Art in Motion

Therapies....physical and otherwise

2012-01-05T23:14:00.000-08:00

It's a new year, and my resolution is going to be to write more! (clearly I have failed at that lately...) I've had an amazing Fall, with so many job and teaching opportunities that it's been almost overwhelming (in a good way).

In the past couple weeks though, everything has come to a screeching halt in my mind, because I'm dealing with a really nasty ankle injury. What I thought was just tendonitis that I was pushing through for months and months is actually a reoccurrence of an old injury from high school. I'm hopefully going to get through this spring and summer ok through doing PT at AthletiCo (yayyy I am not a patient AND employee there...), including ultrasound and iontophoresis treatments, wearing a brace or tape, and not pushing things. I will be teaching for a session at Interlochen Arts Camp this summer, a job I was so ecstatic to be offered that I cried, and an opportunity on which I cannot miss out. After July, I will deal with things and see what can be done....it seems surgery is an option on the table to stabilize and fix a peroneous brevis tear. :-/

This was the first week of the spring semester for Foster Dance. Tonight I took the class I refer to as dance-therapy....Lindsey Leduc's jazz/lyrical class. The studio was jam-packed the students, oldies and newbies, college-kids still home on break, and dancers fresh to Chicago. It was amazing to see everyone who showed up to share in movement tonight. I got through the class on few-releves and no jumps, but with a full range of emotions from frustration to joy. When I got in my car I was shaken at how much the class had affected me. Lindsey's is one of my favorites of the whole week, and it is always an invigorating, fulfilling, affirming hour and 1/2. This time I was filled with extreme frustration and depression about my injury, but simultaneously a feeling of being supported and lifted up by Lindsey, Ronn, and my other friends and students who surrounded me. Injuries are never fun to go through, and I've been here before. But maybe I can get through it without falling apart emotionally, if I can allow the positive, healing energies from everyone around me to fill me....I don't know how much I believe in energies, but whatever good may come from sending love to my ankle, I will take it!

"My body tells me no, but I won't quit, cause I want more"
-Young the Giant

Foster the Dancers

2011-10-12T17:33:00.000-07:00

I started working at a brand-new studio in Evanston called Foster Dance Studios, founded by Ronn Stewart and Sarah Goldstone. I'm doing a work-study program, working the front desk/cleaning in exchange for classes. I feel really lucky to have this opportunity, and it's really fun to be at the forefront of this studio's opening. By spreading the word to other dance friends, and making the connection between AthletiCo and Foster Studios (I put flyers for the other organization at each location, respectively), I feel like I'm really a part of something important exciting.

The studio has classes in ballet, creative dance, modern, jazz, lyrical, hiphop, MoPed technique (about which I've written here), and Gyrotonics, for young beginners through professionals. It's a treat to be able to take whatever classes I want, experiencing amazing teachers and making new connections. The teachers are former Giordano, Hubbard Street, or Joffrey dancers, or are currently dancing with other contemporary companies, and they teach at the highest level of professionalism.

I even discovered I actually enjoy mopping marley (one of my cleaning tasks). If I can hook up my music to the speakers and rock out while making the floors sparkling clean....it's a pretty good deal (Please tell me that using the handle of a swiffer as a microphone is not solely an embarrassing confession of mine, but of dance-studio employees everywhere...?).

So if you're in the Chicago area....come one, come all, come dance!

Ten Years Ago

2011-09-11T14:53:00.000-07:00

There were anxious whispers in the hallway, rumors, confusion. But we started school as if it were a normal day. Normal. That's almost laughable now. I was in the band room, about halfway through first period freshman Concert Band, when there was an announcement over the loudspeaker that not only two planes it World Trade Center towers in New York, but a third had crashed into the Pentagon. "It sounds like it's pretty bad. Let's end class here today," my band director said. So we packed up our instruments early, as every TV in the school was turned on to broadcast the most shocking live images I had ever seen. My brother was a senior advisor for band, and as we parted, I felt alone and scared.

My second period class was Treble Ensemble, the freshman girl's chorus. I remember walking down the short hallway of the fine arts wing to the next classroom over; I walked like it was a dream, or a nightmare rather. First period hadn't ended yet, technically, so the hall was practically silent. Everything had a hazy quality about it, but maybe that was the confusion in my head, or my eyes misting over. As I entered the dark room, I stood for a moment looking up at the TV in the choir room, practically alone. My choir director joined me, as my fellow students and friends started filing, almost silent in their shock, into the room. Nobody turned the lights on. Was that to better see the TV, or was it because everyone else was similarly in such a deep, dark place that a light would be piercing?

We took our seats and watched in horror as the south, and half another later, the north tower fell. I don't remember crying, but I must have been, or even nearly hysterical, because my choir director somehow figured out what class my brother was in, and got the message to him that I was especially upset.

I frantically used school phone (I didn't have a cell yet) to call my parents, but nobody answered. I was panicking because my dad was supposed to fly that day, and I knew his flight wasn't until the afternoon, but who knows? But then I saw my brother in the hallway between classes, and he told me everyone was all right. He had gotten a copy of my class schedule so he could try to check up on me throughout the day.

The rest of the day was spent in front of the TVs, glued, mesmerized in the horror, or trying to learn something, though concentration was futile.

I got home and was relieved to curl up in our family room with my parents. I was supposed to have ballet class that night. I figured it would be canceled. But class was on, and I didn't want to be counted absent. I didn't want to go, but I pulled myself away from the warmth and comfort. What I found at my studio, took me by surprise. The class was not only full, but even more students than usual had shown up to take class. It was amazing. We had all come for the same reason....to take our minds off, even for a moment, those terrible images, and to live in the world of pliés and arabesque. For an hour and a half, we danced. It was beautiful.

*~~*

Here I am, ten years later, at age 24, still remembering these images as if they were yesterday. I had a long conversation with a friend yesterday about the importance, or lack thereof, of remembering. When are we genuinely honoring those who lost or sacrificed their lives, and when does it become a tacky show of patriotism (or worse, vengeance, hate, and justification for war?)? When should we remember, and when should we move on? And what the heck is up with the idea that if we don't come out with our flags waving and our "Never Forget" T-shirts, that the terrorists have won?

I recognized that people are affected differently by September 11th. Some people, like myself, are sensitive to the images, and remember the day with disturbing vividness, and feel it is right to take the day to mourn and remember. Others think it is best to move on. Regardless, we must move forward to create a better world.

There were a couple sudden and awful terror attacks when I was in Israel. We were told that we do not know what was going to happen, but we must keep living our lives, and keep dancing. Israelis are true masters of resilience. (You can read my post on these attacks, and how I thought of 9/11, here: http://artinmotionblog.blogspot.com/2011/03/no-ones-laughing-at-g-d.html)

I know that for me, there was something beautiful and comforting of being in my music classes when the towers went down. Music, is something that has to power to make us aware of our humanity. Being with those people, my closest friends, provided the best comfort I could find. In dance class that night, we clung to our art like it was holy.

"We must admit there will be music despite everything."-poet Jack Gilbert

?למה ככה Lama Kacah?

2011-08-15T23:37:00.000-07:00

Hello again, from the other side of the pond! I haven't written in a while, mostly because it seems whatever to say lately pales to my adventures abroad. But here I am, fresh to the States again, and I find myself a little lost. More driven and determined than ever, but unsure of what I'm driving at. I have more choices than ever, and while that's a good thing, it's a bit overwhelming.

Auditions has been my focus over the past few weeks, but the economy is struggling, and so are us dancers. The few companies that are looking to hire new dancers are often not hiring women at this time, and if they are, are barely paying. It's really too bad, because I feel like if the economic situation were not so desperate, I would have a dance job by now. When I graduated from school in 2009, my classmates and I made jokes like "Good luck in the worst economy the country has seen in decades!" and "Way to add to the unemployment rate!" But it's not exactly a joke anymore....However, I feel SO incredibly lucky that AthletiCo, the physical therapy clinic at which I worked prior to moving to Israel, has welcomed me back with open arms. It's an excellent job, and my knowledge I gained from working there was really what kept me relatively injury-free in Israel. I'm also so lucky I got my dancing feet in the door of my former high school, and now have the good fortune to be the go-to-dance-sub, have already been asked to teach master classes, and will hopefully continue doing after school programming. Last year, I really found myself loving teaching, and I'm really excited to continue working with high school students. They are enthusiastic about dancing, receptive to learning, and overall really great kids.

With these two main part-time gigs though--working in the field of physical therapy, and teaching--I've been confronted with my long-time questions of going back to school. I've been interested in PT for a long time, but all PT programs are now Doctorate programs now (MPTs have become obsolete). Without many (or any) prerequisites done, and a full 3 years of school, becoming a full-fledged physical therapist is a tough row to hoe. I am now starting to consider PT Assistant (PTA) programs, which are 2 years and with fewer prereqs. At least at AthletiCo, PTAs do pretty much everything that PTs do except they can't make initial evaluations. I know I also would like to get a teaching certificate at some point (probably in English, because so few programs certify in Dance), so that I could actually be hired at a school rather than just sub and do after school programming. ::sigh:: I wish I could *snap* my fingers and have these degrees. (But alas, even Hermione didn't have a spell for instant graduation.) I think that I have figured out my dream post-dancing job. I would love to work at a high school acting as a liason between the fine arts (and dance teacher) and athletic department (and athletic trainer) as a dance teacher/PTA. Sounds like a dream. What school will have the money to hire me? I'll have to show them that my skills are valuable, versatile, and completely worth it. :-)

Anyway, that's in the future. I'm in the now. Or rather, should be. My heart is still in Israel, and I miss Kibbutz Gaaton more than ever. I miss the studio, with its tall, wide windows that looked out to the Galilee. The birds that would fly inside and temporarily distract us all from our pliés and tendus. The goofy pianist who transitioned from Mendelsohn to Led Zeppelin to Disney. The garden outside my doorstep, where lemongrass, lemon verbena, and sage grew. Asking my neighbor if I could borrow a cup of sugar (yes, literally). Or a fruit squeezer. Or a spatula. Sipping a frozen coffee at the café, while shyly flirting with the guy who worked there (for whom I harbored a secret...or perhaps not-so-secret...crush), our words getting lost in translation. Listening to Mika's inspirational speeches about dancing and life. Buying salted cashews, fresh mint, and dripping strawberries from a market. Floating in the Mediterranean.

All of that is behind me now, but I conjure the images in moments when I know I'm losing touch. I came out of the program so confident, so strong (physically and mentally), a quicker and more focused learner, and with a renewed passion for dance. My title of this entry says "Lama kacha?" which translates to "Why like this?" We made fun of this common Israeli phrase, because it sounds silly, translated, but it's used to contemplate an unfortunate situation. So I'm finding myself asking, now that I've returned, why is it like this, and not like this? Because times are still tough. Because, as I said in another post, I have never had anything just handed to me. Because I knew I would have to fight.

And in the end...

2011-07-10T15:00:00.000-07:00

I am writing this entry from Italy, as I decided to meet up with a friend and travel there for a bit after my Israel adventure. It's been crazy busy, full of amazing things to see....and I am currently sans computer (UGH...I'll save that for another entry)....so it's been hard to write. But I must some up the feelings of goodbyes and partings that were so surreal and sad during my last couple days on Kibbutz Gaaton.

The show was excellent, and slightly insane It was almost two hours of high-energy physicality, and it was exhausting. I can't imagine what it was like to perform in even more pieces...because as I wrote before, I wasn't dancing quite as much as I wished (I never got to perform the "mattresses" which was too bad. But I learned a lot from working on it up until the very end. I know that you can fight for something that you really want, and maybe things still won't change. Maybe the casting is set, or maybe the mildly injured people keep on dancing so that the understudies never have a chance. But it meant something to understand that the meaning behind a dance lies not in whom it's performed for, but in the performer them self. A friend told me that "Every run is a performance, and every performance is just another run." That's such a great way to think about it, and it helped me to make the most of all of my pieces.) I truly enjoyed every moment of performing....Sharon Vaisvaser's piece, which I admit I had grown really tired of, I was able to find meaning in, in the moment. Dori's floor work piece, which was the most fun, where I found smiling was easy. All of the KCDC rep, from the "Send in the Clowns" gestural and internal, to the very physical sections from Naked City and others. I really truly enjoyed dancing the section from Matz Ek's Gizelle, in which we were able to use some acting skills and character/story development.

The goodbyes to my friends were incredibly difficult and emotional. I grew very close with a good few of my classmates. We danced, lived, ate, laughed and cried together, for a whole five months, and now it feels truly surreal to be gone. I wrote this last week, right after parting...

"I just left the kibbutz..Left the green trees of so many varieties, the incredibly bright stars, the view of Yechiam Fortress...Mika's inspirational speeches, dancing so hard I can't breathe, hearing friends laugh over Skype, giggling at the most random moments, tea nights, going to the cafe--half to enjoy delicious coffee--half to flirt with [one of the guys who works there], journeying to Tel Aviv to be inspired by Batsheva, and the waves, and the white sand...even grocery-shopping adventures to Nahariya. All of this I will miss, and though I left it all behind me in a physical sense, it will always be here, a part of me now."

If any of you read this entry, thank you for making my experience complete. I could not have gotten through MASA without you, and if I could have, it would not have been worth it. To my teachers, you are amazing, inspiring, and taught me to know dance's place in my heart and in the world again. Shalom, until the next adventure....L'hitraot!

"This is why we fight.."

2011-06-24T16:03:00.000-07:00

This is our last weekend, here at the kibbutz. My feelings are so bittersweet. I had a rough week of dancing (explanation below), so in some ways I am SO ready for a little break. In other ways, I am so sad to leave this amazing, beautiful place. I have also just begun to grow closer with certain friends here, and am so frustrated and sad to leave when friendships are just blooming.

We decided to dress silly for our last modern class...

So, this post has a bit of a different vibe to it, but this past week was really hard for me. I'll explain why...I've realized some things about dance; if ever I said things were hard here, it was not the hardest. This past week I woke up to many things, but also faced even harder challenges than ever before. My emotions go up and down like I'm a teenager again, and one minute I feel confident, and the next, my ego truly lacking.

I won't go into too many specifics, but mostly all these thoughts and feelings are coming from casting choices....what I'm dancing in or not dancing in for the final show, which is in just a few days. I hate drama that comes out of these experiences...You never know what directors are looking for when they cast various parts. I am currently understudying or in the "second cast" for a couple parts that I'd really like to be able to perform more. Specifically, I am referring to the what we call the "mattress" section of the piece called "Screen Saver." I'm pretty sure I wrote about learning this piece before. It is the most physically challenging piece of choreography I have ever learned, and it's incredibly exhausting to do. Ever since we learned it though, I've had this strong desire to conquer this, and to be able to not just get all the way through it, stamina-wise, but to perform it. I had been rehearsing with a couple fellow dancers as a kind of second cast, but I still don't know if I'll get put in the final show or not (though I know I shouldn't fixate on it so much, it really shouldn't matter if I perform or not...). It's frustrating, still, because I've worked so hard and have given this truly all I have. An incredibly wonderful classmate let me run the piece in her place during tech the other day. Mika has told me how far I've come with it, and that I should be proud at how it has transformed in just a few weeks. Still, the second half is a bit weak, and I let my exhaustion show through, which I can understand to be true.

We recently had final conferences about our progress, and so much of what I heard was positive, encouraging about my growth and where I'm going from here, and positive about what I high note I'm finishing on. I was so happy to hear all this, but the casting seems incongruous. Some of my best friends here and I have shared mutual feelings, and we sometimes wonder why we chose the arts as our field, when it lends itself to so much emotional and personal exhaustion. Things like casting should not be personal, but of course we cannot take every decision as a compliment or blow. Everyone says to think of large experiences like these five months as a journey of opportunities, learning, and successes, and not think of the final performance as a culmination of everything we've learned, but just a small piece of it. Abra, my friend from home who did the last program told me that casting really doesn't matter so much as that I should give my parts that I am performing everything that I have; even if it's less stage time than I wish, I can make every moment count. (For example, I have this solo I love in the piece of Matz Ek Gizelle we are doing, where I get to share a long hug with Albert, then wake up to what a womanizer he is, push him away and grand-battement kick him. It's split-cast, but I'll be doing this part in two shows--It's just a really fun applause-moment, and I savor it every time.) I am trying to think this way, but, it's hard. I really wanted to able to conquer the "mattresses," and by that I mean, getting all the way through the piece without collapsing because of lack of cardio stamina, or my quads giving out. Because of all the work I have put into rehearsing, inside and outside of scheduled rehearsal time, I have been able to accomplish this. It's been really amazing, when I think about it, to consider my journey of progress, and realize how I can actually DO this thing now, when I couldn't get through it before. But somehow, that's not enough for me. I feel like I haven't truly conquered it unless my director will put me on stage....So this battle is what I've been fighting all week. It's tough, and it's taken a toll on me. In some ways I wish I could let it all go, and just enjoy these last few days. In other ways, I know that I am a fighter, and that nothing has ever just been handed to me. This battle is something I was meant to fight, whatever the outcome may be. (My theme song lately has been The Decemberists' "This is Why We Fight." SUCH a powerful, amazing song!

