Unpredictable logic: the ongoing process of forming an aesthetic language through randomness

This thesis examines how logic can be formed using simulated randomness in the choreographic process and how movements begin to construct meaning when placed in relationship to one another. I ask, what are some of the tools that a choreographer can use within the creative process while concurrently incorporating the freedom to allow structure and meaning-making to emerge? This structure includes the conscious act of letting go of predetermined meaning-making while simultaneously encouraging the unexpected to occur. This thesis explores the theoretical and creative approaches used in my choreographic process for the piece titled "The Wallflowers." Even when the outcomes of things that we see occurring around us appear complex, it is possible that the laws that govern them are quite simple. Simplicity is what leads to complexity, and the simplicity of patterns and relationships are what create meaning. Therefore, this research attempts to use randomness to facilitate unintended patterns and relationships that can bring about new methods and approaches in choreography.

UNPREDICTABLE LOGIC: THE ONGOING PROCESS OF FORMING AN AESTHETIC LANGUAGE THROUGH RANDOMNESS by Brooklyn Lee Draper A thesis submitted to the faculty of The University of Utah in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts in Modern Dance School of Dance The University of Utah August 2019 Copyright © Brooklyn Lee Draper 2019 All Rights Reserved The University of Utah Graduate School STATEMENT OF THESIS APPROVAL The thesis of Brooklyn Lee Draper has been approved by the following supervisory committee members: Pamela Geber Handman , Chair 04/25/2019 Date Approved Stephen Koester , Member 04/25/2019 Date Approved Thomas Welsh , Member 04/25/2019 Date Approved and by Luc Vanier the Department/College/School of and by David B. Kieda, Dean of The Graduate School. , Chair/Dean of School of Dance ABSTRACT This thesis examines how logic can be formed using simulated randomness in the choreographic process and how movements begin to construct meaning when placed in relationship to one another. I ask, what are some of the tools that a choreographer can use within the creative process while concurrently incorporating the freedom to allow structure and meaning-making to emerge? This structure includes the conscious act of letting go of predetermined meaning-making while simultaneously encouraging the unexpected to occur. This thesis explores the theoretical and creative approaches used in my choreographic process for the piece titled “The Wallflowers.” Even when the outcomes of things that we see occurring around us appear complex, it is possible that the laws that govern them are quite simple. Simplicity is what leads to complexity, and the simplicity of patterns and relationships are what create meaning. Therefore, this research attempts to use randomness to facilitate unintended patterns and relationships that can bring about new methods and approaches in choreography. This thesis is dedicated to my grandfather, Allen Bruce Draper. TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT .................................................................................................................. iii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS .............................................................................................. vi Chapters 1. INTRODUCTION....................................................................................................... 1 1.1 Chapter Synopsis .............................................................................................. 5 2. RANDOMNESS AS AN IMPETUS FOR CREATIVITY ........................................... 6 2.1 Randomness in the Choreographic Process ....................................................... 9 3. FORMING LOGIC: CREATING AN AESTHETIC LANGUAGE ........................... 12 3.1 Theory of Everything...................................................................................... 13 3.2 Neurology of Aesthetics ................................................................................. 16 3.3 Repetition to Form Structure........................................................................... 18 4. THE WALLFLOWERS ............................................................................................ 21 4.1 The Wallflowers and Their Stories.................................................................. 23 4.1.1 Moreen (danced by Cameron Mertz)…………………………...….23 4.1.2 Petrina (danced by Georgia Patterson)………………………...…..23 4.1.3 Merita (danced by Victoria Meyer)……………………………..…24 4.1.4 Bram (danced by Micah Burkhardt)…………………………...…..24 4.1.5 Regena (danced by Emma Sargent)………………………………..24 4.1.6 Cora (danced by Veronica Sharam) ……...…………………...…...25 5.CONCLUSION .......................................................................................................... 26 REFERENCES ............................................................................................................. 30 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I want to acknowledge my thesis committee, Pamela Geber Handman, Stephen Koester, Tom Welsh, and Ellen Bromberg for their motivation, commitment, and respectful feedback throughout the creative and theoretical components of this thesis. I would also like to thank the dancers of “The Wallflowers” who contributed to this research with their creativity, knowledge, inspiration, and trust throughout the rehearsal process: Micah Burkhardt, Cameron Mertz, Victoria Meyers, Georgia Patterson, Emma Sargent, and Veronica Sharam. CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION I was raised in the countryside of a small southern Idaho town along with three older brothers. We did not have many neighbors within proximity. The land surrounding us provided an immense amount of space to explore. My parents, also raised in this same town, were adamant about us playing outside and using nature as an impetus to explore and access our imaginations. My brothers would always devise games that would involve various objects such as rocks, dirt, and sticks. I remember following them everywhere, wanting to be just like them. I tirelessly worked to gain their acceptance and approval and would always go along with their imaginations. Out of pure excitement that my brothers were even allowing me to play with them, I would instantly and enthusiastically jump into these mysterious worlds they constructed. Without a doubt, my brothers always had guidelines that they had established. I was only allowed to play with them if I promised to follow the rules exactly the way they had devised them, though I distinctly remember each of us quickly veering off track of the specified rules because something unexpected