An improvisation class will, most often, begin by standing still and following a single instruction: wait for the impulse to move.
I’ve been waiting.
Movement seems simple. It’s everyday. But wanting to move… it’s different.
I don’t know how it is for others (tell me!), but I find it difficult to want to move when there’s so much moving around me. When I’m traveling, when I have no base, when there’s so much change in life I find myself going with it, but producing no movement internally of my own. Perhaps there’s only a certain amount of movement my person can take before it seeks an equilibrium.
This primal consideration goes against what I’ve researched of so many artists. I look at those I most admire and they suggest the practice of art as a discipline, a continual rehashing of technique and habit to bring around the inspiration to develop a concept and run with it. The balance between “inspiration” and dedication is a finely tuned one. I speak on this blog often about the importance of forming a practice: something sound and committed; but here’s the flip side.
And on the flip side I’m still standing here… waiting for the impulse to move.
