The moment I received the assignment – to choreograph a sequence of a voguer coming downtown to Judson Church in 1963 – I immediately thought of “being inspired by” Twenty Looks or Paris is Burning in Judson Church because I knew that that was the answer to the prompt. Although I decided not to do so, after some research, I settled in “being heavily inspired by” Satisfying Lover by Steve Paxton. I created a simple sequence in my head overnight and entered class prepared. When I saw other students looking at the mirror and creating something original and new, a voice in my head started to conflict: one said stick to the plan which makes the assignment easier against another, which said my work is stealing from Steve Paxton. Also, when I saw Ophelia at the center practicing a series of voguing movements, another voice tempted me to change my choreography to look more vogue. There is constantly a voice in my head that drives me to an easier path of simply copying others’ work and calling it inspiration. At the same time, there is a creative side of me that is actually inspired by the work that I see. With Steve Paxton, it was my creativity that sparked me to explicitly incorporate his work into mine. Yet, with Ophelia’s dance, it was merely the voice in my head.

When I was almost done with my practice, Trajal called and asked for people who were ready. I was definitely ready at that moment: my choreography was extremely simple and barely needed any practices to master the movements. Yet, a voice in my head echoed that I cannot do it. My hands reacted faster than the voice and I got to show my performance to others. The stage was set and I stood backstage gazing at myself through the mirror. At that moment, the voice whispered, “do I look fat?” which succeeded in hindering my concentration on the piece. I peaked nervously out the backstage to ask if I could start when the voice constantly said I cannot make it. Although I correctly walked across the stage once, when I looked back into the mirror, the voice whispered again, “the clothes are too tight and I will not be able to raise my hands properly.” My attention peered away from the dance to my shoulder and my arm. As a result, I incorrectly raised my arms high walking out, while I should have placed my hands on my shoulders. The fear of stage and the anxiety of being observed transformed into a voice that distracted me from the performance leading to more fear and anxiety on stage.

However, the voice is not always wrong. While learning Trisha Brown’s choreography from Ondrej, I thought I had a way of swinging my right arm to imitate Ondrej. The voice constantly told me that it was not how the move is done. I tried to ignore it and continue with the dance. As the length of the sequence increased, the more awkward I felt. When Ondrej gave us time to practice alone, I eavesdropped on the conversation between Sharon and Ondrej talking about the philosophy behind the particular move: the swinging hand triggers the leg movement. It did turn out that my movement was in general mechanical and therefore stiff while the voice telling me to revisit my moves and refine them was correct. The fact that the parrot on my shoulder was right, which is rare, was an interesting experience.