When you come into a new space to dance, you warm up. You explore the terrain, and the people you will be working with. You walk around to gauge the scale of the room. You feel the floor, the walls, and furniture for how you might move with them and against them. You sense the others there, their energy, and the spaces being made between you. You work out where the boundaries are that you have come together to stretch. You feel the size of your personal space, and the spaces you share with others. You are only here for a short time, to find and shape your place.
As an improvisor, how you shape your space and time is the fleeting communication you make with others, and with yourself. In a new place, with people you may not have met before, you have to learn know how far you can go.
To start off with, you are given a score to respond to. This can be a spoken phrase, a gesture, poem, picture or sound. It can be almost anything. And after a while you can set your own, and be responsible for that choice. You can break your own rules. The trick is not to get lost, and lose communication with your fellow travellers.
Seeking knowledge of Antarctica is exploring a new terrain. You plan as much as you possibly can, but conditions are unpredictable. You measure what you can measure. You collect what you can find. You improvise, follow your nose and finally trust to chance. You listen to those who know it, and consider their many views. You walk on the ice, lean into the wind, and listen to its silence. And then you come back and try to find ways to describe your place in Antarctica.
Yoris Everaerts dances the cycle of ice melting and freezing.
Dickson Street Hall, Sydney, 2007