Anyone who’s taken a dance class or two knows that there’s a structure to most dance classes. 1) Start with warm-up 2) move into technique practice and 3) finish with choreography. Meaning….you learn the teacher’s choreographed routine. (set to music!) This is one of the primary tools that dancers use when developing their craft.

It was ingrained in me early on that stepping into someone else’s choreography was an integral part of the artistic process. It wasn’t just about learning the moves—it was about learning how to move through someone else’s vision, and expanding your own creative style in the process.

So, when I found my way into the world of circus and aerial arts, I was actually a bit surprised to see the classes seemed to be missing this very important element. Of course it makes sense to be focused on building strength, skills and mastery of the apparatus, especially in the beginning. But once the student has developed enough skills and endurance to execute sequences that would be a ripe time to start learning aerial choreography, right? But when it comes to aerialists, the learning trajectory is often quite different.

It’s much more common to have the aerialist’s entry point into performance be… drum roll please….Act Creation! Usually in some form of student showcase event. A lot of attention (and pressure) is put on the student to create their own piece, and find their own unique style. Now don’t get me wrong, one of the things that I LOVE about aerial arts, that sets it apart from the path of the dancer or actor, is the permission to be your own artist and creator. Aerialists, by the nature of our art form, frequently create our own acts, embracing the freedom of personal style development. While this autonomy is fantastic, it leaves many aerialists with a gap in their education: learning other artists’ choreography.

Now I know I’m making a giant generalization, and there are some fantastic choreography classes out there that do exactly this…teach their students to learn aerial choreography. But I didn’t experience this in my own circus education at all. Then later, when traveling the world and visiting dozens upon dozens of studios I would say that this is the exception, not the rule.

Is it a sequence, or choreography?

Before we go any further, I think it’s important to distinguish the difference between an aerial sequence and a piece of choreography. An aerial sequence is the bones of the choreography. It’s the foundation that everything else will be layered upon. What are the layers? Musical cues, movement quality, gestures and dynamic tempo changes. Choreography also can introduce concept, story, and character work into the movement.

Ok, so what’s the benefit?

Why does this matter? Why should an aerialist spend time learning other people’s choreography? I see SO many benefits to this practice that are far-reaching and can transform your artistic practice in ways you might not expect.

1. Stepping Out of Your Comfort Zone

We all have certain moves, tricks, and sequences that we love to do. It’s what makes our style our style. But, sticking only to what you know can limit your growth. When you learn someone else’s choreography, you’re essentially stepping into their creative mind, pushing yourself to try movements you wouldn’t normally choose. This might mean learning new aerial transitions or even discovering unconventional ways of combining moves you already know.

I’ll be honest—there’s a vulnerability in learning choreography that’s different from creating your own. When you’re improvising or crafting a routine, you’re following your own creative impulses. It feels safe, familiar. But when you step into someone else’s choreography, you’re in unknown territory. You’re not just learning steps—you’re absorbing another person’s artistic vision, which can be uncomfortable at first.

Choreography, especially someone else’s, often requires you to move in ways that feel foreign. That’s a good thing. It stretches your movement vocabulary and shows you there’s more than one way to express the same idea in the air.

2. Expanding Your Movement Vocabulary

One of the best parts about learning choreography is gaining access to a completely different language of movement. Each choreographer brings their own life experience, body awareness, and creative vision into their work. When you learn choreography from someone else, you’re borrowing pieces of that language. Over time, this builds a rich movement vocabulary that you can draw on in your own work.

For aerialists, this is especially important because it helps break away from the common patterns and tricks we might get stuck in. Learning someone else’s choreography opens your eyes to different methods of storytelling, musicality, and spatial awareness. Bonus, it also challenges your body in ways that ultimately make you stronger and more versatile.

3. Finding Inspiration for Your Own Work

Ironically, one of the best ways to find your own voice as a performer is to dive into someone else’s. As you learn another’s choreography, you inevitably stumble upon moments that resonate with you—whether it’s a particular movement phrase, an emotional tone, or a way of transitioning between tricks. These moments plant seeds of inspiration that can later bloom into your own unique ideas.For aerialists, choreography can unlock new ideas for rigging, apparatus exploration, or even combining floor and aerial work in unexpected ways. By studying a variety of choreographic styles, you become more adept at crafting your own, developing a style that’s informed, rich, and distinctly yours.