would occur that would take our play in another direction. The rules would repeatedly change, which we did not seem to mind at all. We preferred it that way because it was more exciting than consistency. The new directions that the games took never deterred us from continuing to play; we allowed 2 ourselves to follow the unexpected. To the outside observer, the worlds we were living in likely made no sense, but to us, they were well-understood realities. There was a willingness to detach ourselves from any sense of outside “rules,” on a quest with no predetermination of a final destination. Looking at it now, I realize that we were not seeking out answers, we were seeking an experience within the worlds we had created. Rather than forcing things to occur, we had a willingness to allow anything to happen; “real-world logic” was nonexistent. While the rules were consistently fluctuating and changing, I remember being very mindful and attentive to the details we placed inside of these created environments. Our logic, which made no sense to others unless they were a part of the creation, had a clear and wellunderstood structure. We created patterns through the chaos, and therefore, new forms of logic ensued. Many years later, I am now an Aunt to my three brothers’ children, and I get the privilege of observing them play in the same countryside of Idaho that my brothers and I did. They have a similar approach to play. They begin with strict guidelines, which fluidly change because of occurrences they could have never predicted. They continue to play and go with whatever comes their way while continuously shifting and conforming to the circumstances. As my nephew famously told me once, “You wish you had an imagination like I do. It tells me things I don’t know.” As an adult, I now get upset and almost fearful at the thought of unpredictability. It seems disastrous when plans do not work out according to how I want them to, and as if I am experiencing some inevitable loss. Even within my creative process of choreography, I find myself getting perturbed when movement, ideas, and structures do 3 not go as planned. I am not sure where this shift of childhood playfulness and allowance turned into adulthood power and control, but it became a focal point for my interest in how I approached my choreographic thesis research. I became interested in the frustration, but also the freedom, that arises when we try to make sense of things through assumptions that then are proven invalid when something unpredictable occurs. I began to research the relationship of playfulness and creativity, and how the act of saying yes to the unpredictable starts to create a new structure of ideas and “tells me things I don’t know” just like my nephew genuinely explained to me. This research brings to light the benefit that lies within the making of choreography: the privilege to play around, mess things up, rearrange them, mess them up again, and permit unpredictability and predictability to help determine the outcome. Therefore, I strove to find an approach both in my theoretical and creative research that provided me with the benefits of finding a relationship between randomness and logic (Burghardt 411-413). In the past, I tended to have a linear approach to my choreographic process: with meticulous notes before entering the process, I established a fine-tuned beginning, middle, and end before even starting rehearsals, usually with a predetermined image of what the final product would be. I have always felt like I had to check criteria off of a particular list made for myself as a choreographer. While I do not think this approach is incorrect or that it lacks excitement, I was ready to investigate new ideas and broaden my sense of who I am as a choreographer. First, this research investigates the attempt to simulate and embrace randomness within the creative process. I examined theories of randomness within nature and then 4 looked at how these theories can be explored as a tool to develop movement. Second, while I wanted to have a new and unique approach to my choreographic process, I still wanted to keep a sense of who I am within the work. Through implementing randomness into my process, I also had a desire to find logic within the final product. I did not want randomness to be the focal point; I wanted to challenge myself to make meaning out of the chaos I had created. Therefore, I turned to nature for support. This research brought me to the work and writings of a quantum physicist, Max Tegmark, who explains how the universe is mathematics. Tegmark looks at how abstract entities are mostly irrelevant, but it is when patterns are developed that they begin to have relevance and create relationships. Because Tegmark views the universe as mathematics, he sees how we are all connected to everything and how we all have the capacity to find a connection to everything (Tegmark, “Consciousness is a Mathematical Pattern”). This research also led me to String Theory and Neurological Aesthetics as a means to find patterns and relationships within the movement and to start forming logic and meaning. Lastly, I became interested in individual meaning-making and the obsession we have with trying to make logic out of things we do not fully understand. I realized that within my research, I became occupied with trying to make a meaning that the audience and I would mutually agree upon. Recognizing that this was asking for the impossible, I concluded that the nature of creative work sets up for the unknown. The nonsensical nature of “The Wallflowers” does not require answers, but instead encourages individual contemplation. I have always had a desire for meaning-making when it comes to my choreography, but I learned during this process that perhaps the desire for meaningmaking is more important than the outcome. 5 This research was conducted as a means to challenge my habitual patterns of working and to create outcomes that I could not have otherwise predicted. I did not want to fall into habits and dismiss unpredictable obstacles, but instead, I wanted to see them as opportunities. 