A Glimmer Of Hope Or Skin Or Light

Les responds to Michaels solo

2010-05-11T10:59:00.001-07:00

I first must apologize to Michael for not writing this much sooner and to say that my lack of response is in no way associated with the performance.

Michaels performance was absolutely amazing, and went way beyond what I could have imagined. The thought that went in to the dance captured me and my thoughts in so many ways and was so well done and obvious that my girlfriend could tell it portrayed me, and she really had little knowledge about how the performance came about.

The location was super and very fitting with my answer to a question, one that I can't recall, but do remember saying that I was going to try carving a totem pole. He placed us smack dab in front of one of the nicest totem poles Seattle has to offer. It was a bit chilly, but what a venue to have this done at, a view of the water and the ferries, (also another answer to a question), one regarding one of my favorite places. Michaels dress was perfectly fitting in regards to my whole view on religion and just so happened we ended up deciding to do this on Sunday, Easter Sunday no less.

My performance started with two books and 3 miniature trucks (perfectly as a driver of a large FedEx truck). The books were laid end to end and the 3 trucks were placed next to them. I was instructed to arrange the trucks any time during the performance at which point he would take cues from them and perform the mood relayed by my arrangement. The other thing I could do was choose a book during the dance and read a passage from it, only I was asked to read it in reverse. I wasn't really sure how this would work, but wow, I actually found his dance fitting the mood I had at the time of the truck movements. An example would be when I place the 3 trucks on one another in something of a comical way, one that made me chuckle and immediately the dance took on a quirky light hearted feel, that was only changed once I rearranged the trucks.

An additonal treat was how his friends joined in the performance and the fact it was all improvised, very cool.

These folks are truly gifted in what they do and I feel extremely honored that I was chosen and that Michael was the one who did my dance. It made my Easter (which isn't much of a holiday to me) one that I will remember for many years. Again I can't say enough about how cool this was and how much fun myself and my friends had.

Oh and not to forget, my performance was ended with a great cookie.

Thanks Michael, Lingo and all those involved with these performances, I look forward to seeing more of you in the performance scene.

Thanks
Les

The Stranger Reviews Glimmer. . . And KT Responds

2010-04-29T15:36:00.000-07:00

One Week, Four Dances
Sex, Death, Party, and Forgery
by Brendan Kiley
(Published in The Stranger's April 28 issue)

I don't understand why dance companies don't coordinate their schedules better—for months, next to nothing will happen, then BAM! Everything's happening all at once: Amelia Reeber's new show, this is a forgery; Lingo dancetheater's new show A Glimmer of Hope or Skin or Light; a night of Butoh improvisation by Danse Perdue; the final week of rehearsals before Cabaret de Curiosités at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival; and even West by "Awesome" at On the Boards. (The latter isn't dance, strictly speaking—despite a long Butoh-style walk by a hooded figure between undulating packing crates—but On the Boards is the city's dance-centric theater, and its shows are required viewing for dance geeks. Click here for David Schmader's full review of West.)

Reeber's solo show begins with the facts of life: a video projection of a gray planet spinning in the dark, then a mass of animated spermatozoa rushing down a tube, each hoping to be the first to bang its head against the great, gray orb. As one of them succeeds, a subtitle says "damn it!" and the lights come up on Reeber, lying placidly on her back, her legs in the air. Whose accidental conception are we watching? Reeber's? A child of Reeber's? The dance itself? Maybe looking for allegories isn't the way to go—forgery is relentlessly abstract.

Reeber says she's only fixed five minutes of this hour-long dance, but the stage pictures are coherent: video of a giant cat coming and going, or just sitting; video of Reeber in a Cub Scout uniform, looking happier than she does onstage; an anchor on the floor, surrounded by rocks; small golden pyramids and step-pyramids upstage; some lower halves of mannequins suspended by chains. Reeber gently twirls and spins in a small black dress, frolicking like a Greek nymph (or Isadora Duncan). Even at her harshest, when she lurches around pigeon-toed and angular with frozen joints, she still seems pliant and rounded—a creature made of Tinkertoys, not an Erector Set. The whole of forgery is soft and pleasant to watch, but few shards of it lodge themselves in the memory.

