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Choreography creating Dance Competitions Educators

Been Caught Stealing

Wow this one is a hot topic.

It is increasingly easier to copy choreography, which often results in publicly shaming the individual who stole it.

Why steal choreography?

“Because I have to create something successful and my work isn’t good enough.”

“I have to create a dance in a style outside of my expertise.”

“I have to choreograph 40 dances and how am I supposed to make each one of them brilliant.”

“I’m just not good enough period, and I need to please the customers.”

It took me a long time to find my voice. I didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing when I started choreographing. My earliest efforts were mashups of things I learned at conventions, tap festivals, classes I took at Edge PAC (miss you!). I thought, I couldn’t possibly come up with something as good!

So, while yes, it’s wrong and immoral (and sometimes illegal) to copy someone’s choreography verbatim, I have to say I have a little empathy.

I want to say, you can do it. Explore your own voice. It might not always come out amazing but it’s yours. And the only way to strengthen that choreographic muscle is to work it.

Be comfortable with something not being right or good.

And if you ARE publicly called out for stealing choreography, for god’s sake own it. Say I’m sorry. Say, I’m a huge fan of your work and I was in a creative rut. The worst reaction is no reaction. The longer you wait, the harder it is to dig yourself out of that hole.

And if you do feel like you’re in a rut, visit some of the great works: Paul Taylor’s Esplanade, Twyla’s In the Upper Room, Brenda Bufalino’s Strike Up the A-Train. There’s inspiration everywhere. Let it spark ideas. Ideas that are yours.

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Choreography creating Dance and Social Media Dance Competitions Educators

Tricks

Let’s talk comps! “Tricks win” is a common sentiment regarding dance competitions and judging. Threads inquiring about what judges are looking for is is another common topic of conversation. Complaints about critiques are prevalent. I’m going to break this down.

Executing tricks for the sake of tricks is not interesting. It’s not something I want to see or something that is impressive. 99% of turns in second on the competition stage are not stage ready. A majority of pirouettes done on the competition stage are not stage ready. Aerials are almost always not interesting. Heel stretches (I don’t enjoy calling them that, but you know what I mean) are almost always not done correctly. You see what I mean. I could go on.

When I sit at the judges table, I’m not looking for anything specific, but what does move me and make me excited is authenticity. When a choreographer and/or dancer finds a piece of music that moves them, and the movement follows the arc and dynamics of the song, the audience feels that. They get that. Realness is more desirable than a string of technical elements lacking individual stylistic quality.

BUT if the sequence of “tricks” is executed with technical proficiency, it’s going to score well. We are judging technique, stage presence and precision. Even if I don’t like it, I’m scoring it high if it’s executed well.

It’s true that judges’ critiques can often fall short. A common complaint is that the judges don’t talk throughout the dance, then give a score. I agree that we do need to hear from whoever’s adjudicating. If a dance is very good and I find myself not speaking as much, I articulate that. It’s something like: “I am really enjoying this and that’s why I’m not saying a lot. Your technique and artistry are exquisite.”

If, as we sometimes do, we get a judge that doesn’t really know what they’re talking about, but they at least keep talking through the dance, cool. Honestly, cool. I’m (almost) never mad at that because it’s just not productive. In the end, if we are on that hypothetical professional stage, our audience doesn’t know dance but they know what they enjoy. Connection = success.

If we can take a genre that generally has a narrow audience and bring awareness to a broader audience, that’s what it’s all about. Think: Twyla. If a judge doesn’t know tap (they should, but… you know) yet the choreography moves and has relatable rhythms, dynamics and style, then it will more often than not adjudicate well. If it doesn’t, we take a look at it and see what we can improve, or we shrug it off and try again next time.