sunday seven

and if your insides are itching and screaming and thundering and you want to contribute, here are seven different organizations doing good work, hard work, absolutely infinitely essential work:

1. equal justice initiative: committed to ending mass incarceration, challenging racial and economic injustice, protecting basic human rights for the most vulnerable in america (folks, bryan stephenson is doing some wildly extraordinary work) (read more and give here)

2. the king center: dedicated to the inimitable dr. martin luther king jr. and his philosophy and strategy of non-violence to eliminate poverty, racism and violence, educating and inspiring new generations (crown jewel of our city, down on beloved auburn ave) (read more and give here)

3. southern poverty law center: devoted to fighting hate, teaching tolerance and seeking justice (never has their work been more important than now, under this current presidential administration) (read more and give here)

4. black lives matter: working vigorously for freedom and justice for black people and, by extension, all people (real life boots on the ground) (read more and give here)

5. philando feeds the children: collecting donations to help pay off elementary school kids' lunch debt in honor of philando castile, who was lovingly known as 'mr. phil' at the minnesota elementary school where he worked as the supervisor of the food program (read more and give here)

6. bronx documentary center: sharing photography, film and new media with underserved bronx communities and the cultural community at large (particularly taken with the work of the bronx junior photo league and adult league) (read more and give here)

7. moving in the spirit: using dance to teach young people social, emotional and cognitive skills needed to thrive, producing resilient, compassionate leaders, wholly committed to making dances that explore issues of social justice (friends, I can personally vouch for this extraordinary organization as I've been teaching for them on and off for the last 25 years and have seen up close the good, have experienced it myself firsthand) (read more here but by far, the most powerful testament to the organization is right here) (and please give here)

we can give our money and our efforts to the good fight, we can. 

(p.s. above photograph taken in the wings of a 2015 moving in the spirit performance)

thursday love

so every thursday, I'd pull up to the childrens shelter to teach my weekly creative movement class and there that car would sit-- on the outer edges of the parking lot. every single thursday. and then sometimes, I'd see it parked at a dowtown apartment complex or driving around the fourth ward. never did catch a glimpse of the driver, not even once. which just adds a tremendous amount of mystery to the whole thing, you know.

anyway, what I want to say is that I love old cars with things glued to them. art on wheels, I say. I believe in art on wheels.

photobooth friday

taken on my 32nd birthday at the infamous star bar. me and my beautiful friend amy, loopy and drenched in sweat. we took a break around 3am to jump in the booth for a strip (the ultimate birthday souvenir, I believe). we often found ourselves there on tuesday nights. we could not resist the obscure selection of seventies funk, the chance to work things out with the small eclectic crowd that gathered each week. the indefatigable DJ romeo cologne (and his kooky wigslashtoupee) knew when to break up the funk with a block of vintage michael jackson. and the people said yes. the people went crazy.

I don't go like I used to but I wish that I did. those tuesday nights were the best thing for me. better than therapy, better than anything. always wore my favorite (but most excellently abused) shelltoes and a tee-shirt I knew I could stink up. shoved deep into my pockets were three things: my drivers license, a tube of lip gloss and ten bucks. had to be able to move unfettered (yes, free of all fetters), absolutely had to. and my girl amy was prepared to go until dawn (the breakabreaka dawn), if need be.

I met amy back in 2001 when I returned to work for moving in the spirit. I'd taken the year off after ava was born and couldn't wait to dig in and start teaching and dancing with the company again. amy was working for them as well as dancing for the company and I loved her the moment we met. it was instant, natural, a connection I'd not felt in years. my transition back into a life that once had come so easily can only be described as rough and I spent a good deal of time feeling raw and out of sorts, ready to give up. amy sort of saved me from that. she did what great friends do. she listened. and listened and listened. she made classes and rehearsals joyous things. she put my brand-new-mama mind at ease by volunteering to watch ava while I taught the modern technique class for the apprentice corporation. she was good at reminding me to take care of myself. and most integral to my healing process: our occasional tuesday night trips to star bar.

