First Person: singer-songwriter Sam Amidon on working in Dingle with Teaċ Daṁsa on 'Nobodaddy'

Walking in the morning from my Airbnb along the road in West Kerry, a seven-minute walk with ocean on one side and farmland on the other, down to the Teaċ Daṁsa workshop space. I would bring all possible clothes for the short walk because the weather could go through all possible phases in those seven minutes.

Week one: free improv. We had almost all of our dancers, but only three musicians: myself, Mayah Kadish and Romain Bly. Very open feeling, 90 min or 2 hour improv sessions each day with the musicians and dancers together. It could go anywhere.

Very early in the process we started introducing some of my reworked folksongs to the mix, sometimes prompted by Michael, sometimes whatever suggested itself in the moment. On the second or third day Michael read us a script he had written with a mix of dialogue sketches, stage and movement ideas, songs and symbolisms and quotes. As our work developed we saw the connections between these elements, and the show very much comes from that script. We then threw all this stuff up in the air and mixed it around over the next few weeks. (Pictured below by Fiona David : the company in suits and masks at An Ghlaise Beag, Ballydavid).The power of the process was the patterning of it. Each day coming in again, each day pushing further, each day responding to and stretching and going deeper in what had been done before. I would come in thinking “yesterday was so deep. What could we possibly do to add to that today?” And yet something new would happen again.

Every morning yoga, every day singing together after lunch; we were all well fed by Kate Sanderson and Hannah O'Sullivan.

Week two, joined by the rest of the musicians on drums and strings and electronics, a huge increase in sound, took some adjusting but also exciting with the broad palette of possibilities.

Week three, focusing in on the scenes, running sequences of a few scenes at a time to see how they flow. No choreography yet, all of the dancing still improvised, but choosing sequences of songs and ideas and dialogue sketches and motions, everybody watching everybody else, giving feedback, engaging with each other.

When you start repeating scenes, then you have a new challenge. The first time you do something it feels amazing. The second time feels terrible. Then you try and get back to amazing.

I read The Heart In Winter by Kevin Barry. I read Suttree by Cormac McCarthy.  I read Brad Mehldau’s memoir, Formation. I read Bleak House by Charles Dickens. I FaceTimed with my family. I sat and chatted after dinner as the sun went down or the rain fell down. I walked up the nearby mountain and looked out at the sea. I went into town to play traditional tunes with various members of the Begley family and other local cats. I walked along the Dingle Way to the An Bothar pub for a Sunday roast.

Week four, just the string players and myself musically – no drums or electronics this week. The massive reduction in volume gives more breathing room for the dancers to start to develop their roles and for the choreography to take shape.

The costume design team led by Doey Lüthi are there working their asses off the whole time and giving us all a vision to connect through.

Week five, all of the musicians including myself are off, just the dancers with Michael developing the actual dances and zeroing in on various elements.

Week six, myself plus the drummers and electronics, strings still off. Focusing on the rhythms, textures, that side of things, now with the dancing coming deeply into focus after their week on their own. Everything more specific.

Week seven, everybody back together for the first time since week three. Now in the home stretch. Running the entire show every few days, seeing how it feels, then focusing in.

Michael is a world, the dancers are a world, the musicians are a world, together we are a world.

Week eight suddenly a mad dash. September six was our final day in Dingle at the studio. We performed the entire show for a local audience, not with any lighting but in full costume. I thought, “ok great, we’re ready now.” That’s because I had never done TECH before.

“Tech” is existential tedium. But it’s also when all the crucial minute details that make the piece breathe come into existence. [Pictured below by Emilija Jefremova: Amidon with Amit Noy and Holly Vallis]Then the shows. An initial nervous euphoria which starts to shift and settle as you repeat and repeat. However each night is a new audience, each night is a different feeling, each night has surprises.

Seven or eight shows in you achieve a kind of zen flow where you can feel your body moving through all of its required motions in connection with all the other people and objects onstage. It’s a different flow from a musical gig, a new one to me.

Listen to Sam Amidon's recording of 'Lily-O', which forms one climax to 'Nobodaddy'

• Nobodaddy at Sadler's Wells from 27 to 30 November
• Read David Nice's review of Nobodaddy in Dublin
• More dance reviews on theartsdesk