Kiara Mickens

“Worry is a fruitless attempt to have control”

To grow we must let go

I have been a creator since birth. Having dabbled in many mediums, being inspired for new projects and works of art is not difficult for me. However, where the difficulties do lie, is in finding consistent flow within these projects. I always view my creative works as extensions of myself, which can be powerful roots for a project.  This can also lead to certain blockages throughout the process.  It is easy to get discouraged in a process when it is not always working and the work is felt personally by the artist. The lack of flow and stagnant nature of a project can become less about the piece, and more about the creator and the way they view themselves. These points reign true for me, but there are ways I found to navigate through this dance piece and its stagnant energy to maintain its meaning. Ways that gave me grace and granted me patience while fleshing out this meaning.

It is such a radical thing to just be. To stand strong in claiming who you are and what you encompass. Performance art is so interesting, because there is always an assumption or deep-rooted expectation that what is produced will be experienced by an external audience. When thinking about purpose within a piece, often times a purpose can initially drive the birth of the creation, but over time, it can shift or extend to include who or what that creation will impact. Within my experience creating dances, it has always been a goal to create pieces that evoke emotion from the audience. Even if the audience does not fully understand the story I am displaying; even if it does not directly resonate with their experiences; they will be able to feel the energy I project when putting movement on a stage. I wanted the same for this dance. The process of developing an emotion evoking work was slightly different. Instead of sourcing from a bank of past emotions and experiences to inspire me, the story for this piece is current and present in my life. I speak about the cyclical nature of the Black Woman whilst being a Black Woman in the middle of breaking the generational cycles in my family. This truth contributed raw authenticity in the work. At times it also generated an overwhelming creative fog. In an effort to not be consumed by the trauma while explaining it, I had to constantly remind myself why the story I was creating was worth telling. There were particular amounts of validation I had to give this work and myself while developing it because of the way that its inspiration, the cyclical experiences of the Black Woman, have been so often invalidated in this society. The fear of openly and vulnerably exposing my truth was something I had to gradually overcome.

One way I addressed this fear, and the blockages it created, was acknowledging that this truth was not only my own. I knew that other Black Women and other Women of Color resonated with the trials and burdens I did, and that telling this story would not only shed light on my experience but also bring awareness to the experiences of a whole community of people. This is why it was imperative that the people in my piece were Black and Brown Women. These women would be the only ones who could potentially embody the meaning of this piece. At a predominately white institution, within an even more white dominated department, creating this cast was a barrier within itself. I had a vision of three, and I was attached to this vision. With covid-19 prohibiting outsiders into our campus spaces, I was not able to pull from the bank of Black Woman dancers that I have made ties with throughout the Five Colleges. This generated slight anxiety in the process that was rooted in a fear that the message wouldn’t be fully conveyed with the current resources I had. Instead of allowing these discouraging moments completely shift my vision, I leaned into communicating my desires to those who were there to help. I let time allow the cast seeds I verbally sewed and the energy of my work attract the members it required. The cast of Shelby, Di’Anna and myself were fully on board in a matter of weeks after my initial proclamation that my piece will have three Black and Brown dancers. Through this I learned that it is easy to panic when solutions are not directly in front of us but it is effective to allow mental space for new solutions to arise. My dancers were a huge part in not only maintaining and extending the purpose of this piece, but the physical manifestation of it.

This piece was so weighted in content and form. Its inspiration was happening in real time. Both of these aspects added to the challenge of developing a consistent flow of choreography to teach. There were so many rehearsals where I had nothing to teach the dancers. I was determined to not let time go by without accomplishing something new. A part of defying this choreography block was leaning into the idea of rehearsal accomplishments not necessarily always being concrete dance moves for the piece. A lot of my rehearsals were spent getting to know my dancers and their stories. I wanted their experience to be both in my piece, and for it to remain their own. We talked a lot. We laughed, we cried, we asked questions and extended conversations beyond rehearsal times. I guided them through movement prompts that pushed them to answer questions deep within themselves that they never knew they were allowed to explore. I encouraged their personal findings to inform the movement choices. As director I determined the order and organization of the dance, but we created the movement together. These acts of sharing the work made the process much more fulfilling.

Time is always a tricky part of creative processes. I am thorough as a creative artist. I do not like to feel limited. Time is something that has felt limiting. It is clear that fear is what generates most creative blocks, fear of being misunderstood, fear of a lack of flow, and fear of it not getting done in a way that we envisioned it. However, when there is a deadline, we do not have time to dwell in these fears. Creating this dance began to shift my perception of time from being a limiting factor to instead being a driving tool. I was reminded that, yes, there is a particular boundary where my work must be conducted, but whatever is conducted within this boundary, is worthy. This process taught me to lean into divine timing and trust that everything that was happening was when it was supposed to. I focused on allowing things to develop and come about as they will when they will. It also taught me to trust myself as an artist and trust my capabilities and track record, and trust that whatever I do accomplish, it is still remarkable because I accomplished it, and I am remarkable. I learned to allow movement to emerge and accept that as the creator, it can shift or change as I wish. There will be time to define these desires because time was not wasted on running in mental circles striving for perfection.

Often times we treat our art the way our parents treated us. It derives from us so we assume it owes us something. We assume we have the right to control it, trusting it can be difficult, but only because we don’t trust ourselves. We are extensions of our mothers because we came from her, but we are not her. Therefore, it is not right for her to raise and carry us from a space of fear and guilt, because although she loves us and wishes the best, those desires and emotions are not about us, but instead projections of what is hindering herself. The process is to be what it is, a process. As the creator it is my job to give space to the process, make additions to it, suggest changes to its course, but overall, just let it be, and give it freedom to flow how it will or won’t. It is not up to me to control the energy the process possesses, but instead experience it, and learn more about myself within that experience. Brief halts are natural happenings of the process and to deny the process its true nature, denies the seeds of the creation its true, full bloom.