amy is still around, doing amazing things with the mentoring program over at moving in the spirit. we still hang out when we can. she leaves words for me here every once in a while, which I love. we have ongoing plans to get back to star bar and I know it'll happen. as tricky as it is to schedule these days, I still feel the pull. I know we'll make our way back. though I'm prepared to face a different crowd now. the last time we were there, tall, prissy girls took up all the space on the dance floor, smacked me right and left with fancy banana-shaped purses. completely oblivious. I have no patience for these girls, these girls who are afraid to sweat, afraid to get their shoes dirty. I want to tell them to please get off the dance floor. I maybe want to yank them by their hair but I don't, I won't. anyway, the music is still good, the urge is still there, tuesday nights still call. amy, I know you hear it too. much love to you, my friend.


also rocking the photobooth friday:

poppy
jesC
mad organica
meegan blue
anatomist
sewn with gold threads
factory a-go-go
lovegreendog
cult of degan





aaaaand-- much to my delight, I recently discovered a star bar photobooth set on flickr. definitely worth a lookie-loo, even if you've never been. especially if you've never been. something else you should absolutely positively not miss: this photobooth prank (thank you, slimwhitman). not a big fan of leno or anything, but people-- please watch. it's funny. who doesn't like funny?

zippity doo dah

each thursday morning, I head downtown to teach a creative movement class to three and four year-olds at the childrens shelter. I've been wanting to write about these mornings for so long. so many fantastic little things happen during the course of those sixty minutes. though every time I sit down to write, I am overwhelmed by all the goodness. it's not me, it's all them. I find it incredibly difficult to put into words the way they melt me and make me want to live a brighter life. each week, I come to the shelter and find them wide-eyed, circled up and ready to move. I say magic words that launch each child into glorious, perpetual motion and people, it is near impossible to resist this kind of whirlwind. always ALWAYS some shaking or wiggling going on. we make fake peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with our feet and jump over imaginary mountains. we take bows and applaud each other.

and just so, so much more. more words for another day.

dance class

photo by david olivari.

class was so good the other night that I slept in my leotard and sweats. walked in the door of my home and crashed, deliciously exhausted yet strangely energized and ready to take on whatever the world might be dishing out. with as much as I have been squawking about getting back into it, I finally felt like my foot was in the door of a place I have not been to in some time. oh, I have been going to class but really struggling to find my way back.

just getting myself there every tuesday night feels like an impossible feat, one that I am continuously attempting with what feels like several large rock-filled bags attached to my body. slow and deliberate and just a little bit agonizing. ava takes creative movement at the beam right before my class and so there's a whole special tuesday night routine that must be carefully followed lest things fall apart at the seams and wreak havoc on the entire evening. it starts with dinner (which must be served early) and is then followed by a drawn-out potty time that absolutely positively must take place. then comes a whole mess of dance clothes that have to be squeezed into while ezra runs amok. there's the hurried round-up, the packing of everyone in the car (which often feels like I am collecting marbles that are rolling in all directions). there's the trip to pick up ward at work downtown whereupon I try not to race and swerve and pass and speed. we sing along to 'they might be giants' here come the ABCs (at the top of our lungs, natch) and we do this to get excited about dance class. but also to keep ezra from falling asleep. if he sleeps early then there will be hell to pay and we might be in for an epic struggle at bed time involving relentless whining that will feel a little like chinese water torture and will make us want to whine and cry too. so I feel like I am tormenting ezra by tickling him, singing loudly or rolling down the window a tad for 'a little bit of cold air' to keep him awake but it must be done. normally, I would not have him in the car at this time of day, but it is unavoidable. why don't I just prod him with an electric stick? I feel like a horrible mother. and nine times out of ten, he falls into a deep sleep by the time we pull up to ward's work. then there's the fight to make it through traffic the short distance to moving in the spirit, where class takes place. we struggle to make it on schedule and by the time we pull up, I am on edge. I hate being late. after ava's class is over, ward takes both of the kids home while I stay to take (the oh-so-fantastic) wayne smith's 7:45 modern technique class. but by 7:45, I am depleted of about 98% of my energy. my reserves are low and I wonder how I am going to make it through class. I'm tired. I want to go home and cuddle up on the couch with ward. but I stay. I stay because I remember how important it is for me to stay, how good it feels to move, to sweat, to dance. I stay because I can't give up on that part of me. and I try not to think about the times in my life where class was an everyday occurrence, late night rehearsals were the norm and I try not to think about how much I took all that for granted.