4. It Opens Doors

Being able to learn and perform choreography is a skill that can set you apart. If you’re only accustomed to working solo, in your own style, you might miss out on group work, collaborative performances, or even the chance to tour with established companies.

Many choreographers and directors look for aerialists who are flexible not just physically but artistically—those who can adapt to different choreographic styles, learn material quickly, and bring a fresh perspective. If you’ve trained yourself to learn other people’s choreography, you’re giving yourself a valuable edge.

5. Cultivating Discipline and Focus

Learning choreography isn’t always easy. It requires discipline, attention to detail, and patience—all traits that are crucial for growth in the performing arts. You have to commit to remembering sequences, perfecting timing, and refining your technique. This focused practice helps build the discipline you need not just for aerial but for any creative endeavor.

For aerialists, this can be particularly challenging because the choreography may also involve timing your movements with rigging, understanding spatial awareness in the air. But with this challenge comes incredible reward, as you gain agility in both your mind and body.

Looking ahead – Work with us!

For aerialists who are used to flying solo in more ways than one, learning other people’s choreography might feel like a strange and unfamiliar path. But the benefits are undeniable (and it’s fun!) So, if your studio or instructor offers an opportunity to learn someone else’s choreography, take it! If you have a training group, try an exchange where each aerialist develops a short piece of choreography for the others to learn. You might just find that this practice unlocks new levels of artistry and creativity.

Many moons ago, I offered a choreography-based series at Kinetic Arts Center in Oakland, CA, and it was one of my favorite classes I’ve ever taught. Well, I’m getting back to it again, with a very special online workshop series with Saffron Van Rossem.Join us for a 3-part online workshop series, as we delve into concept-driven aerial choreography. Drawing from our current aerial theatre project, Homeostasis, which visually represents the human nervous system through rope and explores the “fight, flight, freeze, and fawn” responses, we’ll share our methods and discoveries.

Choreography Workshop on Aerial Silks | Surge: Fight Mode

With Rain Anya

Apparatus: Aerial Silks

Saturday, October 5th @ 2pm-4pm EST

Choreography Workshop on Aerial Sling | Soar: Flight Mode

With Saffron Van Rossem

Apparatus: Aerial Sling

Saturday, October 12th @ 2- 4pm EST

Creative Workshop on ANY apparatus | Somatic Theatre – The Stories of the Body

With Rain Anya & Saffron Van Rossem

Any Apparatus

Saturday, October 19th @ 2pm-4pm EST

Cost: $50 (live workshop or replay)

Only 8 slots available for each live workshop

These workshops are geared toward aerialists at an intermediate or advanced level.

All proceeds go towards the production costs of creating Homeostasis, an aerial theatre production currently in its development phase. In the United States, raising funds for the arts is an ongoing challenge, as creative projects often struggle to receive the financial backing they deserve. By supporting working artists, you help sustain the lifeblood of cultural innovation, ensuring that vital stories and unique perspectives continue to reach and inspire communities. For those who would like to donate additional funds toward the project, here’s a link to donate.

The post Borrowed Moves, Original Growth: The Art of Learning Choreography appeared first on Paper Doll Militia.

Have you been experiencing a dose of artistic inertia? In my lifelong pursuit of a creative life I’ve definitely encountered my fair share. In the process, I’ve been lucky enough to gather and develop tools that have helped me plow through challenges and supercharge my creative process along the way. I’m excited to share some of my lessons with you today.

But before we jump in…let me start by saying, this topic is NOT JUST for those who make a living in some kind of artistic career. This is for anyone who has a creative practice, especially those who want to nurture that practice. And hey, if you’re reading this, you’re most likely somehow involved in aerial or circus arts (or you’re my mom…hi mom!). Well then, guess what? You have a creative practice. Unless you are ONLY conditioning on your apparatus, I’m going to guess that you are engaging in some creative pursuits in your aerial work.

