An open apology to Ms Chiles

A brief reflection on my life as a dancer and artist

A Bangarra Dance Theatre performer in the show Yuldea

Back in June, my partner and I spent our Friday night at the Sydney Opera House to watch Bangarra Dance Theatre’s performance of Yuldea. Bangarra Dance Theatre is a company of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists, and as per their Instagram, describe Yuldea as “a ceremonial affirmation of history and heritage. Yuldea awakens the earth and sky worlds to tell the story of the Anangu people of the Great Victorian Desert.” It did just that.

The show was breathtaking, mesmerising, visually hypnotic, poetry in motion. I hadn’t seen a modern dance company performance in ages. The whole thing had me propped forward on my seat, occasionally forcing my eyes to blink to reform a tear film, hesitant to do so in case I missed a moment.

One particular piece moved me to tears. It was called Water Diviners: Birds. Slinkily emerging from the upstage depths through a curtain of vividly lit rustling ropes were dancers adorned with stunning feather accents on their shoulders. The original composition of ambient electronic sounds interwoven with birdsong put me in a trance. The countless ropes looked to be an extension of their movements, rippling and waving, akin to a gentle breeze sweeping through the trees, or the rippling of a drop of water in a pond. The set amplified the connection between humans and nature, the inseparability of it all. I interpreted the piece as an ode to the sky and all that soars in it, providing life to the earth below. It really jolted me awake in the same way a magnificent lookout on a hike grabs you, the vastness of the horizon so unfathomable yet soothing. The way these dancers personified birds was striking and profound, allowing me as an audience member to access that awareness of our true interconnected nature to this planet and all its life.

After this euphoric feeling worked its way through my body, something else came up - guilt, shame, a sullen tenderness. I was thinking about Ms Chiles.

Ms Chiles was the modern dance teacher I had all through high school. I went to an arts school and was part of the dance program there. This meant I got to dance every day, either ballet or modern, with live piano and drumming for each class respectively. For 4 years there was a constant in my high school schedule - the same class with the same 20 or so girls, and the same 2 teachers for ballet and modern.

Writing this now, I have a far more profound appreciation of how luxurious and privileged it all was. Of course, I didn’t appreciate it as much as I do now with the gift of hindsight. There is no doubt that I enjoyed the program, the people, the dancing, the performing, the psychological comfort in knowing one piece of every single one of my high school days was safe, secure, exciting. I loved it. I had so much fun. We all had a special bond. We laughed a lot. But sometimes I think we took the laughing to places it didn’t belong.

Ms Chiles was a passionate modern teacher. She taught us the history of so many prominent modern dance legends and iconic foundational techniques. I would have no idea who Martha Graham was if it weren’t for her. But I shake my head now to think how much of….an asshole teenager I was, and I shudder to think of how our class as a unit of asshole teenage girls behaved at times.

The Arts York Dance class of 2012 on our graduation day, standing in the magnificent studio we spent every day in for 4 years. I have a deep fondness for every human in this photo, even though I haven’t spoken to some of them since this day.

To this day, I occasionally teach recreational dance to teen girls, and when I first started it was so intimidating! Looking back to my high school days, I can’t believe how brave our two dance teachers were, putting up with us all those years; and I now completely understand why they were so strict with us, so serious, so quick to kick someone out of class or punish poor behaviours and attitudes. My respect for them is through the roof. Teenage girls are a force.

Anyways, what is the connection of Yuldea with my former dance days?

Well, Ms Chiles choreographed a dance for us, which I think was called I Can Fly. I actually might be making up that title, it’s all a bit vague since it was about 14 years ago or so now (omg). It was performed to an opera song I can’t remember the name of. We paired up with the visual arts program and worked with an individual artist to create a bird. That bird was designed by the visual artists and came on stage with us, was part of our costume. It is a really sweet idea as I think of it now. We even had to write an essay about our bird, our connection to them or their personality. It’s all a bit vague, but I think you get the idea. All the movements were personifications or inspirations of our feathered flying friends, and I think every single one of us failed to take it seriously.

It’s not even that I think we needed to take it seriously - it was meant to be fun, expansive, experimental. I think I was too preoccupied with wanting to feel cool, only respecting choreography that was “mainstream” at the time, all else was outdated and lame, to be made fun of. I think this kind of attitude was bolstered by my dance studio culture outside of the high school arts program. We prided ourselves on staying current and edgy with leading world choreographers teaching us, creating pieces for us, and feeling very righteous with intense Russian ballet training to underpin it all.

I don’t think this culture was exclusive to the dance studio I attended outside high school (though we certainly were a force in this cultural arena), which is a reason why all of us struggled to take the class, and as a result, Ms Chiles, very seriously.

I remember performing the piece on stage and hearing the laughter in the audience. I am disappointed now because they were laughing with the knowledge that we were making a mockery of the piece. Looking back, I’m not sure anyone could have convinced me to not feel silly performing that kind of choreography. I was too caught up with the persona of dance being the “cool” arts program where appearances mattered. It hadn’t occurred to me to go deeper, to push myself deeper into an artistic space beyond myself.

The way Yuldea affected me is maybe a testament to spending a bit more time on earth, experiencing multiple levels of struggle and challenge, but also saviour and grace. And for me, especially in the last few years, some of my toughest moments have been held sweetly by the comfort of birdsong outside my window. Moments of pure overwhelm have been softened by watching birds by the river or in my backyard. Australian birdsong is on another level, and the variety of birds here is truly magical. That type of inspiration seems so easy to draw on now, and was surely part of the reason my reaction to the Water Diviners: Birds piece stirred up so much feeling.

When it comes to my high school modern piece, I feel such a poignant disappointment. We had the opportunity to make something much more beautiful and meaningful, to experience something deeper, and we made a mockery of it. Maybe it was never going to be a Yuldea level masterpiece, but we never even gave it a shot to evolve in that direction. I know that I made a mockery of it. As I am older and only just recently am starting to understand and define myself as an artist, I feel shame. A missed opportunity of alchemy, of growth, all because in the end I was too embarrassed to take myself seriously in front of our friends in the audience. Or maybe it was a block I still experience today as an artist - being too embarrassed to stop taking myself seriously. To let myself go somewhere with my creativity, to stop limiting myself based on expectations of how I should be in the world as a woman, daughter, doctor, friend, etc.

It’s 10+ years too late. But Ms Chiles, I am sorry.

As a dancer, I never truly believed there was a place for me to continue professionally. I knew I was pretty good, good enough, but I don’t think I ever found my voice as an artist during those years. Maybe for the reasons I’ve described above. I have no regrets on the path I chose, but if I could go back and try to encourage some new beliefs in my teenage self, it would be that there is room for me as a dancer, as an artist to make my own impact, to find a space where I belong.