Acting as the first viewer

My best new friend these days - in a time otherwise fraught with real and anticipated loneliness - is my Panasonic RR-US450 digital voice recorder. It's sleek and compact and fits into my front pocket. It wouldn't win a beauty contest against the likes of an iPod, but it fairly blends form and function in a way that lends me street cred as a techno-hipster. Tonight we open things in between. Over the last six days, all of us on the collaborative team - the dancers, rehearsal director, video artist, lighting designer, production manager, stage manager, countless crew and some invited guests - have come together in the true spirit of collaboration with the goal of making the work resonate as deeply as possible. At Dancemakers, we are very fortunate to have the resources of a fully-equipped theatre at our disposal; this six-days of in-house residency then, allows us to not simply paste the lighting and video work on top of a 'finished' dance but to invest in a true dialogue between all of these elements where each is allowed the time and space to listen and respond. My job now, despite how difficult it may be, is to assume the role of the audience, to bring a fresh set of eyes to the work in anticipation of tonight and the next two weeks of performances. At the dress rehearsal last night, I had to build a new narrative for myself as viewer. I entered the space as if for the first time through the front doors at 7:50pm, not through the backstage door. I got a beer from the bar and chatted with friends who were there. I tried to instinctually understand the pre-show environment and discover what I was suppose to do with it, how it was designed to guide my experience...was it clear and engaging, did it get my energy up or enliven my sense of curiosity? I took my seat on the West side (there are two banks of audiences facing each other) in a place with a perspective I hadn't seen before. I look around and witness/experience as if for the first time. And out comes my best new friend. I have always had difficulty with the note taking process during a run. Taking my eyes off of the environment to write down an idea or thought or correction built frustration for the potential of missing something else but more importantly for loosing the kinesthetic and emotional flow of the experience. So Mr. Panasonic helps me to record the idea, thought or correction with my voice in the moment without loosing sight of what's going on. It's working. Efficiency is building and I can act as that first viewer with greater ease.
I define collaboration as a process in which the participants' active contributions build ownership of the final product. If the work is viewed as a success then it follows that the success is shared equally. But what happens if the work is not successful? Is that shared too? Or is it mine to experience alone?