Because at its roots, aerial arts is an expressive art form.

It’s not gymnastics; it’s not sports acrobatics. Even if your primary goal is fitness-based, you have chosen to do your fitness activities in a format that has arisen from a performative art. For example, when I find a shape in the air that feels good to my body, I am making a creative choice; I am spending a moment in my art.

So from the seasoned performer to the recreational hobbyist, let’s agree that we are all artists, ok? (If you identify as an aerialist who’s not an artist, I’m totally cool with that and not here to argue, but most likely the rest of this blog is not really written with you in mind.)

Any artist will tell you, the road is never straight nor without challenges. I know I’m not the only one who struggles to carve out quality creative time or suffers from a lack of inspiration. Recently, I’ve encountered an overabundance of creative ideas, which has resulted in decision fatigue and artistic inertia. Though our challenges will morph and change, having some solid creative tools can go a long way. I do have some tricks up my sleeve and I’m inspired to share them with you today.

I’ve distilled today’s lessons into three tips. That’s because life is overwhelming as it is, and I think advice is always easier to digest in threes.

Tip # 1: Show up Relentlessly and Embrace Unproductivity

I’m a person who has always had high expectations for myself—a perfectionist through and through. I used to come to a training session or rehearsal with a long list of things I wanted to achieve.

Sometimes I would meet my laundry list of goals, sure, but usually, the creative process has other plans in mind. It’s a messy, non-linear trajectory with unexpected detours and left turns. When we put a productivity filter on top of the creative process, it’s like trying to fit an octopus into a sock. It just doesn’t fit.

Inevitably, I would leave feeling dejected, like I failed. It’s so much harder to bounce back into an inspired state if I’m stuck wallowing in the disappointment of the outcome.

Fast forward to the pandemic. I was extremely lucky to have an aerial setup in my living room, so I could still keep up with aerial work. Unfortunately, all my motivation had simply flown out the window. I had to come up with some new strategies to get my butt in the air.

It was around that time when I switched my goal to literally one thing: move my body.

What I did in that movement session didn’t matter because I had already achieved my goal just by showing up. Some days were extremely productive, inspiring, or fulfilling. Others were a wash. But with this mindset shift, I was able to allow for a new approach to training that is more flexible, more compassionate, and honestly, more realistic.

My relationship with my creative practice totally changed when I started putting this into practice. And even now, when we’re past the pandemic, I still arrive at every movement session with the same mindset. The most important thing is that I show up for my craft; anything fruitful that comes out of it is a pure bonus.

Tip #2: Align your Inner Needs with External Spaces

To really dive into this second tip, you first need to find out what your inner artist needs. I can’t stress this enough…this is a lifelong process and it is not static. It will change as you change. But nevertheless, you must embark on this journey for yourself.

In the pursuit of crafting a creative incubator, we will look at our external environment. Let me give a couple of examples to help clarify.

Some artists thrive around other people, in a constant state of input and ideas coming in from all directions. For this artist, being creative in a busy aerial studio might be exactly what they need.

A different artist may need to remove all distractions in order to truly focus in on their ideas. For this artist, they may want to consider applying to a residency program in a rural location, to cut themselves off from the demands of daily life. People are different, and therefore our ideal creative environments will be different.

Let’s consider another extremely important element of our external environment: time. When do you feel most creative? Is it in the early morning, in those magic hours before the rest of the world wakes up? Is it mid-afternoon when the sun is high and everything is buzzing with energy? (This is mine.) Or maybe you are a night owl who, like poets and painters of old, takes your inspiration from Lady Moon and quiet moments.

We can take this idea of timing even further. Do you like to work on a project in short, exciting bursts? Or do you like slow processes with time to ruminate and space between sessions? (For me, it’s the slow burn.)

We can see just how important it is to truly know yourself so that you can craft the perfect incubation environment. Once you’ve identified your inner artist’s needs, then begins the work of fighting for your art. Which brings us to tip #3.

