Prem Ananda - Photographer

Does a picture capture a thousand words? I think so, maybe even more than a thousand. When your expression is as transient as dance, a photographer that can capture the drama of the human body in a jump, a fall, a turn or a moment of physical emotion, is an indispensable gift. This year, Art and Design Student Prem Ananda has been following rehearsals and leading photo shoots all quater long. He has captured the elegance, the hard work, the fun and the experience of Orchesis. See more of his work at premphoto.com.

Rachel Ankeny

For the past three years I’ve had the pleasure to be a dances choreographed by Crystal Valdez. In the last few weeks I began to realize how interesting it has been to watch her development as a choreographer. Her first piece was a fun, upbeat dance with many dancers. The dance was reminiscent of Brazilin social dance, the stage was filled with bright colors and flashy movements. It was uplifting to dance and was a crowd pleaser! The next year, Crystal’s choreography started to take on more meaning and send a message. “Femishpere” made a statement about the different roles of women in modern society. The piece was edgy and even uncomfortable at times, and it did an amazing job to get a reaction out of the audience. And finally, this year, again Crystal has chosen a specific theme to portray through her choreography, which she described in her blog. Her process this year has been very rich and artistic. There was a strong focus on the story behind the movement. Our first rehearsal was used solely to discuss the theme and get responses and ideas from the dancers. She has taken concepts from our stories and integrated into the movement. Also, she has integrated different styles of dance. It is so fun to see her artistry develop as it has. Each piece was uniquely beautiful and well crafted, but it is clear that the process behind each one has been different. It is fun to have seen that over the years she has come to be very talented in creating art that expresses a specific meaning as well as is pleasing to the eye!

Photo: Keith Mosher

Guin Chan

I hadn’t originally planned to dance my first year in college. I decided before packing up all my things and heading off to Cal Poly that I should focus on my studies. After being on my high school’s dance team for four years, I hate to admit it, but I was a little burnt out from the crazy practices and the drama and the competitions. Not saying that I didn’t love every moment of it, but I thought I wanted a break from it. All I factored into my decision about dance was the practices, all the time spent in the studio that could’ve been spent doing something more productive for my resume, the politics and the money.
  But I forgot about the most important things that I love about dance itself.  I forgot how happy I was after practice, no matter how difficult it got, and how I could be proud of myself for pushing myself to do what I thought I couldn’t. I forgot that while practices could drive me insane, dance has always been a pillar in my life, and for a good reason. I forgot how easy it was to tune out everything that didn’t matter, all the politics that were irrelevant to the here and now in the studio.
   I’m glad that I realized the positives outweigh the negatives by a million because I don’t know what I would have done without the familiarity of dance in my first year away from home. The movements may be different than what I’m used to, but its still the same catharsis.
  Reading through these blogs it’s easy to see that every single member of Orchesis is here because they love it. Dance holds an important place in their life for them; an emotional outlet, inspiration, sanity. I think that at this point in our lives, if we still choose and need somewhere to dance regularly, that it is obvious the sole reason is a vital necessity to dance. It is here that I see a difference between high school and college dance, namely Orchesis. I think a lot of the stress of competing and practicing in a high school team is eliminated with that simple fact. When the common goal is purely to dance, the politics are easily dissolved, the environment is softened, and everyone I think, is generally happier.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Jessica Thoma