Today at the beach

On a happier note, I have been able to take my mind off this and my aching muscles by hanging out with great friends this weekend. Last night I had a BBQ/picnic with some friends, then watched Harry Potter 6, and continued to laugh the night away until we were giddy. Tonight I revisited the classic Center Stage with a friend. I also went into Nahariya and spent time lounging at the beach, closing my eyes and listening to the waves. I also swam for a few minutes, though the waves were choppy and the shore rocky. Nature, relaxation time, memorable experiences with friends...it reminded me to take a step back from this show that it is not the end-all-be-all of my time here, and that what I've learned goes beyond the stage.

To read, write, dance or sleep, that is the question...

2011-06-01T13:32:00.001-07:00

SO much going on here at the Dance Village on Kibbutz Ga'aton!

My parents came to visit last week, which was awesome. The couple times I've seen people from home it feels almost strange (great, of course, but strange) to see them here...like they've just rocked my little MASA-dance world, and it's a bit mind-boggling. Having my parents here though, didn't seem strange at all, even though I expected it to be a clash of worlds. It was almost as i had been imagining their presence all along, or perhaps, with regular Skyping, it was as if they actually were here.

They spent some time in Jerusalem, and then came to visit me at the Kibbutz. The class they observed was a good one to see, because there was lots of action--It was a Rep rehearsal, putting together a section from "360." They seemed to enjoy wandering around the kibbutz and enjoying the beautiful, flowering, sweet-smelling scenery (Can scenery be sweet-smelling?). And I think found the cafe as wonderful and delicious as I do. :-)

We went to Tzfat that afternoon, which is probably my favorite city in Northern Israel. It is home of Jewish mysticism, the center for jewelers and artists, and the location of beautiful old synagogues. The covered, cobblestone ally where the artists sell their work reminds me a bit of the Old City of Jerusalem, and I absolutely love the atmosphere and the picturesque view of the Galilee. From the first time I was here on Birthright, I fell in love with this city! I’m so happy I got to share it with my parents.

Ally in Tzfat

My dad’s birthday was actually that day, and we celebrated that night at Café Café in Nahariya. What a great place. Delicious as always.

View from cafe in Tzfat

We then drove to Tel Aviv along the coast, getting a bit lost while trying to find our way around the handle of Haifa. But everything eventually worked out, and we arrived in Tel Aviv in time to walk through Shuk HaCarmel (the main market in central TLV) to end up at Nachlat Binyamin (one of the main streets that hosts an arts/crafts/jewelry fair, created by local artists, every Tuesday and Friday). Wandering through the market, grabbing a bite to eat, and browsing the art fair is one of my absolute favorite things to do in the world, and I'm glad my parents experienced it as well.

Our hotel, the Hilton, had a gorgeous view of the Mediterranean. My dad and I took a walk along the coast, north to the Port after dinner; it was fun to see everyone out and about, even on a Friday night here (which is Shabbat, but Tel Aviv is a pretty secular city, so tons of cafes/restaurants/bars are still open).

View from the Hilton Hotel

The next day, I took them to my favorite places around the city....my favorite cafe (called Zorik, on Yehuda Maccabi a little east of Ibn Gvirol), which has a fun, lively atmosphere, comfy chairs/couches, friendly service, and taim maod (delicious) coffee, lemonade, and all kinds of food. We traveled south to Rabin Square, which I thought my dad especially would like to see. I think my mom was a little underwhelmed with the memorial. I never really thought about it, that he deserved more than a corner dedicated to him, which a plaque, some stones, a flag....I don't know though, for some reason it seems fitting to me. There is a wall with preserved graffiti and newspaper clippings...pictures of Rabin and Arafat shaking hands, with Clinton in the middle. The feel of the whole corner is informal, ordinary, or even run-down in a sense. But it seems to fit the fact that he was fighting for the common man, the ordinary Tel Avivan, to live in peace, and it also fits the irony of those dreams having been shot down, right there in that spot.

We also (of course) went to Neve Tzedek, the beautiful, artsy area in south Tel Aviv where Suzanne Dellal is located. I showed them the studios where I take Gaga class, where Batsheva rehearses, and the shops...I love this area so much. The residential area is so picturesque, and the theatre area is just beautiful. Most of the shops were closed, because it was Saturday, but the theatre area was still bustling, and the famous ice cream shop, of course, was open for business. Well, that about sums up their visit!

I absolutely need to write about the book series I just finished which I became...well...pretty much obsessed with over the last 6 weeks or so. It's the trilogy, the Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins. I brought the first book with me, and started it around the time that we went on our trip to the south. Literally, I could not put it down. I love reading, but seriously, I have not been so fully captivated and all-consumed by a book, probably since I became enthralled with the world of Harry Potter (circa age 14). Anyway, I was so drawn to this book that we were hiking Masada and I was honestly thinking..."I wish I was reading right now..." I ordered the second and third books online, and literally, when I finished the second, immediately picked up the third. I don't know how to categorize them; think 1984 meets Enders' Game meets Harry Potter. The premise of the books is: in a dystopian future-North America, the government imposes it's power over the people by creating an annual lottery, where the "winners"--all children between 12 and 18--must participate in a fight to the death.

It's technically Young Adult series, but honestly, they are so dark and disturbing at parts, I don't agree with that categorization. But they really resonated with me in the present time and place. I was reading the second one around the time of Holocaust Remembrance Day and Memorial Day; the books seemed to speak directly about my life here and now, about survival, retaining our humanity, the will to sacrifice, embracing love, and choosing life. I finished the 3rd book just last week. My roommate had gone to bed, and I was starting to get choked up, so I finished the final pages outside my apartment door. Then I took a 1am walk around the kibbutz because I was crying my eyes out and couldn't shake it. I won't give anything away, but it's clearly a very bittersweet ending. Very fitting though, in my opinion. Anyway....very powerful...read it!

Much of this entry was written in a dark theatre, as we are in tech for Nizotzot ("sparkles"), which is our choreographer's showcase. After many technical difficulties involving making a projection of screen captures of Skype conversations, and some complex editing of music, I think I've thoroughly been a pain to the people running my lights and sound....There were still a few lights/sound/movement cues that weren't in synch today, but I hope it goes better during our dress tomorrow. We had our last studio rehearsal last night, though, and my dancers made me very happy! Dance-wise, I think it's really come together, and I hope that the final product will prove that as well.

In general, we are just dancing harder than ever. At the beginning of last week, we started working intensely on a section from "Screensaver." I kid you not, it's the most physically challenging piece of choreography I have ever encountered. In this section, we are dancing (rather, jumping, pas de bourreeing, arching, flinging, and falling) on mattresses. The mattresses absorb all of your weight, so you sink down as you land, and finding the momentum to jump again is the most difficult thing, muscularly and cardiovascularly. The piece is essentially about war--We were given the image of being shot to hold in our mind, as we struggle to keep going. "People keep pushing you down, but you want to live," Mika told us. The emotion of the piece, combined with my will power to want to prove that I can do it, that I can beat my body's limitations, is what keeps me going. Still, it's so incredibly hard, and I haven't been able to get all the way through yet. After the last run-through of the day, I went up to Mika to explain my frustrations--I want to do it so badly (and for me, being so physically strong, it's weird to find myself in a situation where I really can't do something), but no matter how much I tell myself to keep going, my body doesn't obey. It kills the quads the most. And about 3/4 of the way through, I get to the point where my muscles literally stop firing. Of course, I ended up tearing up as I explained how frustrated I am, but I was comforted by the fact that it's difficult for everyone, even all the company members who have done this part before. It will get easier, I was told, and I hope it's true. I really want to be able to do this part, if only just to accomplish it for myself.

So after the Nizotzot show in a few days, this is what I'll be faced with...sore quads and a stiff back. But I'm ready...bring it on. :-)

So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void. -From You've Got Mail

Holidays in Israel, Gaga and fun in Tel Aviv

2011-05-17T13:41:00.000-07:00

My time to write is suddenly diminishing, it seems, amidst an increase of rehearsals, holidays, and trips...I'll write first about the holidays. About a week ago, following on the heels of Holocaust Remembrance Day by a week, was Memorial Day in Israel. The very next day is Independence Day. I wasn't sure how this would play out...I understood that the mourning for the fallen soldiers turns to joy and celebration, but to me it seemed strange to have them so close together. But being here, living through it, made me understand.

The evening before Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day, there was a ceremony on the kibbutz to remember and honor the soldiers from Kibbutz Ga'aton that have been killed in action. It was a beautiful, but also emotional ceremony, as the images of the four soldiers' lives were captured in photo montages. I danced in a little piece we were asked to put together. It wasn't much, but the kibbutz members thanked us and seemed very grateful for our contribution.

The next day, on Memorial Day itself, there is a siren at 11am for 2 minutes. We had class that day and were in the middle of ballet class. My teacher wanted us all to be able to observe the siren, so we stopped after adagio, collected ourselves, and many of us went outside. This siren is twice as long as the one for the Holocaust Remembrance Day, and standing there for the full two minutes felt simultaneously strange but right. Anyway, the siren was nice to observe, but I didn't realize how much it jostled my thoughts until we reentered the studio and it was suddenly time for pirouettes. I had no balance anymore. I couldn't turn. And I barely knew what the combination was. I think it was during petite allegro that I actually left the studio....Since the siren, I really wasn't "there" anymore. I took a few minutes for myself on a bench outside before returning for the rest of our classes that day, finally feeling somewhat collected again.

I don't know why most of us don't observe Memorial Day this sincerely in the US. I guess it really shouldn't be a day for BBQs...It's really a day that we should remember, appreciate, and honor those who have fought and died for their country's right to exist...(regardless of political affiliation!) Especially here in Israel, sovereignty is something that many people still question, and there are rockets and terror attacks to prove it; people here are still fighting and still dying. The memories are fresh, and I see and understand that level of observance here.

Later that night, there was to be a ceremony/celebration to ring in Independence Day. This is what I was wary about, because I wasn't sure what to expect, and I couldn't believe that casting off the mourning attitude and changing so rapidly to celebrating would be....respectful. Well, I was proved wrong, because the ceremony was amazing and explained...everything. Bonfires burned underneath structures that seemed to spell out words and shapes. After some speeches, the ends of the metal words were lit afire by torchbearers, and the shapes burned and blazed...a star of David, a menorah, and Hebrew celebratory phrases...also a plea for Gilad Shalit to return home (kidnapped and held by Hamas for 5 years), a wish on which it seems nearly all Israelis are united. It was truly moving. Later in the ceremony, candles were lit by pairs of people, each couple representing a different group of kibbutz member (the older generation, the new soldiers entering the army, different groups of workers, and of course....two MASA dancers representing KCDC and the Dance Village!!). We cheered so loudly, and the mood began to turn to celebration. At the end, we sang Hatikva (the national anthem), and I felt proud to be one of the dancers who knew the song...so many thoughts and emotions at this moment! And so we continued the night with much celebrating...The next day was a full day off of class, and we were invited by Roni, our program administrative director, to her beautiful house for a delicious BBQ. I won't be home for the 4th of July, so this totally fulfilled my yearly quota for a fantastic Independence Day. :-)


View of the Mediterranean from one of the Batsheva studios

So...fast forwarding again to this past weekend, which I spent in Tel Aviv...I ventured out of the Galilee region for the first time in many weeks, for an almost vacation-like, much-needed break. I took two back-to-back Gaga classes, which was wonderful. The first class was a Gaga-People class I took with my friend Eldar, which was a great warmup to Gaga-Dancers, which directly followed. In the first class, the teacher used a considerable about of Hebrew--most was translated into English, but I was really excited because often I could figure out what he was talking about even before the translation--I know body parts, directions, and certain adjectives. So that was fun. This class was a great way for my spine to start to feel mobile, my body awake and alive, and to remember how wonderful it is to be moving and grooving, in Tel Aviv of all places. The Gaga-Dancers class didn't differ from a People-class as much as I would have expected...it just used some ballet terminology, and was a bit more physically rigorous by the end. Regardless, both felt excellent.

Corner of Nachlat Binyamin, Shuk Hacarmel, and Allenby, central Tel Aviv

The remainder of the weekend was spent with good friends...Eldar who I met in Gaga class in 2008, my dear friend Abra from home who did the MASA program last fall and is now living in TA, a friend/very distant relative who I stayed with when I lived in TA three years ago, another good friend, fairly recently released from his Intelligence Officer duties who I briefly dated, when I lived in TA, and many fellow dancers who also ventured to the city. Besides running around, being a little crazy trying to see everyone, I also made time for relaxing on the beach, reading at a cafes (one had live jazz), drinking a lot of delicious iced coffee, going out for sushi and thai food, and walking my favorite parts of the city (the shuk (market) and arts/crafts fair). ::Sigh:: My favorite city!

I am so excited because my parents will be here in a WEEK! And I will take them around Tel Aviv and show them all my favorite spots. :-)

Dancing in Memoriam

2011-05-03T14:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel, called Yom Hashoah. We had a day off of classes, but I woke up in time for the siren that sounds at 10am. Even though we were up late the previous night in tech for our performance until 11, I wanted to observe the siren properly (i.e. not in bed), since this would probably be my only time to experience something quite like this.

So I walked to the front gate, passing only a few people along the way (though the kibbutzniks that I did pass seemed to be outside their houses or places of work, perhaps also preparing for the siren). The sound went off just as I was approaching the gate, and I stood for the remaining of the 60 seconds (that represents the 6 million) at the road junction. It was so strange...I saw nobody, heard nothing but the siren expect for one truck that probably couldn't hear it go off. After it ended, I heard the echoes of other sirens dying down, the sound slightly distorted, from other towns. And then--silence--and chirping birds. Next, I saw a few cars pass that probably had been stopped on the highway where I couldn't see. And then the day proceeds...

It would have been a totally different experience if I had been in Jerusalem, or some place where traffic comes to a standstill and everyone comes out of their houses/cars and observes that minute. I was a bit disappointed I couldn't have had this experience, but at the same time, it was special to observe in my own quite kibbutz-like way. I also reflected, after the 60 seconds, that here in Israel, we always talk about the 6 millions. I feel like it's crucial to remember that there were 5 million others....gypsies, homosexuals, dark-skinned, handicapped, etc. that were also killed, not for any reason at all, and killed by other humans....ugh...I can learn about it so many times and it never gets any easier.

Then, last night, we also had a performance at the kibbutz called Lochmei Hagetaot, which means "Ghetto Fighters' House." It is a kibbutz that was founded by Jewish resistance fighters during the war, and every year, there is a large ceremony on Yom Hashoah (perhaps one of the biggest ceremonies, second to in Jerusalem at Yad Vashem). We performed a section of Aide Memoire, KCDC's famous Holocaust memorial piece by Rami Be'er. The experience ended up being truly moving for me, one of the most meaningful performances I've ever been a part of.

I admit I was possibly more nervous beforehand that I have ever been in my life, before a show. There were so many crazy factors to this performance that made it quite...interesting...and the tech the night before a little terrifying. The stage setup, mostly, is what made it so crazy. In this piece, a train of walking dancers that we call the "snake" weaves around while highlighted dancers exit out of this snake to dance combinations. The snake, for this show, was walking on elevated boards, that were at times a bit shaky. The dance combinations happened off of the planks, on the main stage, which was actually just made out of stone or at times was vaguely gravel-like. There were also art pieces dotting the stage, constructions of wood that cross liked a twisted cage or something. We performed in gym shoes so as to not get hurt, and we also had to make numerous last-minute alterations due to the space. To add on top of this, the lighting was a bit intense, with lots of colors and strobes that were pretty distracting to me. I asked Mika if she could talk to the lighting people to tone it down, but she said she already did and the lighting cues were programmed to the music and apparently couldn't be changed...

Anyway, I went into the show feeling pretty nervous about how it would all go down (on Israeli national television). I also was feeling pretty emotional, in the spirit of the Holocaust--the stage backdrop constructions were all reminiscent of cages and fences--and the screens were displaying scenes of trains to the death camps. What really hit me was the night before at tech, Mika told us when we run (and there is a lot of running in the piece), to "run like there is no tomorrow, like you are heading to the gas chambers." I gave an involuntary shudder when she said that, and it really drew home the meaning of the piece for me. In fact, Mika is generally full of inspirational quotes that I attempt to remember. Right before going on, she said, "There are a lot of young people in the audience, they are the next generation that needs to remember what happened. Everyone is speaking with their words, but we are speaking with our bodies....showing that we are here and we are here to stay."

I didn't even have to try to channel all this emotion into my dancing. It was already there.

Many of us ran off stage feeling that we messed up, lost the counts, or were thrown off by other unexpected occurrences (a man walking on stage and reading a speech in the middle of our dance while our audio was turned down...). Most of us felt like it was a "big balagan" (big mess)....But when we saw the video, we realized how together it actually was, and how, despite technical issues, we really were feeling each other in the spirit and in the movements. I really feel honored to have been a part of something so special and important, in Israel.

