Honest & Resolute: An Interview with dana e. fitchett
Summer 2018 I interviewed dana e. fitchett about her experience moving from Boston to Oakland, her training (and untraining), her perspective as an artist, and her processes as a choreographer and leader.
fitchett’s first words about Oakland: “My first day here I was like oh I get it” (205-206). She defines the cultural difference experienced in moving from coast to coast, “For most of my life I could count on at least once a day somebody saying what are you or where are you from. Whereas out here I’ve gotten it like five times [total]. That is a quality of life difference" (411-413). fitchett is aware of the dichotomy in this experience, she appreciates the polite nature of the West coast but is critical of the indirect habit it creates. She states, “I am a person who is not willing to just look at the surface layer of things...people don’t say nearly as much directly to me, for better and worse. I appreciate not being attacked but there are times here when I don’t know what people are thinking" (484-488). For fitchett, transparency is a form of respect: “life is short and we don’t have all the time in the world. It is a matter of respect to let people know what I am thinking, where I am at. I give them the opportunity to deal with it and respond to it how they want to. Being indirect feels disrespectful to me" (493-496). This difference in transparency, how it relates to respect, has been one of the biggest cultural challenges for fitchett when she reflects and compares her experience on the East and West coasts.
Back home in Boston, fitchett was in formal training by age three at a strict ballet studio. “From early on I was in that type of setting where there was a lot of discipline, in terms of how we used our bodies but also behaviorally" (9-10). Around seven fitchett began taking other disciplines of dance at the Jeannette Neill Dance Studio. Although permanently closed now, for fitchett this space provided access to solid technicians, a broad range of representation in the dance world, and esteemed choreographers and performers.
When fitchett talks about her personal dance history and technical training she naturally begins to describe her process of un-training, which was sparked through dancing in underground clubs in New York. She describes her first time: “hours on end of people moving completely free, honoring themselves, not at all doing steps, moves, choreography, or any of that” (54-55). fitchett appreciates the history of the space “as a refuge for marginalized people, the drag scene, the vogue scene, the queer scene, it is a space of misfits” (56-57). Dancing in clubs was “a beautiful, positive, loving, free environment,” that helped fitchett undo a lot of the “implicit and explicit damage that is caused by very rigid technical dance training” (58-59).
The music originally pulled her in. fitchett loves house music, how soulful it is. Starting in the mid-2000s, fitchett traveled the East Coast to follow the music to clubs in many cities. It was a visceral experience for her. The clubs and music highlighted fitchett’s awareness of her technical training, how it impacted her physically and behaviorally. This sparked her attention to the relationship between “who we are and what has been dumped in us" (192).
Critical thinking and the practice of un-training is present in how fitchett makes and approaches work. Her rehearsal process builds “from a place of very staunch, often frustrating insistence, on people ‘being themselves’ in movement" (172-173). She admits that it is not an easy thing for people to do, and that it can be difficult to get people to a place of recognizing the difference. She shares an example:
I’ll want someone to do something that’s very functional, I’ll give them an arm that is just meant to cut through space to get them somewhere. There’s all this additional stuff that happens [for a dancer] and I’m like no, don’t do all that. Just let the movement happen, do the thing that reacts naturally. People’s hands will straight up be like this (demonstrates traditional ballet hands) and I’m like that’s not natural. But people will claim that’s how they naturally hold their hand! (180-185)
There is a clear dedication to uncovering and naming oppressions and working to untrain what has been conditioned. fitchett is committed to the process, the conversations it generates, the questions it brings up, and the time it takes to really work through it. Her mission is clear, to honor individuality and seek truth. fitchett states, “I believe that every single one of us has something unique and distinct to offer" (144-145). fitchett’s goal is to bring herself, and others, space to experience living the truth.
fitchett spends a lot of her time thinking and talking about colonization and decolonization. In addition to her artistic practice, fitchett is pursuing a Masters in Fine Arts at Goddard College. Her focus is on decolonizing and reconciling identity by way of creative expression. To fitchett, creative expression is “giving form to that which comes through us" (392). She finds form in doodles, movement, reading, and writing.
In regard to her approach to work, fitchett is aware of the tension inherent within her goal; how complicated it is seeking to decolonize bodies while instructing people on how to move. She explains further:
The practice of working with people to get them back to the honest expression of themselves, within the container of dictated mandates, of counts and steps—it mirrors something about the bigger picture in real life. I think a lot about the relationship between structure and freedom. What level of structure we need in order to support us to be our freest self. (255-259)
fitchett seeks honesty and the innate. She respects the complex, nuanced, and dynamic role of choreographer and leader. She is aware of the impact of telling another body what to do and how to move and be in space. fitchett encourages the people she works with to access movement from a particular place, to engage with and reject limiting -isms, and to find a deeper truth.
fitchett is aware that her process is not for everyone. She explains, “Some people have a really hard time with it. Have a hard time with how I approach things...I’m really demanding about getting people to the core of themselves and that can be annoying” (207-210). She continues, “But I think I am a great person to work with, in terms of trying to minimize the bullshit. There’s so much bullshit in dance space, in creative space, in human space” (210-212). In reality, fitchett’s process is extensive; it starts long before rehearsal begins and continues far beyond the performance’s conclusion.