Processing thoughts is what we do all day. Through thinking about a math problem, or how we are going to get to class the quickest, or what lipstick will look good for this date. Why? The biggest question of our lives is why? Why do you think about this? Why so we care about this? Why should we do this? It’s a question that lingers in our mind but we never really stop to process and ponder. Some of us do, but we become frustrated and turn away from it and some of us ask this question why and we reinterpret what we think the answer is. In design class for architecture, we reinterpret an idea that relates to the site and the people and the precedents around the building. This interpretation is our answer to the why. Sometimes its good, sometimes its way off base so we continue redefining and reinterpreting the idea until it fits well enough. Nothing is ever finished because there is always a better solution. Reworking and reworking and reworking for hours and hours….I answer this question why for a building and it seems like enough work just for school that I couldn’t do this for one more second…yet I choreograph… I think the reason I choreograph is because it is my passion to dance. I love to move and feel everything that happens when your heart rate goes up and you feel the coolest things emotionally and physically within yourself and with other people. Why shouldn’t I try to create something like this myself? Then it feels even more genuine and real when I dance it. I can answer those questions of why for myself. I can share those things with someone else and explore different things with my body and my emotions and my thoughts. The process really makes you think and that ability to dig deep inside yourself to figure out what you really think about things and how you feel that they should be expressed…it says something and you learn about yourself. I have learned so much from this process. I thought it would be a complete and total disaster creating a piece for the first time, but along with my partner Kelsey, we’ve come up with some really interesting stuff. Why hadn’t I thought it was possible? It all comes down to why for me, and I think that everyone should explore the why in their lives. Creating a building can be the exploration of the why for a space and for a group of people but creating a piece of modern dance is an exploration of the why for me.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Carolyn Taylor

I absolutely loved the Lubovitch Master Class that was given by
Christopher Vo. What an awesome experience that we were so lucky to
have to opportunity to participate in! Every second of this class was
even more wonderful, challenging, fulfilling and just fun than the
last. For me, one of the most enjoyable aspects to this class was the
fact that it took place in a very large, beautiful, mirror-less room.
The lack of mirrors allowed me the opportunity to really feel the
movement in my body. This is something that seems so basic, but I
think is so easy to forget when otherwise you have mirrors all around
you and you can't help but to stare at yourself, judging, critiquing,
and thinking about what you are or are not (or even can't be) doing.
The movement that was being given to us was truly beautiful. It was
flowing, it felt real (nothing fake, thought out, planned or
pointless) and I was beginning to feel like I was that dance because
there was nothing there to distract me from focusing on how the
movement felt in my body rather than how my body looked doing it. I
honestly do not think that we would have been able to even come close
to do it justice had those terrible, full-of-lies contraptions that we
call mirrors, been covering the walls. I only wish that I (and all
dancers) could allow myself to feel like this every time I danced, or
at least a little more often. It was a truly, beautiful, special and
therapeutic experience.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Kerry Mills

During the photo shoot we did a lot of improvisational exercises in the hopes of capturing something interesting or appealing to the eye.  One of my favorite exercises was when one person took a shape, another person ran up to them and took a different position, and a third person joined in and played off the other two. Why was this interesting? A choreographer can spend all day creating a perfect shape for three people; playing with levels, weight distribution, and the lines created by arms and legs.  Ultimately, though it may take hours, they will create a shape that appeals to them.  But in less than fifteen minutes, we created close to one hundred shapes that were beautiful, interesting, and diverse.  Not one shape do I remember not enjoying.  Each was unique and captured a certain spontaneity. Everyone had to make choices on an impulse.  They were forced to create a shape that they couldn't think about for more than a few seconds.  What resulted were beautiful shapes that weren't over thought or forced.  One person could totally change the shape as well.  When one person ran out and another ran in it was like a whole new shape.  Different levels, a different quality, a different position.  I am certain that the images captured by the photographer will show how beauty can be created by simple, spontaneous movements and positions.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Alyssa Carnahan

“Becoming Myrtha”

I find myself here, in one of those times…a fourth year Orchesis member and a senior graduating in June. How did I get here? This is the last time I will be performing with Orchesis, a fact that makes me think about my very first year, and all the things I have learned between then and now. I would like to say that the insecurities are fewer, that it gets less nerve-racking to “show your stuff” as we say, and dance all that is in your soul without worrying about what it looks like to other people, (there are some things I am still waiting to learn, I suppose. Some things that haven’t really changed at all). But hard work means patience, and one day, eventually, we get there.

I have been blessed to have had the chance to perform three solos while a member of Orchesis, the third of which I am working on now for our current concert. It is “The Queen of the Wilis” from the Second Act of the beloved romantic ballet Giselle. I am working with Moon Ja once again; she continues to tell me how important it is to revive the old ballet masterworks and to share and carry on their magic in the world of dance today. This is a point I have always supported myself, and I have felt truly honored to perform in her restagings.

