Each year, as the new school year begins, with it comes the anticipation of the Choreographers and Composers workshop. We, the choreographically afflicted of the class of 2003, look forward to beginning this cumulative process toward the triumph of our final pieces with mixed sentiments. Behind the calm and coordinated façade of the dancers participating lies terror, anxiety, inevitable moments of creative constipation, and an apprehension that mild insanity might be a possible by-product. In spite of this, we know that in Choreo/Comp (as it is affectionately known) there is a challenge waiting to be taken on that will teach us, fulfill us, and project us forward into our artistic futures, and it is for this reason that we have willingly embarked on the project.

Choreographer Caroline Finn (left, back to camera) and composer Kati Agocs (second from left) confer during a showing of pieces. The Choreographers and Composers workshop is taught jointly by Liz Keen and Pia Gilbert (fourth and fifth from left). (Photo by Jane Rubinsky)

The Choreographers and Composers workshop is a unique opportunity for collaboration here at Juilliard. In a class environment, ideas and stylistic preferences are revealed and exchanged between the six choreographers and six composers in the form of specific assignments, as well as through general discussion. With any luck, over a few weeks we find ourselves gravitating toward someone with whom we feel we could work productively over the forthcoming three months in creating an entirely original and collaborative piece. From this point, the work process becomes more concentrated as, in our chosen pairs, we set about melding our objectives and planning a framework for our pieces.

Kati Agocs, the composer with whom I am working this year, tells me that she was keen to immerse herself in this project in order to experience something quite different from the isolation in which one usually composes. The collaborative effort enables her to create music that is not abstract, but which involves the exploration and development of a “visual world” as well as a “sound world,” through combining the foci of two artists. Even at this early stage in the process, we have both discovered the importance of communication and of together visualizing a concept that will give us a scaffold and a stimulus with which to work.

		Margie Gillis: An Appreciation The "Lives" of Pat

This, for me at least, is where the catch comes in (and when I say catch, I actually mean enormous-looming-hurdle-that-must-be-overcome-in-order-for-the-process-to-begin-at-all!). Being entirely original means that, at the same time as my five classmates and I are frantically ricocheting off the walls of a third-floor studio trying to come up with new movement material, one will also find the composers mindfully pinning down onto a page, clusters of notes and phrases that were previously mere fragments of disorientated masterpieces plaguing their subconscious. As I believe is the case with many choreographers, I find that, when making my first choreographic steps, I have always relied on music to be my source of inspiration. It is in listening to music that pictures, ambiances, and phrases of movement jump into my head, begging to be captured and realized through choreography. The process of Choreo/Comp forces me to re-examine my work, my personal style of movement, and with practice develop the confidence that I can create and be inspired without the immediate presence of music. Through this, I become more sensitive to alternative sources of inspiration such as other art forms, daily life, specific observations and experiences, or simply my own thoughts.

Sections from works in progress are presented in class as the collaborations evolve. Lauren Edson (foreground), Marie Zvosec, and Sebastian Gehrke are pictured showing choregraphy by Kristin Swiat to music by Michael Spassov. (Photo by Jane Rubinsky)

The only other experience most of us choreographers have had so far at working with live musicians was in a freshman composition assignment that involved choreographing a solo to live musical accompaniment. This differed in that the music was already composed, so we had the luxury of being able to spend time agonizing over our choreography to a recording of the music—dutifully put together by our musicians—as it would be when we came to perform. This brings me to the fact that the first hurdle to be overcome is the seemingly obvious issue of there being another individual involved in the equation. It is, at first, a new and rather daunting concept to be in a situation where the “music maker,” as it were, is a live, present, creative human being as opposed to a pre-fabricated disc that can be turned on and off at one’s leisure. “I” has now become “we.”

This, I suppose, is where the element of trust comes in—trust in our composers to write the score that will bring our movement to life and create the ambiance that, as a team, we have envisioned and scrutinized. This trust is developed through discussion; yeses and nos—compromises. Together we are discovering our ability to give and take as needed and to allow the process to mold itself into the product. The process of piecing together music and dance, ideas and concepts, is often slow and demands both patience and flexibility. For this reason we grow ever more grateful to our dancers as they not only bear with us, but also unknowingly fuel us with the inspiration that we crave.

In spite of the evident challenge and hernia-inducing stress involved, the Choreographers and Composers workshop allows all 12 of us a luxury that we may not be lucky enough to experience again in our careers. This luxury I refer to is the opportunity to work in such a close environment that both parties find themselves challenging each other in exploring their artistic visions while at the same time sculpting and refining their own art forms until they correlate entirely with one another.

The guidance and encouragement that we receive from both our teachers, Liz Keen and Pia Gilbert, as well as from our peers is incomparable. We are being allowed the chance and the space to create a world for ourselves as, week by week, month by month, our pieces grow and evolve—the picture of what will adorn the stage of Alice Tully Hall on January 23 at 1 p.m. becoming ever clearer and more exciting. Without a doubt, we all aspire to achieve a level of artistic greatness—but whatever the final product, I believe it will be what we have learned through the process over these few months that will be our greatest achievement of all.

Caroline Finn is a third-year dance student.