Deep Dive into “The Slowness of Being”

*Full Dress Rehearsal - Image taken by 崔存陽*

Last month, The Slowness of Being had its debut premiere in Kaoshiung, Taiwan as part of the International Young Choreographer’s Project 2024. Featuring original music by award-winning Singaporean composer Jazreel Low, this piece explores the metaphor of snails as an act of slow resistance to the fast paced world.

I’ve been meaning to write a deep dive about this as I’ve been getting quite a lot of curious questions about it. However, I needed a moment to settle into my new home in Madrid. Now that I am in a better headspace to do so, this piece of writing serves as a reflection and archive for what I feel is one of my most poignant choreographies to date.

Why Snails?

Meet Zachary Yap, a prolific and talented filmmaker based in Singapore. He’s worked on amazing sets and residencies, one of which was Crazy Rich Asians. Despite his introverted and gentle nature, he has one of the most imaginative, whimsical and deeply retrospective minds that I have ever had the pleasure to come across. I’m grateful to call him a dear friend, and I've been inspired by him more than I can remember, through conversations or showcases.

During his residency at SCAPE 2024 in Singapore, he created a dance/film revolving around the theme of snails. He was exploring the slowness of a snail, specifically on presence and time. I visited his installation, and it was a 5D sensorial experience. I felt like I stepped into another world, where the space was not demanding my attention, but left me wanting to pay close attention to the minute details. I left feeling inspired, and I want to have my interpretation on the metaphorical representation of what snails mean to me through movement.

Funnily enough, snails and I have quite a lot in common, especially during that specific moment in my life where I uprooted myself from Singapore to Spain, not knowing (at the time) where we were going to be based at. We were staying in Airbnbs in Barcelona, Valencia, Sevilla, Madrid - trying to have a feeling for the city and what would be the best decision for us and our future. Kind of reminds me of how snails carry their homes with them, despite geographical differences.

The feeling of reminiscing what had been, to look forward to a future of uncertainty forced me to slow down. How can you go fast when you can’t look ahead? There’s a certain beauty and cadence to slowing down - it forces you to savour each moment. This pace of life reminded me, yet again, about the snails. They’re steady, yet unwavering creatures that plods at their own pace. They’re on the road, determined, even though they might not know where they may end up. The more we ventured into Spain, the more I began to resonate with a snail’s soul.

I decided that this is the proposal that I would write to submit for the International Young Choreographer’s Project 2024. I had no idea if this proposal was going to be selected. Heck, I actually half-assed it because the deadline if in January, and the project was going to be in July, I would have been in Spain by then, and the thought of flying 14 hours was mentally draining… Little did I know that my proposal did get selected.

Traveler’s Dilemma

So, my proposal got selected. Yippee! Now what?

At that time, I was in Barcelona, staying in an Airbnb with my husband whilst we were trying to get our life sorted out through research of the different cities that we wanted to explore. I debated on whether it was worth hauling my butt for a long flight to & fro, be in Taiwan for 3 weeks. I had to weigh the pros and cons, as well as the finances to see if it was a feasible option. We do get a remuneration for this project, but considering how my flight route is now 2x more than Singapore -> Taiwan, I was gonna fork money out of our finances if I wanted to commit to this project. I was struggling to find a job, as well as assimilating into a community considering the language and cultural barriers. I needed that escapade, back into a creative space that I know I’d learn a lot from.

So, I signed the contract and got down to brainstorming.

Once June came around, and it was time to make the journey to Taiwan. I felt excited, nervous and rusty. Rusty in the creative sense, because it had been a while since I’ve flexed my creative muscles. I questioned myself if I still have what it takes, as a dance artist since I’ve not practiced in a while. (we’ll get to that)

Building Our Own World

*Taiwan, Hong Kong, Bangladesh, Malaysia, Australia and Singapore*

There were a total of 8 choreographers, including myself, from all parts of Asia and Australia. I do feel very honoured and grateful to be representing Singapore in this project, although that pesky, lil inner critic does come in every now and then to sabotage confidence in my creative mind.

We immediately got down to business and chose dancers based on who came to audition. This was both fun and intense as we each had 20 minutes to conduct a short process and choose our dancers - although we could observe throughout the audition process which lasted for 2.5 hours. After some compromising, and figuring the math of it all, we each got down to business to begin creation.

*Alice, Anandita and myself in deep focus*

Being back in the studio was very cathartic, as it had been a while since I stepped into the role of a choreographer. A really crucial part of my process is to get to know my dancers, and provide them space and stimulation to how they are able to find a piece of their own journey and voice into the creation.

I highly value a collaborative process, and always will. Rather than a leader, I see myself as someone who fits the puzzle pieces together - the music, movements, motifs, theme and how it all fits together to create an experience. It’s like a little game, and play is always fun. However, we had 2.5 weeks to create a 10 minute piece. So, the time crunch is real.