But for some reason, (and I am still trying to decide what that is), I feel different this year. My focus seems to have changed. I feel more connected with the piece and with the character I am playing, and the magic of it feels more at home in me. When we first began rehearsing at the beginning of the quarter, I told Moon Ja that I was glad that we had not chosen to do this piece three years ago (the year I performed a variation from Sleeping Beauty) because I know now that I would not have been ready for Myrtha at that point. Honestly, perhaps I am still not ready for it. For this piece, there is no hiding behind complex footwork or a plastered on smile. To dance Myrtha’s solo is to be Myrtha. The dance itself is her persona, the embodiment of who she is. Because of this, the work I am putting in this year must come from a different kind of place.  

There is something I can’t seem to quantify, a sacredness and a transience that I can only affectionately describe as “magic” that occurs in the relationship of a dancer with the music, the stage, and the material. If I can’t articulate it, then my goal should at least be to try and capture that magic and channel it somehow to make myself become Myrtha, if only for the moment I have onstage to tell her story. I feel as though that is what we are forever trying to accomplish as dancers, to capture a moment in time and to express its truth with our bodies. (In my head I imagine rays of light and energy--think Fantasia!--that play like string instruments and harmonize in, around, and through a dancer’s moving body: the motion in harmony with the music in harmony with the surroundings in harmony with the spirit in which it is done…)

Anyway, the process never ends. We try to work a little harder today than we did yesterday and hope we get somewhere. Sometimes we don’t. Other times, the coin disappears, the rabbit jumps out of the hat, and a fleeting moment is extended, revealing something you never even knew was there.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Megan Butala

Earlier in Fall quarter we had a master class when Lar Lubovitch's company performed at our school.  Before it started, I was, as usual, a little intimidated about the idea of being around really strong dancers.  Also, I always anticipate stiff and really structured and serious instructors who don't necessarily want to be there working with me.  Expecting this, I was pleasantly suprised and releaved by the bubbly, friendly dancer who taught the class.
I enjoyed getting a look into a professional dancer's thought process as far as how he explained and taught and just his relationship to the movement.  He emphasized performance quality, not having perfect technique or being exactly on the music.  He presented the material well and in an informal way that helped me be less nervous and do better than I might have otherwise. 
Besides the instructor and getting some insight into his state of mind, I also really enjoyed the movement; it was really different from movement that's comfortable for me and that I'm used to doing.  I do quite often feel challenged, but not in the same way that a new instructor or type of movement challenges and refreshes you. 
Part of my favorite part about the last phrase we learned, which seemed like another average combination, suprised me when we did it in canon with a partner.  I had no idea of the really cool relationship that would result from doing the combination in that manner, I had never thought about doing movement like that and i really enjoyed it, its always fun to really feel like you are dancing WITH people, to have moments on contact and having connection between the initiation and motivation between movement.
In all, I enjoyed the master class and came away feeling refreshed and inspired.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Anna Gibbons

Frustration: the feeling of being upset or annoyed, esp. because of the inability to change or achieve something.

All weekend I had been trying so hard to master Chad Michael Hall’s style. I threw myself on the ground with enthusiasm, I rolled over my shoulders more than I needed to, and I pushed my body exceedingly past its limit. So, of course, I ended the weekend with an injured shoulder. With each passing day the injury got increasingly worse. I couldn’t lift my arm without pain in the back of my shoulder. I would reach for something, feel the same shocking pain, and instantly have to retract the movement. I was frustrated. Throughout my dance career I had never suffered an injury that kept me from dancing. I was frustrated at the fact that I had to sit out of rehearsals for a week and a half. I was frustrated that I didn’t know exactly what was wrong with my shoulder or how I could fix it. I was frustrated at doctors for telling me what I already knew. I was frustrated that all I could do was ice and heat it while continually taking ibuprofen. Mostly I was frustrated by my inability to change the situation. I’ve always heard shoulder injuries are the worst. What if the pain doesn’t go away? Will I need surgery? Would this be something I would have to deal with for the rest of my dance career? These questions constantly ran through my mind. My imagination was running wild, wondering if it would heal before the upcoming show. The slightest chance I might not be able to perform crushed me. From that feeling I realized the importance dance held for me. I deeply desire to be back on stage, dancing in front of people who understand my art form.
Now, mostly healed, I can admit the over-dramatization of my thoughts through this process. But as a vocalist’s voice is essential to their expression so is a dancer’s body essential to theirs. Without even one part of my body working at its full strength, my main source of expression is stolen from me. And that’s frustrating!

