We were lucky to catch up with Emily Cargill recently and have shared our conversation below.
Emily , thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today What do you think it takes to be successful?
I think the biggest lesson that I have learned throughout my company’s 8 year history is to not compare myself and my work to others in my field. It is so easy to say ‘Oh look what she is doing’ or ‘Wow, they are doing so many more interesting things than I am’ but looking back (and forward) I have done some pretty awesome things too. Every company’s vision, mission, point of view, aesthetic is different and unique. That’s what makes the art world so ecclectic and valuable and rich. I hold myself and my work to an extremely high caliber and I won’t put anything out into the universe that isn’t 100% up to my own personal standards. I believe this is key as an artist. How do you want others to see you and how do you want to be seen? Maybe that means doing less ‘things’ or not jumping on a bandwagon every time one becomes available. I am very picky when it comes to what performance opportunities my company books and I am known for not doing any old show because everyone else is. I think this approach has given me a lot of freedom and also reassurance, knowing that if I stay true to my values and vision and artistic voice that my work will be speak for itself. And to me, that is what I consider success.
Emily , before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
Well, dance has been a gigantic part of my life for the last 38 years of my life. I began dancing in a tiny dance studio at the age of 3, transitioned into the wild world of competition dance in my pre-teens and then agonized my way through strict ballet training and eating disorders during my teenage years. Not ever knowing anything else, minus the one time I tried out for soft-ball because all of my friends were doing it, tried to catch a ball in the outfield and because I was daydreaming about pointe shoes and tutus, got struck smack in the forehead with the ball and developed a goose egg the actual size of the soft ball itself, I figured the only thing I could imagine myself majoring in in college was dance. I auditioned at multiple dance programs in Virginia and the Carolinas, being from VA myself, and settled on a small conservatory dance program in Northern Virginia. After one semester, I decided this was NOT for me. I wanted more of a college experience, needed to see what else was out there besides dance, and transferred to James Madison University in Harrisonburg, VA. At this point in time, the dance program lived above the work out room for the wrestling team, making for lots of interesting glances as we paraded by in our leotards and tights. (What ARE they wearing????) For me, this is where I experienced my first experimental approach to dance. I quickly took to the vibrant and physical aspects of modern dance and was cast in some of the most zany and avant-garde type of work. I was in a piece where we wore shoes on our hands, for no other reason than to wear shoes on our hands. I was cast in a piece where we wore white clothes wrapped with red duct tape and shuddered and shook, only moving across the stage on the red duct tape that was strategically placed in zig zags all across the stage. I was in a dance to all Elvis music, shedding pieces of our costumes as “Ain’t nothin but a hound dog” blared through the speakers. I was in a piece where we poured red tea on our heads at the end of the dance. I was in a site specific work that took place in a bathroom stall! Like we literally danced in the bathroom stalls. BUT throughout all of this craziness, my eyes were open wide to the magnitude of creative possibilities that existed. Literally the sky was the limit. I learned to experiment, to not play it safe, to try out ideas without any fear of failure. And now, in my professional choreographic life, even though I do not make dances in bathroom stalls or with shoes on our hands (Although maybe I should?), whenever I’m stuck or feeling like my creative voice has stalled, I remember my college professors, specifically Shane O’Hara, saying to us “Don’t settle for boring. Boring is boring.”