Here is the video (sorry, poor resolution)...

"I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides."

~Elie Wiesel

Batsheva workshop, traveling, Pesach in Israel

2011-04-19T07:24:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in a while, because I've been so busy but some good things have happened. We had an all-day workshop on Sunday with Batsheva Ensemble member Lotem Regev, and from the moment I stood to wake up my body in the Gaga warmup, I remembered how much I enjoy Gaga; I loved every moment of floating, shaking, quaking, and "connecting to the passion and pleasure" of moving. As opposed to when I lived in Tel Aviv three years ago, and the Gaga-Dancers classes hadn't been built up as a program yet (I was taking Gaga-People classes, which was open to the general public/non-dancers as well), this class was designed for us--for dancers. I have loved all the general Gaga classes I have taken, and I'm grateful I've have a solid base of pure Gaga before mixing it with plies and tendus. However, there was something that felt so good about this Gaga/modern/contact hybrid class, and I felt more awake and alive than in quite a while.

We did a bit of partner-work in the beginning part of the class, and Lotem was the closest person to me, so we grabbed each other as partners. Normally I would be nervous to be the one to work with the teacher, but he put me at ease, and I felt I was working with a peer. The work we did was like a mini-massage, which felt amazing...really, just what I needed right now with my body feeling so tired.

After Gaga, we had two long classes of learning Batsheva first. First we learned the unison section from Kamuyot; it is a beautiful section of slow but precise movement interrupted by pauses every four counts or so. I felt that the choreography was so simple in some ways, but very beautiful in its clarity and energy. During the holds, (there was a musical cue to go on to the next movement) it was interesting for me to practice having a line of energy and still feeling the movement as alive, even in what seems to be a static pose.

The second bit of rep we learned was from MAX, and it was....crazy. It look us over an hour to learn the first 4 counts of eight! This section is a type of language he devised so that each count represents a movement (more like large gestures). We learned three sections (each 4 counts of eight); In each section each block of 8 counts we would either perform the corresponding movement, or hold. Each count of eight there were different counts that were either emphasized or held, so it was so difficult to remember what we were doing for each of the four sets of eight. Anyway, it was really intense learning, but we were also laughing through it all. None of us were geniuses at it, but it renewed my appreciation for the genius of Batsheva dancers for being able to master this!


Stream in the Judean Desert

Hmmm well I know that many things have happened since I last wrote....we had a trip earlier in the month to the south of Israel, where we did a workshop with Kamea Dance Company in Beersheva, at the famous Bat-Dor school, hiked in the Judean desert, climbed down (and partway up) Masada, swam twice in the Dead Sea, and spent a beautiful evening at wonderful Bedouin accommodations. Everything was invigorating and the weather was excellent. I was especially amazed with the Bedouin rest spot. In contrast to the place we went on Birthright (which was beautiful, but just one big tent with mattresses all around), this was more like a whole campsite. We had tents for about 5 people each that were more like cozy cabins with bunk beds and hammocks outside. It was amazing, and the food (sweet tea, pita, hummus, tahini, many kinds of vegetables, and chicken) was delicious.

Bedouin tent

Last week, my brother Jason came to visit! He squeezed Israel into the middle of a Europe trip, so he was only here less than three days, but we had a really awesome time. He came to classes with me, and I was actually surprised he seemed really interested in watching what we were doing. We took an evening adventure to Haifa, where we saw the Bahai temple/gardens and had an amazing pita/hummus/pasta/cheesy dinner. It was so awesome to spend time with him here, I feel like it's so hard to describe this life I live here, so you really just need to come and see it to understand. Also, I realized that I live in such a rural, woodsy, green place, whereas he lives in the financial district of Manhattan. Pretty much polar opposites. I know I explained the nature of where I live, being on the outskirts of the country, but I think it still surprised him--the first thing he said to me was "Wow, you REALLY live in the middle of nowhere!" :-) It's also funny, in a good way though, seeing people from home here. It's like two worlds of mine collided...


Bahai garden/temple in Haifa

Last night marked the beginning of Pesach, or Passover here. We were all placed with host-families with whom to celebrate a seder and traditional dinner. A number of us went to the neighboring kibbutz of Yehiam. We met at a family's house (Brazilian/Israeli dad, Tunisian/Israeli mom, son who is an Army officer, and musician daughter) and then went to the community dinner in the big kibbutz dining hall. (This was the first time I really felt the community spirit of a kibbutz, in this large festive seder--What used to be the community's large dining hall on Ga'aton is now our dance studio...I know they have another one somewhere, but I've never been there.) I mostly loved singing "Echad Mi Yodea" with a huge group of people...each table was assigned a number, and we stood up and twirled napkins when we got to our turn (ugh, I only wish we could have learned the Batsheva choreography during our workshop!). The haggadah was all in Hebrew, but I was able to generally follow along, and I was explaining the story along the way to one of my fellow non-Jewish dancers sitting next to me.

We went back to our host-family's for tea afterwards, which was amaaaazing. Oh my gosh. I love tea, but I need to learn how to make it like this. It was three herbs combined--"Nana," which is Mediterranean mint, which is very poplar here, plus "Louisa" and "Melissa," neither of which I was familiar with. It was minty and naturally very sweet and refreshing. We listened to the daughter of the family sing and her boyfriend play guitar. After a couple hours of this very chill and wonderful time, we went to the pub to ring in Passover. L'chaim!

Inspiration in Tel Aviv, fatigue, and emotions

2011-04-01T08:31:00.000-07:00

Two days ago, we had day-trip to Tel Aviv, which was amazing--It was wonderful to get out of the kibbutz for a bit, wander the streets of the city I love so much, and experience the sights, sounds, and smells of Shuk HaCarmel again (the main market). We came primarily for a MASA event that evening, which was an "arts and culture" night. We got to pick one of three activities to attend; (one of which was seeing KCDC perform "Transform." I've already seen the 2nd Company perform this twice though, so I chose a different activity) I decided to see a duo performance of novelist Eshkol Nevo and musician Shlomi Shaban. They were fantastic--both of them being talented artists, it was inspiring to be surrounded by fresh art. Eshkol read sections from one of his novels and also some short stories, mainly regarding youth, moving to a new home, and rekindling friendship. Shlomi Shaban, who I had only vaguely heard of before, is a really talented, classically-trained pianist turned....I don't know, rock/jazz/singer-songwriter. I'm definitely going to look up his music on itunes now. His songs (though in Hebrew, so I had to extrapolate from the brief English introductions he'd give us) seemed also to often be about the challenges and excitements of starting a new life, family, and separating from/reuniting with friends. Since I am lucky enough to be able to hear a lot of live music at home, and haven't as much here, it was really nice to see this live performance. During the question and answer section, they spoke about the importance of keeping art alive, staying inspired, and allowing your changing surroundings to inform your creativity.

The only downside of all this was, we got back to the kibbutz at half past midnight, and had a full day of classes the next day. Our classes were pushed back a bit later, but I still didn't sleep very well. The next day I was exhausted and felt like I really might not be able to physically or mentally muster the energy I needed. In Rep with Mika, we needed to run a bunch of sections we've learned, all quite physically demanding. But more than that, it was mentally challenging for me, because these were all sections we learned a mostly while ago, and I've been going over, but was not quite confident with all of them. After only a brief review of each segment, we needed to split into small groups and run it. I felt so much pressure, like it was an audition (and in a way I think it might have been a bit like that, because they are going to have to delegate parts at some point...), and the exhaustion was weighing on me. I conjured every ounce of energy and adrenaline (and had some coffee/tons of water/fruit/protein) I had, and focused harder than ever before. And somehow, I got through....and I think I did pretty good considering how exhausted I was! By the time our lunch break came, I felt like I was about to crash. Too bad I still had ballet and rehearsal that evening....

I guess I learned that just as important eating and drinking well is will power. I could not have gotten through that day without the pure will to go on, and the desire to dance as well as I could.

A couple days before all of this, most of us got together and talked about how we are feeling about the program thus far. Surprisingly (to me), there were quite a few people with strong emotions...homesickness, overall fatigue/exhaustion, feeling stuck (rather than liberated) in the kibbutz....I am lucky--I don't really feel it like this. While I got teary-eyed too, talking about my family and our parting two months ago (and confessing to everyone what a wreck I was when I got on that plane!), I'm actually really savoring my time here and am appreciating (or trying my best to) every moment. As I said before, I'm clearly so exhausted and pushed to my limits too. I get stressed easily and sometimes I feel really anxious as well, but this program is also clearly good for me mentally too, to put out of my mind anxieties about what I could be doing, or fears about the future....I just try to remind myself every day how awesome it is to be dancing this much again every day, taking part in so many workshops and master classes, and living here with these beautiful surroundings!

No one's Laughing at G-d

2011-03-23T15:48:00.000-07:00

Today there was the largest terror attack in Jerusalem in three years. A bomb exploded on a busy street at rush hour near the Central Bus Station--One person was killed and at least 40 injured....While we are far away from Jerusalem, up in the North of Israel, it still was a shocking reminder of the reality of this situation, and how sad it is that innocent people are maimed because of it.

We were having an especially busy day today because we were in an all-day workshop with choreographer Sharon Vaisvaser. We heard about it when my roommate, Bec, got a text from her friend regarding the situation. We went back to our apartments for our dinner break and I immediately texted my friends in Jerusalem, went online to make sure everyone was okay, and Skyped my dad, and later my mom.

When I went back to class, I had this weird, kindof distracted feeling at first, that was soon replaced by a sense of relief in this craft of dancing.

I was strongly reminded of a day that was over 9 years ago now, but that I remember with such clarity--September 11, 2001. I was a freshman in high school, and I was in Band, and next, Choir, when it happened...while it was so overwhelming and shocking, I was so grateful to be surrounded my my music friends here!...after having seen the towers fall, live, from the TV in the choir room, and watched the news the rest of the day, I was home with my family, huddled around the TV, just staring at the shocking images, being played over and over again. When I found out my regular Tuesday night ballet class was still being held as scheduled, I was amazed. Why wouldn't class be canceled? Why would I want to leave the comfort of my family right now? Out of not wanting to be counted absent, I went to class. It turned out to be incredible; not only were all of us young dancers present, but the class was even more full than usual. Other teachers and random drop-ins came in, just to take their mind off of the crisis in New York. While chaos still reigned not too far away, for an hour and a half, we danced. And it was beautiful.

Tonight's experience was different because, though we are closer in vicinity to Jerusalem than Chicago is to New York, terrorism here is--so unfortunately--something Israeli's almost come to expect might happen. We also had just barely heard about the bombing, and there are only a select few of us who even know people in Jerusalem. However, I definitely had this on my mind as we were dancing. In the aftermath of hearing this news, I felt lucky to be interacting with people through dance. The Israeli-Palestinian crisis is deeply upsetting, and I really hoped I would be here during a time when peace talks were moving forward. It upsets me to see things like this happening (and other rockets have been fired out of Gaza in the last few days, and the IDF has been bombing within Gaza as well).

There has been a lot on our mind's actually, lately, with the earthquake and subsequent tsunami in Japan claiming so many thousands of lives...(About a year ago I wrote a post on the Haiti earthquake with similar sentiment...see post here).

We artists, however, have the power to remind people of our humanity and our ability to be compassionate people. It is times like these that I am most strongly reminded why I do what I do...and that dance can be a catalyst for peace and comfort.

Infinite Possibilities...Forsythe and Gaga

2011-03-11T07:03:00.000-08:00

This past week or so has been filled with exciting experiences in and out of dance. Last weekend I went to Tel Aviv with ten or more fellow dancers; we saw the Batsheva Ensemble (the second company) perform Deca Dance. This is my third time seeing Deca Dance, and every time I see it, it is a new experience (This piece is a collection of sections from other works of Ohad Naharin, and regularly changes). "Echad Mi Yodea," the most-famous section from Minus 16, might actually hold a permanent spot in Deca Dance, because I have never seen the show without it. To be honest, it wouldn't be complete without it. In this 8-minute event, the dancers sit on chairs in a semi-circle and perform an intricate and extremely athletic accumulation to the a rock version of the children's song "Echad Mi Yodea" (Who Knows One?). My favorite part is where they fling their arms back and arch over the back of the chair in a canon; when the light hits the white of their costumes....I don't know to explain it, but it's incredibly powerful. This piece is what made me fall in love with Israeli dance, and is definitely one of my favorite works of art...ever. I know I've written about it before. It made me so happy and gave me goosebumps to see it again, live. I have also really grown to love the section where the dancers pull members of the audience (usually of the older or non-dancer nature) on stage. It is such a creative mixture of humor and lightheartedness and technique and grace as they ballroom-dance their way across the stage, leaving the chosen audience members amused and baffled.

At the beginning of this week, we had a three-day workshop with Eldad Ben Sasson, who is an indescribably genius choreographer/dancer. He danced with Batsheva for many years, and his class is heavily informed by Ohad's technique. After a Gaga-warmup (If you are new to this blog and don't know what Gaga is, see here), he then led us through movement exercises and eventually a long combination based on the principals of William Forsythe. I have read in detail about Forsythe's ideas of space and dimensions, but I have never had a class that utilizes them. Pretty much...it was awesome. Eldad talked us through the combination, not by naming the movements or using ballet terminology, but in terms of the physics--the points in space we touch, the lines we create with our energy and direction, and through which dimensions (including time, and ones undiscovered) we are traveling. He kept talking about how movement is full of infinite possibilities until one is chosen, and we should never cut a movement short, or stop in our tracks when we mess up, because then we just closed ourselves to the possibilities. The class was so different from anything I had ever experienced before, and the movement was a completely different quality. I really enjoyed the challenge of learning in this new way. On Monday evening, a number of us met with him for coffee and asked questions about his experiences and philosophy. We asked him about how he creates choreography, and he said he often starts by writing, which is influenced by books and films on quantum physics and simply observing the world around him. Well, I admit I'm a bit of a nerd about physics, and I clearly enjoy writing so....maybe I'm on track. :)

In other news, I feel like I am starting to grasp how to more quickly learn and remember this choreography. I still feel overloaded--I have NEVER had to remember this much choreography before--but I'm starting to learn how to go about doing it, and what works for me. I've realized I don't learn using one method, but many. First I learn by a combination of watching and doing. I have to physically try the movement to get it in my body, but I also need to stop and just watch the teacher (and from multiple angles) to see the details. Each time something is added, I NEED to string the old movement to the new, so that I get the sequence and go through what I've learned, accumulation style. I've also been taking some video clips of my rehearsals, so that at night, even if I just watch it and let my body rest, I can review it for my brain. AND....when I really have a sequence down and nail it in rehearsal, it feels awesome, and I can actually have fun with it. :)

Oh, also, random tidbit, my favorite class thus far is definitely our floor modern class that we have once a week in the morning...what a fantastic way to warm up and get going for the day!

"A million things we might do or might not do every day. A million decisions that make themselves."~Copenhagen by Michael Frayne

I go to Extremes

2011-03-03T09:18:00.000-08:00

This week was a rough one of dancing for me. We only had half a week last week because of our Jerusalem trip, and so this week my mental and physical stamina was lower. I've been noticing overall that there are many ups and downs in this program. Sometimes I get out of bed in the morning and am so incredibly excited to dance. The day is filled with inspiring moments, and I feel alive and so lucky to be here. Other days are harder to get up; my body is tired, and I feel like the day drags. In a way though, I feel grateful for these less-than-enthusiastic days, because they are what make the exciting days amazing.

I've been dealing with some recurrence of back pain that began before I left for the program. A combination of having a really hyper-flexible lumbar spine, slight scoliosis, and straining myself doing too-intense ab exercises, caused pain in my lumbar back, especially at night when lying down. At home, I had about three physical therapists all giving me wonderful suggestions, and the pain started to go away completely when I did my exercises diligently. Now that I've come back to dancing really intensely every day (and this choreography entails a LOT of combres/arching/layout-type things), it's been hurting again, both when sleeping and dancing. I saw the physiotherapist (same as PT, they call it "physio" for short) here on Tuesday and he modified my exercises slightly and showed me how to better activate my transverse abdominis. He also did massage that felt simultaneously amazing and painful. Kindof masochistic I guess. Anyway....I'm going to continue these exercises and hope it gets better soon. My goal was to NOT get injured here, and it's only Week 4! But I'm not counting this one because it's just a flare-up of an old injury. :-P

So I think this week my spirits were a little dragging because of not sleeping enough because of my back, and also dealing with a bit of drama with a couple friends at home....not quite coming through and being the friends I wish/thought they were. I am trying to be very no-drama here, so I'm just focusing on the present and the people here who are supporting me. I've realized people can read me like a book. "Is everything okay?" someone asked me the other day. I didn't even realize anything was showing on my face. So I'm going to try letting these emotions--the bad and the good--fuel my dancing.