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Aimee Warner

Wow, what can I say? This quarter has been mind blowing…literally. I have been exposed to so much new material and movement styles that I feel that it has all flown past me and I’ve been lucky to grab a small lesson from each experience. Right from auditions I have been pushing myself and trying to gain as much as I can from the amazing talent that I am surrounded by. The first thing that is really beginning to sink into my mind and body is the use of floor work and upper body work between rolling, falling, jumping I am beginning to move my body in ways I never thought I was capable of. It is challenging both to mind and body. People don’t necessarily think of dance as something that involves a lot of brain power, but along side of remembering combinations there is the task of break down and understanding the movement you are given or are creating. Dance is truly a whole mind and body experience, requiring you to be fully present in yourself and aware of where you are physically. Another thing that has been a challenge for me both within classes and rehearsals is working on truly filling all of my movement. There was one moment during our first class with Sydna Reed where she came over to me during an arabesque and simply pulled on my wrist and told me to expand. Somehow this simple gesture really hit home and has been a moment that I return to often to remind myself to allow my movement to continue rather than to just reach a max and stop. I like to think of these moments as an addition to my “tool box” as my drama teacher explained one time. As you go through life you experience new things that then get added to your tool box that you can access at any time.
Now while this quarter has been full of additions to my technical tool box, I’ve also had the ability to add a few to my emotional tool box. Being a freshman in college there’s lots of new experiences, feelings and situations to deal with; luckily I have dance in order to help me work through these instances. There are two ways in which dance allows me to explore these new places in my life, one is the ability to come to rehearsal or class and leave the outside world behind. When you begin to dance and move your body, by taking an internal focus and honing into what your body is doing it allows me to be in a completely different world and forget about the stresses and release and relax so that when I do have to re-enter the real world, I am calmer, more collected and deal with things as they come rather than just feeling overwhelming and panicking. The other thing that has been great for me this quarter has been being a part of both Crystal and Heidi’s pieces. They both involve topics and themes that are relevant to my life right now, so going to rehearsals allows me to dance through any hardship or mental stress I am going through at that moment. I am very, very grateful to the wonderful program of Orchesis, I’ve learned so much already and can’t even imagine all of the lessons to come.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Kelsey Tallon

