Contact in a Chair

I'm taking a brief digression here to discuss Laurel's comment (on my last post) about contact in a chair (vs on the floor), partly because she reminds me of something I meant to do, but I forgot/ran out of time in the original post and partly because I may prematurely have committed myself to talking about bodies, beauty, and pain.

I work almost solely in my chair. There are a number of reasons for this. West Coast Dance has a number of power chair dancers who work only in their chairs; this has meant that there is a context, a precedent, and a community of TAB dancers who are accustomed to working with and around chairs. I work in my chair for a number of reasons. The first -- and least important -- is that I don't want to give choreographers the "easy" option of simply being out of my chair. But the deep reasons for my chair are closely associated with how I learned to move and how I learned to dance.

I have no memory of this - though I agree it's likely - but, apparently, I showed up to my first class with a cane or two. "My wheelchair is in the car," I said. I felt awkward. For the first couple of classes, I tried moving using my feet and legs. What I remember of that time are feelings of disconnection, of not being able to move in an integrated fashion, of not knowing how to move, of not being at home, of not feeling in my body, and of not being able to know and move my body. When I switched to my chair (pain and fatigue drove me to it), I felt clumsy at first. But I also found freedom of movement. Pain-free movement. I felt strongly supported by the teachers and class participants. So, I finished the sequence of classes in my chair. When, as things progressed, the chair became my only daily movement option as well as my dance movement option, I felt at home in my chair. This metal body I knew better than my own flesh.

There are some suggestions for wheelchair care before going into a contact class -- the most extensive list I have seen is in the Adam Benjamin book. People disagree about brakes or no brakes. I don't have brakes on my chair, but that's personal, I think. But from there on out, I find contact in a chair fascinating.

I don't know how to write this. It's kind of like dancing with a third body. You can hold a point of contact with two bodies, but if you want stable positioning, you have to deal with that mobile third body: your chair. You can press chair to chair and feel the energy/force transfer up into your body. When do you counteract with your wheels? When do you let them go and run as they will? You can navigate the relationship between you and your chair and you and your partner and your partner and your chair. When are you one with your chair, both subject to your partner's movement? When is your chair -- a partner who must respond to physics -- supportive of or in conflict with your relationship with your partner?

Good contact dancers don't just work with the frame of your chair; they understand the delicate balancing act that we chair performers dance. The most difficult part of contact in a chair is remaining an active partner in all the moves. It is so important for chair dancers to feel and have access to the point of contact. It's not creative to push me or pull on the frame; you might be able to kick up higher or show yourself in interesting positions, but it is not partnership if you use my chair or my body like a passive piece of furniture. Stop sitting on my lap. Yawn. Don't just try and stand on me. It is brilliant if you understand how force and energy transfer from you through the frame to me and in any of those combinations. There is an infinite variety of angles and possibilities you can explore and at the core of them is the relationship that I share with my chair. I rarely have the chance to work chair to chair.

This week, I learned that my chair could have its own energy circle -- you know, that buzzing force you sometimes feel when gravity, energy, and balance are doing their thing. I was seated, leaning (with counterbalance) to my right. My partner was lying on the floor, to my right, with her back to me and her head slightly in front of my casters. I expected to feel the buzz in my body, in my chest -- the part that was closest to her -- but I couldn't. I tried again and listened as deeply as I could. Suddenly, however, I realized that the energy force was there -- between my partner's back and the front of my frame -- my chair felt like it was alive. I held still; no, it was definitely in there. My partner rolled up, placed her hand on my arm, and the three of us took off.