1.1 Chapter Synopsis In Chapter 2, “Randomness as an Impetus for Creativity,” I investigate the theories underlying randomness and creativity. I elaborate on the research of finding a willingness to detach ourselves from our normal reality in order to go on a quest with no predetermined final destination. Chapter 3, “Forming Logic: Creating Your Own Aesthetic Language,” explores how we use structure within chaos to find logic in what we are making. Jonathan Burrows states that once we “observe how the more chaotic a firework display is the more you love it, and yet you find yourself looking for patterns anyway” (Burrows 108). Looking at scientific theories, I research how human connections relate to patterns. Even within randomness, patterns can be discovered and viewed in different ways, and this is where individual meaning-making develops. Chapter 4, “The Wallflowers,” delves into how the above theories were used within my choreographic process. Lastly, Chapter 5 brings together conclusions and considerations for continued creative investigation. CHAPTER 2 RANDOMNESS AS AN IMPETUS FOR CREATIVITY If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise; what is, it wouldn’t be. And what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see? (Alice in Wonderland) Everyone has encountered, in some form or another, the unavoidable occurrence of randomness in their lives. As a phenomenon with which we are all familiar, it seems that randomness is astonishingly challenging to comprehend. On a basic level, most definitions agree that the central concept of randomness revolves around unpredictability. Unpredictability is a part of our daily lives. For example, we cannot fully predict whether we will get the job we have been working towards for years just like we cannot foresee accidentally breaking a toe from stubbing it on a piece of furniture in our home. Therefore, we create methods in our lives to either ensure or prevent these scenarios from occurring. We work diligently to become the best candidate for the job, or we arrange furniture in our home so that it is not in our walking path. Situations cannot always be anticipated or prevented, no matter how hard we try to predict them. We love to rebel against randomness and convince ourselves there is a reason for everything. Charles Seife, a professor of journalism at New York University, states that: 7 Randomness is so difficult to grasp because it works against our pattern-finding instincts. It tells us that sometimes there is no pattern to be found. As a result, randomness is a fundamental limit to our intuition; it says that there are processes that we can’t predict fully. It’s a concept that we have a hard time accepting even though it is an essential part of the way the cosmos works. Without an understanding of randomness, we are stuck in a perfectly predictable universe that simply doesn’t exist outside of our own heads. (Seife n. pag.) As a species, we have established various systems to help explain or justify randomness. If we have a streak of good luck, we might explain its manifestation through the concept of karma: we did something good in a past life; therefore, we deserve the promotion we unexpectedly received. Most ancient beliefs dispute randomness and advocate the idea that “what happens on earth follows the designs of heaven, and if it appears to be random chance that is only because our sight is not capacious enough to see that apparent chance always follows grand design” (Hyde 21). Many of faith believe that even when we do not understand random events, deities are omniscient; therefore, there is a purpose for everything. Even within the progression of mathematics, the probability theory attempts, quite successfully, to quantify randomness by providing techniques of analyzing scenarios that have random results, such as rolling dice (Bauer 1). While we continue to find solutions and patterns to random events, there will be events we cannot explain. These events are a part of nature that cannot and should not become eradicated because disastrous consequences for the human species may occur. For example, if randomness were to disappear in nature, evolution would cease to function. Mutations within our genomes, natural selection, and sexual reproduction all contain aspects of randomness, resulting in the evolution of the human species (Bonner 11-13). John Tyler Bonner, an American Biologist, states that “it was first pointed out by Sewall Wright, a 8 pioneer of the surge in population genetics in the 1930’s that because of random events…the genetic makeup of a population could change simply because of those random events” (12). Natural selection, which is a two-step process, involves randomness in the first phase: a mutation is a random event, but the survival or extinction of those mutations results in evolution. Uncompromising restrictions in the physical world dictate what works and what does not. Therefore, evolution occurs in particular directions, and the mutations help to dictate those pathways (Page n. pag.). Consider any kind of creature that lives underwater and has to chase its prey, for instance. Random mutations will result in some offspring having variety of shapes. Those with shapes that allow them to move faster with less energy are much more likely to survive and reproduce than those whose shapes slow them down. (Page n. pag.) Therefore, it is essential to remember that, although randomness plays a substantial role within evolution, it is not the only variable. Even the brain, when faced with difficult choices, tends to use randomness as a decision-making mechanism (Garg n. pag.). At any moment, the mind is making a decision, and research has found that decisions are based on both predictable and unpredictable components. Zach Mainen, an American Neuroscientist, states that “if you want creativity, the ability to come up with new ideas, to take not just what’s given or what you’ve already experienced but to synthesize new possibilities, that’s in some ways random behavior” (Medrano n. pag.). Therefore, randomness, which is a part of our biological construct, the physical world we live in, and embedded within the decisionmaking abilities of our brains, is a part of creativity. For this paper, the scientific theories of how random choices are made in the brain will not be discussed, but since it is known that randomness does play such a significant role, this research will focus on how 9 randomness can play a significant role within creativity, specifically within the choreographic process. 2.1 Randomness in the Choreographic Process Randomness within the creative process is not a new concept. Vast amounts of artists covering many different art forms have employed randomness as a means to create. Merce Cunningham, choreographer and dancer, used chance methods to explore “new possibilities of movement” within his choreography (Kisselgoff n. pag.). Ellsworth Kelly, painter, sculptor, and printmaker, used randomness as a device in his creative process which he termed “an anonymous art, in reaction against the expressionism of the day” (Kimmelman n. pag.). Marcel Duchamp, along with other Dadaists, used chance in his paintings “as a way of going against logical reality” (Molderings 119). It seems that for art to progress, it requires a sense of chance and randomness so that it goes against the current rules and expectations. This approach, of course, does not have to be employed in the way that the above artists used chance. It can also be when artists happen to come upon some random scenario within their process that they would never have predicted but use to steer the final product in a different and exciting new way. These random moments occur all the time within creativity. If you have ever created something, you know that sometimes unpredictable moments, which we love to call “mistakes,” end up taking the process in a direction we could never have imagined. Mirroring the natural function of randomness within evolution, I precisely wanted to place randomness into the beginning stages of the choreographic process for my piece titled “The Wallflowers,” and then let there be a specific direction following the chaos. 