A Glimmer of Hope or Skin or Light makes better on its promise for skin and light than for hope. A modern-dance masque in ACT's subterranean purple cabaret room, Glimmer follows the arc of a party of the Eyes Wide Shut sort: some drunkenness, some nudity, and some moody rock 'n' roll. Choreographer KT Niehoff sings during the proceedings with the band Ivory in Ice World, kicking her bare legs (and strappy, expensive-looking shoes) to the drumbeat. The audience sits at tables or leans against the pillars and walls, watching the dance happen around them: writhing, sexual duets from principals wearing white gutter-glam costumes while a dozen extras in frilly blue watch, wander, and preen.

Niehoff has spent years exploring and aestheticizing social situations for dance performances: a dinner party (at which she served actual dinner), a regular party (in which it was sometimes difficult to tell the performers from the audience), and now a sort of glam-rock ball where some dancers walk around flirting with the audience while others undulate up and down the stairs. But unlike her earlier efforts, Glimmer has a chilliness—maybe because of the formalism of ACT Theatre, or maybe because the line between participant and spectator was sharper (the costumes more obvious, the audience doing nothing but watching) and therefore more forbidding. Principals Bianca Cabrera and Michael Rioux gave notably strong performances, with heat in their movement and fire in their limbs. But for all of Glimmer's pageantry, it felt like something stuck behind glass.

While Glimmer pretended to be a rock 'n' roll party, Hipster Death was one. The musicians and dancers would've loved the audience to tear the joint apart—if only they'd had the audience. Four goth-rock and noise bands played at the Mix in Georgetown (a medium-sized concrete room dolled up with a little wood for the bar and balcony), and performers from Danse Perdue improvised during a few sets. Dancers Alex Ruhe and Vanessa Skantze coated themselves in white makeup, donned white robes, and laced the stage and concrete floor with strings and bundles of white fabric, a mess of snowy intestines. Joy Von Spain of the 100 Pieces shrieked out her She Slicing She: A Fury Opera (sounds like: a Diamanda Galás impersonator accompanied by an electrical storm), while Ruhe and Skantze staggered and curled around each other, rolling their eyes back in their heads and grimacing. The audience—mostly made up of the other bands (Dark Matter, Stabbings, Caligula Cartel)—leaned against the walls and watched reverently. They were a church in search of a congregation.

This weekend, at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival, director Roger Benington, Stranger Genius Award–winning designer Jennifer Zeyl, and a pack of burlesque dancers (Waxie Moon, Inga Ingénue, Indigo Blue, Pantera, et al.) will present Cabaret de Curiosités. Paula the Swedish Housewife plays the hostess of a Parisian cabaret who mails a cabinet full of sexy persons to her nephew. (Isn't that illegal?)

A prediction: The burlesque will be more narrative than forgery, more saucy than Glimmer, and better attended than Hipster Death—but not necessarily better than any of them.

KT Niehoff's Response By Email
(Sent April 28 Directly To Brendan Kiley)

Dance companies don't coordinate their schedules better because they don't have the luxury of choice.

They take what they can. They save ridiculously small pennies and book themselves into whatever space/weekend they can find. They are sad when they can't see each others shows to support one another and be inspired by each others work. We are not idiots that just forget to call each other and ask when we are putting on our little shows.

And aside from the logistics of it all, I wonder why the implied negative in the fact there is enough dance in this city to actually support multiple artists and their work in the same weekend? Music venues produce a plethora of artists every weekend in Seattle, as do theater venues. We thrive on the artistic energy happening all around us and revel in the fact that our little corner of the world continually gathers to experience the riches these artists have to offer instead of sitting home and watching CSI re-runs. Why not be proud of a grown up city that has a thriving local/national/international appetite for contemporary dance/performance? Why not applaud it?

