One week of dancing at Interlochen, come and gone

Yesterday and today, I finally got to breathe for the first time in about 8 days, since Interlochen weekends are Sunday and Monday (don't ask me why).  It's been a heck of a week getting into the swing of my classes, and each day is physical and full of activity, which means I pretty much am crashed by the end of the night. It's exhausting but incredibly fulfilling.  I was honestly quite stressed and seriously nervous before the start of classes, but I've found myself actually almost surprised at how well it's been going (or at least, I can put on a facade of confidence that may actually be blending with true, real confidence, building each day.)

My class of juniors was the most challenging--these kids are 8-12, and they are all studying other disciplines as their concentration, or doing a general arts study.  I've worked more extensively with kids both younger and older than this range, so this provided me with a new challenge.  I also had two classes of Intermediate kids, which were also general or non-dance majors.  Intermediates are about age...13-16 or so, which is my more preferred age group.  I was able to work more dance technique into class with these groups, teaching them the basics of modern dance (prances, contractions, high releases, triplets, double-stag leaps...) and classic choreographer movements (from Graham and Humphrey). Especially my afternoon class was honestly a blast--I had the more advanced kids (whereas my other two classes were the lower groups), and not only were they more skilled dancers (which doesn't matter to me much, I have loved working with beginners before), but they were more enthusiastic students who really wanted to learn.  They were seriously such a joy to work with, and I'm sad that we are switching next week--they go on to the ballet portion of the rotation, and I get a new set of kids.  On Saturday, our last day, I took them outside for the last 15 minutes of class, where they danced the final combination we had been working on the lawn in front of the Bowl, and our percussionist joined us as well.  Ah, how awesome it is to see kids be so receptive and passionate!

I've also jammed with the accompanists a couple times on horn for the Improv class, which has been seriously great.  I was pretty wary of joining them at first, because I hadn't played horn in a year 1/2, and though I used to play for improv sometimes in college, I never really knew what I was doing or had a huge grasp on music theory/harmonizing, etc.  I realized here though that improvising musically is really no different from dance, and as long as you are aware of what is going on around you and are creating something that jives and compliments, you are golden.  And though my chops give out much faster than they used to, and my range isn't complete....I'm really not quite as rusty as I imagined I would be. :)  Also, maybe it's because I'm older now, but at U of I there was part of me that was always a bit embarrassed to be seen with my horn.  Maybe it was because the dance department was so intense and I felt guilty for devoting some of my precious time to something else.  Or also because I was still concerned about appearances and being in band was definitely revealing my ultra-nerd.  But here at Interlochen, the kids seem to actually think it's really awesome that I have this unique skill, and they applaud and thank me for my talent.  Everyone's a nerd here, so if you play an instrument in addition to whatever you're focusing on....it seems to kindof bump your status as an uber-nerd, which is actually making you cooler...in an extremely geeky way that only Interlochen can be. :-)

Next week my schedule will get even busier, as I add a high school class (which I'm very excited about, I love working with high schoolers!) and will have some rehearsals for a faculty concert.  So I'm not sure if I'll have a ton of time for extra classes I've been doing (not just the accompanying, but I've been doing ballet barre every day).  We shall see....there's an awesome coffee stand on campus that I've been spending too much money at but is often my saving grace.

Last night was the first WYSO (World Youth Symphony Orchestra, the top orchestra here) concert of the season, and it was beautiful.  It featured work of American composers, including the two famous Olympic fanfares (Arnaud was the orignal, now the NBC theme, and John Williams'), which highlighted awesome brass, and Barber's Adagio for Strings, which was expressive and beautiful.  The last piece always played (or sung) at any music concert is the Interlochen Theme by Howard Hanson.  I confess I got seriously choked up and was crying at the end.  It's almost as if I couldn't fully believe I was here on this campus until that moment, when I heard the haunting horn melody....at the end, the house lights rise and the stage lights dim, and as per tradition there is no applause at the end, the last notes hanging in the air to linger on into the night.

Interlochen--Where art lives

I’ve arrived at Interlochen.  My home away from home I’ve missed incredibly.  A haven for creativity and inspiration.  "Art Lives Here," as their moto beautifully notes.

So this means for the next month I’ll actually be getting back into writing!

We’ve just been moving in and meeting our roommates (I’m in a pretty bare-bones cabin with four rooms, but cozy-feeling since it’s surrounded by woods.  We had a new-faculty dinner tonight where I finally met the Dance Director.  She seems so awesome, enthusiastic, and encouraging.  I feel so lucky to be working with her!

Other than preparing, I’ve been taking advantage of being back here by visiting my old haunts and exploring new avenues.  My favorite place to read or write used to be “Sundecker,” the deck overlooking the lake in the High School Girl’s division.  Since hanging out there now would be quite strange (and would involve potentially awkward encounters with my students), I found a fantastic—or even better—substitute.  There is a place just down the beach from there called the Minnesota Building (don’t ask me why—do Minnesotans create nice beaches?) with lounge chairs, board games, a coffee stand, waterfront activities, all just for camp staff!  They call it the “gathering place.”  I’m so psyched to dedicate some R&R time here.  Or if resting will be a near-nonexistent concept, at least watch just about every single sunset, like I did the last two nights. :)

I also was lucky enough to bring my 11-week old kitten with me!  She’s being generously housed by the High School Girls director in a wonderful cabin on the lake, with a glorious breeze and many rooms and hideouts to explore.