In happier news, I had my first rehearsal for the piece I am choreographing. I really like the people I've chosen, and they are jiving with my ideas. Yay! Making dance and working with people I like really brings up my spirits. Also, I was starting to feel really overwhelmed with all of the massive amounts of choreography we are learning and are expected to remember (and picking up choreography is not my strength). I talked to Mika, the artistic director, about feeling a bit behind/overwhelmed. She gave me an encouraging smile and said she saw the opposite--that I was really standing out. Hmm...interesting. This doesn't make much sense to me, but I'm taking it to heart.

Tomorrow, a bunch of us are heading to Tel Aviv! We are seeing a Batsheva Ensemble show (Deca Dance--SO PSYCHED). I am also seeing a friend from college, and going to another friend's theatre/performance-art event. This all is sure to be inspiring, and it will be great to be back in this wonderful, vibrant city again.

L'Yerushaliym (To Jerusalem)...

2011-02-26T06:01:00.000-08:00

This past week was only a half-week of dancing, and then we went on a trip to Jerusalem for Wednesday and Thursday. Though I've been there six or seven times before, I never fail to be struck with awe at the beauty and complexity of this amazing city. The day we went to the Western Wall, it was sunny and beautiful. I really enjoyed being there with some of my non-Jewish friends here--it seemed like they were really moved and interested, and their experience informed my own. We also went to some holy Christian sites that I have never been to before, like the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which is where Jesus was crucified and is said to have been resurrected. It was so magnificent and had many different cathedrals, alcoves, and holy objects that people were touching in a certain, ritualistic way. Candles burned all over, and I had this feeling like I really traveled back in time thousands of years, and was walking in the shoes of some ancient person. We also saw the view of the Old City from the Mount of Olives--I've never been this view before, because it is from the Eastern side of Jerusalem. It's such an interesting area, because the area is primarily Arab and Muslim, but the mountain is holy to Christians (Jesus stood on the top and wept over the destruction of the temple), and it is also a famous Jewish cemetery. This is what I love about Jerusalem...it is so many layers upon layers of faiths and history. Of course, this can unfortunately cause disagreement and conflict, especially in the Old City, when holy sites literally sit on top of each other. I try not to think about this conflict when admiring the amazing views though, and just take it all in.

I stayed behind the rest of the group to spend another day in Jerusalem with a friend. On Fridays there is an art fair in the center of town, and I had to contain my excitement of seeing the array of beautiful jewelry and artwork. I also went through the shuk (market) a few hours before Shabbat, which is INSANE. Prices go down on Friday afternoons, and everyone is doing their last-minute shopping--slightly overwhelming. I got a whole-wheat challah--Taim maod!

This week it's back to hard core dancing. I am going to start rehearsing the piece I'm making for our big show that we can choreograph for. I'm using the music from the "Atonement" soundtrack, which has a typewriter sound in the background. My ideas have to do with communicating over long-distances and the pros and cons of technology today. I had an informal meeting with dancers last week about my ideas, and I'm really excited to start working.

Post-Contact Improv thoughts

2011-02-21T13:04:00.000-08:00

Here are a few quick thoughts following a two day Contact workshop with Noam Carmelli...

I haven't done much contact at all since Kirstie Simson's class at U of I, which is now quite a long time ago! It felt amazing to feel moving bodies again and to have that sense of touch awoken. At the end of the first day, I felt a little knot in my throat like a was close to crying, I'm not even sure why, but just such an awesome emotional and physical release. My muscles, on the other hand, felt relaxed, like a lot of tension I've been holding these last couple weeks was let go.

At the end of both days, I had gathered a huge sense of affection for the group and being protective over everyone. When you move and dance with someone else, you must sense them, and there is a mutual idea of understanding when you "listen" with the body. There is a deep sense of empathy when you contact in this way.

We talked about the idea that if everyone sensed movement in the way that we (dancers) do...can we create a better world in which to live? One of my favorite former teachers, Erika Randall, used to say, "Modern Dance for world peace!" I believe it!

Of dancing, noshing, exploring, and recharging

2011-02-19T14:14:00.000-08:00

Two weeks now into MASA dance journey, and having experienced two eventful weekends on Kibbutz Ga'aton, I am now semi-integrated into Kibbutz-dancer life.

Last week was challenging, but I'm better figuring out how to space out my meals and snacks and what specifically to eat to give me the right amount of energy. I have the sort of metabolism that seems to require food every couple hours, especially when dancing...which makes me feel like I am constantly either preparing food, eating, or thinking about eating. While my meals and snacks are very healthy and wholesome, I am also totally indulging in chocolate, which is extremely popular here (the chocolate bars with pop rocks inside are a unique Israeli treat), amazing coffee drinks at the delicious cafe, and pastries. It's quite strange, but also nice, because I feel like I can eat whatever I want and I'm still maybe even losing weight here. Sometimes at school or at home I would get a bit too obsessed with counting calories and sugar/fat grams. It's nice to really not worry about that at all.

Hmmm enough rambling, onto more interesting things. We have SO much choreography to remember, it's a little insane. We have learned a number of sections of KCDC Rep, mainly from "Transform," and a few other pieces. I really like KCDC style. I love dancing big, athletic movement that shows the body's physicality and of which it is capable. We are also learning sections of the modern take on "Giselle" by Swedish choreographer Mats Ek--Our teacher, Yamit, used to dance in the Ballet Cullberg, so she has played Giselle herself. This choreography I am not enjoying as much thus far. It is quirky, odd, and highly theatrical. This can be fun, at times, but really I would rather dance than stand with my mouth open in a silent scream....Anyway, parts of it, when the music gets exciting (the storm of the willis), we get to do more physical movement--jumping, turning, frenzied running--I like this better, though some of it is really hard on the body. There a movement that requires a slide out to a second position pike on one hand and on your toes. That's really hard to explain, but we're supposed to be up on our toes, not on the balls of our feet, and it really hurts! I don't think my big-toe-bunions can handle it, so I might have to figure out a "cheat" for that one.

Overall though, I really am enjoying all the dancing we're doing. The teachers all have their own individual styles. We have a floor class in what seems to be release-technique style once a week in the mornings, and it feels amazing. What a great way to start the day, rolling around on the floor and warming up your body...I don't even realize I'm warming up and working hard, because it's so gushy and mushy and nice. It's taught by a company member named Dori, who is so cute and sweet. We have had about three different teachers for ballet so far, and I have really enjoyed them all. One of them plays popular/rock songs, which is quite entertaining for ballet, and occasionally a bit distracting, but I really like the change of pace. What a relief it is to smile and giggle during what is traditionally such a serious art! We have also had a pianist accompanying some of our ballet classes, who is extremely talented and emotive...it makes such a difference, dancing to live music versus just recorded piano music, which always seems so bland in comparison.

Both of our main modern classes are Graham-based or influenced. I nearly forgot that Martha Graham was such an important figure in Israel! (She co-founded and was the first director of Batsheva!) One class is pure Graham, which is hard for me (hip flexors...ouch), but I think it will also be really good for me posturally. Before I left to come here, I was dealing with some back issues due to my really hyper-mobile spine and liking to collapse in my lumbar area, which has been causing a lot of pain lately...Graham is really about staying tall and long and using your core, so I think that should be good for me...The other class uses a lot of Graham and Horton exercises. I'm having a difficult time in it so far, because the teacher noticed asymmetry in the way that I stand, and she asked me to shift. I told her I have a slight scoliosis (also contributing to these back problems). She wanted me to shift my rib cage over to the right so that I stand symmetrically. I don't really agree with that, because I have a skeletal reason for not being straight (and am already over-tight on one side, so I'm not sure, this shift may result in even more tightness). In college, my professors too noted this problem, but it was more visibly pronounced at the time--the scoliosis manifested itself in holding my arms and shoulders crooked. I have since corrected this, so I now stand as symmetrical as I can, despite my back/hips still being a little off. I don't agree with making a shift just so I can "appear" superficially straight. Hmmm...the teacher seems really knowledgeable though. I am trying very hard to come into this program without judgment, keep an open mind, and not dismiss a teacher's advice (or discard a fellow dancer as a potential friend) due to one thing they do or say. We'll see what happens. :-)

The other day we had conferences with Mika, our KCDC rep teacher/one of the directors of this MASA program, and Roni, the coordinator/admin. We were asked to speak about our backgrounds, both in dance and out, family life, other interests, and why we're here and what we hope to gain from the program. It was really nice to put into words explicitly why I'm here, and to see them nodding in support of me. In addition to various technical things, I expressed my hope to improve upon picking up combination more quickly and retaining this information. Mika was surprised, and said that she had not noticed that that is an issue for me. It was nice to hear that apparently my confused thought-processes are not visible and hidden behind a fascade of "confidence." Mika and Roni were also interested and impressed when I told them of my musical background, and very supportive of my hope to choreograph for Nitzotzot, the showcase of our own work. I arrived at the meeting apprehensive, but left feeling very supported and that this is a really good place to be for me right now....in dancing and in life.

Thursday night, some friends and I went to Nahariya, where we saw a beautiful sunset on the beach, as a full moon appeared overhead. So beautiful! It was my first time being at the Sea this trip; I nearly forgot how liberating and freeing it is!

My friend from home, Abra, visited the kibbutz this weekend; she did the MASA program last fall, and is now living/working in Tel Aviv. It was so great to see her again and hear her insights about the program and teachers and hear about which boys to watch out for because they mean trouble, (and which ones are decent :-P ). Moreso than that, when you are in a faraway country, it's a simple but wonderful thing to have someone with whom to talk about home. We talked about people and places that are mutually important to us; and it's a bit crazy, but really awesome, talking about home so far away from home.

We also took a tour of the kibbutz, and saw some of the other industries here--Growing various vegetables, a paper/cardboard producing factory, a medical supply company, and raising poultry (a bit of a turnoff to me; being an animal-rights person, I really like to eat only humane or free range meat, and this did not seem to be this way....I'm curious if it's Kosher. I may try to investigate this further). We also had some time to play with Kindergarten kids and have kabbalat shabbat with them; this means welcoming the Sabbath, which involved lighting candles, blessing wine (aka grape juice), and eating absolutely delicious challah!

Friday evening, we were placed with host families for a home-cooked Shabbat dinner. I was with my roommate, Bec (from Australia--And yes, two Rebecca's in a room!), and Abra came along too, because it was her old host family. The food was amazing (hummus and challah, eggplant, mashed potatoes, rice, about four kinds of meat, and various pastries for dessert), and the family was so sweet. The father knew the best English, so I mostly spoke with him, but practiced a bit of the Hebrew I've learned as well. He also is fluent in Spanish, so I spoke a mixture to him. He seems to be an avid history buff, spouting a wealth of knowledge about Israeli history, the linguistic history of Hebrew/Aramaic/Semitic languages, and even Chicago history that baffled Abra and me! A truly wonderful night.

This weekend I have been able to explore the surrounding areas a bit more. Today I ventured to the Arab shuk (market) in Tarshiha, which was an amazing sight to behold. There's nothing like a market where many-colored fruits and vegetables are arrayed before you, smells of spiced nuts and freshly squeezed oranges are wafting in the air, and men are shouting at you in languages you can't understand. I bought some colorful rugs for our apartment, and probably the best cashews I have ever tasted. I hope at some point to become more adventuresome in my fruit/vegetable choices (I'm still relying on my old staples like apples, bananas, tomatoes, cucumber (my favorite word in Hebrew: melafafone!), and strawberries). Maybe I'll make it a goal to get something I've never tried each subsequent time I go. I will definitely be going back to this market, as it's by far the cheapest, and has an amazing selection.

My friend that I went with and I were able to "hitchhike" to the market by standing at the Kibbutz gate and getting a ride with fellow kibbutz members. On the way home, we were a bit stuck, since hitchhiking outside of the kibbutz is far more dangerous and not allowed. We called a taxi, which was going to be expensive, and when they arrive in Tarshiha, they couldn't understand my English very well and couldn't find where we were. Just then, some guys from our kibbutz and a fellow dancer pulled up, and offered us a ride. We ended up telling the cab that we were so sorry but ended up not needing the lift. I feel absolutely terrible about it. I'm pretty sure he was swearing at me in Hebrew as I hung up. I know that's a really awful thing to do, but in the situation, we felt much better going with people we knew. I guess maybe you're allowed a quota of least a couple really ****-y moves in your life. I fulfilled my quota for this trip...

That's been my main problem here, is the lack of easy transportation. Because we're a bit in the middle of nowhere, to get to Nahariya or the neighboring kibbutz of Yehiam (where a lot of nightlife happens), you can often get a ride there, but cannot be guaranteed a ride back. I'm the type of person who really likes to be in control of those kinds of things. If I am going out with friends, I like to be able to leave when I'm tired and do not want to have to depend on other people. I don't think I will have that type of freedom here. Some people walk half an hour or more to get home from Yehiam, but as a woman, I don't feel comfortable doing that, especially not alone and in the wee hours of the morning. At the same time, I am getting better at figuring out buses, taxis, knowing which people have cars, and how to hitch rides safely. I'm sure I will learn more as time goes on. I'm definitely going to be safe about whatever I do, because I know from experience (getting into a wrong taxi-van in Jerusalem one time and being taken in the direction of East Jerusalem, a place I don't really want to go alone) to be on high alert.

Speaking about Jerusalem....we are making our first trip there on Wednesday and Thursday of next week! I'm so excited to see this beautiful city again. No matter how many times I go there, it will always inspire awe. I am also exited to share insights and stories to fellow dancers who haven't been there.

Tomorrow and Monday, we also have all-afternoon contact improvisation workshops. So psyched!

Anyway, sorry for the massive amounts of long rambling in this entry, about things that are possibly quite uninteresting...Thanks for reading and check back!

First Weekend at Ga'aton

2011-02-12T13:42:00.000-08:00

After a long, physically intense, but extremely fulfilling week filled with dancing on Kibbutz Ga'aton, we celebrated with the arrival of the first weekend as MASA dance journey participants. Weekends here are Friday and Saturday, due to the observance of Shabbat in Israel, so it was a strange feeling to be done for the week come Thursday afternoon....Much appreciated though, as I've been feeling massive choreography overload lately!

Friday was just a much-needed lazy day, filled with reading and journal-writing. I've been finding myself spending a good deal of time at the "Cafe in Motion," which has amazing coffee and delicious pastries...Oy, I know I will spend too much money here, but coffee shops are a favorite haven of mine, and this one is excellent.

Today, Saturday, we attended a performance of Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company's Second Company, which was amazing. Their talent, endurance, and physicality blew me away, and it was hard for me to believe that they were not even the first company. They performed "Transform," which is where some of our Rep is from, so that was cool to see it performed live.

The rest of the afternoon was spent on a walk/hike with three other friends to the nearby Kibbutz of Yehiam, where there is a crusader fortress ruin (you can see the castle from Ga'aton, and from first seeing i, I knew I wanted to check it out). The walk was beautiful, and when we got to Yehiam, there was a gorgeous view of the Mediterranean, and you could make out a misty Haifa in the background. By the castle was an artist's area, and there was a mosaic studio and another painting and sculpture studio.

When we finally arrived at the fortress, the gates were closed to visitors....So we will have to return another time. But I feel the walk was worth it. :) There was hike on a downwards slope past the castle that opened up into a gorge. There were so many thousands of trees, and farther down than you could see, and they almost looked light and fluffy in the hazy late afternoon setting sun.

Both evenings of the weekend we had the opportunity to get to know our fellow dancers at a potluck Shabbat dinner, and outings at the local kibbutz pub. I'm really enjoying everyone's company and talking to my new friends about their backgrounds. Each person is so vastly different from the next. Some come from small towns, others large cities. I know I already said this in another post, but I am still constantly amazed by those getting around without knowing much English and virtually no Hebrew! Many of us are Jewish but may not be observant at all, and some friends are Christian or grew up secular. All are interested and fascinated by Israel's spiritual and historical significance, and everyone is so excited for our upcoming trip to Jerusalem, coming up in a couple weeks. I feel lucky that this is my fourth trip here (!), so I can share my insight with everyone, but at the same time feel equal excitement about new encounters.

Upon arrival on the Dance Village...

2011-02-07T12:22:00.000-08:00

I have arrived in Israel for my program with Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company, here on Kibbutz Ga'aton in northern Israel! It's only been a few days, but I can already tell it's going to be an incredible, multi-cultural, physically intense, mentally challenging, totally unique, and illuminating experience. The main attraction of the Kibbutz is the "Dance Village," and is a beautiful mix of international cultures and languages, green fresh nature, and moving bodies and spirits.