Tip # 3 Fight For Your Art

I don’t mean you need to put up fisticuffs. By this, I mean “carve out time and space for your art.” But those words just aren’t strong enough to reflect the immense effort necessary in a world that is constantly vying for your attention and time. We often have to try and fit in our creative practice between the tiny cracks of our mountains of other responsibilities and concerns. I’m not only speaking to those with 9-to-5 jobs. I am a perfect case in point. I make a living through aerial arts, so you might think I have the luxury of doing my art whenever I feel inspired. If you think this…you would be wrong.

In order to make a living, I run a business that includes many facets of my art. I STILL have to fight for my creative time. I can’t tell you how common it is for me to get sucked into admin tasks, meetings, project proposals, applications, life responsibilities, etc., and another day has gone by where I didn’t even so much as look at my creative projects or move my body.

For so many of us, we’re in a precarious juggling act, dealing with our most important survival needs, caring responsibilities, and just… so. much. adulting. Spending our time and energy on art and play can easily get pushed to the bottom of the list. That’s why we have to fight for our art.

The topic of HOW to best fight for our art is perhaps too big to tackle for this blog, but when I look at the tools and tactics that I use to fight for my art, one in particular stands out: using external accountability measures. Here are a couple of examples of what this looks like in my life:

1. Signing up for a class, workshop, or outside project. For example, just yesterday, I signed up for this cool Creation Workshop that I put on my calendar for next month. It’s contemporary dance-focused, which is a bit out of my comfort zone (also another great topic for a different post) and signing up (and paying for it) holds me accountable to dedicate the time and space to nurturing my craft.

2. Committing to a project deadline before it’s completed. Whew! This is a scary one. But I can’t tell you how many times this has lit the fire of my creative practice in a very tangible way. Sure, sometimes it can backfire and create an undue amount of stress. That’s why you must also become good at being realistic in your deadlines (estimate 2x the amount of time you think it will take!). A recent example for me was when I committed to being a part of the Touching Two Worlds show this past May with only the seed of an idea for a new act. But my deadline was realistic and this it was the exact thing I needed to jumpstart this new act concept.

There are many other practical tools that can help you carve out time, energy, and attention for your creative practice. I highly recommend reading the book Deep Work for other insightful strategies, such as time blocking, which has also been a huge help to me on this front. Yes, this is a book that primarily deals with deep work in a business context, but the concepts are highly transferable, and the author uses many examples of artists throughout history who have a commitment to deep work.

Do you want to be notified when we publish our next blog post? Sign up for our Newsletter here.

Inspired to take action steps toward your own creative process? We’d love for you to join us for our Aerial Escapades Retreat in Mexico in 2024. Every afternoon we work with creativity, theatricality and finding your own aerial voice using our Vertical Theatre Method. This is a super inspiring way to focus in on your craft while having an adventure at the same time! For more information click here.

The post Show Up Relentlessly, Embrace Unproductivity appeared first on Paper Doll Militia.

I’m not alone in this; I’ve noticed that many aerialists share a similar lifestyle—one that’s incredibly packed! I want to delve into this concept and explore how it intersects with my aerial practice and fertility journey.

In my previous blog I talked about the fear of becoming a mother. Here I’ll talk about the first trimester and that fear more realized.

I’m currently navigating my sixth pregnancy, if you don’t know my story, no I don’t have a hoard of children. I’ve never made it to the point of having a live birth, though I’ve spent a seemingly enormous amount of time being pregnant over the past 3 years. With each of my pregnancies, I didn’t slow down, not before, during or after the losses, until now, with number six.

On learning of the loss of my first pregnancy, what was my immediate reaction? I headed straight to the studio and created a piece about it, with my husband composing the accompanying music. Our mutual art became a powerful means for both of us to navigate and process our grief. For me, moving my body has proven to be one of the most effective ways to move through and process emotions.

Aerial is my outlet, my income, and in some ways has become an integral part of my identity. And thus I approached each pregnancy much like I do most of my life, with this mantra, “how much can I fit in before . . .”