10 For that reason, I was interested in ways to generate movement that challenged my habitual patterns and prejudices. Within my creative process, I strove to generate movement in ways that forced me to intentionally sacrifice having total control because, within unpredictability, there is also a lack of control. Doing so gave alternatives to my predictions, and ultimately, I was not able to control the entire outcome or the movement generated. John Cage, an American composer, who employed chance within his creative process, states: It is especially by our likes and dislikes, that we cut ourselves off from the wider mind (and the wider world). Likes and dislikes are the lap dogs and guard dogs of the ego, busy all the time, panting and barking at the gates of attachment and aversion and thereby narrowing perception and experience. Furthermore, the ego itself cannot intentionally escape what the ego does – intention always operates in terms of desire or aversion-and we therefore need a practice or discipline of nonintention, a way to make an end run around the ego’s habitual operations. (Hyde 27) I knew I wanted to challenge my ego by not saying “I like this” or “I do not like this” in the beginning stages of generating movement, although this reaction would be encouraged later in the process. Unlike John Cage and other artists who have used randomness as a tool, I eventually wanted to form my work into something that did not seem completely random. Therefore, I decided that I would say yes to everything in the beginning. I made a rule for myself: nothing can be discarded. Just like randomness, I wanted to teach myself how to take the random moments and mold them into something I aesthetically enjoy. I began the process of creating “The Wallflowers” by working with the dancers individually. In the first rehearsal, I gave each dancer a list of commands in which they had to devise solos. Some of these commands included: hula hoop, blink with your entire 11 body, have a conversation with someone while pulling on another body part, etc. Since I wrote the commands, they seemed random to the dancers. Each dancer was given only a few moments to create the correlating movement. By my rules, we had to say yes to the dancers’ first impulses. I was not allowed to discard anything that we created. Rather than instantly trying to form logic like I usually do in my choreography, I wanted the logic to come later. I had no idea what movement the dancers would generate. This process was challenging because I did not like everything that we initially created. It seemed as if the dancers and I went somewhere that was chaotic, confusing, and at a place where I did not know what to do next. This part of the process is where I began to research how I could find my logic, and aesthetic language, within the piece. Just as my brothers and I did as kids, I had to learn how to figure out how to keep playing and keep the game going. CHAPTER 3 FORMING LOGIC: CREATING AN AESTHETIC LANGUAGE Let chaos storm! Let cloud shapes swarm! I wait for form. (Robert Frost, Pertinax, Tsonis, 2008, p. 163) An alphabet is a simple foundation used to build a complex system of communication. Merely separating each letter from the rest does not hold much value. Value and the potential for meaning-making only happen when the different letters are placed together in varying patterns, giving rise to words where meaning is contained. Similarly, placing words in varying patterns creates differing sentences along with new implications. Therefore, once letters become relational, a sense of logic and understanding are gained as a result of their connection. Each symbol must be clear, constant, and precise in its functionality for the sum of the symbols to formulate a value. Hence, it seems that logical thinking cannot occur without the adequate development of a consistent language. There is a structure to language and communication; it is a detailed and useful science and one of the most systematic ways to form patterns in order to create meaning. Ultimately, it is from a learned language that society gains the ability to communicate, express, and interpret. I would not be able to express the research on this paper, nor would the reader be able to comprehend it, without a shared language. 13 However, there must be a realization that language still has its limitations. Logicians agree that our language is not one hundred percent precise and within it lies quite a bit of ambiguity and an always changing set of rules. Therefore, there must be a constant search for clarity within a language to support the logical functionality of its symbols. Linguistics and grammar play an essential role in supporting a language’s logic because if there were not a continuous effort to refine these aspects that follow culture and history, our linguistic communication would be almost impossible to comprehend. It is their relationships to each other that create logic and meaning-making (Isaacs 259-294). A definition of logic includes: “A science that deals with the principles and criteria of validity of inference and demonstration: the science of the formal principles of reasoning” (“logic”). Logic has well-formed directional procedures and is an impeccable model and representation of clarity and uniformity. It exists to explain and make sense. Just like the letters of l, o, g, i, and c that comprise the word logic, its definition and meaning are just as straightforward. Within my creative process, once I was at a point where I had created all my letters, I then had to make sense of it by patterning the letters together and create the aesthetic language for the piece. I did not know how to begin to form relationships, language, and logic with such seemingly non-related movement. I turned to the language of science for help. 3.1 Theory of Everything Beginning with the studies of Isaac Newton, scientists have attempted to find a theory to explaining everything. By everything, Newton literally meant everything. He believed that he could figure out a way to explain all of the uncanny and marvelous 14 things in the universe. While Newton’s quest failed, it continued through the works of other physicists such as Albert Einstein and was later termed the Theory of Everything. This