On her rehearsal process, fitchett states, “When it comes to generating choreography, I am not collaborative, it is my work. I am very clear about what should go where. Largely because [choreographing] is my [practice] of me getting out of the way, letting a thing happen" (164-167). She simultaneously owns and releases the role of choreographer. fitchett states, “I make the work that comes out" (351-352). fitchett explains further:
Because I have this emergent approach where I want things to come to me, I hate the feeling of making a piece because it’s time to make a piece. I’m always working on stuff. There’s always some music I’m thinking about, some concept I’m thinking about. I’m innately a choreographer. It’s just my nature. I dance constantly, at home, at the club, wherever I can. So, there’s always a piece of me that’s thinking about work. (216-221)
She practices letting the work come to her, not creating for creation’s sake. fitchett believes that the more she gets out of the way, the more full her work is and the more she can learn from her own work.
We talk about dance in San Francisco: “The way that I have experienced San Francisco dance culture so far is in green rooms, tech weeks and in rehearsals" (510-511). Overall, fitchett has received a warm welcome from San Francisco, with ample opportunities to perform and create work. She remains critical and aware that “the dance world is a microcosm of the rest of the world" (503). She notices the lack of representation, however: “There’s not a lot of people of color, there’s not a lot of black people specifically. I think there are more black people on stages in San Francisco than there are [in] positions of power or in the audience" (512-514). And she shares her discomfort in showing work here: “We’re often the only black people in the room when we’re performing…that’s a dynamic that’s deeply rooted and very specific to this country that I don’t want anything to do with continuing...the legacy of minstrelsy and blacks as entertainment" (514-521). fitchett goes on to say, “I believe very deeply in the power [and importance] of what we are doing but I don’t think that that alone can interrupt those dynamics" (521-522). It comes down to who is represented in the audience and who holds power in the space. fitchett is seeking an audience that is energetic, understanding, and engaged.
In contrast to her experience in San Francisco, fitchett speaks about the positive and inviting performance community in the East Bay. She specifically names EastSide Arts Alliance:
I go into the main rehearsal space; there’s a big picture of Malcolm X up. It’s run exclusively by people of color and they have been hustling and organizing for decades in East Oakland. They don’t have a ton of money but all of their money goes to artists. They are not using us to make money for their institution, they are investing in us because they believe it is the right thing to do. (487-492)
fitchett states that this kind of experience and treatment are what keep her in the East Bay. She confesses, “The only reason I go to San Francisco, for the most part, is when I’m paid to be there” (493-494). The East Bay, specifically the EastSide Arts Alliance, more closely align with who fitchett is and the quality of life she is seeking as an artist.
Something particularly enchanting about fitchett is how she talks about her inspirations. Her tone shifts subtly to reveal just how important a person, concept, or thing is to her. She gushes: “There is such a broad range of inspirations. I’ve been a huge reader my whole life, there’s all this speculative fiction that I adore" (314-315). She lists Octavia Butler, Nalo Hopkinson, and Nnedi Okorafor. She goes on to include adrienne maree brown, the author of Emergent Strategy, a book fitchett believes everyone who is interested in change work should read. A second later she adds, “and maybe everyone who is not interested in change work too" (321). She loves Toni Morrison and respects the writing of Junot Díaz. Music and podcasts are also included. fitchett listens to tons of jazz: John Coltrane, Ahmad Jamal, and Pharaoh Sanders. She listens to How to Survive the End of the World, a podcast about the apocalypse, and Library Talks Podcast, which documents powerful conversations with brilliant minds. Of these inspirations, fitchett explains, “I cling to my inspirations like no other because they’re rare. I mean they’re rare but I’m also blessed with many of them because I am looking for them” (299-300).
Her inspirations are a source of truth, “When I encounter truth in all its forms it stays with me. It’s like a tool kit. It’s how I survive the world” (303-304). The books, people, music, and podcasts are miracles that made it possible for her to be here. For fitchett, these inspirations have allowed her to be strong enough to move forward. She does not take them for granted.
Quotes edited with permission from dana e. fitchett.
Images (In Order of Appearance): Bobby Gordon (Courtesy of Dancing Diaspora Festival), Robbie Sweeny Photography, Scott Tsuchitani, Bobby Gordon (Courtesy of Dancing Diaspora Festival), & Robbie Sweeny Photography
PDF of full transcript available. Audio available by request.
Email: CourtneyFJKing@gmail.com