Muses Through Movement 

February 17, 2014 by Eddie Bravo

Movement is all around us; gentle branches on trees, dancing gracefully to Mother Nature’s breath. Aggressive bodies march upon the pavement; ducking and dodging each other with precision like worker ants. Castles highlight the sky; firm in place casting shadows, creeping along cement like molasses. To the ordinary eye, nature’s nonchalant gestures are merely routine sights that breathe life into the concrete jungle. Through the eyes of a dancer like mine; Mother Nature’s cues appear as muses, dancing around me at all hours; feeding inspiration to my soul.

When I’m observing movement, I like to attach emotions to what I see and try to envision how I can portray this through my body. We can often watch small details in another’s gestures and apply it to ourselves, making our movement quality stronger. A leopard for example, when hunting has a slow pace in its walk. Each step is powerful, yet graceful at the same time. Suddenly, at the right moment, it strikes swiftly. Watching the leopard’s hunt, I see confidence and desperation move through every muscle in their body. If I use this muse as an inspiration, I would embody this movement by having a strong presence in my own. My chest would be lifted proudly; every step I took would have a gentle strength. When the moment in the music is just right, I would execute my movement with grace and power.

On the other hand, watching movement also brings inspiration for creating work. Being inspired by branches blowing in the wind is another element of its own. Branches and leaves succumb without permission as the breeze controls its every whim. Witnessing the erratic sways, I often see sadness. Like a woman scorn, submissively forced to dance, even if she may feel opposed to do so. Relationship struggles, sorrow, or even an internal battle have all been ideas that have come to mind when watching the breeze blow through the trees.

Finding inspiration is always an amazing feeling, refreshing and exciting to me; however, the real trouble comes when I have too many muses dancing around me all at once. When this happens, it often leads to getting a creative block but to avoid that wall from getting too high, I write down inspirations I find in my notes. When I witness a specific movement in nature or social situation that triggers my creativity, often times a movie will play in my head. I envision dancers moving a certain way, in a specific setting and then place a song to the piece I’m imagining. If I’m lucky, I will be listening to a song and I will witness something that automatically makes me want to use that particular track to what I just witnessed.

Being a dancer, the most common thing to do is categorize your self with a style, typically one that you are strongest in. Through out my journey, I have avoided doing so because I believe labeling yourself puts you in a box. This box often limits your work and determines the type of movement others expect of you when dancing or creating. Conforming to a specific style, to me is like loosing a sense of individuality as an artist. Why label my work when I can constantly experiment with different forms of movement and continue to grow?

Dance is a silent language. Timing, execution, dynamics and personal connection to the music, convey a range of emotions through the movement. I love to infuse multiple dance styles with street dance, not just what is commercially seen but also with classical and cultural influences. By studying my muses that are always dancing around me through life, I’m able to not just exist in this world, but live. From the moment I step out of bed, and place my feet on the ground, I am on stage. The rhythm is my keeper; Mother Nature is my muse; the sun and the moon are the spotlight that guides my path before my audience. As for my dance, it’s a personal confession silently left on the floor for the world to see.