Diary of a Tap Dancer, at American Rep (Photo: Nile Scott Studios and
Maggie Hall)
Looking for travel lanes in the current cultural landscape—one that has become increasingly complex, narrowbanded, detoured and unpredictable—has become a fraught undertaking. Maybe it’s just me and my navigational tools that are outdated or arcane. But I can’t seem to find the currents that feel resonant and rewarding.
One thing does however seem clear: the Zeitgeist is fragile and provisional. So rather than turning to that precarious structure for inspiration, I am increasingly relying on my own home grown guidance system. Ideas and themes that are compelling will take me where they will. While this approach may sound haphazard, random and idiosyncratic, more often than not these ideas end up threading together. As in chaos theory, it’s order for free.
For example, a longstanding compelling theme for me (and one I have written about many times on Slow Muse) is how canonical histories are being broken open and rewritten. Stories previously lost are now being excavated and exposed. I am a longtime fan of Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the Twentieth Century by Greil Marcus, a book that explores significant cultural influences that were often furtive and undocumented. Published 35 years ago, Marcus presages this current moment where traditional historical accounts are being dismantled. Forgotten stories and narratives emerge, primarily about groups who have been marginalized—women, non-Europeans, nonbinaries. The vibrancy in these previously unknown narratives is extraordinary, and many new books and theatrical productions have been built on those new stories. (For a list of Slow Muse essays on that topic, see below.*)
Another persistent idea: the value of stick-to-itiveness. In an increasingly attention deficit culture, the tendency to move on to the next bright shiny idea is ubiquitous and often rewarded in the short term. But many artists and creators know there is a cost to moving on when a project feels difficult or stuck. As Buddhist wisdom advises, the only way out is through.
One of my favorite examples of tenacity is Ellen Wineberg. An artist who turned the front half of her studio into a gallery, Ellen has been curating and managing storefront art projects in Watertown Massachusetts for years. Working primarily with regional artists and makers. Ellen has steadily created thoughtful and provocative exhibits.
This is not a project focused on personal aggrandizement or financial advantage, and it is a lot of work. It is about one person, building community, supporting other artists. As Ellen recently declared to me, “This is what I do. And no matter what, I am going to keep doing it.”
Another salient concept is incrementalism. This idea also runs counter to the current popular culture proclivity to move quickly to the latest bright and shiny. It has been my experience that many projects just need more time—a lot of it–to fully gestate in an organic and unencumbered manner.
There is also the issue of the pace. Near the end of a creative undertaking, improvements are less dramatic. The breakthroughs slow down and shrink in size. Making the effort to move a very large object just an inch or two forward may seem high cost/low yield, but there are many instances when those few inches make all the difference.
One of the best examples of incrementalism I know is Hadestown. Based on a song cycle written by Anais Mitchell who then worked with creative director Rachel Chavkin, Hadestown went through 12 years of relentless fine tuning and meticulous adjustments. It was workshopped, restructured, collaborated upon and polished before it ended up on Broadway in 2019 where it won eight Tony awards. (Mitchell described this process in detail in her book, Working on a Song.)
In Chavkin’s words:
“I think Hadestown has really grown slowly and it’s grown very carefully, and I think the story feels pretty different than things I’ve seen on Broadway. I think with that kind of careful growth, you can still get here and feel like you know what ground you’re standing on.”
With the synergy that often happens in our sensemaking efforts, these three themes—lost stories uncovered, stick-to-itiveness and incrementalism—came together for me when I saw American Rep’s latest production, Diary of a Tap Dancer.
Diary of a Tap Dancer doesn’t lend itself to easy categorization. It is so many things all at once: dance review, historical tribute to the Golden Age of Hollywood, BIPOC Bildungsroman, resuscitation of a nearly forgotten dance form, theatrical staging of a lifelong passion. At the center of it all is Ayodele Casel, a woman who fell in love with tap dancing.
Even though tap has become a vintage and retro art form—as well as one that has been dominated by men–Casel fearlessly snatches it from obscurity and claims it fully, for herself and for this moment. And because she is a gifted dancer who is full of passion and charisma, we connect with her story immediately and stay with her right to the end.
The daughter of a Puerto Rican martial artist mother and an African American father, Casel grew up in the Bronx and in Puerto Rico. This is not a traditional mainstream American coming of age story, but its alternative setting aligns with the many reclaimings that Casel undertakes in this production.
Her personal story–as well as the format of this theatrical storytelling–both embody tenacity and incrementalism. Casel began exploring ways to bring her passion for tap dancing onto center stage over 20 years ago. Diary of a Tap Dancer has gone through countless permutations, each iteration bringing her closer to what it is today.
Casel blends her personal story with her extraordinary tap dancing prowess, and she does that telling with a bevy of seven gifted dancers. Her knowledge about talented but overlooked female dancers from the past (research she did while a fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study several years ago) is extensive, and it is delivered with tangible reverence. Her passion for this art form becomes contagious as she assembles the most extensive evening of tap dancing performance and lore anyone in the audience could ever encounter.
Directed by Casel’s partner Torya Beard, Diary of a Tap Dancer is professionally produced and Broadway ready. Kudos to the entire cast of gifted dancers and musicians. Diary of a Tap Dancer has magic because each performer exudes their own sense of personal engagemnent and passion.
While Casel is on stage for most of the performance, she does not take on the mien of an actor delivering her lines with perfection. Instead she tells her story in a manner that feels unstaged and provisional. That informal tone is an important cue that the evening is both educational and entertaining, and we end up getting a rewarding blend of both.
Diary of a Tap Dancer runs through January 4.
.
.
* Other Slow Muse essays:
Not a Straight Line, More of a Curve