theory does not attempt to eradicate randomness. The theory is not about prediction; it is about explanation. Although the theory has yet to be proven, many physicists think it is a possibility and one that may be validated in the near future. “It would have to explain everything from the works of Shakespeare to the human brain and the forests and valleys of our natural world” says John Barrow of the University of Cambridge. “That’s the question of the universe” (Silver n. pag.). Perhaps the outcomes of the things that we see occurring around us are complex, but maybe the laws concealed under them are quite simple. Max Tegmark, a physicist currently contributing research to the Theory of Everything, explains that the universe is comparable to mathematics. Tegmark looks at how abstract entities are mostly irrelevant, but when placed into patterns, they begin to have relevance and create relationships, just like the alphabet. Tegmark discusses how the shapes and structures of nature, as opposed to abstract human creations such as numbers or equations, are the fundamental properties of our physical reality. Because Tegmark views the universe as mathematics, he sees how we are all connected to everything and have the capacity to find a relationship to everything (Tegmark, “Consciousness is a Mathematical Pattern”). For me, this molded an explorative approach to begin making meaning out of the randomness within the beginning stages of creativity: relationships. Relationships create patterns, and it is patterns that help us develop logic and meaning. While the Theory of Everything continues to be researched and supported by many physicists, there remains many holes and indescribable events within the theory. 15 Many occurrences in our universe continue to remain unexplained. There remains positivity around the theory’s existence. Other methods, more detailed theories, have risen out of the research of the Theory of Everything. One of those theories is String Theory (Silver, 2018). Silver describes the String Theory by stating: The idea behind string theory is oddly simple. The basic ingredients of the world, such as electrons, are not actually particles at all. Instead they are little loops or “strings.” It’s just that these strings are so small, they seem to be mere points. Just like the strings on a guitar, these loops are under tension. That means they vibrate at different frequencies, depending on their size. In turn, these oscillations determine what sort of “particle” each string appears to be. Vibrate a string one way and you get an electron. Vibrate it another way, and you get something else. All the different particles discovered in the 20th century are really the same kind of strings, just vibrating in different ways. (Silver n. pag.) The theory explains that strings connect everything in the universe, and it is their vibrations that determine their identity. The String Theory attempts to bring logic to why everything exists because everything is related or has the potential to be related. This potential for everything to be related became very important for my next step in the choreographic process. Even complex concepts and philosophies can form relationships. Therefore, they have the potential to be explained or viewed logically and straightforwardly. Similar to the Theory of Everything, String Theory holds an array of complications. It is because of these inconsistencies that physicists are starting to develop new theories, yet all have holes. As of right now, there are things in our universe that still cannot be explained, and even if they were explained, what about the logic of other existing universes? Silver explains: But the rules will be different in other universes. ‘The laws we see in our universe are just like bylaws,’ says Barrow. They govern our bit, but not all of the universes. This leads us to a strange conclusion. If string theory really is the best way to combine general relativity and quantum mechanics, then it both is and 16 isn’t a theory of everything. On the one hand, string theory may give us a perfect description of our own universe. But it also seems to lead, inescapably, to the idea that there are trillions of other universes, each one unique. ‘The big change in thinking is we don’t expect there to be a unique theory of everything,’ says Barrow. ‘There are so many possible theories they’re almost filling every possibility of thinking.’ (Silver n. pag.) While I find hope that perhaps the advancement of science will help find more ways of explaining the unexplainable, I thought that maybe I could turn to another entity of science to help support my creativity. I realized that it is our brains that do the quick calculating and algorithms of our meaning-making depending on our own experiences. As such, I became interested in how we are calculating patterns as a way of developing our own aesthetic language in movement. 3.2 Neurology of Aesthetics There is an entire science dedicated to the science of aesthetics and the brain: Neuroesthetics. Within Neuroesthetics, I focus here on the specific research of Diane and Vilayunur Ramachandran, who study the phenomenon of the neurology behind aesthetics. While they realize that aesthetics is a cultural explanation, they also believe it cuts across species boundaries as well. “Can it be a coincidence that we find birds and butterflies attractive even though they evolved to appeal to other birds and butterflies, not to us” (Ramachandran 16)? Diane and Vilayunur do not find it a coincidence, thinking that through neurology we will be able to find a grammatical structure to explain aesthetics. They focus on how our brains have the ability to create the sensation of “Here is something important: pay attention.” We are drawn to specific patterns and objects not necessarily because we find them beautiful but because we somehow know that they 17 correlate to our innate survival. This begs the question, do we find things beautiful because of evolution (Ramachandran 16-18)? It was during this stage in my research that I began to make connections with randomness, logic, and creativity. Randomness and logic are both essential concepts of evolution and the creative process. It is reflected in nature, though it felt like I was trying to go against something natural. Within my choreography, like the alphabet, the individual movements were the letters of my alphabet, and now I had to begin forming the sentences and paragraphs in order to create the choreography’s aesthetic language. In order for me to make meaning out of something chaotic, I realized there does not have to be a singular conclusion. Due to the subjective nature of logic, our meaningmaking does not need to be universal, but that contemplation is encouraged instead. Logic does not concretely mean having solidified answers, but rather, having an association