Alice Lambert is a sophomore in Gallatin studying dance, literature, and anatomy. She is interested in how art and society fuel one another and in the questions: What creates an artist? What triggers inspiration? How can an artist participate in raising awareness, in building community, in providing relief or catharsis or even just joy? She is particularly interested in trying to embody the answers to these questions through the practice of dance. Nothing Is Lost is one of the ways she has begun to explore these answers. Outside of her classes, Alice choreographs and performers with the Dancers/Choreographers Alliance, loves to improvise, and had the amazing opportunity this year to understudy for Crystal Pite’s company KiddPivot and to perform for Jinah Parker at New York Live Arts. She is extremely grateful to be returning to the unique atmosphere and exchange that can be found during the Gallatin Arts Festival and thanks her three talented, generous and amazing dancers for allowing this piece to become what it is today.
Nothing Is Lost
“Nothing is lost, nothing is gained, everything is transformed,” says French physicist Antoine Lavoisier, explaining the conservation of elements. Newton’s Third Law states that “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” As objects in space, we, too, are subject to these physical laws. But perhaps, more than any other object, equipped with our thoughts and words and actions, we affect each other continually, unconsciously, endlessly.
The idea for this piece came over several different moments: during Leslie Satin’s “Everyday Dance” class which made us play with movement problems (specific restrictions); thinking about my grandfather’s Newton’s Cradle pendulum that I loved watching as a kid; remembering laws of physics that we had to learn mechanically in school; and, finally, realizing that I would not be who I am or where I am today were it not for the people around me. Whether we refer to it as strong “auras,” emotional support, powerful conversations, or influential encounters—this is the momentum that we receive and pass along. You pull me, I hold you, you lift me, I drag you, together we fly, fall and rebound. Nothing is lost.
“I just got up.” It almost sounds easy. How many times have you just gotten up? What did it feel like the very first time, when your muscles weren’t able to hold you up just yet? Sure, now they can, but every now and then you’re reminded how exhausting it is to get back up, to rise. The winds are mighty strong and every now and then remind you that they can take you down, roll you around. Sometimes they make you fly instead, or someone catches you just at the right moment, but every now and then you just have to crawl for a while, and then hold on real tight and pull your entire weight so that you’re in the breeze once more. It can take some time. But I hear that, every now and then, the view is worth it.