and so I am there. I have been getting myself to class for a while now but this tuesday night felt different. oh, I was still tired but once we started moving, things started to feel electric. when you are dancing and everything is working the way it should be, it feels a little like your body is taking you for a ride. everything you have is engaged- brain, muscle, skin, bone, organs, nerves, cells, blood, breath, EVERYTHING. muscles expand and contract, the back widens, shoulders relax and drop, the chest opens up. your movements are weighted but you feel like you are floating. mad energy spirals up and out of the core of the body, out through the fingertips, the top of your head and every part of you feels like it is alive and buzzing. you are moving through space fully and effortlessly and it feels exactly like it sounds. it feels AMAZING. it's glorious, such a thrill. it's a little bit like flying and yes, a lot like a good ride at the carnival. don't get me wrong, you are working and thinking and (best of all) sweating (oh, the sweating) but it feels more like the natural, automatic rhythm of breathing. which is where I found myself the other night.

my chica danette says that dance 'shakes things loose and free' and I think there is no better way to say it than that. which is why I keep dancing. and why the fight to get there is worth it.

(check out this photographer's beautiful work on flickr. he is responsible for the stunning photo above and best captures what movement really feels like, I think. I am especially taken with this set. oh yes, and thank you wayne.)

superpowers

a couple of years ago, I danced in a piece about women as superheroes. at the first rehearsal, the choreographer asked us what kind of superpowers we'd like to have. I wish I could say that the first thing that came to my mind was to have the power to feed all the hungry children in the world or wipe out war and poverty. I wish I could say that, but that would be a lie. instead, I thought I might like to have the power to leave a fine piece of chocolate and a fresh flower on the pillows of sad people everywhere. because wouldn't you like to wake up to that? or find those lovely things on your pillow after a long, horrible crapfest of a day? maybe the chocolate would cause you to have nice dreams. it would all be sort of mysterious and you would feel strangely loved and all of the sudden, the world might seem a little less hostile. at the very least, you would look over your shoulder and wonder who and why and you just know you would be secretly pleased.

of course, I would need to be able to fly and and make myself invisible when necessary. also, I'd like to think I'd be able to get the flowers wholesale. maybe some do-gooder chocolate company would sponsor me (thus supplying all the chocolates needed for the millions of pillows out there). but if I'm really dreaming here, I suppose I should have a field somewhere in italy where the most beautiful flowers are grown and a special chocolatier in france to hook me up with the goods because why mess around? seriously, people. though I guess if we're really talking superpowers, I should be able to miraculously produce the most exquisite chocolates and flowers with the snap of my own fingers. but then I would have no reason to abuse all my special powers and capabilities, I would have no real excuse to fly myself to italy a couple of times a week to lay around in the field of magical flowers and make myself sick on french chocolates. and don't get me started on the whole invisible thing, I don't even want to think about what I might do with that superpower in my spare time because the possibilities are endless and you and I both know what they are but let's not talk about it. oh, and regarding my superhero costume: I see bright-colored striped tights with special edition adidas, a slimming (yet breathable) bodysuit and yes, a pink satin cape. and maybe some glitter? a superhero has to represent, yo. the threads have got to REPRESENT.

don't even try to pretend you are not thinking of what superpowers you'd like to have.

redesigning my backspin

hey, that's me on the right in the yellow shirt. ron brown's class, american dance festival, 1998.

there was a period in my life when I lived in baggy sweats, cut-up leotards and a pair of deliciously decayed shelltoe adidas. my world was about movement, about teaching, about kids (not my own). my nights were filled with classes and rehearsals. I devoted large chunks of time to developing original curriculum, seeking out fresh music and researching the importance of arts in education. I remember feeling like I would exist this way forever and could imagine no other way of living. and now here I am, in a completely different place.

