There are privileges to being a dance artist in the urban South. One of them is the fact of working in obscurity, even oblivion. Bethany Wells Bak, Erin D.H. Williams, and I with three assistants shared works in progress on May 1 with a handful of attentive observers and a bigger handful of unwitting passersby. we would love to know how to critique ourselves, but we were inside the works themselves. Such a curiosity, this environment...fellow dance artists are all too kind, and friends and family are generally left speechless, but even when they are able to speak, it isn't with the kind of need or demand required. I want someone who needs dance to matter and who has invested their life in its study to tell me where I'm falling and where I'm on. For now, it's onward to the next release in Portland in July.
I'll be taking my solo portion from the Cooper Young showing, with three assistants, and letting it develop more from the point I ended it here. Nat will again be my assist, and we will have to cast two more there in Oregon, almost on the spot. I'm excited.
Bethany and Erin brought an incredible amount of personality to their roles, and trust. I think both had a lot of questions still lingering after the performance, and I want to address those in interviews I'll conduct with them individually. Lots of material to come here on the wordbelly blog.
Thank you so much for checking in, friends. More below from an artist doing research into embodiment, the skin container, wild spaces we live in... Thanks Paulette...You posted this in a comment to the site so I endeavor to preserve your form.
blue wool yarn transforms waste space into mine, wound around a laurel tree and two leaning fences, connected to old doghouse, and open above and to the western sky. Here I move in and outside my perimeter, and consider my intent, It smells of pine and decay, so I pick up sticks and sing , "This old man, he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb....." I am a child in a grown, crone's body, ....fairy toed cow girl, Pippi Longstockings combined with Annie Oakley. Urbane grime and dirty roots combine. Here I am hidden, but as I scramble to enter, the dogs across the alley hear me and bark. We peer narrowly to follow shadows and tracings,., silence and stillness, listening, being, alert. I enjoy being here at dusk, am having a little spider nervousness and wonder as my eyes adjust.
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