I had just begun to settle into my new job when everything turned upside down.

I know. That’s vague and a little dramatic.  Kind of like the tagline to a generic sit-com. I promise this is more interesting than that. 

As one of only a few newcomers to the Amanda+James (A+J) family, I felt like I started the Nightbirds process at somewhat of a disadvantage. Not because I wasn’t welcomed with open arms or treated as lesser than the rest of the artists, but because I simply didn’t know anyone. That is to say, not personally. Not intimately.

I had met everyone in some way at the audition and exchanged some pleasant emails with Amanda, so it wasn’t as if I felt like a total stranger, just an outsider. 

Feeling like an outsider doesn’t affect my ability to dance. It doesn’t make my muscles weaker or my technique worse. It doesn’t make me feel less creative or stifle my cognitive processes. But intimacy between artists is vital in any creative process, especially when that process is as collaborative as ours.

 Every creative process exists on a spectrum of collaboration. On one end, there is a single creator, dictating their vision to the performers. The hierarchy is strictly defined and followed. I’ve certainly experienced this side of the spectrum. In those instances, it was clear my relationship with the other people in the room was not vital. A close relationship with the others would have been nice, even helpful, but not necessary to the creation of the work. On the other end of that same spectrum, there is a group of artists working as equals alongside the performers to create something shared. Every idea is given equal weight among the group. In this instance, the relationships between everyone are vital. 

 Each person must have some understanding of one another; some idea of how they move, act, even think. We certainly don’t need to be mind-readers, although it could be helpful. Simply, the better you know someone, the easier it is to interact with them. In turn, this heightens the whole group’s ability to collaborate and create.

 I wouldn’t say the Nightbirds process lands perfectly at the latter extreme, but it certainly leans hard in that direction. While Amanda and Jamie are undoubtedly our fearless leaders, everyone’s thoughts and feelings are integral. It is, in fact, a hugely collaborative process. So much so, that being a new face can feel like a disadvantage.

 Forget the dancing and creating part; just being the newbie in any group can be hard. Add composition scores, improvisation exercises, and physical contact, and you’ve got a recipe for awkwardness. And if there’s one thing that makes a dancer feel disadvantaged (barring physical injury), it’s awkwardness. Things just don’t flow like they should, be it movements or ideas. Perhaps you arrive at the same destination, but the trip is a little bumpy.

 Naturally, that awkwardness melted away for me as soon as we started to gain momentum, and my feeling of disadvantage along with it. The movement felt better, the collaboration felt more natural, and even my brain started to experience a sense of loosening. I began to feed off the energy of the people around me, and in exchange tried to put my own energy into the space for others to consume. I was more in tune with the rest of the flock.

 Pun intended.

 Of course, all of this is to be expected in a process like ours. There’s always a little initial awkwardness. That discomfort is always worse if you’re new to the group. And assuming a healthy work environment, it always goes away. So what happens when that discomfort disappears only to be replaced with the tension of trying to continue creating a dance piece during a “Shelter In Place” order?

 This is not a question I ever imagined needing to ask.

 When the reality of our situation became clear and virtual rehearsals became inevitable, I couldn’t help but worry I’d be back to square one, feeling disconnected from my flock. I worried we might all find ourselves feeling this way, despite our now established familiarity with each other.

 Trying to “rehearse” on a video conference call is anything but the ideal collaborative space, but the challenges have not appeared in ways I expected. The awkwardness is more in the logistics. Wifi can be weak, sound can be delayed, and pictures get grainy. And of course, sharing movement (or just moving, period) when everyone is isolated to their bedrooms can be a challenge.

 However, our distance from each other did not create the uneasiness I feared. Even though we were, and still are, very separated, we were able to maintain creative intimacy and a strong group bond.

 Obviously, our prior studio rehearsals helped create that connection. However, there was no guarantee it would carry over from studio to screen, especially for myself as such a new addition. After all, we only had something like six rehearsals in the studio before becoming quarantined. So how did we our connection and intimacy in such isolating circumstances? 

 For one, we were forced to spend most of our time talking. It may not come as a shock that conversation helps bring people closer together, or at least understand each other better. I can’t imagine there’s a way to have long-form conversation between people without getting to know them in a deeper way. Our discussions helped me better understand my fellow artists, stripped away the unknowns, and helped me maintain the creative link that is so vital to the process. 

 I know I’m not blazing any new trails here, but the importance of discussion in the creative process is clearly more important now than ever. 

 Another important aspect of our physically distant process is that we were all creating movement in isolation, and that provided another means of getting to know each other. There’s something special about getting to see what someone creates on their own time in their own space. Almost all of the movement we created during this time was done outside of our virtual rehearsals. Individual movement creation was part of our prior studio rehearsals as well, but being in a traditional rehearsal environment with other people around feels very different. Our “shelter in place” order actually forced an extra, more interesting layer on top of it. 

 The movement an individual creates can be very telling about that person, even more so when they’re forced to do it completely unsupervised in an unorthodox space. Seeing what everyone came up with every rehearsal was like putting the aforementioned “talking” on steroids. Every creative choice an individual makes in an assignment is revealing in some way. Personally, it felt like getting to peak into peoples’ brains more so than I had been able to in the studio. And what is peaking into someone’s brain if not intimate?

 Am I just obsessed with intimacy right now because I’m starved of it? That’s totally possible. Either that or because I’ve been listening to a lot of Drake recently. Mostly his more sensitive stuff. Either way, I think it’s a valid train of thought.

 What this process has done is reaffirm just how important interpersonal relationships are to the creative process, especially in a process so collaborative. I won’t go so far as to say everyone has to love each other. That wouldn’t be fair or realistic. However, I can confidently say that everyone has to “know” each other. Knowing can take on many forms, and for now I’ll argue that it doesn’t even matter which form it takes. What matters is knowing creates understanding, understanding creates intimacy, and intimacy strengthens creation.

 I’m confident A+J and “Nightbirds” will ultimately benefit from this experience. We will emerge from quarantine with so much raw material to draw from. We will be able to work with each other with a better understanding of who we all are. And of course, we will bring with us a heightened degree of… that’s right… INTIMACY!!!

 Jesse Barnett, Dancer