I knew that we would be from all over the world, but until I arrived here, I didn't realize what a truly diverse group we would be, or from what drastically different backgrounds we would come from. We are from...Australia, England, France, Portugal, Hungary, Russia, Lithuania, Norway, Denmarl Belgium, the Netherlands, South Africa, Brazil, Mexico and the United States. It's amazing hearing all of these different languages and accents, and people speaking in their third or fourth languages in order to communicate. I feel like my English, decent-but-not-fluent-Spanish, and extremely limited Hebrew are inadequate compared to some of the Europeans who are so versed in multiple languages (though I had a neat moment in the train station in Tel Aviv...The girl at the coffee shop didn't speak English, so I tried Hebrew and didn't do so well, but ordered my latte in Spanish to a man who translated it to Hebrew :-) ).

The dance studios are beautiful. The main big studio ("Big Raya") has full glass windows that overlook the northern Israeli countryside. There is so much green surrounding me, I feel supported by natural beauty and the elements. We have only had two days so far and the first day was introductory. But thus far, the ballet classes have been challenging, motivating, and truly fun. Sometimes I forget that ballet is such a beautiful art, and I get caught in the struggle and effort. In these classes I've found the two (work and pleasure) can coexist. The first piece of Rep we started learning (from "Naked City") is incredibly physical and demanding. It's fun but it's also proving hard for me to get through. I feel like I'm eating and drinking enough, but I need to change it up to figure out what the right things are...maybe more protein...to get me through the day. I'm already feeling sore tonight! It will be a long week...We also learned a second piece of Rep that was about two minutes of all gestures. This was difficult for me to follow along, and I have a really hard time memorizing these patterns. By the end, we added music for one run-through, which really helped me ("Send in the Clowns"). Music really informs my movement and stimulates my brain in the way that I work. I know I will work better when we rehearse again with the music. Finally, we had improv class, which was incredibly fun. Partially simple scores, a bit of contact, and a long open jam at the end. I was reminded of the amazing contact classes we had with Kirstie Simson at school, and here I felt alive and energized.

Backing it up a bit...Before I arrived at the kibbutz, I spend a few days in Tel Aviv. I was able to take Gaga class at the Susanne Dellal Center, the home of Batsheva as well as other Israeli dance companies. I went to class with my friend Eldar, who I met in Gaga class 2 1/2 years ago, so it seems like coming full circle. I'm so grateful to have started my dance journey by taking this class. I took Gaga in New York once, but for some reason, taking it here in Tel Aviv, where the whole movement began, seemed so much more of an authentic experience for me. I love the physical and emotional release it provides by allowing us to really feel pure movement with nothing else affecting or layered on top of it.

Tel Aviv is such a fantastic city as a whole. The cafes and restaurants are all so delicious ("taim maod"...I am learning), and all the food is so fresh and fantastic.

Well, enough writing for now, time to rest my tired body and mind. Check back soon for more writings from the Dance Village in the Galilee...

A new dance journey abroad

2011-01-24T12:57:00.000-08:00

I am now less than a week away from my dancing adventure in Israel...I will leave on Saturday to study for five months with Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company, and I'm entirely psyched about it.

The KCDC "Dance Journey" program is essentially an apprenticeship/training program with the modern dance company in northern Israel. About twenty-five of us from around the world will study alongside the company members and take technique class from the directors, create choreography of our own, learn KCDC repertoire, and perform around Israel. I have already begun communicating with some of my fellow dancers...So far, I have "met" (and by met I mean via Facebook) dancers from all over the States, the Netherlands, and Australia. I can't wait to meet them in person and learn and dance together. We will be living on a kibbutz, which is an Israeli commune/village--This one is dance-centered, which is possibly the coolest concept ever. :)

The technique classes will be mainly ballet and modern, but will also encompass other Israeli forms, that I think/hope will include Ohad Naharin's Gaga technique...oh how I want to get back to Gaga! I will also spend four days in Tel Aviv before I head north to the Kibbutz, and I definitely hope I'll have the chance to revisit Gaga at the Batsheva studio (If you want to know more about Gaga, read this post here: http://artinmotionblog.blogspot.com/2009/01/gaga-class-in-tel-aviv.html).

When I was first accepted to this opportunity abroad, I was ambivalent and nervous, worried to leave home for so long and unsure about the opportunities back in Chicago that I will miss. Now, of course there is still a part of me that feels this way, but I have reached the point where most of what I feel is excitement and an eagerness to welcome what has come my way.

I will be blogging about the experience here...Read and check in with me, and keep in touch.

"It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you might be swept off to." ~Bilbo Baggins in JRR Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring

A return writing, running, dancing

2010-11-09T22:04:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been on a bit hiatus from writing. Not by choice, but more by the increased amount of craziness in my life right now, which has been impinging on my time to blog, but also to take class. It's ironic how when jobs pick up, and I'm doing more teaching and choreographing, it impedes my personal time to myself to dance. I guess you just can't have it all. I'm looking forward to February, when I head to Israel for Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company's five month apprenticeship/training program. I'm so incredibly excited to get back to dancing hard-core and studying intimately with a company, in a place where I can be focused on nothing but this art. I'm nervous for many reasons, like leaving home, leaving my friends and missing things and opportunities here. I will miss my fantastic jobs that I have been lucky enough to obtain here. But ultimately, I'm excited, and ready to dance.

One inspirational thing I did recently...I ran the Hot Chocolate 5K in Chicago last Saturday, and it was surprisingly fun and inspirational. I only began running about two years ago (I always used to hate it!), and have done one other 5K over a year ago. This race was at 7:40am on a chilly fall morning in Grant Park in Chicago. I woke up at about 5:15 and drove to my friend's apartment when it was still dark, and I was wondering the whole time, "What...am I DOING?" It was still dark when we went into the underground parking garage, but when we came up, the dawn was just breaking. The clouds looked like mountains, it was the craziest sight. The race went through the park and Museum Campus, and when we came around the east side of the Aquarium and saw the view of the misty lake, less than an hour after sunrise, and the Planetarium in the distance, it was truly a sight to behold. The gorgeous views and crisp air inspired me, and even though I'm not much of a runner, I was able to keep a steady pace and finish in a time I was happy with.

Running is a truly beautiful sport, and the simple motion is pure physicality and grace. I really appreciated what a body can do in this moment, and it felt good to be alive on that fall morning. I ran through AthletiCo Physical Therapy, where I work, and the charity we chose was Cry For Justice, which aides children who have been abused by sex trafficking. Many other charities were benefitted by various teams, and I heard that the races combined (5K and a 15K) had around 20,000 participants. What a wonderful thing, to get a bunch of people together to run for a cause in beautiful Chicago! Plus, we had chocolate fondue and hot chocolate at the finish line. What a perfect idea!

The only downside was catching a terrible cold afterwards....suggestion to anyone who reads this: Make sure you get enough sleep (not just the night before, but don't be depriving yourself for weeks before, like I was) and dress in layers to throw on afterwards so you're not freezing in your sweaty clothing afterwards! I learned my lesson...But it was worth it. I could tell I was going to get sick eventually. But this feeling of inspiration that kept me on a high for the rest of the weekend...you can't take that away.

Interlochen Center for the Arts--"Art Lives Here"

2010-07-15T14:25:00.000-07:00

˙
This past weekend I visited a place that is incredibly special to me--Interlochen Center for the Arts. While visiting family in the pinky that is the mitten of Michigan, I spent a day at my former summer camp that was the epitome of artistic inspiration for three summers in high school. And yes, I know I already have a blog post about Interlochen (http://artinmotionblog.blogspot.com/2009/08/reflections-of-interlochen.html), but inspiration calls for writing, and you can never abandon inspired writing, despite the risk of being redundant. :)

I can't even find words to describe the feeling of being back in that haven of art and nature, where music emanates from everywhere. I have visited once before since being a camper, so it was not quite the same shock of emotion I received last time. Still, I did tear up a bit when I approached Kresge auditorium, the beautiful pavilion with its large glass windows lining the upstage wall so that you can see the lake, shimmering behind the performers. I noticed that overall, the campus seems a bit smaller than my high school-self remembered (perhaps due to spending four years at a Big Ten university...). Kresge, however, still seems epic in stature to me, and the words "Dedicated to the Promotion of World Friendship Through the Universal Language of the Arts" that are written above the windows are hopeful and comforting in this crazy world we live in.

I spent the day watching orchestras and bands rehearse, meeting new teachers in the dance building, having a moment in my favorite, sunlit studio, and wandering the campus (including finding my name and a quote I had written on the walls of a former cabin!). As I sat on the grass outside the Bowl, another outdoor pavilion, I thought of the final closing performance of every summer, Les Preludes, in which a 500-piece orchestra performed Liszt's piece of the same name. Us dancers waited eagerly for our cue to enter toward the end of the piece, and we danced on top of the roof of the Bowl, a thrill I will never forget. Not to get too mushy with things like destiny, but when I step foot on the grounds I feel as if I have arrived home. I have always thought that some day I want to teach there. Now I feel that desire with more power and certainty. I want more performance experience, and definitely need more teaching experience, before I could be hired at Interlochen. But I know in a couple years I can see myself spending my summers there as I did before, this time, on the other end of the studio. Thinking about the time that has passed still saddens me in some way, and I know I can never go back to being the innocent, excited, youthful recipient of knowledge like I was at age 15 to 17. But I hope that being the bearer and deliverer of knowledge with the power to transpire information and plant a seed of inspiration can be just as powerful. I know that when you teach art, it can be a truly shared experience.

On a more practical topic, without much transition...I have always been surprised that Interlochen has no physical therapist on staff...When I was a camper there, I was dealing with some extensive ankle injuries and remember going to the "Infirmary" after every intense day to get ice. Working in the physical therapy field, I am increasingly aware of the need for performing-arts-specific PT's who understand dance-specific injuries. I also know that musicians are incredibly prone to injuries of intricate, intrinsic muscles of the wrist and hand, and I remember a cabin-mate of mine, a violin player, who did exercises every night for tendinitis. During my visit, I inquired at the Infirmary if they have since hired a PT, and the nurse did not seem to understand the necessity and said it would not be cost-effective (they send students down the street to a hospital if one needs physical therapy). It's amazing to me that even during the school year, when Interlochen runs the Interlochen Arts Academy (boarding high school), they still do not have a PT. So, of course, in the back of my head, here I am thinking that I can change all of this and might have a future job in store, granted I go for DPT. Perhaps if I do not end up teaching dance at Interlochen, I can be hired as the first on-staff physical therapist! Maybe....:-)

So, in conclusion, visiting Interlochen has brought about a lot of wishful thinking....But among the goals that are stretches might be some realistic ones as well. In any case, it's wonderful to have a reminder for why I do what I do and why art matters.

Concert Dance Inc. Review

2010-06-10T21:36:00.000-07:00

Concert Dance, Inc., the resident dance company of the Ruth Page Center for the Arts, is presenting an impressive and eclectic performance on June 10-11 at the Ravinia Festival.

I was fortunate enough to see CDI in action during a rehearsal at the Ruth Page Center. When I arrived, the dancers were eagerly working on an exciting Ravina premiere, “Irregular Pearls,” created by Artistic Director Venetia Stifler, with input from the dancers. The piece was inspired by the CDI’s 2009 tour to China, where they performed in Beijing and Shanghai, and participated in an exchange with dance students at Nanjing University as part of the International Dance Learning Project. Stifler explained that the piece’s four sections represent different themes or emotions relating to their interactive experiences in China. The piece is a reflection of the customs, art, and history they witnessed abroad and the reaction to the vast culture gap and formality of Eastern etiquette. The Company’s desire to honor Chinese traditional dance and ideas are juxtaposed with the desire to build further on these practices and push the boundaries of dance and art.

This interdisciplinary piece utilizes projected images of historical sites and ancient Chinese art and music given to the Company by the students at Nanjing. The dancing contains touches of meditation and ritual and ruminates on toeing the line between tradition and revolution. These images of custom, demonstrated by simple gestures, heavenward motions, and geometric shapes with the body, are set against contemporary movement of diving into the ground and pulling each other in wild but graceful motions. The dancers exemplify the idea of being pulled in multiple directions by spiraling around themselves or other dancers. They use their breath as impetus for movement, which gives their dancing a living and evolving quality. The finale of the piece makes use of beautiful, draping, silk sleeves that are of traditional Chinese dress; the sleeves are the lone representation of traditional garb, which makes a statement of simultaneously honoring the past but not being suspended there, and instead, moving forward. Stifler said that the “goal is to create specific images,” and I clearly saw these pictures as the dancers paused briefly at perfect moments of suspension. As the piece progresses, the sleeves are pulled, twisted, and used as a means to suspend, images lingering both on the stage and in our minds.

“The Better Angels of Our Nature,” which premiered at Ravinia last season, returns to the stage this summer. This theatrical, creative, and often comical work uses text from personal letters and speeches written by former President Lincoln, and is narrated by Ravinia President/CEO Welz Kauffman. The dance is set to the music of Lawrence Dillon, whose work was selected as one of three winning pieces at Ravina’s first composition competition. The aptly named Lincoln Trio will perform the music as the dancers bring Dillon’s score to life. Using a mix pedestrian, gestural, and highly technical movements, the piece pays homage to the Lincoln’s language without literally mimicking the words. A particularly poignant moment occurs during an excerpt from The First Inaugural Address, when the dancers become “the better angels of our nature,” rising up by lifting each other, acting as a stronger force against a tide that wants to shake and rock their unity.

Two additional pieces are featured on the concert. One is a world premier entitled “El Salon Mexico,” which was created in honor of the 20^th anniversaries of Copland and Bernstein’s deaths, and also to commemorate the 200^th anniversary of Mexico’s independence. The piece is set to rhythmic, Mexican-inspired music of Aaron Copland and arranged for two pianos by Leonard Bernstein, which will be performed by Welz Kauffman and Adam Marks. The dancers create images of family portraits as they change and shift through time. Also on the program is “When All Is Said and Done/German Songs,” which, using both highly physical movement and subtle connection between dancers, traces the relationship of a couple through different levels of intimacy, including initial chemistry, romance, conflict, and reconciliation.

Stifler spoke to me about the CDI’s rehearsal process, and how, though she is the choreographer of all the pieces, the dancers’ input is crucial. Regarding the rehearsal process, she said, “They might do something that’s more interesting, and I’ll say, ‘Oh no, that’s better—do that!’” The company is also multicultural, and I noticed a blend of Spanish and English being spoken throughout the rehearsal. Two of the artists are originally from Cuba, and Stifler said this melting pot of backgrounds informs their work, as the different perspectives and native cultures inspires an environment of sharing and collaboration. I saw this sense of trust as I witnessed the dancers rehearse and alter soaring lifts with no fear. The beautiful Ravinia Festival is an idyllic setting for this coming together of artists.

A year since the cap and gown

2010-05-17T16:58:00.000-07:00

A year ago from today, on May 17, 2009, I graduated from the University of Illinois. It is a strange thing, reflecting on a year's worth of changes, roadblocks, accomplishments, and decisions, and all of the emotions that go along with these. It's been a little bit of a roller coaster ride for me, and there were times that I missed college so much that I was on the verge of applying to grad schools simply so that I could live a student's life again. This transitional year is so complicated and difficult in so many ways, emotionally, socially, economically...

As crazy as it feels to be a year out of college, and as difficult as some of the times have been, I am beginning to realize how much has happened. I'm grateful for the opportunities that have arisen, in the fields of dance, teaching/choreography, writing, and physical therapy. It might have taken some time after graduation to sort out my life, and I'm still reaching towards some lofty goals that will take years to accomplish. But I think I have climbed a few steps of the ladder. I am terrified, excited, nervous, and anxiously awaiting the future...

"And now...let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure." -Dumbledore, in HP6

Don't underestimate high schoolers--They just might rock your world

2010-04-21T14:40:00.000-07:00

While one girl was practicing wild leaps across the studio, another was attempting a break dancing pose. The boy of the group was humming a song he probably was learning in choir, while the other girls were discussing which senior boys were the cutest. The seventh member was temporarily MIA, frantically trying to find a teacher to whom a paper was overdue.

This could have been a typical scene before one of my rehearsals with my high school students. But beyond the drama and chaos were some really awesome kids who wanted to dance.

This past weekend was the debut of my choreography in the real world (aka post-college work), but more importantly than that, an amazing experience that I will never forget. For the past three-plus months, I have been back at my former high school each week, where I set a piece on dancers to perform in the annual Dance Show. I was hired to set a piece on some dancers who are "apprentices" to the company (one couldn't fit Company into his schedule this year, and the rest didn't quite make the cut for the competitive after-school group). The rehearsals were challenging, as it involved working with a wide range of skill level and under time constraints. The rewards, however, were unbelievable. As I got to know the dancers, I realized how much fun I was having and how these weekly rehearsals were often the highest points in my semi-monotonous week.