and ability to place oneself within the situation of what we are capable of understanding. Perhaps this is where randomness and logic begin to collaborate. They interweave around ideas, just like String Theory, realizing that they have their faults and places that they are not fully understood. Even if we cannot always explain linguistically what we are thinking, logic and meaning still make sense to ourselves on some level. Moreover, maybe that is why aesthetics lies in this unclear and inexplicable territory: it is the part of the equation we cannot find the correct symbol to fill in because it is too individual. Maybe it is not that aesthetics is too abstract or chaotic to belong in our language of understanding, but perhaps we have not figured out its patterning or maybe what makes aesthetics what it is, is that it does not necessarily have to have clear and concise logic. If it had concise logic, 18 we would perhaps stop asking essential questions that are necessary for our neurological evolution. Maybe it is the “flaws” that help us resume asking questions but also drive us to continue to make sense of things, and maybe it is the quest to try and understand and build layers of knowledge that will eventually bring out the ultimate logic. In “Two Accidents Reflections on Chance and Creativity,” Lewis Hyde states: But notice that in addition to having a ready structure of ideas, the prepared mind is ready for what happens. It has its theories, but it attends as well to the anomaly that does not fit them. We therefore get this paradox: with smart luck, the mind is prepared for what it isn’t prepared for. It has a kind of openness, holding its ideas lightly and willing to have them exposed to impurity and the unintended. (Hyde 8) I struggled for quite a while with this concept: we all interpret things differently. While I understood that this is obvious, I still grappled with myself, trying (and failing) to form a clear and succinct narrative within my choreography. However, what I did not realize was that if everyone was going to place a different narrative based on the aesthetics of what they are witnessing, then why not form my own logic through some simple concepts? Therefore, since I had already been looking at natural phenomenons to help support my research, I turned to another natural phenomenon in our lives, patterns within repetition as a means to form structure. 3.3 Repetition to Form Structure Repetition, like randomness, is a regular part of our lives: the beating of our hearts, getting up in the morning, going to bed at night, and the sun setting and rising. Repetition, unlike randomness, allows for planning and supports our ability to predict and assume scenarios. Repetition helps us form structure around our day, gives us patterns so that things are recognizable, and creates a sense that we have control. 19 While repetitive scenarios in our life might seem precisely the same, they are full of variations. The beating of our hearts continuously occurs, but the beats have many variations to them. Our alarm wakes us up every morning at the same time, but we experience that alarm differently every day, depending on how our night of sleep went. The sun sets and rises every day, but the way it presents itself is different according to weather and time. Variations within repetition keep things exciting and add a sense of unpredictability, or randomness, to our lives. In my research regarding repetition, I kept coming back to the human experience and our reactions towards it. We experience everything in life, even repetition, in a different way because our experiences change our perception of things. So even though we can predict occurrences to repeat themselves, there is also an aspect of repetition that is random. For example, I can sit down and write the letter “A” on a piece of paper repetitively for an hour, but each time I write it, I have a different experience with it based on the knowledge I gained from writing it before. It might become boring, meditative, a way for me to find the complexity in the act of writing the letter, or I might start to have variations with how I am writing it. No matter what happens, it is an experience, and each time I write the letter “A,” I now have a new relationship with it as I go to write it again. Jonathan Burrows states that repetition is “to see an image and then to re-see it, to experience it more than once, to go beyond the first impression so that it becomes something completely else to you than it was when it first flashed by” (Burrows 8). I hoped that by repeating the solos that we had created, with all their inherent variations, I would find meaning within the “The Wallflowers.” I also realized that I not only wanted to use repetition in my choreography as a way of forming structure but also 20 as a way for the audience to start to build an experience within the movement. At this point in the choreographic process, we only had six sequences of movement that we created using randomness. I decided to repeat these sequences over and over to help myself develop an experience of viewing the movement and what it meant to me. I realized that it is quite possible that the use of repetitive movements in choreography could help to unravel our speculations and presumptions of what movement should be. Repetition allows us to gain a memory bank and form familiarity with what we are seeing and that unpredictable moments begin to make sense if we see them over and over and in relationship to one another. However, seeing it again with a variation creates a surprising balance of predictability and unpredictability. Repetition connects us to life where most things in the natural world consist of patterns and repetition. It was here in my process, through randomness and repetition, that I began to form meaning of what the piece meant to myself (Kawin 1-8). CHAPTER 4 THE WALLFLOWERS When a piece makes sense to us it appears to reach a point where we would accept anything that happens. The continuity of unfolding objects has set up a series of clues which teach us how to read, anticipate, recognize and be surprised by what follows. (Burrows 37) As stated in Chapter 1, I forced myself to say “yes” to everything in the initial phases of creating “The Wallflowers.” I was not allowed to discard any material. The more I did this, the easier it became as I did not have to make any decisions, I only had to go with the flow of what was happening. It became challenging when I had to place all the “yeses” together into something that made sense: the structure of the final choreography. To find structure, I turned towards repetition. I realized that seeing all six dancers doing the same gestures simultaneously, yet in different ways, revealed differences about who they were but also unified them and created relationships. Each dancer’s movement was similar as they were all given the same prompts, but because of their individual interpretation of the prompts, there were also variations in each dancer’s phrases. The String Theory describes that each string is connected to the other, but they are different because they each vibrate in their own way. Each movement had a different vibration, but the repetition and intent of the prompts created complex characters and relationships. 