If you’ve participated in our Remote Teacher Training, you’ll be familiar with all the reference videos that are part of the course. Many of the Level 1 rope and silks videos featuring me were filmed during my first pregnancy, and Level 2 lyra and trapeze videos, including the full beats section, were filmed during my fourth pregnancy.

Each loss propelled me into a flurry of further action based response. I underwent every possible test through multiple private healthcare practitioners, seeking to unravel the mystery of what was going on. I did blood work of every kind and hormone analysis. I had a hysteroscopy of my womb and ultrasounds of my ovaries. I replaced my undergarments with organic ones, eliminated all chemicals from my home, and invested in a water purification system. I worked privately with a nutritionist, kinesiologist, pilates instructor and spent loads of money on supplements. I even took out my nose ring because I was told the metal interrupts my meridian lines. I took progesterone tablets and low dose aspirin (the NHS form of support for multiple miscarriages). I delved into books and blogs of various kinds in search of answers, only to find that all tests indicated I was 100% healthy. Nothing I did made a difference. The cause was chalked up to “a bad roll of the dice with an older body.”

The term “older body” struck a chord. My great grandmother had five children, two of whom were born when she was over 40. Babies born to women over 40 aren’t a new phenomenon solely attributable to changes in the workforce (perhaps a topic for another blog—staying on point!).

Throughout this entire journey, I consistently felt a twinge of desire to train, to make progress, and be as fit as possible before reaching the point in pregnancy where I knew I would need to ease off a bit.

As an instructor, I always emphasize to my expecting students, the importance of listening to their bodies. I advise against attempting to up-level during pregnancy or trying new skills. Instead, stick to what you know and listen to your body. Here I am in my fifth pregnancy training. To be honest, I felt perfectly fine doing so and had no signs indicating a need to slow down.

Following this loss, I sought the guidance of a Traditional Chinese Medicine Doctor. She asserted that she could balance my hormones and to my surprise also improve egg quality. This contradicted what others had told me, insisting that egg quality was fixed based on age and life decisions. What was equally refreshing was her statement, “oh, you have time.” She prescribed a three-month period of not actively trying to conceive to allow my womb to rest and heal, along with weekly acupuncture sessions and a daily intake of a rather unpleasant-tasting tea.

After the prescribed rest period, she gave the green light to resume trying. Enter baby #6. At a session when I was about six weeks pregnant, I asked her opinion about plane travel during pregnancy. I had been offered an exciting opportunity to work with Aloft Circus Arts Professional Training Program in Chicago, but I had reservations about plane travel, considering it risky in the first trimester. She matter-of-factly assured me that it would be fine, but then she picked up my backpack from the floor.

“This is too heavy!” she said. “If you are going to travel, you must not carry a heavy bag. And also, you shouldn’t lift your bag into the overhead compartment. It’s not good to reach your arms up high.”

Excuse me? I really didn’t think my bag was heavy at all, and reaching my arms up high?

I then showed her a video of what I do, which she had no idea about.

She shook her head. “No, you can’t do that.”

We’ve all heard people telling women what they can and can’t do. While I firmly believe in listening to my own body, I was also seeking her medical advice, and I thought it would be useful for her to clarify more.

“Well, can I go running?”

“No.”

“Can I lift weights?”

“No.”

“Can I do abs?”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

I showed her an example of abs on the acupuncture table.

“No, not that either.”

“What can I do?”

“You can walk. And don’t drink cold liquids, and don’t sit on the floor; it puts too much pressure on your womb. Sit in chairs only. Keep your feet and legs warm.

“For how long is that all I’m allowed to do, or rather not do these things?”

“For the first trimester at least.”

So I left with my new batch of Chinese herbs and a question. Should I follow her advice for the first trimester?

Why not?

“There is a saying: ‘If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always got.’”

I reached out to Aloft and, despite being in the early stages of pregnancy, shared my news as a way to explain that I’d need to make a plan to adapt my workshops and how I’d be working with the protrack students. Their response was incredibly supportive. I also informed the Professional Program Students about my situation, emphasizing that I had a sensitive passenger and that I was following strict orders from my doctor. Throughout the week, they ensured there was a chair next to me, and when I went to demonstrate something, they would ask, “Are you sure?” and patiently let me explain instead. Breaking the habit of constant activity was challenging, but having the students caring so much about me was so wonderfully supportive and encouraging.

