The Choreography of Color Guard

I was unable to attend our Paul Taylor dance workshop two weeks ago, so I decided to share some of my experiences with spinning, tossing, and flicking flags. Color guard has evolved as an extension of my body, and without being present at our dance workshop, I can relate to the concept that dance is a form of physical expression that conveys our ideas, thoughts, and emotions. In my opinion, I am certainly more accustomed to writing as my expressive medium, but reflecting on color guard has made me realize that I have been expressing myself in many other ways, too.

A lot goes into the choreography of color guard. You start out with your signature move, and then base all of your other moves before and after around that signature move. A side note is that my signature move happens to be the yo-yo toss. The move consists of stripping the flag up the pole instead of down the pole and then pushing the pole behind your back, then back in front, and spinning it around like a yo-yo for momentum until you release. I am sure that this move is easier to visualize, so I have attached some action shots for reference.

Anyways, so your signature move HAS to be in your routine, right? Everything else just follows suit—er, well, not quite. Thinking of how moves flow together is the hardest part. Not even trying to manipulate the flag, but how to manipulate the flag with your mind. What exactly do you want? What exactly do you need? What do you want others to want? Need? See? Feel? All these questions, but you only have a minute and a half to answer all of them at the same time.

During marching season with the Spirit of Stony Brook Marching Band, color guard members learn how to march with precision across the field while coordinating arm motion simultaneously. Such a task may be difficult only if you allow for the task to be defined as difficult. In all seriousness, marching while tossing may, in fact, be disastrous. Especially if you end up catching the toss wrong so that the six-foot, metal pole snaps your glasses in half.

We have the spring to thank for our annual Color Guard and Drumline Showcase that happens at the Staller Steps on the third Friday of April. This year, the twenty-three of us color guard members put on a variety of performances, with rifles, sabers, flags, and dance. I know nothing about the art of rifles or sabers, so I usually stick to flags. Literally stick to flags. Sometimes, the silk will stick to you if you are wearing a certain fabric. Gladly I chose my show outfits wisely in order to avoid any flag or wardrobe malfunctions, but these technical details tend to be the least of our worries because we can just throw on a black shirt and call it a day.

So this whole color guard thing—where were we? I do color guard with a labor of love, sometimes escaping rehearsal with a small bruise that turns into a neighborhood of bruises. Practicing over and over again, tediously repeating the moves to be in count with the music and with each other, sometimes going through the choreography at 7 A.M. when all your other fellow band members are sleeping, or at 11 P.M. because you cannot find a time to meet with your group to go over every last detail the day before the show.

Regardless of these circumstances, I feel the color guard in my veins because I make the flag do what I cannot do with everything inside me. If my emotions are loud, I will do a toss, maybe a yo-yo, maybe a pop, maybe a horizontal. If I am feeling dancy-fancy, I will flourish myself with many spins, covering every square inch of my body with the flag so that all you see is the movement of the silk, and not me.

The choreography of color guard is more than just what you see on the outside; the energy is transferred from within.