Amelia Reeber does not "twirl and spin, frolicking like a Greek nymph (or Isadora Duncan)". My five-year old God Son twirls and spins. And why is it a uniquely, ground-breaking contemporary dance artists is equated to a century old physical vocabulary? I have stopped telling people I am a contemporary dancer because the earliest point of reference our culture has for the art form is Martha Graham, circa 1926. Reviewers can educate. They can connect the time we live in and the people who are making work in relationship to that time to their actual forbearers - in Amelia's case, Deborah Hay, Lisa Nelson, Nina Martin and Jeanine Durning - say nothing of the Seattle dancers who have helped shape and define her acutely 21st century work. If you are going to review dance, please learn more.

"Some drunkenness, some nudity, some moody rock 'n' roll". Check. Yup, these obsessively hard working and ridiculously talented artists got together and checked a bunch of gratuitous, two dimensional boxes and had a party. Really? "Gutter-glam costumes and frilly blue extras"? When I had the audition for those "extras" I asked them if they all wanted to wear the recital costumes of their youth and the rhinestone heels their mothers wouldn't let them wear to prom and they all wanted to play dress up so bad they put in 100+ hours of absolutely NAILING the synchronized intricacy of the physical vocabulary for free. And I myself wanted to put on a little dance show so I could "kick around my bare legs" and have an excuse to buy some expensive shoes with all the copious amounts of cash I have laying around. Oh boy. Here I am indulging in my own sarcasm and anger. Damn it.

Help us to go deeper as a society. Help us to think more about our actions, ask more from our primary relationships as well as our daily interactions. Learn more about an art form that has the ability to free our minds to think non-linearly, non-narratively and push into raw emotion, involuntary kinetic kick-back and dream states. They "teach" this kind of thinking out of us in school so completely we are actually afraid of it ("I don't know anything about dance." "I don't know what it means." - i.e. " I am scared shitless of being wrong and if their isn't an actual plot line with dialogue I could get it "wrong" and look like an ass-hole.")

Everything I read of yours is quip and pat and imbued with sarcasm and cynicism and has a mind-made-up-before-I-even-showed-up kind of quality to it. Come in with an open mind. Allow yourself to actually have an experience. There are incredible artists in this city. Thinking, grappling, practicing, risking, asking and hoping they can penetrate just the tiniest amount into the exoskeleton that keeps us all from the kind of raw, vulnerability that could open up our capacity to reveal the better (or worse) parts of ourselves to each other. And in that revealing, hook into what I believe most of us want from life and each other - more.

I want so much more from you than I ever get. It makes me sad.

Ricki and Justin

2010-04-26T15:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Ricki and KT Niehoff Dance Company,

Thank you so much for creating such a glorious personal spectacle for me. During your performance, I felt like I normally do at the library, but you were the muse alive, like my imaginary friend. I knew others could see you but I had the impression that you were a piece of my subconscious that is always there. It was touchstone to my everyday experience. The experience has given me a cornerstone to continue to explore my own body as a medium to create art everyday. I am successfully integrated and incorporated into the contemporary work that you and the KT Niehoff dance group are creating now. I hope I can come and see the show. Personal time warp and transformative effect was achieved in the process and the solo for me by my account. Thank you again, KT Niehoff, all the company, and you Ricki, for being such explorers of modern dance.

Cheers,
Justin

Dear Justin,
When the solo ended, you said "that was imaginary!" I loved that response so much -- not only did it make me feel like the experience was magical, but also that it was the right kind of magical for YOU, I love the idea that you felt like it could have come from YOUR imagination. Performing for (and with!) you was delightful. I felt seen, and safe, and part of a greater experience you were having. I was aware that you were drinking in not only my dancing, but also the architecture, the light, the art, the music and sounds, the other library patrons, your own rhythms and tempos and instincts. Thank you for sharing with me.