and this is a good place to be, it's a great place. but there are times when it feels slightly foreign to me and I experience a sort of achiness thinking about my old self. I'm fairly certain she still exists, it's just a little more of a challenge to find her these days. a while back, I wrote about my quest to pick up where I left off. it has been one steep hill, people. I feel as if the world that I worked so hard to create is passing me by. this past weekend, I happened to pick up a weekly arts/happenings guide only to discover that a dance company that I have been waiting for EIGHT YEARS to see here in atlanta had come and gone. I am sick to my stomach over this gross oversight on my part. folks, I AM SLIPPING. normally, I am aware of any and all upcoming performances way in advance. ronald k. brown/evidence is a phenomenal company out of brooklyn that I first happened upon in 1997 at the american dance festival. on a whim, I snuck into his class the first week of the festival. ninety minutes and a couple of buckets of sweat later, I was hooked and continued to slip into his class each afternoon (and I have mad love for mr. brown for pretending not to notice my sad little charade). then I saw the company perform and I'm here to tell you: that is some moving and dancing that will make you want to lay down and cry like a happy little baby. ever since that summer, I have been whining and complaining about the dance scene here in atlanta, wondering what it would take to bring a great company like this to the ATL. where are all the fresh, new modern companies? (yeah, I know exactly where they are and it's not here). I'm so sick of the atlanta stinking ballet. there is such a world of goodness and art and movement out there. I am tired of having to pick up the village voice at the bookstore just to keep up on the latest companies/performances. but I digress. my point is that I missed out on seeing ron brown, something that would've refueled me for days, for months, FOR YEARS in the juiciest, lovliest ways. thing is, I was wrapped up in ava's big birthday party. I don't regret this (not by any means), this time spent organizing and throwing her the big fifth birthday bash (I admit, I went overboard again and will be writing about it soon). I'm just unsure of how my two worlds will merge, if they will merge at all.

this fall, I will begin to teach for moving in the spirit again. neither my mind or body is even close to being ready, though I think just by writing this, I am taking some sort of step in the right direction.

my dancer-girl

about a week ago, ava had her very first dance performance and I'm all crazy inside about it. it's so much that I don't even know what to write or how to begin. such an emotional thing for me, seeing her on stage for the first time. yes, okay. I admit it, people. I cried. all these years dancing, performing, teaching (other people's children)... wondering what it might be like to have a child of my own who might be interested in dance. I am aware that ava is only four and this is probably one out of like, 5,731 things she is going to take an interest in, but still. there she was, up on that stage... in her brown velvet costume, under those bright lights, a little unsure, a little unsteady. the student musicians started to play (miles davis!) and they all began to dance (well, sort of) and my heart swelled and I thought surely I might burst into a million pieces. I wanted to fly out of my seat and onto the stage and hug and squeeze her and dance with her. instead, I sat quietly. beaming. at the curtain call, the sound of african drums filled the rialto theatre as a swarm of young dancers and musicians took the stage for final bows. I could barely see ava amidst the chaos. what I was able to make out was her smile-- small, but proud.

ava and dance. in the womb, she kicked (hard, man) while I worked with the moving in the spirit kids (usually when the drums were loud and driving). she is partly named after an amazing african dancer I met while studying at the american dance festival at duke university, summer of 1997. this woman (ava) was one of the strongest, most beautiful dancers I had ever met. behind the electricity and power of her dancing was also an incredible mother, so warm, so open and loving-- full of grace and life. I loved watching her move. fell in love with her name (and all that it had come to represent to me) that summer and secretly vowed that it would be the name of my daughter, should I ever be so blessed to have one.

and so this could be the first of many performances for ava... or the last. I have no way of knowing what will spark her interests in the coming years. of course, I would be lying if I said I didn't care. to take her to her first modern dance performance... to expose her to all the wonderful and different kinds of movement out there... to take an african dance class together... maybe even collaborate/choreograph/perform together. yes, that would be brilliant. what I am thankful for today, though, is this: I was given the chance to see her on stage dancing with live music and lights and excitement this once, to share this love of dance with her, witness this thing of beauty. and that is enough for me.