There was a part of me that felt like a fraud for not demonstrating. Much of my instructional practice is deeply rooted in somatics, with me being kinesthetic learner myself. When a student has a question where I don’t have an immediate answer to hand, I often say, “Give me one moment,” and work my way through the skill, then say, “Ah, I see your problem.” What I really mean is, “Ah, I FEEL your problem.”

I also saw many rad aerialists in Chicago and I just wanted to play with them!

Being grounded challenged me significantly as an instructor. Reflecting on my early days in the Bay Area when I was still a fledgling instructor, I remembered watching my senior, Helene Turcotte, a 20-year veteran performer then turned instructor who NEVER demonstrated. She calmly talked her students through the movements, and her students thrived. It’s a different skill set to teach without demonstrating at all and one that, I have to admit, is not as developed yet as I think it could be, even though I’ve been teaching since 2005.

However, there were other changes and challenges unfolding within me during this time. One of these was the loss of my runner’s high. I love running because of that feeling. I’d recently started running my 5K 3-5 times a week again and was really loving it. I’d previously given it up as another tactic in my fertility journey. I’d stopped for about a year because I’d found some research that states that high intensity sport and cardio spikes cortisol which decreases progesterone – which is crucial to proper egg implantation.

During that period of not running, I had found an acceptable replacement that worked for me: Kundalini yogic breathwork. I could achieve a similar high (or close to it) without running by doing breath of fire every morning. However, breath of fire was also on the list of things to not to do while pregnant.

The absence of that energetic release began to affect my mental health in an interesting way.

Running, lifting weights, doing aerial, dancing vigorously, or practicing breath of fire all made me feel fierce. The lack of these activities left me feeling fragile.

I AM NOT FRAGILE! I would hear a voice in me shouting.

I also began to experience a looming fear of losing strength; having dreams of not being strong enough to invert. This was compounded by body dysmorphia with a dread of becoming flabby, which to me is different from having a baby bump. The days passed and I felt myself getting softer.

But then something happened . . .

I have had fairly consistent pain for maybe 12 years now. It comes and goes, sometimes it’s almost unbearable, other times just a mild discomfort. I can attribute all these pains to exact injuries over the years. They live in my right hip flexor, my hamstring insertion, my ribs, in my lower back and one of my knees.

In the quiet moments, particularly when lying awake at night, I sensed a feeling of unwinding taking place. One night, it almost felt as if the bones in my hip were moving. Now this could be attributed to relaxin surging through my body, the hormone that facilitates ligaments stretching for the pelvis to open during childbirth. But I’m not so sure. The changes were all happening exactly in my injury locations. I could feel a tension, an old tension leaving my body. All my pains are gone.

Is this what deep rest does?

Sure I’ve had spells where I was grounded due to injuries, broken bones, torn muscles, et cetera. But when I was injured in one part of my body I would just train a different part. But to stop ALL activity except for walking for three months, now that’s a different game altogether and something I have not done in my 20 years of doing aerials.

Years ago, during a serious bout of pneumonia, my mother, a nurse familiar with my tendencies, told me, “Sarah, remember, doing nothing is DOING something right now. Resting energy is healing energy. The less you do, the quicker your body will heal.”

Did it take these few months of doing nothing for my muscles to have the space to release this tension from injuries of years and years ago? And at that same time the energy I wasn’t expending on aerials was building bones, small, new ones in a little body in my womb.

So, where am I now? I’ve successfully navigated through the first trimester, and my weekly acupuncture appointments have transitioned to monthly ones, with no need for the tea anymore. My practitioner also gave me the tentative go ahead to start to explore more movement, but slowly. I’m into my third trimester now.

No one can REALLY KNOW why this one is still with us. Was it because I stopped all activity? Perhaps it’s linked to the spiritual healing work I undertook just before conceiving again. Or could it be the introduction of animal products into my diet after seven years of being a vegan? Maybe it was the acupuncture and Chinese herbs, or quite possibly it was literally just a lucky roll of the dice.