I found it a bit of a trip to be back at my old high school. Hearing their stories of drama and life as a suburban teen took me back a bit, though it was really only four 1/2 years ago that I was there too. I am still learning how to be a teacher, and sometimes I regretted getting too close to them and revealing myself in a way that teachers generally keep better in check. Regardless, what I shared I could not take back, and my piece was a very personal one--I wanted to get to know them personally, and for that, it takes trust and an equal amount of sharing. I told them silly, embarrassing, or sweet stories from when I was in high school. They opened up about themselves as well. They cried about those who are battling depression, and I tried to insist that life will get better, and it can be better now. We talked about the heroes who survived in Haiti. We wondered who could have written a bomb threat on a bathroom wall one day and caused a wave of fear to penetrate the school. They inspired me as much as I inspired them. I remembered what it's like to be 16 and to want to be loved and accepted so badly that it hurts. And to desire change, and to want make a difference in the world. The idealist artist in me still feels that.

When we got down to dancing, they worked hard to prove to me they had what it takes, technically and performatively. They grew as dancers and as people, bonding together as a company, supporting each other literally and figuratively.

On the last night, they gave me a card that affected deeply. They said I have had a amazing impact on them, and that I truly changed their lives and filled them with knowledge of dance and life. They were grateful, they said, to have not made the Company, because otherwise they wouldn't have had this experience. It's amazing to think I could have such an influence...I am really touched. I am so grateful to have had this opportunity to work with them; they reminded me why teaching is influential and creating art is relevant. I am excited because my work was well-received, and I will probably be working again at the high school in the future. It's nice to have a job in store. But it's even better to know that it's something truly meaningful.

"Do I dare disturb the universe?"~T.S. Eliot

Dance Blogs article

2010-04-17T23:00:00.000-07:00

I am happy to announce that this blog has been added to the "50 Best Blogs for Dance Students" article

(http://www.onlinedegrees.net/blog/2010/50-best-blogs-for-dance-students/). For anyone interested in dance and/or dance-writing, it seems like a really helpful compilation of blogs. Thanks to Carol Brown for sharing this with me.

Dance Anywhere

2010-03-20T19:35:00.000-07:00

I am spreading the word about dance anywhere, next Friday, March 26. The idea is for, at a certain time depending on where you are in the world (2pm here in Chicago), spontaneous dance occurs, bringing people together through art, and transforming ordinary spaces into ones that are creative. The press release is as follows...

SIXTH ANNUAL CONCEPTUAL ART PIECE dance anywhere® SET FOR MARCH 26, 2010

THOUSANDS WORLDWIDE TO DANCE SIMULTANEOUSLY AT NOON (PDT)

UNITING TIME ZONES AND PEOPLE IN DANCE

San Francisco, March 19, 2010 – On March 26, 2010, dancers worldwide will come together simultaneously in dance to celebrate the universal importance and joy of movement. In its sixth year, this conceptual event will take place on Friday, March 26, 2010 at noon Pacific Daylight Time (PDT), 3pm EDT (New York, etc) 8pm in Paris, Rome, etc.

Artist and dance anywhere® originator Beth Fein says, “This conceptual public art is an open invitation to all: to stop and dance wherever they will be at noon on March 26th in San Francisco, New York, Paris, Rome and other cities. dance anywhere® is a public art project and free to all participants.

Since 2005, dance anywhere® has had hundreds of performers participate on the streets, bridges, in schools etc. dance anywhere® integrates art into everyday public spaces and exposes unsuspecting audiences to dance. The project also transforms perceptions of where and how art can occur, demonstrating that art does not need to be exhibited in a gallery, and dance does not need to be performed on a stage. It brings everyone's awareness to the space they are in: the street, the office, the library, the grocery store or park. Anyone is encouraged to participate, and the project involves people of all ages, abilities, nationalities, and backgrounds.

For more information about participating in dance anywhere® on March 26, 2010 please go to:

www.danceanywhere.org Email: Beth Fein at bethfein@danceanywhere.org

For more information about the event or photo requests, contact Jennifer Roy at roykey@mac.com

or 415-706-7644

Bay Area locations for 2010 include:

SFMOMA,

Asian Arts Museum

Berkeley Art Museum

Rockridge BART

Dancers from across the United States from Hawaii, California, Colorada, Mississippi, to Chicago, NY and Pennsylvania (partial list) and around the world including: Argentina, Chile, Sweden, Switzerland, Estonia, Italy, France, Spain, Turkey, England, Ireland, Austalia, New Zealand, and Guinea have all been a part of dance anywhere®.

DETAILS:

WHAT: dance anywhere®, a participatory global public artwork—anyone who wants to dance can participate, or as audience, shoot photos or video.

WHEN: Friday, March 26, 2010, at noon in San Francisco

WHERE: Various locations throughout the Bay Area and world

ADMISSION: Free

INFORMATION: danceanywhere .com

Thinking like an Olympian

2010-03-13T22:18:00.001-08:00

Ever since the Olympics, I have been feeling more inspired to give what I do everything I have in that moment in time. In particular, Evan Lysacek's performance had me absolutely floored. I'm not usually as interested in the men's figure skating; but the finale of his free skate, when he knew he had nailed all his jumps so well, was so incredibly exciting to watch. I was hooked by his power and command of the ice. I became so emotionally invested in his performance, because his passion, the freedom and grace of his movement, and his pure happiness and joy was so beautifully evident. Personally, that is what I love watching in the Olympics--when the athletes know they have done well, and they are just riding it out, milking the performance for all its worth--not in an arrogant way, but in radiating way that is giving the audience as much joy as he or she is experiencing (or ironic grief and amazing will, such as Canadian skater Jeanne Rochette, who performed so beautifully after the sudden death of her mom).

I watched some interviews with Lysacek about his regimen, and similarly to most Olympians, it is slightly insane. Practice and working out takes up 7 or often more hours of his day, and he rarely had time to go out with friends, attend a birthday party, or go to the movies. It's a shame that such seemingly great people have to be so isolated, but I suppose that is the sacrifice they make for their craft.

I am inspired to hone my craft and focus my work ethic. Right before college I bought The Inner Game of Music by Barry Green with Timothy Gallwey, recommended to me by my high school band director. In the middle of college, I bought Fight Your Fear and Win by Don Greene, another motivational performance book recommended by a music major friend. I admit, I have only scimmed and leafed through these books. Right now I am finding myself in preparation for audition season round number two, and I am revisiting these books in hopes I can quell my audition nerves which sometimes leave me nearly a wreck. The first thing that The Inner Game of Music teaches is that we all have a criticizing voice in our head that gets in the way, distracts us, and inhibits us during performance. We all can remember that voice loudly and clearly during those moments where we crashed and burned. However, during an amazing performance, we don't really remember anything but the joy and trill of our performance. The key is to hush that voice in our head so that we can allow our bodies to take over and and enjoy what it does best--the craft at which we have worked so hard.

Of course, it starts with a dedicated and healthy lifestyle, which is what Olympic Gold Medal speed skater Apolo Ohno advocated when he was in Chicago this week. (He spoke to fifth and sixth graders about making positive choices.) At the age of professionals or semi-professionals, however, the issues are much deeper at hand. I have learned that even all the right and healthy choices might not add up to self-confidence and focus in an audition setting. I'm sure I'll be writing more about these books as I delve further into them. For now, I can reflect on my handlful of great performance moments in my past, and on the nearly physics-defying performances at the Olympics, as inspiration.

The Dance COLEctive Review

2010-02-17T22:22:00.000-08:00

The Dance COLEctive, founded by Margi Cole in 1996, is an athletic company whose physicality and versatility was exemplified at the Ruth Page Center for the Arts on January 28-30. The program, entitled “Meet Me There,” explored ideas of personality, identity, and how we define our place in the world; the physical and expressive program was presented in three pieces.

Three Women, by distinguished Chicago choreographer Shirley Mordine, was first performed in 1974. Three dancers, including Margi Cole, entered in an amber light, clad in tattered country dresses. During the first section of the piece, they conjured images mischievous girls, frolicking, stomping, and flinging each other around the stage in amazingly controlled wildness. Rhythm played an important role, and even though much of the piece was in silence, their breath and footwork kept the dancers in synch. The golden overhead light was filtered as if the women were dancing in tall fields at sunset, and their sly smiles were genuine and unaffected. Later sections of the piece were more somber, accompanied by chanted spiritual music and spoken text referring to religious obligations. The women took turns with solos; one lifted her heart and arms to the heavens, the next was childlike and playful, and the last was frustrated and angular. I found the piece to be a beautifully reflective, echoing the often-cyclical paths we take when we question, disregard, or welcome faith into our lives. The dancing showed interaction between manual work and play, belief and rebellion, and childhood naivety and the adult burden of knowledge.

Taking Hold, choreographed by Cole in collaboration with the company, began with a strong diagonal light along which the dancers were advancing, commanding immediate strength and intention. The dancers held an intense focus, falling to the ground and helping each other up again as they seemed to be struggling to reach a destination. The music—a plucked-bass beat with a strong cello line—emphasized the intensity and painted the setting like a film score. This piece highlighted the company’s physicality and athleticism, and as the dancers seemed to persevere on toward the thing that kept them going, they dived into the ground, suddenly leapt into a partner’s arms, and lifted fellow dancers off the ground. The unique movement juxtaposed curved spines and seamless fluidity with forceful, angled, swift arm movements, and I became aware of the feminine strength and grace of this company of all women. Much of the interaction between dancers was fleeting—the appearance of a dancer in another’s arms, or a sudden connection where one body was encouraged to change direction or carry on—there was a moment, however, when one dancer put her hand on a fallen dancer’s back, and I was struck by the tender stillness. The company embodied perseverance, and they seemed to say that despite any struggle encountered on this journey, they still had each other.

The final piece was a clever interplay between comedy and serious reflection. Entitled, IMe, co-choreographed by Margi Cole and celebrated Chicago choreographer Jeff Hancock (in collaboration with the dancers), it served to comment on our self-conscious tendencies, especially in today’s age of technology, to constantly observe ourselves and tweak or recreate our identities. Two mirrors cut from reflective foil were placed on the stage, and the piece opened with three women observing and admiring their reflections while changing poses. The dancers wore pedestrian clothes, and each of their T-shirts featured a cutout cartoon avatar that resembled their own image. The scene at the mirror introduced the work’s style of movement, and as more dancers entered, their quirky movement utilized this twisting and posing. Some dancers also spoke text while simultaneously gesturing, spiraling and quickly falling in and out of the ground. They told stories regarding identity and the self, such as google-searching yourself, curiosity about that other “me,” and creating a doppelgänger-like identity. Hancock’s recorded voice narrated a comedic love letter to himself while two women mirrored each other’s movement and fell in and out of grasp. Hancock later read a witty, narcissistic response while two dancers fought viciously to steal the other’s avatar image on their shirts, personifying identity theft.

The Dance COLEctive is an established company that pushes traditional boundaries of modern dance while harnessing a unique physical and theatrical aesthetic.

The Dance COLEctive will present their concluding performance of the season on May 21-23 at Links Hall, 3435 N. Sheffield.

Tragedy in Haiti--Commitment to Life

2010-01-20T22:14:00.000-08:00

This past week, the earthquake in Haiti awoke in me a sense of simultaneous helplessness, as well as deep appreciation and gratitude for life. Over the past week, watching the news with only a vague understanding of the scope of the tragedy, my eyes were dry until today. On ABC news, I saw a 5-year old boy, who miraculously survived for eight days without water or food, pulled by his uncle from the wreckage of a house. Seeing him lift the small body out of the rubble and hearing the people yell for joy made my eyes well up and sent a shiver of disbelief down my entire body. He must have desired life so badly, with all of his being, in order to survive eight days without sustenance, and it seems that in some wildly distant state, he was connecting his lungs and heart to his body with all his might. I realized, curiously, how it was this scene, not the awful piles of bodies and shaking video, by which I felt the most moved. (I was instantly reminded of how, when I visited the Holocaust museum in Israel, Yad Vashem, I did not begin to cry until I came to the hall of the Righteous Gentiles, which documents the courageous deeds and sacrifices non-Jews committed for the sake of saving Jews during the Holocaust.)

I am conscious of my thirst for life, and I express this through dance. I took a great class this morning, by an fantastic teacher I recently discovered, (Ronn Stewart, originally from Moving People Dance in Santa Fe) who is committed to dance as a human, living, breathing art form. The class actually reminded me extraordinarily of Ohad Naharin's Gaga Technique that I studied two summers ago in Tel Aviv. Both techniques (I believe Ronn's is called MoPed) utilize elements of improvisation--experimenting with the geometry of our bodies, testing our balance, walking/running through space, grooving to our own beat, shaking out the limbs, falling to the ground and recovering--to feel and gather energy to move and dance. Ronn said our bodies are "miracles." Some dancers, he continued, "dry up" after a while, becoming too committed to the mechanical execution of steps, and forgetting their expression and musicality. Sometimes all we need to do is breathe, and we will be reminded how dance is inherently human and an expression of life.

I feel occasionally removed from this understanding, amist every-day monotony, worries of finding work in the dance world, lack of great financial or romantic success at this time in my life...However, terrifying images of wreckage in Haiti remind me to put things in perspective. For how can I take for granted what was so cruelly taken away from them? Similarly, amazing stories of heroism and survival exemplify the miracle that we are.

"Live Animals" Review--Hamlin Park Fieldhouse

2009-10-31T15:25:00.000-07:00

The progressive modern dance company, “Live Animals Performance Collective and Friends,” premiered Go at The Hamlin Park Fieldhouse on October 29 and 30. The company is directed by Kate Corby, also on the dance department faculty at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. The performance inspired viewers to consider their own choreographic patterns in any seemingly ordinary day. The pieces in Go were connected “through their explorations of identity, borders and geography,” Corby explained in the program notes. Some of my vivid recollections of these discoveries are as follows.

Carrie Hanson, faculty member at the Dance Center of Columbia College and director of the dance company, The Seldoms, choreographed the first of five short pieces, “Right of Way Management.” Kate Corby and Chris Walker, the two captivating performers, used pedestrian movement as an impetus for motion, but frequently froze together as if caught in a still frame. Initially, I found their intense focuses to be looking, but not truly seeing each other, and their movement with straight legs sweeping the floor appeared deliberately awkward. As the piece continued, curiosity grew in their gazes, and awareness of each other’s presence heightened, even if the connection was one of conflict and negotiation of space and direction.

Dancers in “Always in April,” choreographed by Corby, demonstrated juxtaposing emotions by conveying the power of dancing alone but simultaneously the desire to connect with another. As they progressed across the stage in an accumulation of balletic movement, they punctuated their movement with sharp contrasting movement such as slapping their chests or spinning rapidly. The women finally recognized each other’s presence and began awkwardly touching each other’s shoulders, then backing away. That first acknowledgement established a sense of intimacy and tension, and I became aware of their female sexuality, an energy that grew as the piece developed.

“Excerpt in Blue,” choreographed primarily by Emily Miller from the “Get Down/Pick Up Company,” was a beautifully musical piece that seemed to describe the motion of waves and ocean tides. As they came together to dance as partners and were separated from each other in an ebb and flow, it was fitting that they danced to ocean effects and the soaring voice of Joni Mitchell’s “California.”

“Reflections” choreographed by Arnsenio Andrade-Calderon, a celebrated Cuban dancer and has worked with the National Dance Theatre Company of Jamaica (NCDC), was an incredibly strong presentation of the power of the human body. The solo dancer, Chris Walker, who has also performed with NCDC, began in a red-tinged spotlight. He began to twitch and flex his muscles like an insect, the light and shadows emphasizing the power in is back, shoulders, and arms. As he continued through a series of athletic floor work and controlled standing legwork, his sweat and struggle was visible. Walker’s performance could be viewed as either a decay of life or an affirmation; it reminded me of how we are truly amazing creatures.

The final piece, entitled “Go,” by Kate Corby and dancers, was the only trio in the show, and it shed light on the dynamic of groups of people as they meet and depart; cliques, anxieties, and opinions all were apparent in the dancers’ faces as they chose with whom to partner. At times, two of the women stood with deliberate, but not affected looks and glances, while the third dancer performed full-bodied, quirky movement upstage. I was intrigued by the power of a simple glace and the array of emotions—inclusion, invitation, uncertainty—it can convey.

The cohesive show inspired me to consider the everyday interactions between people and the power that non-verbal language possesses. The patterns we weave in space leave traces of us, both literally and metaphorically. Each personal interaction can be a frozen frame of a duet or trio, as we choreograph moments in each day.

Live Animals will perform Go for New York audiences in February, and Carrie Hanson’s The Seldoms will perform on March 12-14, 2010, at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago.

Review of Bill T. Jones' "Fondly Do We Hope...Fervently Do We Pray"

2009-09-19T22:39:00.000-07:00

Ravinia Festival was the ideal venue for the premiere of Bill T. Jones’ newest work, “Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray,” which was commissioned by Ravinia and premiered on September 17th. Using a variety of mediums, the evocative dance theater piece, performed by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dane Company, used Abraham Lincoln as a lens through which to view today’s society and questions.