Truly,
Ricki Mason

Criss by Aaron (and Criss)

2010-04-23T10:28:00.001-07:00

I chose 12th & Jackson as the site of my final solo, because pigeons love that corner and often circle and wheel in flocking glory, and Criss had written in her initial responses that she loved flocking birds. I also chose that corner because it is public, truly public, multicultural, funky, sketchy, bustling, a nexus point for characters and oddity. It was a space both radically different from the other, more sculptural places that I chose, and aligned with the spirit of marginal, edgy spaces that I gravitated towards in these 1 to 1 solos.
This final solo, taking place in the morning of opening night, had a reflective quality to it, an awareness of the patterns and habits running the course of these solos suffused me. Criss is also a friend, a fellow practitioner of Capoiera Angola, someone I know quite well and respect, someone with whom I want deepen my friendship.
I certainly saw some characters while I was waiting for Criss, including an altercation where a knife almost got pulled. Sitting there next to the dumpster, slightly uncertain about what solo was about to unfold, feeling the nerves.
Beautiful things happened upon her arrival, she made rosemary lemonade, I read sweet words and spoke with my eyes closed, I balanced and danced beside a dumpster, there were the requisite run ins with authority concerning my using crates that were about to be broken down into trash, the pigeons flew, though not when I wanted them to, not as a flock of spells above my dancing, we made a circle of two, and the sun came out gloriously, forcing me into movement before its time. All in all, I feel slightly discontent with my solo for Criss. I felt slomewhat reserved, either due to the location, or the fact that I know Criss well and had an agenda for what I wanted from the solo. Much of Criss’s writing was inspiring, and spoke to me of changing our lives, living our dreams, and becoming radical members of the earth community, with strong roots and dynamic branches. Though I addressed those things in the solo, I don’t feel like I manifested the awakened being I was hoping would show up and inspire us both. Wearing flamboyant pink and red, my movement was nonetheless contained, bound, overly concerned with boxes and props, and never exploding into the raucous movement of the shaman being I had imagined might make an appearance.
When asked if there was anything else she would like to say to me in our writings, she responded “wake up”. That resonated deeply with me, and set the bar high somehow Since I see Criss a lot, I am considering finishing the solo another time, exploding out into movement unexpected, pouring out the passions and desires that her last two words had inspired in me.

Seeing Criss's response of course, helped me realize the complexity of these 1 to 1 solos, the rich interpretation and intimacy that is inherent in their sturcture.

Reflection. Connection. Inspiration.

When I met Aaron on the corner of 12th and Jackson, where dismal energies swirl and emulsify, he greeted me with lemons. Being of a kinesthetic nature, I was right away comforted to receive the simple yet symbolic task of making lemonade.

Once I was settled in, Aaron began with a reading from my greatest literary inspiration, Alice Walker. I remembered the piece right away, and to hear it verbalized evoked the spirit of freedom, and of justice. It tells of a South African tribe that chooses praise over punishment. Villagers gather in a circle around the accused and recall that person’s good deeds, strengths, kindnesses, and positive attributes. I’m passing for a time in which a loved one is incarcerated in a conventional “correctional facility”. So at these words, a heavy but hopeful mourning rushed through me. A few tears made their escape, perhaps plopping into the lemonade. Then Aaron rose and began to move.

He hoisted himself up on a handrail, swinging, swaying, exploring the boundaries of balance and strength, never touching feet to the ground. I saw myself as child. I felt the great freedom and joy of exploring the body’s endless possible configurations. I recalled that sweet serenity that only comes from a place of unsupervised play. I reveled in the memories rolling in, playground scenes, jumping in leaves, and barrel rolling down hills. I recalled my youthful imagination, and the connection it brought.

