest choreographer budget. I was still working it out in my head, but I was excited about it, which meant I was talking about it with a bunch of people.

I remember meeting with my friend, Laura. We sat in my house (in our masks!) and watched Hamilton, and during the intermission and after the show I told her my idea.

“So I’m thinking 26 solos. We limit them to 1 minute, so we don’t lose interest, we’re changing ideas every minute or so. Maybe they have a common theme. Maybe I ask 13 choreographers to each do 2 1-minute solos. I can do 2, I can ask my (2) dance staff members to each do 2, and then I just need ten more choreographers that will make 2, 1-minute solos for… $200? That’s my budget… is that too little? Is that an insult?”

And then Laura said the thing that made me keep going.

“Krista, it’s one minute of choreography. That’s nothing. That’s fine.”

And she was right. Especially then. So few people were working and we were all so frustrated and spinning our wheels that any project that seemed like it could actually get off the ground, sounded exciting.

Side Note: this is a low payment and I did get turned down by 2 of my first choice choreographers because of it, which I completely understood. But it was what I had to offer and for those that took it on, they were mostly just excited to be doing something after some very frustrating months of being inside and without the normal number of commitments and opportunities. I don’t think this schematic would work again at this pay scale with the caliber of artists that we were privileged to work with, unless there was some sort of trade or if it was presented as an opportunity to donate their time and talents.

And so Laura and I spent more time talking about how I was going to keep it manageable so that no one got duped/guilted into doing more than the work they were being (minimally) compensated for:

1. Establish a theme so choreographers are not starting from scratch
   
2. Have each student provide input/personal artistic information/creative research to their choreographer so choreographers have something to work off of, if that is helpful to their process
   
3. Emphasize the importance of limiting the scope of the work: Creating just 1 minute in no more than 2, maybe 3, rehearsals over Zoom (no need to commute or travel) that fit in their schedule

At this point, I’m obsessed and I’m thinking about the solo series (I had not yet arrived at the RABBIT HOLE idea) constantly. The next 2 most important things were to establish a thread that would connect the solos and to assemble a list of diverse choreographers that I would reach out to see if they were interested in contributing.

One of the choreographers that I knew I would use was my mentor, Susan Douglas Roberts. Pre-pandemic, Susan and I had already agreed that she would be one of my guest choreographers, we had just assumed that it would be a more traditional process to create a more traditional work. I had a conversation over the summer with Susan about my idea for the process, and she was very interested and eager to contribute to a project that was tailored to what we were going through, not only in spirit but in the practical format of bite-sized amounts of choreography and working with just one student at a time remotely. This was a practical plan for the artistic work but also for the safety of all involved, and it also set up an achievable goal, rather than an attempt at something that would be a second-best version of something we’ve always done.

Another personal aside: Dance educators were basically thrown into remote teaching, and while it’s very possible to do it, you can’t just take what you do in the studio and do it the same way but throw a computer in front of you; and very few people seemed to understand that. Most of us taught ourselves how to do it through some trial and lots of error. Similarly, administrators in many different educational institutions were eager to say “ok, just do online/virtual performances” but when pressed to establish the methods we would use to accomplish this, it became clear they  didn’t understand how performance production functions in a traditional setting much less how it would work in an online/virtual setting and there was even less of an understanding of how you would adjust to this new framework and all that it would take. We were on our own, and RABBIT HOLE was my attempt to conquer these issues myself.

“Krista,” Susan said at the conclusion of our initial conversation, “This is exciting. There has been so much that we’ve lost and had to cancel, but this seems possible. Working on a project like this seems really hopeful.”

That was when I thought that perhaps this was not only going to work, but maybe people would even be as excited as I was to take part?

I reached out to a former co-worker, Christianne, to see if she had any thoughts on a theme.

“There are 26 dancers, so I would love something that could somehow be related to the number 26, but all I can think of is the letters of the alphabet, and that feels a bit Sesame Street?” I asked.

“I don’t know about letters, but what you’re describing immediately takes me to Greek mythology. There are so many gods and goddesses and folk tales and stories. Maybe you could find a common idea to focus in on, and pick deities that have stories related to it?”

I really liked this idea, and it felt very Western-centric to me, and I told Christianne that.
“True,” she said, “Maybe you should consider mining mythology in general: folk tales from lots of different cultures as a thread?”

We were getting closer to the RABBIT HOLE.

To be continued…