I feel like I am in a really odd place right now. Last year was really tough for me…it was a relatively short period of time where life really just kicked me in the butt. Although I despised many moments in the past year, they taught me a lot about myself. I learned that my way of dealing with stress is horrible, and something needed to change. So it did. I decided that dance would stop being just another thing to stress me out and regain its place in my life as the thing I did to get rid of the stress. My view of Orchesis changed as this year began, and classes (even ballet!) became extremely enjoyable. In fact, I felt so in control of everything that it seemed very plausible for Jess and me to choreograph together. This was great at the beginning. We just got into the studio, discussed our concept, put movement to it, and to our, or at least my, great surprise, it was very well received. We were so worried that as first time choreographers, our movement would not be up to par with those who have done it many times.
Well all was fine and dandy until after the first showing. That’s when we realized that this is really ridiculously difficult! The suggestions we received were awesome, and it seemed as though implementing them would be quite simple. But it wasn’t. We got into our first argument ever trying to decide where we wanted to go with the piece, what looked good, and what was interesting. It’s gotten a little easier since then, but we still are having trouble agreeing on what should happen now and next. It’s really fascinating to reflect on what we are doing, and actually kind of humorous. We have the exact same conceptual idea for the dance. This is what I expected to give us the biggest issue. It’s like writing a paper with someone else. Once you decide on the skeleton of the paper, it seems like it would be easy to fill in the substance. Well, that’s wrong. What’s ended up being hard is the “how”. How do we display our concept? Well, we both have very different ideas. And in case it’s not obvious, this gets really frustrating for both of us! I suppose this is just another good life lesson. I want to say that it’s just about how it’s important to compromise when you are working with someone else so you don’t make them want to hurt you, etc. But it’s way more than just that. It’s about compromising your ideas to make something even better. The dance would be entirely different if just one of us choreographed it, even with the exact same concept. But I really think that all of the arguments and frustration that has gone into it so far has created something much more interesting. And importantly, something that more thoroughly explains the idea we are trying to convey.
So I suppose I should relate this to how this puts me in an odd place. Well, things went from easy and great with our dance to more and more frustration. Because it was just our dance that was frustrating, it was easy to still enjoy dance. And then came Chad Hall weekend. To be honest, that weekend made me very apathetic about dancing. It was my stress reliever becoming the thing that stressed me most in my life. And it sucked. I completely understand what happened (a missed opportunity to be in the dance because of scheduling), and it is no ones fault. In fact, it was actually a really good thing as far as the direction of the company. But regardless, it sucked. So the idea of dealing with the frustration of our dance and going back into the studio were not particularly appealing. And now I feel like I am battling the desire to just give up. It’s that whole intellect/emotion thing. You know intellectually that in the grand scheme of things, there are just the growing pains you have to go through to mature, but you have this huge emotional block that doesn’t really care about anything your intellect has to say. It’s unfortunate, and it’s really odd. So I’m trying really hard to break down the block, because I do love dance, and there really is nothing else like it to work through all of your emotions. Maybe this is part of the problem I am having with our dance now. Diana has said many times that you have to choreograph what is relevant to you right now, and our concept does not deal with the feelings that are currently relevant for me.
In any case, it seems like these kinds of things happen all the time in life. Although it’s hard right now that it is happening with something I care for so deeply, it is really good that it is happening with a part of my life, dance, that I use to work through things with.

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com

Tanya Tolmasoff

I think dancers forget sometimes that they are part of a higher
community- artists- and it's an honor and a talent that only a
select few really posses- and I believe dance is one of the highest
forms of expression.  Plato once said 'Dance is the closest you'll get
to expressing the soul" (well not exact words- but pretty darn close).

'You are the central character of your own Novel'.   This idea should
also be present in dance as well. We don't always get to have a solo or be in the front or even be lit... both in life and on stage.  However, this doesn't mean that
our performances should have any less meaning for ourselves or the
audience. A few years ago, I went to see the 'The Paris Opera Ballet'
and was entranced by the dancers- oh, no, not the prima ballerina- not
the main prince- no, I was completely involved in the background
peasants dressed in very 'unfortunate' costumes.  The reason I was so
focused on them was that they were so true to their character, their
insignificant roles barely on stage, that I couldn't take my eyes off
of them.  I find it is much more interesting, both as an audience and as a performer, to put your own story and emotion into every step... not kidding... every single step.
I had the pleasure of watching different student choreography last week at the showing and was overwhelmed and proud to know all of the dancers and choreographers. It was a marvel to watch the different journeys all the dancers and choreographers are allowing us to witness.  This is why I'd like to discuss the idea or the meaning of performance.  Why do we perform?  is it to show that we can point our feet and remember steps?  maybe.  But I think
it's much more than that.  Why, as a patron, would I be interested in
watching kicks, and tricks, and turns, and poses, when I've seen that
before sooo many times?  I can see that anywhere.  I believe that it
is a dancer's duty to take themselves and the audience on an artistic
journey... and beyond...  I believe dance is when you
feel so much emotion that you cannot express it except by dancing it.
Just like music: as if the words coming out of your mouth are too
important to be just said- they NEED to be sung.    Otherwise- what
the hell are we doing on stage at all?!  
I see more potential in all of us. We have an amazing opportunity to really stretch the limits of ourselves as performers, dancers, students, artists, and choreographers.   I want to be the kind of dancer who thinks she’s doing a solo even when she’s in the back behind someone really tall... because every step is
important... Maybe a ronde de jambe won't save the world, but it's a start...

Photo: Prem Ananda premphoto.com