Aaron then settled into a position surprisingly very familiar to me, head back, legs stretched out, and stomach to the sky. I saw his body as an antenna, roving and fine tuning to receive the most vital signals from the universe. I often feel this way, challenging myself to listen, to observe, and to receive life forces all around me. A few years ago, when I experienced (what I see as) my first major “awakening”, I drew a picture of body in the same position. I had needed to express the pain in letting go, the fear in leaving behind the familiar and comfortable, and the feeling of being moved by unknown and mysterious forces.

Seeing Aaron’s body in this same position brought to mind the endless cycle of birth and death, that for me, is the essence of life. By letting go and cleansing, we are preparing to receive new energies, to use resources at hand to rebuild, and that’s just what Aaron did next.

Using old produce crates and his feet, Aaron gracefully and playfully began to explore what was possible to build. Crate by crate, he constructed a tower, or perhaps a house. When he had only one crate left, he could no longer reach the top of the structure. He then turned to examine the crate; he took it for a slow saunter down the street and studied it. The sun came out and Aaron held the crate over his head, still seemingly perplexed by it’s existence. He returned to his handiwork (or fooitwork) and found a fitting place for the crate, not on the top, but within it’s already stable structure. I felt a great sense of self acceptance and was reminded to examine and love all parts of myself, as well as others.

Aaron then took a seat beside me. We shared rosemary lemonade and salted chocolates as he read from one of his favorite books, Nature and the Human Soul. I was uplifted by the idea that the world IS WAKING UP. Each day, we challenge ourselves to become more and more awake, connected to self, nature, and others. We are creating an ECOcentric world, a world where humans understand their nature and create true communities.

As I walked away, more of Alice Walker’s words rolled in the wind of my consciousness. “What is the point of being artists if we cannot save ourselves?”

The simplicity of this task, like that of the lemonade, filled me with a great sense of empowerment, and hope for the future of humanity.

Thank you for your kind gift, Aaron. You called to the wild playful child within, and brought me one step closer to waking her up, to letting her lead the way.

Anne and Ricki

2010-04-20T09:55:00.000-07:00

A Dance in the Red Zone: Ricki's Solo for Anne

Ricki asked me to meet her at the Frye Art Museum at 10:30, to begin the private, unpublicized part of my solo. She explained that we would be going for a walk and that I should close my eyes for this. With her arm around my waist and mine on her shoulder, she guided our steps as we walked side-by-side down the city sidewalks for about 15 minutes. I knew that our destination was the Central Library downtown, but, as we walked, I became pleasantly disoriented. I was content to listen to the noise of the traffic and feel the wind on my face as Ricki led the way.

I had written to Ricki, in response to the question "Driver or passenger?," that I loved being a passenger when I had a reliable driver. I assumed that my answer had inspired the exercise. This was not the first time, however, that Ricki had guided my movements: She had been my modern dance and ballet teacher for about a year, and I had spent more than a hundred hours moving under her guidance. Ricki knew a lot about me from watching me in the studio. I had also written to her at length about the important role dance played in my life. She had written back, observing that we both loved dance for its beauty and discipline. She expressed the wish to make a dance for me that was about dance itself and about something more.

When we arrived at the library, I opened my eyes. We entered and climbed the stairs to the Red Hall, where the official, publicized part of my solo would take place. Jody and Sacha were waiting for us there. The Red Hall, a small area of intersecting corridors with red walls, ceiling, and floor, feels womblike, despite its smooth, unadorned surfaces. Ricki slipped off her jacket and stood in the center of the space, beneath a down-light. She closed her eyes and performed an improvised solo for about 15 minutes, keeping her eyes closed the entire time. She moved gracefully, with ripples and rotations through her spine, exploratory foldings and unfoldings of her arms and legs, and simple balances and turns. At times, she turned her face toward the light overhead and seemed to bask in its radiance. Her performance was lovely and was especially impressive for being accomplished without the aid of sight. I kept thinking: How can she
dance so elegantly and so fearlessly with her eyes closed? Eventually, Ricki opened her eyes and bowed to me, and we embraced. Then we walked together back up the hill to the Frye.

