This
semester, I had the great pleasure and opportunity to take this course,
one of the last courses I may ever take in my student life, for the
second and final time. Previously, my takeaways were focused on physical
and metaphysical questions of movement, such as how technical elements
shape the nuances of expression and how the act of looking within is the
conduit of connection and healing. However, this time I was very
invested in the process. Having become more familiar with the process of
embodied movement we explore in this class, I let myself commit more
creatively, wholly, and authentically to said process. In doing so, I
freed myself from constraints that have been holding me back: the fear
of what others will think, the fear of how a creation as a reflection of
myself will be received or rejected, the fear of trying something
different and new, the fear of failure.
Letting
go is not easy. And I don’t think release happens all at once. Instead,
I see it as part of the work we have to do every day as practitioners
of embodied movement. Letting go of these fears comes through doing the
daily work—by participating in the process every day. Like medicine that
keeps the chronic illness at bay or water that nourishes the plants,
daily acts like our warm-up help us be strong, flexible, active, warm-hearted, and alive. My major takeaway from this course is that we
have to trust the process by putting regular work into the process. This
way, we can explore and embody internal worlds that may make us
uncomfortable but may also reveal truths we didn’t know were there. Like
wading through the river in your heart and finding estuaries you didn’t
even know existed because you never let yourself go there.
The
process this year presented new and unique challenges. To begin with,
we had a much smaller class than before, which meant more concentrated
and intimate energy. While I often felt disappointed in not seeing many
of my classmates show up, I was very thankful to meet Michael, who moves
with so much grace, intention, and honesty. The way he carried himself
and treated his work inspired me to do my piece with much more
vulnerability than I had ever done before.
For
the final piece, I leaned into my desire to tell a story about
something that was true and real to me, even if it ultimately only made
sense to me. I was inspired to work on it after recently feeling
inundated by GLP-1 weight loss ads, all of which take this medicine
originally meant for diabetes and promise to make you beautiful at the
cost of losing your sense of wonder in the world. (One of the side
effects of this drug is that you don’t exactly become depressed; your
emotions just…flatten.) During the creation of this piece (particularly
towards the end as we worked on theme and story), I was in conversation
with myself about, questioning everything we are trading away for empty
promises of power, wealth, or beauty. I wanted to explore what that felt
like through these movements I had created earlier in the class.
The
final performance was called “Poison”. It was the culmination of this
process and conversation which portrayed my character’s struggle between
asserting her power and becoming poisoned by it. Every choice of
costume I made was an intention to demonstrate the torn and inadequate
feelings of my character. For example, I went in with no makeup except
crazy smeared purple lipstick to show her uncertainty of how to perform
her womanhood. (As opposed to the sensuality, confidence, and power of
red lipstick, purple was meant to invoke the poison she would drink.)
Additionally, the colors of the black shirt and white skirt were meant
to evoke her black-and-white worldview and conflicting thoughts about
the decision.
Performing
this piece felt very cathartic. Originally, I chose very brash and
harsh instrumental music. However, when I performed it again alone to a
different song, which was gentler and slower, the movements had a
completely different texture. My relationship with the character felt
kinder and more empathetic, and this performance I did alone with no one
watching was deeply cathartic. For me, this was the true final
performance—or even just another stage of the process of refining and
building upon what we have created in class.
Both
in and out of the classroom, the lessons I have learned in this class
are important to my life. For me, I think it is difficult to demarcate
which lessons will exactly apply where, because at the end of the day we
are in this body moving through each of the different worlds we inhabit
carrying the same tendencies, memories, and lessons. What we carry here
we will carry there. If anything, taking this class again has
reinforced the importance of embracing vulnerability, trust and putting
work into the process, freeing ourselves from fear, moving with
intention, and seeking the truth and beauty of what is within us all.
6
From control to awareness
One
of the most important takeaways from this class is that expression does
not start from technique, but from awareness. Before this course, I
often focused on “doing things right” — singing accurately, moving
correctly, or following instructions. But through the process, I started
to notice how much meaning comes from small, internal decisions: how I
use my body, how I respond to space, and how I connect intention with
action. I also realized that not everything needs to be controlled.
Sometimes, allowing uncertainty or imperfection actually leads to more
honest and alive expression. This shift—from control to awareness—has
been the most valuable thing I take from this class.
At
the beginning, I often felt unsure and even a bit uncomfortable. The
class required a kind of openness that I was not used to, especially
coming from a classical vocal background where structure and precision
are strongly emphasized. There were moments when I did not fully
understand what I was doing, or why. However, over time, I began to
enjoy this process. I felt more free, less restricted by expectations,
and more willing to explore without immediately judging myself. By the
end of the course, I realized that this discomfort was actually
necessary—it pushed me to experience a different way of learning, one
that is more intuitive and personal.
As
a singer, I see a direct connection between what I learned in this
class and my work on stage. In opera, it is easy to focus too much on
vocal technique and forget that the body and the inner intention are
equally important. This class helped me understand that expression is
not something added on top of singing—it is something that shapes the
sound itself. I plan to apply this by being more aware of how my
physical presence, movement, and emotional intention influence my voice.
Especially in roles like Ferrando in Così fan tutte, where subtle
emotional shifts are essential, this kind of awareness can make the
performance more truthful and engaging. Instead of trying to “act” or
“perform,” I want to allow the character to emerge more naturally
through a connected body and mind.
7
With
much freedom
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