The show opened with a solo singer, Clarissa Sinceno, singing a chilling spiritual that set the tone for the multi-layered show, which frequently featured accompaniment of American folk music and sound affects of distant trains, a symbolic linking of the past to the present. Act I of the performance featured various narrations of a stories, each accompanied by a solo dancer who gracefully inhabited the text. Among the tales of seemingly ordinary people were the stories belonging to Abraham Lincoln’s, his wife, Mary Todd, and Bill T. Jones himself. Lincoln’s biography was instantly recognizable, and the dancer who portrayed him, Paul Matteson, danced with fluid grace and strength. Each narrative began with “He/she was born…” and struck me as a different imagining of Copland’s Lincoln Portrait.

The choreography did not mime or mimic the text, but the movement seemed to move through the text as if using the words as a brief catalyst for bodily inspiration. There were a few instances where the words and movement harmonized together in a stirring moment; Asli Bulbul, the dancer playing Mary Todd, used a gesture of covering her face in her hands, when it was told of her son’s passing, a gesture that was later used by the company to signify war and death. Among the narratives of these historic figures were also the biographies of every day people. One dancer played a present-day soldier who had served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the text told of his conflicted opinions of war and service to our country. Another played a small-town woman opposed to change. Another biography told the story of the dancer himself, and his struggles to fit in with the classical model of the traditional American. Each story harkened back to Lincoln’s story of the quintessential Midwestern man who became one of the country’s most famous heroes. Bill T. Jones’ narrative reminds us how he is the great-grandson of slaves, and how the taste is still bitterly with him. The many dimensions of the literal narrative and more abstract tale in the form of dance allowed the audience to be absorbed in story in an incredibly engaging way.

Set and media also added dimension to the work. A large, circular netting enclosed the majority of the stage, and while the featured soloist and orator were outside of this net, the rest of the company would be less prominently featured behind this frosted lens. It is my interpretation that these dancers represented the whole of a community, while the soloist came forth to represent the individual and his or her story. Lighting is also used to create ghostly silhouettes, which was coupled with the sound of distant trains (both as purposeful sound affects, as well as the occasional live accompaniment of the Ravinia Metra).

Another truly beautiful aspect of Jones’ work were the live musicians, who took on the amazingly difficult role of both providing hauntingly beautiful melodies as well as tying the whole theater piece together. The musicians provided accompaniment for the dancing, and even became more intimately involved at times by coming on stage. Also, in between each narrative, a folk or spiritual song was used, and engaged the whole company in athletic dance that used ballet, modern, and folk dance vocabularies.

Act 2 was entitled “The War,” and demonstrated a break down of this calm story-telling setting. With Lincoln’s assassination at the end of Act 1, the second act brought this violence to life. The dancers struggled with each other by breaking linked arms, diving wildly into each other’s bodies, spinning, and jumping with amazing athleticism and technicality. The dancers also took microphones and assume a shouting debate about freedom and how we should be allowed to express it. The musicians broke out into a garage-band style of loud chaos, organized solely by its complex meter and common key.

Other text and poems were also spoken throughout the piece. Featured prominently was Walt Whitman’s Poem of the Body, which expressed an itemized list of body parts. The first time it was used, at the beginning of the show, it was a lens to view the stunning soloist, Shayla-Vie Jenkins, as she gracefully allowed us to view her dancing body with admiration. Later in the second act, inserted into Whitman’s poem were other more violent words that highlight the decay of civility during war. At the finale of the piece, we were left with Mary Todd in her black mourning dress, and a solo dancer in a bright spotlight, seemingly representing the present woman or man who dreams of having a legacy.

Jones’ choreography was graceful and fluid, and the dancers carried with them a sense of presence in their bodies and physical strength. Jones demonstrates that a ballet-based vocabulary is not antiquated, and can powerfully describe human emotion.

This production was different than other overtly political work of Jones’ in the way that it was successfully both accessible and provocative. “Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray,” whose title echoes the words of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address, certainly was a lot to digest. It was at times a dance performance, at others, a rock opera, a play, a live concert, or political debate.

Fall was clearly on the wind at the Ravinia Pavilion, and it reminds us of an election season nearly a year behind us. Jones caused us to question how far we have come since 1862, when the Emancipation Proclamation was written, and how far we must still travel.

“Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray” continues to tour nationally and internationally through July, 2010.

Lollapalooza rocks, despite the rain

2009-08-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

Chicago's Grant Park hosted one of the nation's largest rock music festivals this past weekend. I was lucky enough to attend the festival on Friday, for free, as a volunteer!

First, about my job...I was a volunteer for the "Rock & Recycle" program. A new green initiative began a number of years ago when Chicago began hosting the festival, and the Rock & Recycle program was officially launched in 2008. Eco-friendly activities paved the way for rewards. By filling up a plastic bag with recyclable goods (Lollapalooza invited vendors that serve beverages and food in recyclable containers), festival attendees received a free Lollapalooza T-shirt. Also, by taking one of any number of green actions such as riding a bike or taking public transit to the park or refilling a water bottle, participants earned Green Card stamps. Receiving three stamps entered them into a raffle to win a Honda Insight Hybrid. On “Green Street,” festival guests browsed booths selling eco-friendly and fair-trade merchandise. Lollapalooza partnered up with Green Mountain Energy in order to raise money to counteract effects of ever-day carbon emissions. For $5, participants could buy a souvenir BeGreen™ Fan Tag to help offset their carbon footprint. 8,500 tags were purchased at Lollapalooza 2008, which Green Mountain states had the equivalent environmental impact of taking almost 500 cars off the road.

At my booth, I collected filled recycling bags, stamped cards for completed eco-friendly activities, and directed people to Green Street. I was pleasantly surprised to see how many people were enthusiastic about being green, and despite the resulting chill from the rain, they were more than happy to fill up a recycling bag.

One of the best perks about the job was that I was able to request where I was stationed. I asked to be placed the north end of the park (in a tent, sheltered from the rain!), and was therefore able to hear the bands I wanted to while on my shift. Ben Folds rocked on piano and vocals in his usual fun-spirited, youthful way; I love how he still has a bit of nerdy-student look to him with his glasses and occasionally self-deprecating lyrics, like "I'm rockin' the suburbs/Just like Michael Jackson did/I'm rockin' the suburbs/Except that he was talented..." (though the song was released in 2001, the MJ reference is especially striking). The Decemberists put on an impressively strong show, performing their newest album, The Hazards of Love, written in the style of a rock opera, in full. Shara Worden joined the band as the powerful female soloist in this narrative performance. I was also able to hear the mellow Bon Iver from a distance, and was introduced to the Fleet Foxes. I really enjoyed their folk/rock hybrid, and bought their self-titled album yesterday. In the evening, the rain had stopped, and I was free to enjoy the two headliners. I watched about half an hour of Kings of Leon, and enjoyed their drive and southern soul. I headed over to the other end of the park, to hear the darker, 80's British rock band, Depeche Mode. They were powerful and passionate, and we all shouted for more, even after their encore of "Personal Jesus" that we had been craving.

All in all, a fantastic day of environmental activism and music. I even felt, amidst the rain, a touch of Woodstock spirit among us.

Reflections of Interlochen

2009-08-03T19:55:00.000-07:00

Sunday, August 2nd, marked the close of another music-filled summer at Interlochen Arts Camp. I always get nostalgic when I think of Interlochen, as I attended the camp as a dance major for three amazing summers high school.

The closing performance takes place in the Interlochen Bowl, the stage of the open-air pavilion filled to capacity with all of the performers of all the advanced instrumental ensembles. It adds up to over 500 musicians! The summer of art and music is concluded with this performance of Franz Liszt's symphonic poem, Les Preludes. During the last six minutes of the piece, dancers suddenly emerge onto the scene! First they are seen walking down the aisles through the audience. Next, balletic couples partner each other on the bandshell. Finally the audience is most surprised when dancers appear on the roof of the bowl itself!

I performed in Les Preludes, once, as one of the dancers walking down the aisle, and the following summer I was promoted to a roof-top dancer. I vividly remember awaiting our musical cue on the back side of the roof, looking down through the skylights on the low-brass section of the massive orchestra. When we entered the "stage," we had to be careful not to overstep the chalk line that is about a foot 1/2 away from the edge! It was honestly a little scary, but more than that, thrilling and truly magical.

I have so many countless of my wonderful summers there. Each day was hard work, and dance majors' daily schedules were particularly long. Every student in each discipline worked long and hard at their art, and often spent additional time practicing and rehearsing (especially the music majors spent many hours in the "practice huts.") We were able to reap the rewards of our efforts by our performances. For us dancers, our work concluded with Dance Ensemble, at the end of the session. (I have one bone to pick with Interlochen, and that would be the changes that were brought upon the Dance Department the year after I left, in 2004. There were a number of campus-wide changes, such as making the eight-week camp into a six-week camp. Some of the main consequences fell on the the dancers, and due to the space being occupied, they longer enjoy the luxury of performing in Corson Auditorium. Dance Ensemble now takes place just simply in the studio. Granted, the beautiful dance building sits on the lake with large glass windows overlooking the landscape, however, I feel like there must be a way to collaborate with the rest of the departments. I hope that the future dance students will soon be able to enjoy the professional performing experience like the rest of the artists at the camp.)

When not working hard at one's art, campers enjoy more traditional activities of evening/weekend camp life. I enjoyed being immersed in the arts all around me; almost every night I would hear a band/orchestra/choir concert, see a theatre department play or musical, view an art gallery opening, attend a poetry reading, or catch another artistic endeavor. Often we would go as a cabin or support our fellow cabin-mate's performance.

On nights when I took a break from seeing a show, I might hang out on main campus and get to know my counselor or fellow campers, who became incredibly close to me over the four weeks, take a swim in the late, practice my french horn (which I had brought with me and was inspired by the excellent music majors to practice), or journal-write on the lake at sunset. We were called to our cabins at night by the trumpet "call to quarters," commanded to turn off lights by the sound of "Taps," and risen in the morning by another trumpet sound. I found being surrounded by art in this way to be so incredibly inspiring, and the summers of 2001-2003 became some of the best summers of my life.

At the end of every music performance, the ensemble would play or sing the Interlochen Theme, a piece of Howard Hanson's Symphony No. 2, "Romantic." Applause is "shh'ed," as the concert traditionally ends in silence, the last notes ringing out into the night void.

At the end of Les Preludes, the conductor (who is always the President of Interlochen, currently Jeffrey Kimpton) breaks the baton, symbolizing the end of another musical season.

Two summers ago I visited the Interlochen campus again, a number of years behind me since I had been a camper. Stepping into view of Kresge Auditorium, the other main pavilion for music performances, proclaiming "Dedicated to the Promotion of World Friendship through the Universal Language of the Arts" across the top of the arch, I felt my eyes mist over. Interlochen will always be home in my heart, and I hope to someday return to teach or somehow be a part of this amazing transforming place again.

Jazz Dance World Festival--Chicago, 2009

2009-07-28T11:43:00.001-07:00

Jazz dance dominated the scene at the Harris Theatre in Millenium Park July 22 through July 25, as the Jazz Dance World Festival returned to Chicago. Gus Giordano, who passed in March of 2008, is hailed as one of the most influential founders of concert jazz dance. Giordano initiated the first Jazz Dance World Congress, a five-day celebration of dance, in 1990. Master classes are held throughout the day, and inspirational performances are given in the evening. In 2002, the Congress was held in downtown Chicago for the first time, and the performances were presented as the “Jazz Dance World Festival.” The event has been held in numerous international locations, and has been in Chicago every other year since 2005.

Giordano helped shape the definition of jazz dance as a form that derives its soul from the expression of rhythm and musicality. Arguably, there is no company that can deliver this sense of intonation better than the Windy City’s own Giordano Jazz Dance Chicago. The company’s performance of Pyrokinesis, choreographed by Christopher Huggins, was sizzling with energy. The first section, set to solo piano music, was modern-dance based, and the movement, with pleading contractions and flexed hands and feet harkens back to Martha Graham’s technique. The second half becomes an explosive expression of jazz, exemplifying how the movement is the music (a spicy jazz piece by the United Future Organization) made visual. The trumpet trills became rounds of fouette turns, the percussive underlying beat transcribed as an African-based step. Truly, the Giordano dancers appear so tight with their unisons, bold in their solos, and in tune with each other when harmonizing, that they act as musicians with their bodies.

River North Chicago Dance Company also impressed the audience with its incredible physicality. The athletic piece, called Take a Seat, by Frank Chaves, featured five male dancers from the company and five chairs, on which they jumped and turned. In the second half, they commenced to do a whole section of turning, jumping, weaving in an out of each other, and even back-bending with the chairs mounted on their backs. I couldn’t imagine how much rehearsal (and how many injuries) this must have taken to perfect.

LehrerDance, a new company founded in Buffalo, New York by former Giordano Associate Director Jon Lehrer, performed their premiere performance at the Harris Theatre. Lehrer’s Fused by 8, as the title implies fused modern and jazz forms, while also adding elements of gymnastics or break-dancing. This echoed the music, which was a hybrid of classical and electronic/hip-hop. Though they did not quite possess the poise and perfection of the Giordano dancers, in time, they have potential to mature and become more in tune with each other as artists and athletes.

Other highlights from Friday night’s program include Billy Siegenfeld’s Chicago company, Jump Rhythm Jazz Project. This theatrical company combined elements of comedy, drama, vocalization, singing, body rhythms, and tap dance to make for an extremely entertaining experience.

All of the companies that performed graced the stage with technicality and musicality. The Las Vegas Contemporary Dance Theater showed off incredible extension combined with a balletic style. Two dancers from Philadelphia’s “Philadanco” performed a serious duet with utter beauty and concentration. Finally, the Cuerpo Etéreo Danza Contemporénea, hailing from Mexico performed a highly technical, athletic, and intricately rhythmic piece. All of the companies performed with the energy, grounded power, and expressive lightness that epitomizes jazz.

The loss of a creator

2009-07-27T22:16:00.000-07:00

As I reflect on the recent passing of Merce Cunningham, I recognize the philosophy and achievements of the innovative choreographer and creator. Perhaps he is most recognized for his Chance techniques, which were so revolutionary in the 50s when he began utilizing them. Personally, when I think of Cunningham, I have images of arrayed and partnered dancers using ballet vocabulary to communicate the randomness of the directions that has been given to them. I recognize the intelligence of the dancers and everyone involved to put together such an intellectual performance. Of course, he should also be recognized for his collaboration with brilliant composer John Cage (also credited for the ideas behind chance operations). The two artists were so mentally in synch when they were working together that the end result of their creations was genius. Cunningham's use of modern technology as it advanced is also incredibly impressive.

For all his achievement, I find this quote of his own to be most moving:

"You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive. It is not for unsteady souls."

(www.merce.org)

To me, this most clearly shows Cunningham as a moving, thinking, dancing human being. It is a beautiful way of describing the life and spirit that is the epitome of dance, and why we are brought together to move and be moved. Cunningham, certainly, was anything but an unsteady soul, but was bold and confident as he paved the way for many modern dancers to come.

CSO shines at Ravinia

2009-07-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

The Chicago Symphony Orchestra performed for a packed house on Saturday night at its summer home, the Ravinia Festival, and even the vast lawn was brimming with picnickers.

The world-class orchestra opened the evening with Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897). Two celebrated Ravinia regulars returned to the Festival; pianist Peter Serkin performed for his 23^rd season, and world-renowned conductor Christoph Eschenbach led the CSO with his emotional, emphatic direction.

The Brahms concerto (c.1858) consisted of a multitude of moods, from celebratory to somber. The violin section demonstrated their versatile abilities when they played triumphant passages that instantly became sweet and lyrical, enhanced by exposed oboe and horn solos. Serkin played the sweeping arpeggiated chords with meditative beauty, but brought the most feeling to the cadenza at the end of the first movement, and the energetic finale to the third.

The second half of the concert presented the main attraction, Antonin Dvořák’s (1841-1904) Symphony No. 9 in E Minor, (“From the New World”). The Czech composer was in the “New World” itself when writing the symphony; he conducted his previous Symphony No. 8 in August of 1893 at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, and was inspired to write his ninth that year while residing in the rolling hills of Iowa.

The first movement, especially, presented the composer’s portrayal of the musical melting pot of America, as one could catch glimpses of Eastern European, English, and Celtic-sounding melodies. The CSO demonstrated the ability to transition seamlessly from luscious string lines to sharp accentual punctuations, driven by the percussion section.

The English horn soloist, Scott Hosteltler, produced a beautifully lyrical, warm tone in the second movement, “Largo,” that is emblematic of the pastoral mood. The reoccurring chord progression, first stated by the brass opening, later repeated in a less densely orchestrated choir of woodwinds and solo horn, and closing the movement by brass again, became familiar and nostalgic. The CSO brought a dynamic sense of forward motion to idyllic landscape that Dvořák painted.

The third movement, “Scherzo: Molto vivace,” became more overtly energetic and featured the intricate brilliance of the CSO’s violin and woodwind trills and majestic brass statements.