Following undergrad, I went on to receive my MFA in dance performance and choreography from Florida State University, then immediately moved to Atlanta to dance professionally with George Staib and Staibdance. I danced with George for several years, had a brief stint in Jacksonville, FL dancing professionally with a few pick up companies, and then moved back to Atlanta where I essentially went on to form Emily Cargill & Dancers in 2014. Since then we have relocated to Charlotte, NC and last year, our permanent home of Jacksonville, FL. In our short 8 year history, we have performed all across the East Coast in such awesome cities as New York, Boston, Detroit, Atlanta, Richmond, Charlotte, Tampa, and Durham. Our mission is to ‘highten the caliber of modern dance in Jacksonville, FL as well as tour work to other cities throughout the East Coast’. For me, choreography is similar to journaling. All of my work is derived from very personal and memorable experiences, not just of my own, but of my dancers as well. We work in a very collaborative environment, sharing memories, stories, experiences that relate to the choreographic subject of the work in progress. For example, my first evening-length work, quiet beings, was created just after I gave birth to my first baby. I was literally in shell shock after the experience and was learning how to adjust to this new version of myself. Who was I now? Did my pre-baby self still exist? What did my new responsibilities bring to myself as a person? Was I allowed to mourn my former self? A flood gate of emotion had opened up. I experienced extreme post partum anxiety and insomnia, as well as a love like I had never felt in all of my life prior to having this child and then everything else in between. I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t know how to uncover this new version of myself. The best and really only way I knew how to cope was to get into the studio and start making work. I just HAD to make a dance about it. And from there, 7 months in the studio with 8 amazing and patient dancers, I created my first evening-length work, quiet beings, and premiered it in Atlanta in January of 2018. The last work we created, entitled cover stories, was also an evening length work which was developed after our 2 year Covid hiatus and our relocation to Jacksonville, FL. So, you may be wondering….is this dance piece about the COVID-19 pandemic? The short answer is NO. The concept was, however, conceived in the physical body and emotional state of mind that the pandemic left us in. Our bodies are different. Our mental, physical and emotional health has been affected. People have become distant. Relationships, strained. Truth be told, this has always been happening in our lives. It simply became more apparent during the pandemic because we had more (plenty of) time to think, to stew, to ponder, to place blame.
So we, as a company, began to look at, dissect, uncover, discuss, share, confess moments in our lives that really stuck out. Specific memories that have affected us or changed us in some way. Relationships that have shifted, folded, unfolded, blossomed, disappeared throughout the course of our lives. And from there, the meaning and theme of cover stories began to emerge.
Ultimately, cover stories explores the journey of the birth and death of human relationships and highlights the complexities with the people in our lives. As the chapters of the work unfold, audience members witness glimpses of remembered moments, and watch as relationships unfold and the layers are peeled back one at a time – exposing the interwoven tendencies of apathy, intimacy, despair, joy and love.
We premiered this work in Richmond, VA as a part of Dogtown Dance Theatre’s Touring Artist Series in June of 2022.
We took the summer off and just had company auditions for the upcoming season and we are set to begin rehearsals for new projects for our new season this October!
What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?
Hearing from an audience member that my work spoke to them in some, usually indescribable and incomparable, way. I love when people have the courage to really let themselves go, and fully immerse themselves in a work.
Being willing to take away their ego and typically-analyzing-brain out of the picture, and become a part of the work by being fully engaged, focused and engulfed in something as fleeting as live performance art, is a really difficult ask. Everything today is grab and go. Hurry up and wait. Scroll, click, repeat. Impatience. But, taking the time to invest your heart and mind and body in a visually abstract landscape for (gasp!) 45 minutes is what makes the human experience human. Connecting to others. Being an engaging audience member. Letting the mind wander and explore and be open is really what life is all about.
I feel fulfilled to know that I contributed to an experience that engaged someone’s senses in a way that they might not get to take part in in their daily lives. Many (most) people don’t really know how to express their reactions and what they felt/saw/witnessed after a live performance but if I was able to give them a palpable, visceral, empowering, human, feeling, then I feel like I did my job.
Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.
We do it because we love it. Not love in the way of, “yea, I really enjoy that” or “I really like to do this thing” but more in the way of “I would not be a complete human being if this wasn’t in my life”. Making art is really hard. Making art sustainable is really, really hard. One of my most prolific professors in grad school, Sally Sommer, told us “Make sure you find a career that can support your passion.” That always has stuck with me. When I was dancing professionally, I also nannied and waitressed and taught at multiple dance studios and had several adjunct positions at several universities. Now add on top of that raising 2 children. Many, many people have told me “I don’t know how or why you do it. If it was me, I would have quit years ago.” And don’t get me wrong, there have been many times I’ve thought to myself, “Why do I torture myself with this? If dance wasn’t in my life, things would be so much easier.” But the problem is, maybe it would be ‘easier’ but it definitely would not be complete. Not even close. Do the things you love even if it’s hard. Even if it seems impossible. Scare yourself – don’t be boring. Boring is boring. That’s why I do it.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.EmilyCargillandDancers.com
- Instagram: @emilycargillanddancers
- Facebook: Emily Cargill and Dancers
- Linkedin: Emily Cargill
Image Credits
Photo of Emily : Trib LaPrade dancer photos: Mike Keeling