Nobody could have guessed how far this 26-year-old tiny dancer with a pixie bob could actually go in 10 short months, but when Chandler Joslin decided to light a fire in her community through the formations, transitions, entrances, exits and connection between dancers in the moving painting of choreography, she did it.
Chandler had no idea what she was doing when she started Joslin Contemporary Dance Company a year ago. She had the dance experience but needed dancers, a rehearsal space, money and time. This devout Christian wanted to use modern and thought-provoking choreography to raise awareness for charity and local issues, but this too took much time and creative energy (for every hour she plays in her studio to brainstorm she may get one minute of what her audience sees on the stage).
Then Chandler learned a friend from her youth was diagnosed with Leukemia. Weeks after finishing college, Reagan McDonald was 22 when she learned she needed to start cancer treatment after a routine checkup. She was shocked. Word got back to Chandler. She knew she wanted to pull together a dance performance in honor of Reagan to raise awareness and, hopefully, money to donate. Time became even more precious.
Chandler's journey was rough. Figuring out finances, costs, costumes, venues and rehearsal schedules was a full-time job in itself, but she was doing it all on top of her full-time job as a Pilates instructor. There were times most of her team could not make it to rehearsal, so she loaded the dance moves to YouTube for them to rehearse asynchronously. At times nobody thought it would happen, and right before the company's first scheduled performance, they realized they hadn't met their financial goals.
She almost pulled out when she received word that donors would fund the entire show. Chandler was elated. Everything was paid for, giving them the confidence to move forward. As the performance gained momentum, the performance, ticket sales and her vision outgrew her original venue. But this also meant they needed to postpone the performance until they could find a bigger space.
Nothing went smoothly until the performance started 10 months later. On April 8, 2015, the lights cast a glowing spotlight onto the dancers" pale purple and ethereal, sparkling gowns. Their arms and bodies moved in slow motion. The dancers" countenance and movements exhibited the light-hearted joy yet vulnerability that comes with dance and life. The mood and costumes changed for the second sequence as the dancers grew stern, their costumes black and white. The music was a monotonous counting with a whispering voice overlay.
"This dance was meant to channel the inner dialogue of our brains every day in a sort of psychotic way…we get so caught up with our endless, wandering self-chatter that is only exacerbated by cellphones, computers and [other] numbing things," Chandler said.
This performance evoked what Annie Dillard once wrote, "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."
Later, three pairs of women pushed and pulled off of each other. They tumbled to the ground and helped their partner back up. Some movements were urgent and erratic while others were gentle and soft representing the complexity of human relationships.
"If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today? And whenever the answer has been "no" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something," a man's recorded voice played during the transition to another dance sequence.
Chandler's dance company is unique from other contemporary dance companies in Fort Worth not only because she dances for a cause, but also because her choreography is profoundly elegant yet packed full of audience-gripping story. The meaning transferred just as elegantly to her teary-eyed yet glowing audience. Some contemporary dance companies emphasize movement that is odd, awkward, jerky and as abstract as a strange piece of subjective modern art that's meant to shock, missing enlightenment. Their outreach typically serves the dance community itself, yet another struggling art.
"I want to speak to people in a way where they connect with time and emotions and go beyond the realm of that first layer of what you feel and what you see. For me that's where I go when I'm dancing," Chandler said. In this case with the emotions that go with cancer and survival.
Later a duet in black costumes - the heaviest piece in the performance.
"My goal was for the audience to connect to it in a way that they felt what Reagan felt and got even a glimpse of the battle. There are moments in the duet where we are in sync and other moments where we are "sharing weight" with each other like I had her back and she had mine," Chandler said. "Even though Reagan's cancer was a long, hard battle, she had many people around her that were loving and supporting her ... sharing her weight."
On the night of the event, Chandler didn't know if 50 people were going to show up. Then one of her dancers found out she was pregnant. Another badly sprained her foot the morning of the performance. Both danced anyway, inspired by Chandler's own determination. They sold 600 tickets and eventually raised $50,000. Donations poured in for weeks following the event, and her dance company was blown away by the amount of support. The turnout exceeded her biggest dreams.
"It's a miracle people came. I thought, what if nobody comes?" Chandler said.
A dancer, too, Reagan was blown away that someone she barely knew from her childhood would do this for her. It was humbling and she couldn't process the amount of selfless devotion.
"They spent a full year of dedication to help someone else. I was super grateful," Reagan said.
The performance ended with all of the dancers moving fast to a more upbeat song in bright red, sparkling costumes. The movements and blood-colored outfits told a story of survival, life, joy and hope. The dancers dropped to their knees and looked up. The show was over, but Chandler doesn't plan to stop there.
