At various points in my life, creativity has been as allusive to me as respectable behaviour is to the current president elect. To name a time, the past two years. Because of a few things that happened a few years ago which kind of killed my desire to be in a dance studio, to collaborate or dance with others, and to take artistic risks, I've shied away from creation. Deep in the turmoil of self-doubt and distrust, the very idea of making a piece about something I cared about was way too threatening to attempt. I tried to not-care about what I made, but it's really hard to care about making something you're trying to not-care about. Despite this confusion, I kept putting myself in the way of dance - at residencies, onstage, and as a dance teacher - and I even cited it as one of the main reasons I moved to Berlin this summer. So why have I kept inserting dance into my life, and vice versa? A dash of masochism, a lot of stubbornness, and some faith that this block won't last forever. But since it hasn't budged in awhile, I decided to document what happens in the studio when I go in when I'm creatively blocked.
What happens in the film "Creative Block" is that my ego, in its drive to make art that everyone will think is good, takes control. My not-ego then tries all sorts of things to try to get past it: repetition, yelling, and emotional self-manipulation are some of its tactics - which creates an awkward and uncomfortable amalgam of creative expressions that I recorded. Far from what I've always been taught is "good," this piece is about moving through, instead of trying to avoid, the crap that the ego puts in front of us.