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Why dance?

From all the tweeting and all the talk and all the writing, you may have known about a certain fundraiser on May the 4th. I agreed, about a year ago, at the coaxing of several past contestants that I would compete. We would all compete and go toe-to-toe, as it were, in the dance fundraising arena. The gauntlet was thrown. I like to raise money. I love to raise money for Miller Rothlein. Their creative work is superlative. Their educational mission is active and is unified with their creative work. Superlative. As a board member, you cannot ask for more. A mission that you can explain and that is evident in the daily operations of the company.

As the competition drew nearer, I found myself thinking of my performance–after all, I was expected to DANCE. I started thinking about all the ways to have fun with this: the theme, the music, style of dance…the options, the options! The event was going to be Star Wars themed since it fell on (unofficial) Star Wars day, May the Fourth. What did I want to do? DISCO. When I was in the single digits, I had the 45 (rpm) recording of the Theme from Star Wars performed as a disco. It was awesome.

Halfway there.

Costume? Han Solo. Partner? Princess Leia. It was all coming together. My dance partner, a professional from NYC who dances regularly with Miller Rothlein, was excited and was having fun with the theme as well. We had a great time working with our choreographer Scott Lazarov–this guy is the real deal. I was excited. It was coming together. My daughter was excited. She came to a rehearsal and liked our routine. She asked if I was going to win the competition. Four year olds love competition.

Dadaí, what are the prizes?

There are three.

Are you going to win them all?

The triple-crown? I hadn’t consider it.

Yeah. The triple crown.

As the evening of the event drew nearer, I found myself thinking of…myself. Doubts. Fears. Questioning. After years of thinking outside of myself–projecting as far as I could about the company–my world was shrinking. Who would be there? Some of my students would be there. Would I embarrass myself? Am I the fool? Would colleagues see the video? Would it be passed around with whispers and laughs?

Is that a problem?

I was not concerned about my ability to perform the routine but what someone might say. These are not the types of things that occupy my mind. If you asked someone if these are the kinds of things I spend time considering, they would laugh. Not me.

“He doesn’t care about what people think about him.”

But now. I was dual-minded. Juggling my confidence and my terror. Not thinking about my usual things–family, friends, fun, education, loves of my life…

I am a deliberate. Thoughtful. A pragmatist.

So, why?

My daughter needs to know.

My students need to know.

I need to know.

It’s fun.

When I came to my senses, I remembered that the answer to it all is that same excellent answer that I gave those students years ago. Aaron Copland gave it as the best reason to listen to music. Most of humanity acknowledge it as the best reason to do just about anything.

Because you like it.

But there is more. And I do not write this as some kind of prophet, savior, example, or anything of significance. I am not going to shake the foundations of the world with this. I have to recognize the patterns. Not those that would come from my dancing. But from the empty space that would exist if I chose not to. Way to go, Bartleby.

You see, dancing was going to be normal. It is what people do when they are happy, confident, and loving life. It is what we do in the car on the way to school and how we choose to express our every bit of emotion and connectedness. It is how we ARE. Every gesture, every movement choice, every facial expression betrays our true mind. It is beautiful.

Choosing not to dance. Choosing to sit on the sidelines. This time. Would make the statement. Undermining. Relegating that expression to private areas. Telling my daughter, my students, my friends that there was something wrong. There was a time and a place but not here. Not now. Not me. Not you.

Selfish.

I was talking to friends last week about pitches. Pitches that you may and may not hear as an adult–remember the mosquito? The trick to “hearing” these pitches is that when they are present, you may not hear the pitch but you will notice the negative audio space. It is as if a color has been removed from a painting. Those in the industry will understand that it is as if “air” had been removed from the audible range. THAT is what I was risking. The cavalier creation of negative space. Boink.

Look. I’m nobody. My life is going to have no bearing on so many people.

BUT.

For some, believe it or not, I am defining boundaries. Sounds big, I know. But I could not help but consider the influence that could be had on those I love and those I do influence.

My daughter, my wife, and all of my family.

My students, co-workers, and acquaintances.

NOT those who would question or mock

but those who would hear that discussion.

Dancing is fun. We had a blast.

My daughter told me I was great. Score.

Supporting creativity Pt. 8

This is the end. Beautiful friend. This is the end. My only friend, the end.

This evening finding myself writing the last of my posts in this series.
Finding myself.
Finding myself writing.
Finding myself.

My relationship with dance has been pervasive and thorough. Filling. Fulfilling.
Every aspect of it soup to nuts. I love sitting in a rehearsal, listening to a proposal, setting up the technology, raising funds, meeting audience and supporters, writing letters, and talking about this amazing cadre of performers who are Miller Rothlein. I think you would too.

