I saw the whole middle slow section with her beginning from a backbend then dropping to the floor, then slinking across the floor with a Turkish crawl. All this takes incredible core strength. I had plan B in case she was unable to do these highly challenging movements.
When the music goes into a wild, cacophonous rhythm, she will rise and choo choo shimmy wildly with body locks and unusual arm movements, as if she is a robot that is frantically trying to communicate but has gone berserk. Then she'll slowly retreat as if running out of steam.
As soon as I finished it, I listened to the opening again and saw it. It is different, unusual, provocative, and fresh. She begins back to audience, settled into an angular, exotic pose, made even more interesting by her incredibly tiny waist and curvy hips. She is holding her right arm straight up, hand closed into fist. Her left hand grips her right wrist. The music begins with a mechanical voice saying, "2:50am." Then there are four little dings like a clock. She will pop open each finger, pinky first, then run her left hand down her right arm, across the back of her neck, then down her left side to rest at her hip. As a slight regular pulsing begins in the music, her right hand undulates down her side. When the heavy rhythm begins, she does quick, sharp hip snaps, arms rising slowly out to overhead while she pivots to face forward. And the dance goes on.
When J. gets to the studio, I ask her how she envisions the piece. She will be spending a lot of time rehearsing this dance, so I want her to feel that it expresses something that she wants to say. I don't want to impose my vision on her. She has the same sense of a dancer who is not quite human, the movements angular and somewhat erratic. So, we begin.