Using the simplest of means, with no costumes, props, or music, Ricki created an experience that spoke to our relationship to each other and to what she knew about my relationship to the practice of dance. I can't say for certain what her intentions were, but here is part of what I took away from the experience.

Ricki knows that, despite a lack of natural ability, I am never happier than when I'm dancing. She also knows that I can be terribly self-critical when I feel I have not danced well in class, especially when I have made mistakes with my teachers watching. In our walk together, Ricki seemed to be saying, "It is my privilege to guide you in your movement, and it is safe to make yourself vulnerable in my presence."

That Ricki would dance for 15 minutes with her eyes closed, immediately after I had walked for 15 minutes with my eyes closed, could not have been a coincidence. I felt that she was saying to me, "One thing I am doing in this dance, Anne, is enacting you, or the kind of dancer you could be. No one else in the audience will make this connection, however, because no one else knows about our walk together earlier." For me, then, Ricki's dance became more than a public performance: It also became a kind of private demonstration or tutorial. One thing Ricki demonstrated was that suspending judgment and accepting risk is sometimes the right choice. I imagined her to be saying, "I don't know what my dance looks like, and I've chosen not to see whether you like it or not. I'm also willing to risk falling on my face here, because this is how I have decided to dance today." I interpreted this as Ricki's invitation to me to "dance like no one is watching": to tolerate more risk and be more accepting of my limitations and inevitable mistakes.

Ricki also demonstrated that beautiful movement is grounded more in integrity than in extreme virtuosity. I imagined her to be saying, "By dancing with my eyes closed, I'm putting limits on my technique. I can't do anything big or fancy today: I have to keep things smaller and simpler than usual. I'm confident, however, that if I move with presence and conviction, the results will be satisfying." In fact, the results were exquisite. As a dancer with modest abilities, I was glad to be reminded that a simple dance, performed without elaborate technique, can be quite beautiful.

Ricki performed my solo in the Central Library because I had written to her that it was one of my favorite places in Seattle. But the decision to perform in the Red Hall specifically was Ricki's. Why that particular space? My interpretation: The Red Hall is an intimate space, and Ricki's solo for me was based on intimate knowledge. Red is the color of passion, and Ricki and I are both passionate about dance. Red is also the color of danger, and Ricki understands that, for me, dancing involves emotional danger: specifically, the danger that elation will give way to despair when the discrepancy between my aspirations and my abilities feels too great. The space that Ricki chose seemed to symbolically acknowledge these emotional truths.

I am grateful to Ricki for the lovely, thoughtful solo she created for me and for her continuing guidance and companionship as I attempt to dance with presence, courage, and passion.

Anne

Dear Anne,

It has been such a pleasure to get to know you better through this process. I am thrilled with your response to the solo. You certainly understood my intentions, and also found meaning in the choices I made through instinct not logic, which feels like an especially successful artistic exchange.

Yes, driver and passenger. Trust. Feeling like we built trust in each other through our written exchanges before the solo. Wanting to continue that trajectory. A dear friend of mine once took me on a surprise walk with my eyes closed that I found to be ridiculously magical, and I was hoping that it might be for you as well. I appreciated feeling you start out nervous, growing more confident as we found our rhythm of leading and following. We had both moments of silence that felt extremely present, and conversation that felt deepened by the physical connection of the exercise.

Dancing with my eyes closed -- the other side of that trust. Risky for me because I am without a major technical and compositional tool, because I could not see your reaction, because I could not caretake the space or the bizarre social situation being created by dancing in a public space.

I chose the library because it was one of the favorite locations that you listed, and because it is a favorite spot of mine as well. The Red Hall is strange and delightful to me, and I picked it on instinct. I loved hearing what it meant to you.

