Fragments

My Journey Creating a One-Woman Aerial Cello Show

“You’ll fuck this up. You don’t deserve this. Failure.Failure. Failure.”

These were the words inside my head on March 23rd, 2024 as I opened my eyes sitting atop a trapeze with my cello 15’ in the air. In front of me were nearly 250 expectant audience eyes watching me as I began to play.

These were words I’ve told myself repeatedly across a multitude of stages over the years, including the Lincoln Center.

My whole life has been marked by a dichotomy of absolute belief in my artistic vision and crippling self-doubt and anxiety. I wish that the words in my head that opening night had been silenced. But my self-doubt and self-hatred followed me right up to the top of that trapeze. These were words that others had at some point in my life had been stated to me and thye words that I tell myself nearly every day. Leading up to the show, my journal entries repeatedly reported my self-doubt with entries like: You should pull the show. Everyone will see how little talent you have. You can’t play cello and you most certainly cannot perform well on trapeze.

I dreamed about ways to get out of it.

But I’m steadfast in my commitments. My downfall is my ambition and follow through.

I dream big and I’m able to implement my dreams.

I’m organized and know how to manage a large project. While that implementation process has led to the birth of many ambitious projects, it has also led to an equal number of mental crashes.

Despite the internal naysaying, I worked relentlessly to develop a show that included playing cello in the air. I was determined to utilize my cello as not just an instrument, but as my companion. I wanted to build a relationship with it. I wanted to make explicit what the cello already was to me.

And trapeze.

Static trapeze + cello

Static trapeze specifically. It was an apparatus that in its two dimensional nature presented the perfect way to tell a story. To me it was a malleable object: it could be a door, or a window, or a tree to perch in.

I was in love with it. I decided it would be part of my storytelling world.

Over the past year, I poured myself into crafting my solo aerial cello performance. It meant diving into circus arts, a new discipline for my 40-year-old body. I collaborated with my former English professor, writing and rewriting over a hundred pages to shape the narrative. I produced a full-length accompanying film, refining it with trips to Argentina for scene shoots and meticulous editing. Alongside, I commissioned poetry and illustrations for the show and an upcoming book. I composed new pieces and remixed old music from my catalog to match the script; worked tirelessly with coaches at NECCA to perfect scenes and movements, and received invaluable guidance from mentors like Kennedy Kabasares, Elsie Smith, and Joel Baker. Their support, both practical and emotional, was indispensable.

I felt proud.

My one-woman show was truly a collective effort and was creating countless jobs for creatives.

“You can’t.”

Élégie was the product of my love affair with static trapeze.

I cannot remember when I took my first class, it was sometime in 2021. It’s like it found me. I dove head first into training. Before long I wanted more than I could get from just taking a couple classes a week on trapeze. I began private study. Even then, I wanted more. Someone at my studio had gone to a circus school in Vermont. I listened as they spoke about it. Their experience wasn’t what they wanted, but I knew it was what I wanted: intensity, direction, and challenges.

I began talking about applying. Almost asking permission. “You can’t,” I told myself over and over.

I’d only been studying 1.5 years, and I was 40 years old. It felt crazy to want to go. More than one colleague told me not to apply. Their words matched exactly those in my head.

Something shifted. I didn’t listen to anyone. I ignored the phrase repeating in my mind.

Something deep inside of me compelled me to write to Elsie Smith, the co-founder of NECCA.

I wanted to know if it was even possible for me to go. I had a laundry list of questions. She wrote back right away and encouraged me to simply send in an audition video. I begrudgingly put together a reel feeling meek and pathetic. I had decided I wouldn’t get in. Still, I committed to the process. As I hit ‘send’ I looked away and then shut my laptop and ignored my emails for most of the week.

In a few weeks, I learned of my acceptance to both the intensive program and the performance program over the Summer. I would spend eight weeks in Brattleboro, VT getting stronger and learning about circus.

I was elated. Then I was terrified. I promptly began overtraining as is my tendency.

The “You can’ts” were growing stronger the nearer the program drew.

Élégie’s nest

When I arrived in Brattleboro, my life changed forever.