But no matter what is happening with my fertility journey and why behind it all, I can reflect on one thing. This time of rest has changed me.

I’ve shifted my attention to the benefit of this experience rather than the temporary loss of my passion. I always say that I’m in this for the long game. Expect to see me in the air when I’m pushing 80 years old. Perhaps one of the keys to the long game is switching off the DO mentality, at least from time to time. Sometimes for various reasons your body needs rest. I’ve been doing aerials for 19 years and I’ve NEVER taken a 3 month break.

NOT DOING isn’t the void, it is an opportunity for something else to come in its place. And in my case, I think it is a time of healing which will support my real aerial goal of the long game. Maybe it will mean something else too, someone coming in about 8 more weeks.

I am not fragile, I am fiercely doing the best thing for my sensitive passenger, but also for me.

I AM FIERCE!

_____________________________________

Want to listen to Sarah tell the FULL unedited RAW version?

Check it out on the Expecting Aerialist podcast.

The post Fragile or Fierce – The Great Slow Down appeared first on Paper Doll Militia.

I can’t wait to dive in and tell you all about the juicy discoveries we made in our recent creation residency. But before I get too far, I feel this needs a bit of background information.

The project is called Homeostasis, and it’s based on and around the human nervous system. The apparatus is an aerial sculpture that was created in collaboration with Shibari artist, Kemo Burns, back in January of 2022. The ropes are tied together using the intricate workings of this Japanese art form.

I started to tackle the challenge of maneuvering on this giant jungle gym of ropes back in April 2022, in a duo piece with Lena Alani. In this initial performance, we really got to explore what’s possible in terms of movement and imagery.

Fast forward to August of 2023, where Saffron Van Rossem joined me in Los Angeles for a self-imposed artist residency.

Here’s where I really feel I need to take a moment to explain. (especially for those who may live in more funded countries). Getting arts funding in the United States is hard. Hard is an understatement, so I’ll paint a picture. I’ve been creating original work for 18 years, and received 3 U.S. based grants within that time frame. In my experience, financial support for artistic work primarily comes either from crowdfunding or the artist’s personal investment.

But I’m an artist through and through, and it’s not an option to NOT make art. So what do I do…? Create my own artist residency. So Saffron and I carved out a full two weeks to focus and commit to the creative process. (Very hard to do…fellow small business owners, I know you get it.)

We assembled our Circus Gear rig in the backyard and set a rehearsal schedule that worked around the hot days of summer in Los Angeles. We were ready…our heads swimming with ideas, and equipped with plenty of bug spray.

Ok, now here’s the part where I get to fill you in on the inside scoop on our creative process and the interesting discoveries we made.

Homeostasis is about the nervous system…a truly fascinating subject that scientists, psychologists, and the general public are learning more and more about every day.

Our mornings started with research, both cognitive and physical. We would start by reading a section from our residency bible, Complex PTSD, then choose concepts that felt poignant and create improvisational exercises to explore. Through physicalizing the material, we would often have some kind of “ah-ha”moment; a direct result of embodying the feeling rather than intellectualizing it.

A lot of our research concerns our bodies’ natural survival responses; fight, flight, freeze and fawn. As individuals AND as a society, we can easily get stuck in these responses and our nervous system rarely gets an opportunity to rest or down-regulate. Many therapists and somatic practitioners have techniques to help people come back to a place of homeostasis, or balance. A process like this is called co-regulation.

One of our primary inquiries is around co-regulation. This feels particularly compelling to us, in dealing with our own personal habitual responses, and also in learning about how to support our loved ones when they’re struggling with their mental health.

Day after day, we dissected and explored a concept, both on the floor and in the air. Here are some of the highlights of our discoveries.

When embodying “flight” we organically moved into synchronized movement and found a deep comfort in this. Later, when talking with a somatic therapist we learned about the physiological reason for this….this taps into “mirror neurons” by mirroring the body language of the person stuck in flight mode.

