The following are notes from the workshop week of Christopher Page-Sander’s creation of Sanctuary for Owen/Cox Dance Theatre. The week of exploration happened in New York at New York Dance Lab.
August 25
The first day was light but focused, as Chris mounted a solo and trio built on phrases he had workshopped previously. He had a brief conversation with us about the inspiration for the piece he is creating, Sanctuary, and the interest in exploring ways this kind of safe, sacred space can be created inside of community.
Speaking of community, the dance arteries alive and well were on display in the relationships of people in the room. Samiya’s first partnering experience ever was with slightly older Jared years ago in hometown St. Petersburg (FL), so it was no wonder that the trust established inside of this relationship was leverageable today. As Samiya is unavailable for the fuller, culminating project in Kansas City, Chris enjoyed building this trio on her body and allowing her artistry to inform so much of the movement journey.
The last half hour was spent workshopping what will ultimately be Jared's solo in the bigger piece. We were a little tardy getting out of the space, as it my wheels in the hybrid dancer/rehearsal director lane are rusted. We got there nevertheless, so there is hope for the remainder of the week.
August 26
Steadfast and consistent with planning, Chris dove into the solo material initiated at the end of the Monday session. The exploration hour at 11 cradled a full conversation about the narrow swath of purgatory that Black Americans facing hate-stoked death might have experienced when they realized it. For many of us who look like Breonna Taylor or George Floyd or Michael Brown, their murders are a continuation of a recently (more) televised but constantly understood horror: anti-Blackness can end you.
For Chris (and me), the names become singular—Breonna, George, Michael—because it is so close to home. And as much as we are reminded every day, there is something about the moment of reckoning with a likely end at the hands of white supremacy that Chris wanted to explore.
I supported mostly as he worked this out on Jared, who showed up a bit later than he planned but fully engaged. It was a wonderful process.
We enjoyed Josh’s surprise visit quite a bit.
SIDEBAR
I had this thought about elders and community: They know us ,the parents. The elders in the community who love us, whomever they may be. They see us and have seen us. The problem is that we think we see us too and that’s not always the case. You lie to yourself in your thirties about the things you wish you’d left in your twenties that become infinitely more enjoyable in your forties anyway, but we don’t know to chill.
So we lay low.
But we think we’re slick. That we’re keeping it close to the chest, the armor thick, the resting bitch face moisturized to neutrality.
But the elders saw us. They know what insecurity and self-deceit look like. They know what happens to the jaw line and the smile frame. They know what’s going on because they watch these things form on our frustrated insecure little vulnerable faces and struggled not to fix it every time for us.
We ain’t fooling nobody.
August 27
It is serendipitous that a black creative is also in the front of the studio adjacent to us putting movement up or something theatrical. We knew this, but had not really made a trip next door to engage them, a move that felt completely organic given that Chris’s piece is rooted in community.
In that spirit we took our five when they happened to have one and met our colleagues – what a lovely exchange.
As she was in Chris’ last workshop for this piece, Daphne’s presence in the room today was unifying for his process for sure. She had information on what was that she could apply to the new material, most of which was built with movement around a circle. In traditional Black contexts, ringshouts tend to orient counterclockwise, as this is a pathway to connection with the ancestors. Putting movement in this framework definitely warmed the space.
The lighting designer also came through to get some information on how this all might appear on stage.
August 28
Because Jared had a few emergencies to handle before the flight Saturday, rehearsal ended early, mostly Chris and me going over the solo material he made for me the other day. It was a beautiful, necessary experience for me, and a task checked off for him in this process.
He did not know that I had gotten the call en route that my mother transitioned this morning (I told him at the end) because this choreographer is also a little brother and great friend who would have insisted on giving me the entire day. My mother’s departure was not sudden—I anticipated it might happen at any moment. Of course, I needed every bit of the release, somewhere to put the beginnings of grief and relief so that I could manage better. My elevated level of gratitude about this space for catharsis probably showed up in the process as well, as I was extremely open.