What I love about this place is how art doesn’t just exist here.  It lives, breathes, emanates from, and is a part of every molecule here.  Walking around, I love hearing melodies coming from the practice huts.  Even some scales and arpeggios I heard today sounded so much more rich and meaningful than warmups I might here in some other less beautiful place.  Yesterday afternoon, during my first few hours of free wandering, I stumbled upon the Horn Institute Recital (a pre-camp workshop), which was a fun first concert to attend.  I brought my horn with me, and even though I haven’t played in a year ½, I’m sure I’ll be inspired to play again.  It would also be awesome to take a voice lesson or two while I’m here.

There’s so much I want to take advantage of here!  I find myself being constantly simultaneously so incredibly grateful for being back here and landing this amazing job (I actually cried yesterday when seeing the lake for the first time), and feeling rushed to to experience everything in such a short amount of time, as I am only hired for the first session….

Today I planned out the details of an injury treatment/prevention lecture I’m giving on Tuesday—I have therabands and exercise sheets to hand out to everyone, and I am so nerdily excited about it.  Tomorrow and Sunday I need to crack down on reviewing my lesson plans for the classes.  I confess I’m seriously nervous, but I need to project a confident act so the students don’t sense it.

Thanks for reading about my latest adventure.  More to come!

“Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.” --Suzanne Collins, "Catching Fire"

Somehow plies tonight....with the studio lights dimmed, rain pounding on the skylight, and a beautiful string melody to dance to...turned into some sort of magical ritual. I'm barely getting by in some ways, but in others I feel so lucky and grateful to do what I do. How many other people get to move and breathe and sing with their bodies in the way that we do?? This path is all I've wanted to follow, and despite all the injury-hell and financial stressors...I'm glad I'm on it.

Trying to get back into blogging, as it seems I've gotten out of the habit.  Maybe being more poetic and thought-provoking will help. :-)

Reflecting on the Dance Village, Kibbutz Ga'aton, Israel

Exactly a year ago, I arrived in Israel and began a journey....the MASA Dance Journey to study with Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company in Israel.  Here, I became inspired in unthinkable ways and worked harder than ever before. Keeping this journey and the people I met in mind as I continue along, in dance and in life.


I distinctly remember panicking as the cabin doors closed, once I boarded the plane.  I started to cry, and had trouble breathing.  I've never felt so trapped before...too late to chicken-out, like I was seated in the car of a roller-coaster, right after the safety bar was clicked permanently into place.

After I breathed some Tel Avivan air, fresh off the Mediterranean for a few days, and then got settled in my little room with my awesome Australian roommate on Kibbutz Ga'aton, I realized there was nothing to be afraid of (except, perhaps, preparing to begin a program that was harder and more exhausting than anything I had ever been a part of before).  I  began a new life, in a new home, and it was more illuminating than I imagined it would be.

It was here that I danced all day in a gorgeous studio overlook the green Galilean hills, learning from teachers who were fierce dancers and amazing people.  They pushed me to work, dance, think, and sweat harder than I ever have in my life.  It was, at times, extremely rigorous, and tears occasionally accompanied my aching muscles....and ice packs, Icy Hot, ace-wraps, my trusty foam roller, homeopathic creams, and NSAIDs.  But in the end, I was inspired, always inspired to keep learning, keep dancing, and work ever-harder.  I came out of the program a more technical dancer, a faster study (picking up choreography was always past struggle of mine), and even more more inspired and confident with the craft.

I met amazing dancers from 15 other countries that became my family.  We shared stories and cooked foods from our home countries, helped each other through rough rehearsals, inspired creation of choreography, and provided a look into the life of a fellow dancer from across the world (which was often an incredibly similar life, and yet simultaneously vastly different).  Many of us were living completely on our own (meaning financially, too) for the first time, and we helped each other through the new responsibilities (and freedoms) that that allows.  Some of these friends I hope to remain close to for the rest of my life.

I created a piece for our Nitzotzot concert (our choreography showcase, meaning "Sparkles") about long-distance communication, keeping in touch, and technology.  This was inspired by Skype and how video-chatting was such a huge part of our life on the kibbutz.  Spending our free time with each other would often be scheduled around "Skype dates" with family or friends.  Sometimes there would be an incredibly frustrating technology-fail, where either the audio or video would be off or the internet would be flickering.  But even with the frustrations and limitations, I am so grateful to live in an age of Skype....it really was amazing to be practically face to face with my family, from over 6000 miles apart.

Living as a part of nature was a huge inspiration for me, and part of the reason I cherished my time on the kibbutz.  I lived in an apartment, but it was essentially a camp-feel, stepping out onto a small road, in the middle of greenery, amidst an agriculturally-supported village.  The kibbutz gardeners kept the grounds blooming gorgeously, and I couldn't get over how green and sprawling it was to live in the midst of this flowing country.  Lemongrass and other herbs grew right outside my door with which to make tea, and I could pick and eat citrus fruits and apricots right off the trees, provided they were communal kibbutz-trees.  I loved going to the market to get fresh mint, basil, and vegetables, and I really learned to cook here for the first time, experimenting with basically throwing a bunch of things in a pan with olive oil and seeing how it turned out.  Buying salted cashews, dried strawberries, and spices that I didn't know the names of from the markets....everything was so fresh in Israel, and I began to see myself turning into even more of a organic, naturey, tree-hugger than I already was.

I am incredible grateful for this experience....and am constantly being informed by my knowledge.  I will never forget my time in Israel, and I know a piece of my heart (or rather, my feet) will always reside in the Dance Village that is Kibbutz Ga'aton.

Therapies....physical and otherwise

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

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

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