Expressive movement is transformational. Seeing it will change you. Doing it changes everything.

Generate Degenerate Excerpt from MILLER ROTHLEIN (MIRO) on Vimeo.

This evening I ask that you find what moves you and support it.

Become a microphilanthropist.

Set aside ten or twenty dollars a month and give it to a dance company.

Personally, I would like it to be Miller Rothlein.
Honestly, I only care that you give. We learn, we challenge, we teach, we give to one another.

The PLAN–Personal Learning Arts Network.

What would you pay? What is it worth?

What would it be worth if you knew that without you, it would disappear? That is always a possibility.

The visual silence would be deafening.

Could you, would you, give the price of your lunch or dinner today?
Match the cost of your coffee this week? Donate the cost of a ticket to a fundraiser?

Click here to give something that I promise will be appreciated

Supporting creativity Pt. 7

Learn a language. Learn a lot of them. There are some words that are far too weak to use and require reconsideration. Other languages have much better words. They sound better. More accurate. Beautiful. Hear them and wonder why we have to even translate. So many borrowed words already, what’s a few more?

Several years ago I began learning American Sign Language. It was useful with a few friends who were deaf or hard of hearing. Translate a little. Chat. Lend a hand. Of course, that made s

ense. What made more sense were the ways that my hands, face, and body moved when I spoke. All signing requires an expressive face, sometimes mouthing the words for both our sake. I quickly began to realize that my gesturing when I did not know a sign was not helpful at all. I quickly began to realize that repeating signs did not increase understanding. I quickly began to realize that the motion of words was much more accurate than the ones coming from my mouth.

Want. Here. Space. Now. Sit. Hunger. Control. Who. Hi. Sorry. Thanks. Turtle duck rabbit.

All signs that feel more real to perform than the words that inspired them.

You see, signing reminds us that movement is deliberate and meaningful. It carries with it all the expression that our selves can muster. Every word has the levels of height and width. Exaggerated without all the ‘verys’ and ‘reallys.’ Sarcasm? Far better in ASL.

Dance is like that. The learning curve in expressive movement hinges greatly on self image. It is important to help students move past the idea of what they look like when they express. Whether it is a series to sum up a word, a gesture to encompass pages, or something tacit that demands escape and its only medium is the body in four dimensions–there is never a doubt that something is being said and I just might have to respond.

Pardon me while I go express myself.

Click here to support the creative expression of children

Supporting creativity Pt. 6

The first time I have been moved nearly to tears by dance was in college. I have explained the tunnel vision of audience participation before. This lucid state was, is, like a drug to me. Attention. Do I have your attention? Yes. Now don’t anyone mess it up. Life became exciting. Busy. Graduation. Work. Busy. Life. Love. Things forgotten, lost, new concerns and tunnel vision around necessity.

Spooky Action was the first evening length piece that MiRo had developed since Pitch Black. It had been a few years and they, I, we had grown so much. It was based, deeper now, around their work at Fermilab. Extended and researched. There was sponsorship and beautiful video integration showing off the technology of Green Hippo–live manipulation of multiple video streams and sources. It was perfect. Enthralling and at no point were you distracted with figuring it out. It was a character of its own.

This was about the time that the students really started to get deep in the practical understanding of quantum entanglement. You know. Like sixth graders tend to do. MiRo is more than a dance company. The research they do for a piece is one of immersion. Pasteurized. Almost completely underwater. They expect the same from their students who embrace the focus and the exploration. They see that complexity and depth of expression comes from knowing the reason and the rationale; the process of embracing the chaos and making it beautiful.

This was about the time that I started to get deep in the practical understanding of working closely with dance. Something that I had not done in decades. Seeing Spooky Action in the basement performance studio of the Kimmel Center brought back the tunnel vision. The music by Peter Wyer fitting as always. A narrative about relationships. The piece, furious with all the passions I would expect from all those bodies on stage and projected. Pixelated. Picked apart. Accelerating. Becoming.

Tragic.

That’s how I explained it to Amanda. It was so sad.

The first time I have been moved nearly to tears by dance in decades was that day. A few years since MiRo Dance Theatre began working with students at the school and suddenly I felt very vulnerable. Aware that fast friends were capable of reaching into me. It is very much like sitting across from a Jiu Jitsu black belt or a sharpshooter. Potential lies within but never lies without.

I am grateful to my friends Tobin and Amanda and the ways they have changed me. I am writing every day this week and I am dancing like a disco fool on Saturday night to support and sustain the work that they do. If they can change me and they can change students and they can change…

Click here to support art that challenges your thinking