22 Jonathon Burrows states in A Choreographer’s Handbook, “the smaller the degree of difference in a field of activity the more we perceive what is different” (15-16). I believe that by using repetition in structuring the final product, I started seeing possibilities, logic, patterns, and relationships within the movement. As rehearsals developed, I began to notice a sense of quirkiness, tension, and paradox within the characterization of each of the dancer’s movements. Since the commands that I gave to the dancers were written on a piece of paper and created as separate movements, the sequencing of the choreography had a stop-and-go sensation to it. Things felt interrupted but very attended to. Each dancer seemed isolated from the others but forced to interact through sharing the same space. These polarities began to remind me of awkward adult siblings who are trying to navigate adulthood together. It began to show the relationships that we have with close ones and how they both amuse and annoy us at the same time. To help myself understand these “characters” we had created, I devised fictional names and biographies for each of the dancers. Their names were created from an anagram of their given full names. I did this purposefully as a reflection of the process in rearranging patterns to create something new. Considering the approach of how my brothers and I would play with each other, I wrote individual biographies for each Wallflower sibling as a means for us to find logic for their way of doing things. I realize now that these biographies are also hugely paradoxical just like the prompts. At the time, I thought I was still using randomness as a way to devise the biographies, but now I wonder if my intuition in writing them was following the same patterns I used when giving the dancers their prompts. 23 4.1 The Wallflowers and Their Stories 4.1.1 Moreen (danced by Cameron Mertz) Moreen, the youngest of five, finds happiness through spending her days immersed in sadness. Her favorite hobby is walking down the street making faces at people to see what kind of reaction they will give her. Her favorite reaction is no reaction. She finds it soothing. The only thing Moreen has ever wanted in her life is to have a pet, but she can never decide which kind of animal is her favorite. Therefore, she would rather daydream about owning multiple types of pets rather than being stuck with just one. Every night before going to bed, Moreen writes herself a love letter. She always signs it, “Love, Mori.” 4.1.2 Petrina (danced by Georgia Patterson) Petrina is the middle child. She does not care though. Why would she care? Petrina’s favorite color is orange. In fact, since she was a child, the only color she can see is orange. Literally, just orange. She is not sure if she was born that way or if it was selftaught. Her parents never believed her. Either way, she does not care. She loves her world the way she sees it. Ever since moving out of her childhood home, Petrina eats pasta for every single meal. If there is no one to tell you what to eat, then why not eat whatever you want? She refuses to eat penne though. Penne isn’t real pasta. Petrina makes and sells her own organic perfume, but she will only sell it to customers who also love the color orange. She usually does not care what other people think, but she will always care who buys her perfume. 24 4.1.3 Merita (danced by Victoria Meyer) Merita is a painter. She loves to paint over paintings that have been completed by other artists. She thinks a finished work of art is an invitation to mess it up. Merita has been kicked out of a total of fourteen art museums. Merita counts her steps every time she walks somewhere. She finds it satisfying to silently calculate and not tell anyone the total. It is her own little secret. When Merita talks, she cannot control her fingertips. She pretends to be typing at a typewriter while talking and spells out every single word with her fingers. Sometimes Merita thinks she should have been a courtroom stenographer because of her obsession with typing, although she does not like it when people are being judged. 4.1.4 Bram (danced by Micah Burkhardt) Bram loves to smoke cigars. He does not actually like to smoke, and he knows it is unhealthy, but he does it to spite his grandfather. Bram is a pulmonologist. He loves his job but he does not like other people. Bram’s favorite album is A Love Supreme by John Coltrane. He listens to it at least four times a day. He only listens to it because his father hated jazz. Bram is twenty-eight years old, but everyone thinks he is at least forty. Bram dreams of one day owning his own cigar shop. He will call it “A Cigar Supreme.” 4.1.5 Regena (danced by Emma Sargent) Regena, the oldest of five, often feels like she is the oldest of twelve. Regena hates leadership but loves to hold responsibility. Every day, Regena will get in her car, roll the windows down, and drive thirty miles per hour below the speed limit on the 25 interstate for two hours. She does this because she enjoys the thrill of experiencing road rage: not road rage from herself, but road rage from complete strangers directed towards her. Regena hopes to one day smell something gross without having a reaction, yet she wonders if it is even possible to control honest reactions. 4.1.6 Cora (danced by Veronica Sharam) Cora enjoys being in crowded places. She does not see herself as a fish in the pond, she sees herself as the observer watching the fish. Cora goes to the grocery store every Wednesday and buys a new food item she has never purchased before, but she never actually eats it. When she was twelve years old, her best friend and she stole all the goldfish from the local pet shop. They freed the goldfish by putting them in their neighbor’s natural pool. It was the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. With these individual identities, we formed a family-like community between all of us, a fictional family, quirky family, eccentric family, and one willing to share its collective sadness, discovered identities, tensional relationships, and the drive to keep going. These siblings have their own logic. Their quirkiness, and what from the outside might seem chaotic and strange, makes complete sense to both the individual and the group. Moreover, I hoped that even if the audience felt a sense of chaos, tension, and paradox, they would still notice inherent relationships