There’s a Peter Allen song I’ve always loved: Everything Old Is New Again.
It brings a smile to my face because it feels so true to how I approach reviving work from our rep.
As we go back into rehearsals, I get the chance to look at the work critically again. Just like the dancers, I have grown and changed from work to work. But before I completely tear something apart because “I know better now,” I have to remind myself of the questions I was asking when I first made it.
Every time we return to an old dance, I have to decide what deserves to be protected and what we’re ready to let go.
And that always starts with a question.
“In moments of prolonged isolation, how do we relearn what it means to lean on one another?”
This was the point of entry for Passages (2021).
Last week Sarah, Derek, Jared and I got back into the studio to begin getting the entire work on its feet. When we first made Passages, it was crucial that the people in the room were people I trusted—people I could have candid conversations with about what was going on in the world and how we felt about being in close proximity again.
What emerged was something so interconnected that I’ve had a hard time ever imagining three other dancers doing this work.
This is Passages’ biggest strength and greatest weakness.
But every time we get it back on its feet, I get to dig deeper into my own understanding of its nuances, the relationships between the dancers and, most importantly, what new questions arise.
“How can I expand without overcomplicating?”
Out of the void; Into new light (2018) was less about the relationships between people and more about our relationship to space and the vibrant score by composer Mark Sanderlin.
The work was a direct response to the beginning of my time with Lucinda Childs and my fascination with how her spatial patterns and genius simplicity could be pushed in a maximalist way.
Originally made for five dancers, the question as we headed into our May incubation period became:
How can I expand the cast without overcomplicating the existing patterns? More importantly, can I simplify enough to allow directionality and rhythm to come to the forefront?
When I watch Out of the Void now, I’m surprised by how much clearer it is with only one more body in the studio.
“How do we find community?”
I began dreaming up Dawned ten years before it actually made its way to the stage.
Inspired by the work of photographer Gregory Crewdson, I was curious about what would happen if the subjects of his photographs all lived and interacted in the same world.
Composer Eric Dietz and I took individual photographs and built sections around them. I, with the help of my partner and RMD collaborator Sab, worked to figure out how these sections fit together, how these characters could lift each other up and, ultimately, who would become the beacon of hope.
But the question has continued to change.
2022: How do we find community?
2025: How do we strengthen the narrative?
2026: How much deeper into these characters can we dig? Where are the gaps in the story that the audience is missing?
The dances keep changing because we keep changing.
And maybe that’s the thing I love most about bringing work back. We aren’t trying to recreate exactly what happened before. We’re holding onto what matters and allowing everything we’ve learned since to push the work somewhere new.
Of course, there’s one question that follows me into every rehearsal room:
How do I pay these collaborators?
Over the past few weeks, I’ve introduced you to why RMD exists, the artists who make it what it is and now some of the questions we’re asking as we build our October season.
Now I want to invite you to help us keep asking them.
The full cost of producing our 2026 New York Season is $40,000. We’ve already raised $22,000, and our fundraising campaign is officially underway with a goal of raising another $15,000.
That money keeps these incredible artists in the studio. It gives us the time to return to Passages and discover something new. To pull apart Out of the Void and put it back together. To dig deeper into the characters of Dawned. To ask another question—and have the resources to actually explore the answer.
If you’re not ready to make a gift just yet, keep reading. Follow along on social media. Come see the show. Get to know these artists and this work.
There are still a lot of questions to answer.
Let’s see where they take us.
See you in the studio,
Robert