We learned about somatic techniques for co-regulation when a person is stuck in a “freeze” state. By slowly titrating in gentle, rhythmic movement a person can start to become unstuck….in body, mind, and spirit.

When embodying “fight” mode we tapped into a profound anger, and recognized the deep aversion to looking inward. This inspired using a mirror in our improvisations, recognizing the need to face yourself as an essential catalyst for the healing journey.

We grieved over our own relationship to “fawning,” recognizing the deeply entrenched pressures of (in particular) women in our society, and how people pleasing shows up and casts a shadow over our authentic selves.

While western psychology is starting to become more body-centric in integrating these physically based techniques, these are healing practices that have been used for centuries within indigenous and tribal communities. This is why dance, movement, and ritual are integral to our individual and collective health.

So yeah, this stuff goes deep, and we often found ourselves needing to keep ourselves in check during the residency. Making art is challenging, and there’s a certain amount of stress that creates a healthy resiliency. But also we had to confront our own tendencies to push past those lines.

Because, how can we make a piece whose central thesis surrounds the need for down-regulation, while simultaneously putting unrealistic expectations on ourselves for our time and outcome…all in the name of productivity.

All in all, it was a rich and enlightening experience and we are most excited for how far this project can go. We are building an educational component which will complement the performance work. We found first hand how powerful it can be to gain insight on these topics through physical play and experiential learning.

Please reach out if you have any ideas, contacts, or resources that you think would be a good fit for this project. We are specifically seeking relationships with individuals and organizations who specialize in mental health through a somatic lens.

– Rain Anya, Co-artistic Director of Paper Doll Militia

The post Reflections from an Artist Residency appeared first on Paper Doll Militia.

A little over a month after our opening night I am reflecting on the process of making Arthropoda and a larger question of the value and place of making emotionally intense work.
Now, I’m not going to sugarcoat it – the show is not an easy watch. It’s about mental illness and domestic violence, so there won’t be any rainbows or butterflies. I chose to make work that digs into complex issues, and traumatic experiences, not to re-traumatize survivors or horrify the audience. My goal is to stage work which can show us what the experiences look like from the outside. Seeing it played out in front of us, can allow us to understand it from a safe distance, from the eagles’ viewpoint, to integrate the learning from challenging life experiences in a more full and sensitive way.
We found that a substantial number of audiences experienced personal connection with the work. Sometimes directly, or indirectly through observing the relationships of their parents, siblings and close friends. These issues are all around us. They are dark and uncomfortable. In making this work, there’s a fine line between taking the darker path, while refraining from providing solutions, and just show some of the ways a story can unfold.

“It is not the place of the theatre to show the correct path, but only tooffer the means by which all possible paths may be examined.”- Augusto Boal

Trauma-informed Theatre

In our rehearsal process, we had a therapist on call and robust plans for how to support the artists or any team members if anything became overwhelming.
As we think about touring the work, we’re faced with a new question: How do we support the audience without having the capacity to provide on-call therapists for everyone who attends.

That’s where the idea of being “trauma-informed” comes in. Being trauma-informed means having an understanding of how trauma affects individuals and communities and shaping the way we frame the work so that it avoids re-traumatization and promotes healing. It involves creating an environment that promotes safety, trust, collaboration, and empowerment. We are busy brainstorming new ways we can help our audiences integrate this experience.

Putting yourself out there can be scary

It’s scary putting something out into the world when you don’t know how it will be received. But I’m so glad I didn’t let that fear stop me from creating something that I care so deeply about. I’m also so grateful that now I get to learn even more about creating safe spaces for artists and audiences through working with trauma-informed theater.
Is there something in your life that you’re hesitating over, because you’re unsure how it will be received? Is that keeping you from speaking up or doing something that can make an impact? I hope sharing my experience with creating Arthropoda can inspire you to take the plunge, whatever it may be.

*Want to be notified any time we publish a new blog? Sign up for our mailing list and become a part of the Paper Doll Fam!

The post Harsher Sides of Humanity in Theatre appeared first on Paper Doll Militia.