and patterns. The characterization helped me to form an internal logic around what the piece was about. I felt like the meaning-making came full circle: while the dancers and their characters developed their internal logic, I had developed my own logic, and hopefully, the audience would be able to discover theirs as well. CHAPTER 5 CONCLUSION You’re going to make the piece you’re going to make, whichever way you choose to try and make it. The trick is to find out what you can make. (Burrows 2) As I began the process of creating “The Wallflowers,” my goal was to discover a way to simulate randomness as an impetus for creating movement. As stated before, I gave each of the dancers a list of prompts for them to create solo phrases. I assumed that merely writing commands down that held no value or logic to me, and giving the dancers the freedom to go with their instincts, were acts of randomness. Now, looking at the control that I had in writing the prompts, I am not convinced that this particular approach was an act of randomness. The prompts were so specific and in-depth that I wonder if my intuition played a part in controlling what I wanted the outcome to be. The prompts were paradoxical, and as a result, they created complex movement that intuitively had layered meanings. I wonder if I was convincing myself that I was using randomness so that if the final product were a failure, I could blame the approach and not my intuition. Looking back at the process, the actual moments of randomness were the moments within rehearsal that I could not predict, such as the moment when one of the dancers tripped in rehearsal and fell. Although it was not intentional, it created a new relationship between the dancers that I found exciting and therefore, I kept that moment 27 in the dance. Another unpredictable moment was when one of the dancers conveyed a strange facial expression because they forgot the next movement. I was not expecting it, but it ended up staying in the final piece because it began to help visualize the dancer’s character more clearly. Intuition, just like randomness, plays a role in our everyday lives and is something that cannot be avoided in a creative process. In obsessing over the theories of randomness and trying to force it to be a part of the process, I forgot randomness already has inherent characteristics within creativity. I am continuing to research how to use randomness as an impetus for creativity, but I now wonder if this is even possible. I am not sure if we can be random without intuition playing a part, but it is something I want to continue to work with. I realize that randomness is always a part of the process, and there are always moments we cannot predict, but it is our reaction to these events that determine the final product. My brothers and I always chose to accept the unpredictable because if we did not, the game would end. It is the same with creativity, if we do not accept the unknown and find ways to employ unpredictability, the process gets halted, and we get too frustrated to continue working towards the final product. I think there is a point within children’s play and the creative process that we start to accept anything because we have done the hard work of setting up a different reality. When a piece of choreography begins to find its own reality, we as audience members also accept that reality and learn how to “read, anticipate, recognize and be surprised by what follows” (Burrows 37). Maybe this research sounds simple, but I do not think it is simplistic, and it was not an easy task for me. This particular process was necessary for me to discover/rediscover and rearrange old and new tools in my creative toolbox: 28 predictability, unpredictability, the multi-uses of repetition, trust in self, a new perspective of intuition, and discovering new ways of creating movement. I suppose I had a burning desire throughout the process to make sense of the unknown and it turns out that the unknown brought me to the realization that maybe not everything needs to make complete sense for us to relate to it. Perhaps trying to make sense of things is what keeps us interested because maybe when we know what something is, that is when we become bored with it and perhaps this is why we continue to create. “The Wallflowers” was the first time for me that an idea or the meaning of the work emerged within the process and practice of play. This process was an intensely vulnerable place in which to be as a creator. I first had to arrive at a place of being okay with not consciously knowing what I was going to make or dictating what the piece would be about. The meaning and experience of this creative process continue to shift for me, even after its final performance. I continue to ask myself questions: Was I genuinely using randomness? How do randomness and intuition support or contradict each other? Can randomness be purely simulated within creativity or does intuition take away our ability to create randomness? I initially came into this research desiring a single answer to a very complicated and broad concept, and I am coming out of this process with even more thoughts and questions. As a human species, we see patterns and logic from our own unique perspectives in ways that no other person has because of our unique lived experiences. It is also difficult to describe our internal logic because there is no way of defining something to someone who does not see it in the same way that we see it. However, this does not stop us from attempting to find ways to describe our individual logic. I now wonder if we see 29 the patterns we want to see no matter what because our intuition never leaves our meaning-making experiences. I tried something new and terrifying. I thought I knew exactly what I was researching and thought I had figured it out but, after looking at it more deeply, I realized that what I thought I was doing was completely the opposite. As Jonathan Burrows explains, “Sometimes in dance you have to work counter-intuitively, you have to go right in order to arrive left” (Burrows 102). This research, like all research, is not complete, but I do not think it needs to feel finished. That is the beauty of all these concepts: randomness, logic, repetition, instinct, they are always ongoing, and we are always attempting to make connections to them. They are all a part of our lives and we cannot escape them. Like String Theory and the Theory of Everything, this research has become a description of a current state of a process that will never end, and I think that is chaotically invigorating. I thought that my goal was to find logic out of randomness and even though that is not what I ended up doing, I experienced a new way to approach to my creative process and I think that was my instinctual goal all along. 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