A Post On Choreographing

Damned auditions for the Martell Rise Above dance competition is this weekend and I still haven't choreographed anything solid. All the moves that I come up with seem less than satisfactory, repetitive, sometimes even lame. Now I know the feelings of those artists who claw and tear and crumple their pieces of work a zillion and one times before that "Aahh..." moment comes.

Perhaps I am putting too much stress and fuss over the details, telling myself "This is too lyrical. I can't keep ignoring the beats" or "Can't put this Locking move now. Locking comes later" or "Why am I being so Jazzy? There's not enough street innit!" et cetera. Putting all these parameters just takes the fun away from choreographing. In fact, I have been feeling lately that choreographing just takes the fun out of dancing. Often, I feel like just turning up for the auditions and telling the judges "Ok. I didn't choreograph anything. So I'd like you to pick a song and I will show you what I've got! Just be kind and keep Mr. Nutcracker or any Cygnets out of this." Truth be told, I have actually done that before and it didn't turn out very well, thanks to my still-lingering performance anxiety.

So choreographing reduces the effects of anxiety on my performance. Thats not the only advantage of going prepared with a combination of moves. After watching so many dance performances by professionals and amateurs using styles like popping, locking, breaking, new school hip-hop, jazz, ballet, contemporary, latin, ballroom, I realize that there are so many more aspects involved in putting on a good dance performance.

The use of space is especially important for a solo. You are the only person on stage, and if you just stay on one spot throughout the whole performance, you make general appearance of the stage or dancefloor look so dull and barren. Unfortunately, many hip-hop and funk routines and combinations really does lack the usage of performance-space. Popping, Krumping, Locking, even Breaking does not involve much movement around the area. The only funk styles that does accomplish that are perhaps Boogaloo and Floating/Gliding. That is why despite my love for the style, I feel that hip-hop and funkstyles are just not suitable for stage, whereas ballet and jazz involves so much stage-travelling steps such as pirouettes, and movements such as jetes are so big that they put alot of volume on stage, making it visually pleasing for audiences who are seated at a distance.

However, hip-hop and funkstyles does look better up-close. This is probably because of the intricacy of their moves. A good Hit or Pop and be seen more clearly if you were in a circle than in a theatre. The minor details involved in Tutting and Waving are much more prominent in a club than on a stage. You can even better feel the funk in Locking if you were right infront of the locker than if you were many feet away. The subtle melts in Milking, the power of Krumping, the footwork in C-Walking look so cool on the streets, but just defuses when done on stage. Ballet and Jazz, however, has less effect up-close. This is probably because of the lack of intricate details and because of their large movements. Its kind of like how a rainbow looks pretty from a certain distance, but up-close the colour is just so big that it looses the effect of its prettiness.

Damned. I could go on and on about so many other issues. Things such as trying to impress audiences with your raw skills and techniques as opposed to using tricks or storylines, the climax, peak and anti-climax to your performance in shows or in battles, the control of energy, the display of emotions... Suddenly while I was writing, I realized that some Performing Arts student who majors in dance might come across this and plagarise my ideas. Also, you guys could be getting bored with the technicalities of it all.

The main issue in the beginning was whether I should choreograph or just go there and freestyle. Freestyling is definitely more fun for me. I might even be able to display my emotions better because I don't worry about the coming moves. But choreographing gives me a chance to analyse and manipulate the visual aspects of the performance in ways that freestyling cannot. The problem is choreographing is really stressing me out because of the aspects that I feel are required for putting on a good show. The worst part is that when I am stressed, my inspiration and creative juices are just stifled, making my moves repetitive and unimpressive.

I need to have fun choreographing. I need to find the fun in choreographing again. Stressing out is no good. But how? Where is the fun, especially when you don't have your dancer friends to show what you have come up with? Arrgh....

Step Up/ Photos By My Bed

I watched StepUp a few days ago Dammit! It made me miss Melbourne more, especially the clubbing scene where everyone breaks into a routine and the gals and guys got into a small battle. A lot of people here would say “Aiya, where got such thing? How come everyone knows the steps?” Oh my friend, they do… they certainly do.

I don’t know when is the next time I’m gonna get to break into a routine while clubbing. I don’t know when is the next time I’m gonna get into a battle in front of hundreds of tipsy audiences. So I don’t know when I’m gonna stop missing you guys. Here, except for a few other amateurs, I’m the only one really bustin’ moves. Sigh… the last gig I did was the one in Amber. The one where Kel went: “Hey, we should stop dancing. They aren’t paying us for this.” That was damned fun. I hope Changi Golf Club will provide the same atmosphere, eh Ness?

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I'm lying on my bed, chatting on the phone with a girl. She seemed nice. Fairly interesting, fairly humorous. Judging by the many questions she was asking, she was probably into me. After I hung up, I wondered when should I see her this week, if I wanna see her at all.

Then I look at the pictures on the shelf next to the edge of my bed. I look at the picture of balloons. I look at the picture of flowers. I look at Mr. Nice. I look at Rafaek and the six-pack bear. I look at the Maltese. I look at the ring. I see my name. I see her name. I stare at the heart in between. How will anyone ever match-up to these memories? Will anyone love me this much? Will I love anyone the same? What was that girl on the phone compared to these photographs? As I ask myself these questions, my eyes well up with small traces of tears. Sometimes I wonder whether putting up these pictures so near my bed was a good idea...