The final movement, “Allegro con fuoco,” highlighted the strength of the CSO brass section. The trumpets produced impeccably tuned, crisp fanfares, and the horn and low brass section provided the backbone of power. The element of the percussion, especially the timpani, brought the excitement to its true height. Principal horn player Dale Clevenger effortlessly soared melodically in the numerous, high-range solos, and the brass as a whole appeared united in strength and power that arguably tops previous seasons at Ravinia. Eschenbach conducted this final coda with passion that was evident in his grand, flourishing movements.

Sing us a song, you're the Piano man...

2009-07-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

Two nights ago, I was fortunate enough to hear two of the greatest living musicians of this era. Billy Joel and Elton performed to a sold-out crowd at Wrigley Field in Chicago on July 16, and they still have all the passion and soul of their heydays. The concert was about 3 1/2 hours long without intermission, and featured multiple sets that kept the show in constant motion. Elton John, dressed sharply in a tux with a flashy blue collared shirt and his signature shades, opened with the tender "Your Song." Soon, Billy Joel, dressed in a black suit like a classic jazz pianist, also selecting something sentimental, performed "Just the Way You Are" as his solo opener.

They then joined together in a dueling-piano style, the two grands "face to face," as the subtitle of their concert implied. They turned up the heat with "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me," the old-fashioned LED lights projecting a sunset, echoing the evening sky itself, and rocking the house with the passion of the rebellious teens they once were, with "My Life."

John and Joel proceeded to play generous individual sets. Personal highlights from John's set include the melodic "Levon," classic "Tiny Dancer," with it's instantly recognizable piano intro, and poetic "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road." In the latter, the back up vocalists carried the enthusiastic crowd through the sweeping, melodic chorus. John concluded with "Crocodile Rock," which got the crowd on their feet dancing, and really highlighted his tight band.

At this point, the audience assumed a break, but soon the lights came up again to reveal Billy Joel, jamming like he would love nothing better than to deliver a crowd-pleaser. He opened with the catchy "Angry Young Man," an immensely energy-filled, piece, impressively driven by his two drummers and guitarists. He continued with a multitude of his bests, including the rhapsodic "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant," (highlighting Joel's band and talented saxophone players) the classic "River of Dreams," and the anecdotal "We Didn't Start the Fire," which, now in 2009, reminds us all of the repetitive nature of history. The crowd was on its feet again, snapping and shimmying with his closing "Only the Good Die Young."

Next, the duo joined again for a combined set of both their songs. I loved hearing the two great masters jam together and add a new voice to each other's music. What strikes me as unusual in the world of celebrity, is that after all the years in the spotlight, both musicians still seem grounded, and they showed a genuine gratitude for their audience's enthusiasm. Both portray stylistic differences to a similar genre; John's songs often tend to be more sentimental and poetically abstract, and his voice is sweeping and rich in timbre. Joel sings honestly about the struggles of the every day man just trying to get by, and his voice cuts through the air with sharp passion, even when singing softer, more lyrical tunes. Both voices may have been roughened by age, but the passion behind the music was as present as ever, and their fingers still sharp. Their chemistry on stage is evident, pointing and gesturing to give the credit to the other. The audience that comprised the full house was diverse in age, revealing how John and Joel's music speaks to every range of people.

While both remained on stage for the encores, both had a final word--John sang his beautiful and touching "Candle In the Wind," written in honor of Marilyn Monroe's death (and re-written as a tribute to Princess Diana after her death), while we linked arms and swayed, lighters and cell phone lights popping up across the stadium bleachers. Of course, Joel's Piano Man was the most fitting closure to the night...we were all indeed in the mood for a melody and were certainly feelin' all right.

At that point, the stage went dark, but I was not ready for it to be over. I could have listened to the two play far into the night. As the bright stadium lights came on, and I resigned myself to the bittersweet sense of finality. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to see these two brilliant musicians light up the stage together, perhaps for one of the last times.

Billy Joel and Elton John's Face 2 Face Tour will play again at Wrigley Field on July 21st, and have scheduled performances in other cities across the country through November.

The beauty of collaboration

2009-06-02T22:44:00.000-07:00

As a post-graduate out in the world now, I am considering what kind of work I want to do and create.

When we produced our BFA thesis concert on May, we had been working with our casts since September. I was rehearsing with an awesome cast of six dancers, who are passionate artists and have intriguing, enthusiastic personalities. In the Spring semester, however, I added four Acting majors from the Theatre Department to my project, and they changed the whole tone of my piece.

To backtrack a bit, in the Fall, I was a part of a Dance Department/Theatre Department project, directed by guest artist Laurie Carlos (New York Avant-Garde Performance scene, Movin’ Spirits Dance Theater Company, Urban Bush Women...). This process was one of the most important, influential experiences of my college career. The performance piece we put together was made up of scenes that we created, with Laurie's instruction, throughout the entire two months of rehearsal. Rehearsal each night was a challenge for me, as I considered myself a "mover." I held back whenever I was asked to speak or do something more along the lines of "acting." Through collaboration with the actors, howerver, I found myself more eager to join in their form of expression, or at least add to theirs with mine. The performance also incorporated a fantastic combo of brilliant musicians, as well as moments that highlighted our own singing. Our lighting designer, stage manager, and ASMs were also intimately involved in all of our rehearsals. Laurie called this working in the "jazz aesthetic," the idea of a smooth meshing of improvisational elements within a context of ideas, evoking the feel of jazz musicians who gracefully modulate in and out keys. Working this way relies on the close collaboration and deep listening between all performers.

I feel like this type of inter-disciplinary work has the power to take root deeply within performers. As I worked with my cast of dancers and actors for my thesis, we shared stories with each other about our lives, and we created movement and song to echo these stories. After each rehearsal, I was left feeling like I was creating something meaningful. The dancers contributed through a unique set of technical and artistic skills, and the actors were able to offer suggestions that I would have never thought of, and make the work come alive in brighter, bolder tones. Everyone worked together by sharing parts of themselves.

Whatever I pursue next with art, I know now that I am driven by this inter-disciplinary work. I know I want to collaborate again with actors, musicians, tech crew/designers, and other types of artists. The many layers give the work depth and meaning, and I'm being to understand that it's this kind of art that speaks to the 21st century generation.

Looking back on Batsheva

2009-03-22T17:48:00.000-07:00

I went to see Batsheva Dance Co. at Chicago's Auditorium Theatre over a month ago, and I thought I missed my opportunity to blog on this experience. I've just started my Spring Break, though, and realized that despite the immediate impact of images fading, writing on a performance, or at least pieces of it, is always fulfilling. It helps me understand and define my own aesthetic, and reconsider aspects that didn't appeal to me at first viewing. I also came home to find the Batsheva review by Sid Smith in the Chicago Tribune that had been saved for me.

Batsheva performed "Deca Dance," which is an ever-evolving conglomeration of various pieces that Ohad Naharin has choreographed. The piece of the program that I was hoping that Batsheva would present, and was so incredibly excited that they did, was the "Echad Mi Yodea" segment. I have seen this piece twice before, both performed by Hubbard Street in "Minus 16." This piece, which utilizes the accumulative nature of the music (an intense rock-version of a Hebrew children's/traditional song). Sixteen chairs are set in a semi-circle, and the dancers perform a seemingly simple but wildly specific accumulation in time with the music. One chair is left empty for a dancer that is slowly walking around the semi-circle, and one dancer consistently falls to the ground, over and over again. The most striking part, for me, is the end of the "chorus," when the dancers jump up to a strong parallel stance and chant along with the music. ("Shebashamaim, uva'aretz," actually meaning "In the heavens and on earth," ironically enough, against the severity of the music.) Something about the accuracy, musicality, strength, and piercing focus makes this piece come alive for me, and it is truly one of my favorite works of art. While Smith, in the Tribune review, mentions the presense of the audience-participation section, also performed by Hubbard Street as part of "Minus 16," (which I agree, is definitely a clever crowd-pleaser) I was surprised he didn't mention this brilliant piece.

I agree with Smith, when he acknowledges the tiresome repetition of the excerpt of the piece set to lines by poet Charles Bukowski. I admit, this was not my favorite, and I'm surprised they chose to perform two pieces with an accumulative structure, especially when the first one was so strong (and memorable, for Chicago-audiences, at least). The "gritty" lines, as Smith put it, didn't do anything for me. I was impressed, however, by the dancers' ability to repeat the same movement, in a way that was recognizably the same movement, but at the same time, not truly a mechanical carbon copy.

I was also excited that Batsheva performed sections from "Shalosh," or, "Three," which I had seen in Tel Aviv this summer. The section they performed is one of sheer athleticism, along with grace, boldness, and passion for movement. Toward the end of the piece, the dancers align themselves in one of three lines, the front dancer taking a moment to solo or do something showy before moving to the back of the line. The solos escalated to a point of what to me represented almost forced, self-afflicted violence or humiliation, as they pulled up their shirts or even unzipped flies (Smith says, "innocently," though I got more of the sense of dangerous naivety). To me, it was as if they were a part of a competition, almost a mock-reality show, and the rivalry and ridiculousness get out of control. The presence and honesty it must have taken to perform this is admirable.

While there were definitely many other mentionable moments like the incredible performance of the soloist who improvised for 20 minutes or more before the show opened, the intriguing women of Naharin's "B/olero," or the various sensual duets both, male, and male with female partners. Truly, their athleticism and artistry never fails to inspire me.

Some things of disappointment, however, were the quite visible and definitely audible protesters outside the theatre, denouncing the Company for its government's military actions, and calling for a complete boycott of everything Israeli. I find this action to be, first of all, inappropriate, and second, counterproductive. While Batsheva is an Israeli company that is proud of their people and culture, they are not representative of every political opinion (of which there are many!). It upset me so deeply that artists would be targeted by this blind and unfocused anger. Coming to my second point, it is the artists--the dancers, musicians, actors, painters, and poets--who can bring people together for shared experiences of compassion. If we cannot share art with each other, how can we share peace?

On silence

2009-02-15T20:45:00.000-08:00

I'm still getting used to trying to write regularly, though this sometimes proves difficult...

A few weekends ago was U of I's spring production February Dance. I performed in an event that happened before the show, coordinated by New York choreographer and U of I faculty member Tere O'Conno. Participants were asked to meditate on silence--We had five minutes to perform a piece in a 10 ft. by 22 ft. square area, the only limitation being that our performances had to be in complete silence.

This Silent Show opened with a professor and orchestra conductor in the Music Department simply reading through a score, minimally conducting, gesturing, and internally processing. Other performers danced in the intimate area, performed Tai Chi, or projected videos. One artist who is particularly adept at the skill of knitting presented various personified objects he had created.

When I first began thinking about this project, my first impulse was to think of silence as oppressive. I have participated in numerous movements in which silence is used to demonstrate a lack of voice and legitimacy. This includes the Day of Silence movements on high school and college campuses, a day of self-imposed silence to demonstrate the lack of voice that the GLBTQ etc. community feels every day. I was also reminded of the Breaking the Silence series that the Chicago Symphony Orchestra performs every summer. In this series, summer director James Conlon chooses and conducts pieces by composers that were victimized during the Nazi Regime, often music considered "degenerate" or even written by Jews while in the concentration camps. However, I realize that silence as a meditation and solace can be enlightening and necessary. Through all of these thoughts, I did some free-writing on the nature of silence, both oppressive and liberating.

Free-writing became central to my piece. I decided I wanted to perform this stream-of-consciousness writing. I collaborated with a friend, and, dressed in white T-shirts and shorts, we wrote, drew, and scribbled on each other with markers, while rolling, arching, otherwise maintaining contact with each other.

The experience was different than anything I had ever done before, and with the audience also standing inside this white box with us, the setting was extremely intimate. (With the exception of the showering/scrubbing that followed,) I enjoyed this opportunity to think about the nature of silence and its resulting thoughts.

A musical Inauguration brings hope for the Arts

2009-01-20T14:25:00.000-08:00

Music played a crucial role in President Obama's inauguration today, and with it came a feeling of invigorating relief and forward motion.

CNN broadcasted the words of American jazz musician/composer/arranger Quincy Jones during their coverage of the Inauguration. As a friend of Barack Obama's, he is requesting that Obama create a new official cabinet position: Secretary of the Arts. With arts funding suffering under the previous administration, and especially now, due to the economy crash, our role in being arts advocates is even more imperative. I might be being too idealistic, but I really hope that Obama's approval will come to pass. To sign a petition to support it, click here: http://www.PetitionOnline.com/esnyc/petition.html

Regarding other thoughts, a quartet that consisted of Itzhak Perlman (violin), Yo-Yo Ma (cello), Gabriela Montero (piano), and Anthony McGill (clarinet) performed "Air and Simple Gifts," arranged by John Williams, at the Inauguration. The piece opened with Perlman's angelic, rubato strains, and Yo-Yo Ma entered with the deep, resonant tone of the cello. When the clarinet sang the first familiar phrase from Simple Gifts, one could not help but think of "Appalachian Spring" and the inherent American sound of Copland. The piano joined and it became a swift journey of the American spirit, and a sound of new hope for the future in this coming era.

Josh Groban, who never fails to move me with his genuine musicality and rich, true voice, performed "My Country 'Tis of Thee" on Monday the 19th with Heather Headley and the DC Gay Men's Chorus, a really fantastic blending of voices. The two unique voices each brought out different colors and blended fantastically with the choir. U2 also performed a passionate "In the Name of Love" among other songs on Sunday, one of numerous other artists to perform on inaugural weekend.

Many a marching band also carried this spirit through the parade, including the first openly gay band to march in the Inaugural parade (a contingent from the Lesbian and Gay Band Association).

I only felt that a physical manifestation of this excitement was lacking. Perhaps a Secretary of the Arts would put dance in its proper place, at the forefront of the arts, for the first time.

Gaga class in Tel Aviv

2009-01-13T19:59:00.000-08:00

As my first post on my new blog, I’d like to share some writing I did following my experience in Tel Aviv this summer, where I spent three weeks studying Batsheva Dance Company’s training technique.

An original technique known as Gaga, developed by artistic director Ohad Naharin, combines elements of improvisation, visualization, focusing techniques, and physicality. The classes in Gaga technique were physically and mentally intense, complex, and amazingly rewarding I took at least two, and frequently three classes per day, which were usually taught by Batsheva Company members or its Ensemble (their training/apprentice company) members. Their knowledge of the body, movement, and the technique was rich and deep, and their passion for sharing their knowledge and dancing with the students was inspiring. The classes were primarily taught in Hebrew (of which my comprehension is little), but phrases and important ideas were translated for us English speakers. I met other Israelis who were warm and inviting, and danced with a few other Americans also studying the Gaga technique. (See Deborah Friedes' Dance In Israel blog: http://www.danceinisrael.com)

The Batsheva technique is simple at its core, but complex if you are trying to grasp all that it offers. During my three weeks of dancing, I learned how to open myself up to the information that was being offered and absorb the Batsheva philosophy. My body began to apply the ideas more naturally as the classes progressed, and I learned how to be more free an uninhibited. While the technique taught at Batsheva is about many things, including allowing the body to be free by releasing excess tension, harnessing one’s imagination as a source of inspiration, and connecting to your own personal passion for movement and dance, I found its core values—understanding the body as a natural source of energy, power, and a positive life force—to be especially powerful. I found myself understanding more than ever before how movement and dance is deeply life-affirming. Many of the classes had elements of a cardio workout and were otherwise physically draining. Some teachers pushed us to a point near exhaustion. However, at the moment that we were able to rest, the energy and life that radiated was one of the most amazing of my dance experiences. The tingle of the flesh, the pounding of the heart’s pulse, and the breath flowing through the body kept me going. Many ideas in Gaga, like this, are equally valuable in metaphor as they are in physical practice. As the classes continued and I began to understand more deeply Gaga’s connection to determination and life. As we shook, suspended, connected, floated, pushed through exhaustion, and danced, the idea of resiliency, strength in perseverance, and harnessing positive energy resonated deeply with me. I found that working in this way, in Israel, was a powerful and meaningful experience.

The Graham tradition is of course deeply rooted in Batsheva, as she co-founded the company. The idea of emotion, drama, and struggle that's inherent in Graham is also present in Gaga. When we were pushed through physically difficult situations (whether it was cardio or muscular fatigue), we were always reminded to find the pleasure in the effort, and the passion through the struggle. I also had two classes with Ohad Naharin, and he is an incredible mover and a passionate, driving teacher. The classes were more challenging, as he really wanted to try to get us to understand the technique at its deepest level.

I was also able to see a number of Batsheva performances, and they were incredible—I especially loved the performance of Shalosh at the Suzanne Dellal theatre, a performance of beauty of human body in motion and humor that crescendoed into a finale of intense physicality and matching emotion. Batsheva will take it’s show, Deca Dance on tour in the States, starting late January.

I am so grateful for this experience I had with Batsheva, and I have been utilizing bringing the technique into and its philosophy my other classes. The ideas inherent in understanding my own sense of energy and power, the ability to conjure life from movement, and the struggle to persevere are now becoming an integral part of dancing.