Élégie’s nest is in Vermont. That is where her egg was laid, and hatched. It was where she was nourished.

As was I.

NECCA felt like a refuge. There I felt understood, challenged, and loved. I could be me. No one thought it was odd that I wanted to integrate cello and aerial work. They simply wondered how I would do it and often helped me solve problems. Everyone had the same fiery intensity in their work ethic. It’s not often I feel a part of a group but here it was different. Still, I was struggling with self-esteem issues. They were lessened during this time but were still an undercurrent that resurfaced once Élégie was truly underway.

My Voice

Ithink I give off an attitude of not needing help and confidence. I’m generally quiet and calm and tend to shut down when faced with emotionally challenging situations. Sometimes, due to this, I feel unseen when I need help. I struggle to ask for help.

My sense of not being deserving of the show that was being birthed was acute. I was afraid of failing in front of everyone publicly. During a workshop, I received an unsolicited criticism that wrecked me in every way. It was brutal honesty that was quite simply meant to be brutal and bring me to my knees.

It did its job in its viciousness. I nearly pulled my show at the Dairy.

I, internally, believed everything within the message I received. My worthlessness was confirmed. I had finally been exposed as the imposter I was. I fell into an intense depression that lingered for a few weeks. It felt hard to get out of bed. I cried a lot. Creative work on Élégie was at a standstill. I made myself train and do the bare minimum but it felt awful and cumbersome.

It brought up every shitty bit of classical music training I’d ever had to go through. It was reminiscent of my experience in graduate school: not being able to keep up and being misunderstood, cruel remarks, and a general want to tear down.

On Top of the World

Recently, after some mental health woes following my debut, I have had some time to reflect about my internal dialogue.

I often re-read journal entries where I track my moods and anxiety levels and repetitive thoughts pretty methodically. The thoughts and levels of anxiety and fear leading up to the show are enormous. And the thoughts after the show aren’t much better. A mental health crisis followed the show that I’m still bouncing back from.

I recently received some beautiful photos from the event and I can see the beauty of the world I created from Elegie. I also received kind messages from attendees and from my prologe performers. It registers and give me happiness but yet, my heart feels heavy thinking of the words I told myself at the top of the trapeze on March 23rd, 2024. My heart feels heavy thinking of the words I tell myself on a daily basis. I often wonder how I manage to create anything at all given the unkindness I dish out toward myself.

From the debut

These words are at odds with the beauty I see in the photos. The photos represent my steadfast belief in my artistic vision. The actualization of that vision. The dichotomy between my internal dialogue and the outward expression of my artistry is becoming harder and harder to navigate. Each project seems to take more of a toll on me. A larger and larger divide or fragmentation between what is inside of me and what comes out. It is hard for me to navigate.

“You will”

Equally present inside of me is the phrase “You will.” A feeling of being compelled to create what I do. It feels like a fire inside of me. It is perpetual even through the worst of storms. It’s a powerful drive that asks me to move and grow. It guides my life choices.

It’s what forced me to apply to NECCA. It’s what led me away from music school and into a career made of community and multimedia work.

My vision leads me along the boundaries of myself and invites me to peer over those walls asking me to cross those borders. However, this drive isn’t one to be regarded with positivity. Rather, I want to understand and accept all facets of myself, including the uncomfortable ones and the optimistic ones.

I accept that the same words which have followed me from production to production and project to project will always follow me. In my acceptance I am allowing this part of myself to cohabitate with other facets. It simply exists and makes itself known. I understand this and do not fight it. I don’t think there is another way.

If anything, I want to understand myself in the same manner as I strive to tell stories. I want to do more than simply cross borders; I want to examine the ruptures and the lives and multitude of narratives within those cracks.

See Élégie live:

April 13th, 2024 7:30pm Anno Domini Gallery in San Jose, CA https://www.facebook.com/events/910910457370360

April 27th, 2024 8:30pm at Highways Performance Space in Santa Monica https://www.highwaysperformance.org/events/cellista-elegie

June 7th, 2024 7:30 Jacksons Lane in London https://www.jacksonslane.org.uk/events/cellistas-elegie/