Hardest Day of My Life

4th of November, 2006, was by far the hardest day of my life. It was the day I left the place, and more importantly, the people whom I grew into a young adult with. I have never cried so much since I was five, or maybe not even when I was one. The sobbing started the day before at about 3 a.m., while I was hand-writing my testimonials to all those people whom I love so much. I broke when I got to Shar’s. As I recollected each of our many magical moments that were accompanied with a realization of the possibility that these moments might never happen again, I felt little parts of my heart and soul just disintegrating into the air. At that moment, death seemed to have a better prospect.

I felt like I had to drag my heart wherever I went the next day. Each step I took was an emotional trudge. I tried hard to keep walking tall, keep my chest out and my head up. But the vacuum within my ribs was just sucking everything towards it, making me a perpetual hunchback. Damned… even that word brings memories. My dear friends planned a surprise farewell for me, and my decoy was dinner with Jel. But we never had dinner. We just had a tear-fest full of why-is-it-so-hards and you-can’t-leaves and looking at old tear jerking photos. When she brought me back to my place, Vinh kicked of the surprise by barging in the door too early with a measly “surprise…”. That was funny even for that moment. The rest popped out later which was really shocking! Thanks all of you… I truly almost thought that I was forgotten, and that you all managed to live on without me. How stupid can I get? And those videos, those bittersweet videos. Bitter because it reminded me of the people who I am gonna miss, sweet because I was reminded that I have been loved by many during my stay. Not many people can say that they have been loved this much when they were overseas. Then there was my surprise belated birthday cake. Thank you Gorgeous for bringing the balloons, stuffing the messages, baking my cake and being the best and prettiest decoy there is. I pray that my testimonials really meant something to each and every one person in that room.

Despite the merry send-off, I only slept for about 30 minutes that night. Somehow, an aching heart aches more when you lie down. So I got up, and started crying again. This time it was profuse, with an unrelenting stream of tears and sobs. Again, death seemed like a better prospect. I might have chosen to slit my wrists if Jel wasn’t there. Even she got a little worried about me. Thanks dear, for the much needed emotional support. Then the time came for the departure.

Shar was already crying in the car on the way to the airport. Crying is infectious upon the sight of a deeply loved friend in tears. Further proof of that was when we were at the departure gates, where we broke down one by one, except the almighty Kelvin who needed to be strong for the rest. I was thankful that he was there and that he held back, otherwise what a mess it would have been. Its ok Joon Win, you were pretty tough yourself. I waited every second before I had to go through those gates. Sucking it back in while doing so took an emotional Hoover dam. After filling my departure card, I took a peak outside. I saw you guys. I saw Joon Wins arms around Jel, Kels arms around the huddle of Am, Ness and Shar. That was the last sight of my dearest friends in Melbourne. If I ever went into acting and needed to cry on camera (not that I’ve never done it before), all I have to do is conjure that very last image.

I read their letters on the plane, except Jels for the fear of flooding the 747. Ness, I can hardly see myself in the picture because I am so well hidden behind Shar. Am, thanks for telling me everything, and I really wanna know what that moment was. Shar, I smiled on the plane knowing that Melbourne is now a brighter place for you to be in. The feeling of knowing that a loved one is happy is truly indescribable.

On the plane I couldn’t really sleep, couldn’t really watch anything because my mind kept floating back to where my heart is. When I looked down upon the wide agricultural landscape of Victoria, I tried to convince myself: “I am happy that I am leaving this farmland”. It worked for 5 seconds. Then at the end of the flight, I saw the bright lights of KL, the lights that did not reflect the dimness within me. What awaits me in this well-lit city that I can no longer see as my true home? What will not await me here that will await me back where I flew from? I was a walking void. A hollow carcass. A dancer without his flame.

I am having a solo dance competition soon. 10 000 ringgit first-prize. I was supposed to begin intensive practice the day after I arrived. But there was no flame. For one day, Derrick was not a dancer. And I even thought of never dancing again. I just wanted to look at my box of memorabilia. I just wanted to look at the production posters. I just wanted to slowly read the letters again. I just wanted to read Jels present. Yes, I also believe that it is better to have loved and lost and not loved at all…

…. But is it really all lost?

All these things had to go on my walls. So I began creating my museum of unforgettable experiences…







I looked up on the wall where all my Flare certs and posters are, I looked at the Crunk’D T-shirt, I looked at all the photographs of my dearest friends. Then a frail, female voice in my head went “Make sure you make this trip worthwhile, coz you are breaking everyone’s heart.” And another guy’s voice went “There is a time to be sad, and a time to move on.” Then I said “Derrick, you dumb fuck,” and Derrick became a dancer again.

This dance is to show what Flarians are made of. This dance is for all the hard rehearsal times that we went through as a team, and the fun performances that we’ve done as a family. This dance is for you guys.

K.L, you ain't seen nothing like this!