As the piece slowly came together, I began to notice a little glimmer. Usually I’d call that the “soul” of the piece. This glimmer is barely noticeable, but can be felt on a visceral and kinaesthetic level. I realised that the dancers were the ones who were bringing it to life, and they made me feel something because they began to become even more invested into the process. Even though they were young in age and very technically skilled dancers, I wanted to draw the artists out of them. I shared with them that what makes great artists great is not just because of their technical ability, but how they bring their presence and self wholeheartedly to share. They’re aware of who they are - as a person, as an artist, as a human being. And as human beings, we all have stories worth sharing.

*Trying on costumes during the rehearsal process - cute gals*

Time was also spent outside of the studio, where we explored various destination points in Kaoshiung and Tainan. Here are some of the highlights:

Visited the Kaoshiung Harbour and was met in torrential rainstorm. Was trapped for a good 2 hours and decided to have dinner there even though we had planned for hotpot.
Got to visit National Kaohsiung Center for the Arts (Weiwuying) - with a backstage tour conducted by the artistic team.
Observed a rehearsal of ‘Bolero” by Taiwanese Artist and Choreographer Chou Shuyi.

Watched a performance by the winning team of this year's Taiwan National Student Dance Competition. The scale of props is equivalent to a broadway musical, and the talent is insane. (My favourite piece of the night was a piece performed by little kiddos where they pretended to be raindrops. The cutest and most creative use of kiddos I’ve ever seen.)
Visited Tainan with some of the students and was greeted with delicious street market food and once again, a torrential rain that happened 3 minutes after we took this group shot. (There’s something about heavy rains on Sundays…)

*Tainan Beach - the literal calm before the storm*

There were memories made in and out of the studio, as well as friendships that was forged during this process that fulfilled my heart. For that, I am very grateful to have those shared experiences that I can look back and laugh at.

D-Day

By that point, everyone worked really hard over the last 3 weeks that the dancers were getting visibly fatigued. So were the choreographers. Each of us did what we could for our individual choreographies, and it was now in the hands of the dancers and dance gods to ensure a smooth performance for the next 2 days.

Oh! I want to dig a little deeper into the “glimmer” that peeked through during the rehearsals. As the piece was building up, with tweaks and corrections to ensure smooth and full-bodied transitions, I felt spiritually guided during the whole process. Although there were several transitions that I wrecked my head around, and upheaved the beginning in the 3rd week of the rehearsal process, everything felt smooth and not as stressed as I thought I would be. Everything felt… right. Which is rare because typically a choreographer is never satisfied. But I decided that how the piece will evolve to be on stage will be what it is. I didn’t want to meddle too much with the “glimmer”, instead I listened to it with grace and attention, gave the space it needed, and crossed my fingers and toes.

On both show nights, 2 very interesting phenomenons happened:

On the first night, a moth was flying around the perimeter of the video camera. It caught my attention, and made me chuckle because spiritually, moths are a symbol of change, transformation and growth. Watching The Slowness of Being was like watching an evolution of nature - slow, deliberate and ethereal.

On the second night, a Sunday night (remember what I mentioned about Sundays being rainy days?), the sky began to pour heavy rain during the performance. It added even greater atmosphere for The Slowness of Being because it feels like you’re being surrounded in nature with the rumbling of the raindrops on the roof and the sound of the wind from all angles. Once again, I chuckled because I could not believe the coincidence of it all. Some of the choreographers gave me compliments for the music, but I told them that Mother Nature decided to add her own accompaniment.

I felt immensely proud of everyone - the dancers, the choreographers and the crew who put the show together for a truly exciting evening. 8 choreographers, 8 distinct voices through 8 vastly different choreographies. Even though we come from different parts of the world, we bonded through dance, play and those shared memories.

Phases

This process felt like a re-introduction;transformation of getting to know myself again, as well as my own choreographic voice. I was so used to the ‘machine-making, let’s create art because we can’ mentality in Singapore, because it is rare for such opportunities to come by. I would create choreographies that meant something to me at the time, but I wanted to challenge myself to see if I could create truly “timeless” works. Just like how musicians and artists have works that transcends time, I wanted to create my own legacy of works that not only I am proud of, but serves like a snapshot into that particular moment in life where I was experiencing something.

In Other Worlds (2023) is an exploration of an uncertain future.

When Five Encounter (2022) and Re:Writing (2021) are articulations of relationships and spaces during Covid.

Still/Moving (2021) is a journey through the 5 stages of changes.

The Slowness of Being (2024) is an evolution of a slow, but deliberate new beginnings.

We all go through phases in life where we feel very strongly about something/someone/somewhere. But one day we may wake up, and decide that that thing that we were so fixated on is not as important, or relevant, or enticing anymore. I feel the same with the creative process - you can engage in a creative process every single day, even if it is not the one that you’re used to. I was so used to having a schedule to teach, dance, choreograph and be immersed in the realm of dance that I forgot what it feels to experience life outside of dance. In a way, this piece served as a mirror to my own life, that there’s no shame to slowing down. In fact, it is necessary for evolution, and the beginning of something new. So it taught me something rather important. It doesn’t make you any less “worthy”, it just makes you human.