Overgrown Paths
Overgrown Path rehearsal with Chase O’Connell
I am alone on stage, alone in the darkness of the theater. There is no music, only silence. I walk towards the darkness where the audience resides, but see nothing. I only feel the focus of their gaze on me. I stand exposed, naked in emotion. My sadness, my grief, my loneliness laid bare. I am not acting in this moment like I often do on stage. I am fully myself - exposed, naked in emotion. In this moment, I am seen.
The ballet is Jiri Kylian’s Overgrown Path with music by Czech composer, Leoš Janáček. The prevalent themes are death, loss, and grief. Janáček’s piano pieces which accompany Kylian’s choreography were composed by Janáček after the death of his daughter, and loss of his son some years before. The score expresses Janáček’s reflections on his own life and emotions, his own personal overgrown path. It is haunting and moving.
Looking backwards is like wandering along an overgrown path: memories are run with time, the values and emotions of events have changed with the passing of the years. Some minor events stand out more sharply, others have faded. Kylian’s choreography allows these backgrounds to be strongly present without depicting Janáčeks life story. - quote from Ballet West
The piece is set by Roslyn Anderson from the Kylian trust. She is the most humble, kind, gentle, but powerful woman I have had the pleasure of working with professionally. Ballet West developed a close working relationship with Roslyn as she staged various Kylian ballets including Synfonietta, Petite Mort, and Forgotten Land. I was lucky to have the opportunity to learn and understudy these ballets, but never had the privilege of performing a Kylian piece until Overgrown Path. As a cover for Forgotten Land, I was given the opportunity to fill in for a stage tech rehearsal. I danced with principal dancer, Rex Tilton as the white couple. I have the sense Roslyn was responsible for the opportunities I was given. I don’t believe I would have experienced Kylian’s choreography on stage without her advocacy on my behalf, though I have no proof of this. What I do know, is that Roslyn made me feel seen, and accepted. I felt as if she saw value in these “darker” emotions present within me (and which are present within many of us). She offered them space to be, to exist, and to be witnessed. She didn’t reject or judge them.
After the first stage rehearsal of Overgrown Path, Roslyn delivered “notes” to all of us dancers the next day. When she came to my part in the ballet, she began with a pause. I believe she said “Liz… “ and before I knew it, the entire company was clapping and looking in my direction with faces that showed love, support, and appreciation. In this moment, I am seen.
Performing Overgrown Path was one of the most impactful and meaningful experiences of my career. The night of my final performance of Overgrown Path, November 13, 2015, was also the night of the 2015 Paris terrorist attacks. Suicide bombers killed a total of 130 people. The victims were civilians outside a football stadium, at bars and restaurants, and at a concert hall. I felt the collective grief and pain swelling in my body. As I watched the final pas de deux from back stage, I felt tears begin to roll down my cheeks.
After the curtain came down I made my way back to the dressing room. I was emotional under the weight of the reality of impermanence. I was also filled with great appreciation for being a dancer, and for the rare but special opportunity to express our complex human experiences and emotions on stage. I shared some of these sentiments with the other women in the dressing room.
The next day one of my coworkers made a social media post that expressed many of the thoughts I had shared in the dressing room as her own. I often notice some dancers are more interested in feeling, and some are more interested in performing. I live in the land of feeling. I notice there are others, always performing…
Soon after that final performance, I wrote this in my journal,
To perform a ballet that so pointedly addresses themes of pain and loss on this night felt extremely significant. The choreography, the music, and the knowledge that the world was currently mourning overwhelmed me with emotions. Art that expresses the reality of suffering, an unfortunate reality of the human condition, is so very powerful to witness. In times like these, when life is overwhelmed with tragedy, it gives me hope to see something beautiful created from darkness. To acknowledge our suffering is what makes us human; our ability to empathize and feel pain is our greatest power. When we ignore and stifle this gift, we reject our participation in humanity. We must acknowledge our pain, and let that unify us in our suffering, not divide us. Through our suffering, we have the opportunity to create something beautiful to contribute to the world. There is beauty in the darkness.
I am alone on stage. It is not about the steps my body is executing, it is about the feeling behind them. The piano joins me, and I begin to run. I am searching for something. Then I encounter him. Are you who I have been searching for? No! As I make a violent hand gesture and begin running again. Searching again. Another man, another dance. No, not you either. Running and searching, running and searching. Short duets, maybe 5 in total. The last duet with the man who represents death. This all feels like me. This feel like my life, always running and searching, and at times feeling intimate and dangerously close to wanting death, but I reject him too. I run toward the wing and then stop, arm outstretched, grasping for something out of reach in the darkness… and then solemnly walking off stage. Alone again. In this moment, I am seen.
At the time that I am writing this, the brilliant pianist who played Janáček’s hauntingly beautiful score for the Overgrown Path performances has since passed. Jed Moss, an incredibly talented musician, and gentle-hearted friend, passed on June 23rd, 2019 at a mere 57 years old after a cancer diagnosis. His charm and talent radiated through the Ballet West studios. The loss of his presence continues to be felt by many. I often listen to his recordings, and welcome the emotions that arise. His music- a reminder of the beauty in our humanity. His absence- a reminder of the fragility and impermanence of our humanity.
Currently, virus COVID-19 rapidly touches the lives of individuals worldwide. I feel our collective grief as we hear of the deaths and suffering. I also see a surge of creativity, and feel the healing power of artistic expression. There is beauty in the darkness, there is beauty in my darkness, and I see you.
written March 2020