Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Out of budget: Working with Cambodian dancers

Disclaimer: The following is reflective of my reality and does not necessarily apply to all Cambodian contemporary dancers.

I've noticed something recently. Actually, I noticed it at the end of last year, but have only been able to articulate it recently.

When I was in Malaysia for the festival, I was talking with the choreographer of the Korean group and asking him how he got started. He said that he had just gathered a group of friends to start training every day, and then found a producer along the way to hunt for gigs, and now whenever they perform, he pays the dancers. Otherwise, he doesn't. He said, "why don't you do that in Cambodia?"

The thing is, according to my experience, such a thing would be completely impossible in Cambodia, as I have yet to meet a dancer who will voluntarily go through training/rehearsals without a firm guarantee of a performance or payment. They might agree to something in theory -- such as my dancers did in the fall before our performance in October -- but in reality their commitment to such a thing is very minimal and I always felt like I spent more energy getting dancers into the studio than actually creating.

Don't get me wrong: as an artist, I absolutely agree that art should be valued and that the idea that artists love what they do so there's no need to pay them is both disturbing and dangerous.

However, I also believe that being an artist also includes a practice of training and self-development, a practice of questioning oneself and abilities. You can't just slap the title of "Dancer" on yourself and leave it at that -- there is always more to learn, always room to improve. The second I decide that I'm a good choreographer and that's that, I stop learning -- and I stop being an artist.

It feels to me as though the Cambodian contemporary dancers have looked out to other countries and seen artists being paid, and as such are demanding the same (which is perfectly legitimate by the way), but have missed the other side of the coin -- the endless hours of doing things for free, or paying to do them, to become better artists and dancers.

For example: my dance partner and student, Dara, recently told me that he would not join the festival in Malaysia in November (a very big festival with lots of groups and fantastic exposure) for less than $200. I had already offered 50-100 and all expenses paid.  His reasoning was that it was his second time. There was no thought in his head -- at least, as far as I can tell -- about what he might gain from the festival. Only the money. Regardless of the fact that 99% of the dancers in Sibu -- and probably that again for the next one in November -- have several years worth of training on him.

Yes, I'm angry about it -- I'm trying desperately to be reasonable about it, and questioning if I'm the one being ridiculous here. But Dara was really the last dancer here I really wanted to work with, and I'm out of options.  I am a young choreographer -- it's going to be a while before people pay me enough so I can pay dancers at the rates Dara is asking. The dancers here are out of my budget, and the disinterest in experience and professional development is the chief factor in making me want to leave. Even Cambodian Living Arts, which remains one of the coolest organizations I've ever worked for, recently nixed an idea for a second choreographic development workshop because of the "lack of hard skills" offered in the workshop goals.

Yes -- I want to leave. There is nobody left I can afford to work with, and I know that there are many other places full of dancers who are hungry to learn, hungry to gain experience, and willing to board a train without seeing the destination. Those are the people I want to find -- not the people who simply hold out their hands and say, "Okay, but how much are you paying?"

I'm not getting on a plane tomorrow. But my focus has shifted, and over the course of the next six months or more, I will be looking to move onto a place where I can grow as an artist, surrounded by other people with the same vision. At this point, I don't see it in Phnom Penh.