I love that you observed the pureness of the dance, both parts. No costumes, props, or music. It is really important to me that an audience sees that I have chosen every element of my performance, from the big stuff like music and movement vocabulary, to little details of costuming like the appropriate undergarments to make the look exactly right. Because you are familiar with my work, and because of the conversations we have had about art and the world, I knew that you would know that not having these elements was also an intentional choice. I spent a long time figuring out how to be costume-less. I am so in love with the idea of using artifice to get to truth that I see everything I own as a sort of costume. Every time I get dressed I think about how my clothing evokes gender and decade and class and age. Those choices feel simultaneously revealing and like armor. I wanted this solo to be outside of that mode of art making. I wanted to be as "come as you are" as possible. It was very funny to me to be trying to construct a costume-less costume when I view the world as costumed! Leaving my chipped nail polish on and putting a hat over my wet hair were two decisions I made about my non-costume, that I trusted you to perceive as vulnerable and not lazy. It was a kind of performing that I don't usually do, intimate in a different way, and I was able to make that choice because of what you know about me and my work. I also chose not to use music because I wanted to have a certain kind of immediate intimacy. I ordinarily choose music for my work that manipulates the viewer into feeling a certain way, to set the emotional landscape for the dance to take place in. It felt right in this instance to perform without that support, to let the experience unfold without a pre-conceived soundtrack.

Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for dancing with me.

Truly,
Ricki

Solo for Carlo by Bianca

2010-04-19T23:56:00.000-07:00

Mr E and Miss Direction

2010-04-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

7:12, arrive I-5 Colonnades park, re –read chosen poems, choose locations for 3 solo snippets, set a prop here and there.

7:25 get to rendezvous point, emergency call box on stairs at E Blaine, sit on bench to wait.

7:30, my parents arrive

7:40 Miss Direction, road trip cat, and friend Michelle arrive. I (Aaron) go over the general structure of the solo. Aaron will guide Miss Direction around the twisted, burningmanesque park. Mr E will appear 3 times, Miss Demeanor and I will share 3 glasses of water, I will read 3 poems. Mr E’s story will start at the end and end at the start (as Miss Directions favorite stories do)

7:50?, I read The Night Traveler (all poems by Mary Oliver) Mr E’s first and final appearance, walking backwards along a looping bike boardwalk in a wizards frock. His final departure into the night, but it is still light, and by walking backwards I come towards them and loop past, ending facing them, balancing my bird staff and yelling YES (Miss Direction’s favorite/most used word). We drink water from Miss Direction’s custom made glasses, I from the night, her from the day, I read part of William Coperthwaite’s A Simple Life, the text I have chosen to accompany our water sharing ceremonies.

8:05? Poem, At Blackwater Pond, I read it with my mask on, as MR E, and hear my voice changed. Big risky solo on rollercoaster boardwalk, leaps and runs, sure can’t see quite right in this mask, the light is fading, I am getting to know this MR E how he moves how he is a part of me and beyond me, I am beginning to feel the crazy calm and reckless that coincide in his questioning blankness. 2^nd cup of water from simple earthen teacups.

8:20? Poem The Journey (“that is my favorite poem”, she exclaims), candles lit in this strange sort of strange collection of pallets and blocks that both seem impossible for any bicycle to navigate and a bit like a kitchen. I carry candles in my hands, I set them places, I move slow and marinate in the newness of Mr E, I put the candles to the 4 corners of a concrete circle, remove my mask, and slide through the circle as I drop the mask down, birthing Mr E. I balance and fall, I blow out candles, which is harder then anticipated due to mask. I carry last 2 candles to Miss Direction, place them in her palms, together we blow them out. I tell her to keep her palms out, get my old, cracked, well-loved mug, put it in her hands, fill it with water, we share the cup, and talk of water, riffing on the magic of the life giving liquid with memory and history unfathomable. Passing the cup back and forth I feel full of the present and memories as well, this simplest of rituals, this being together at the end.

Here is The Journey, the poem which celebrates Mr E’s birth

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice-

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild knight,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

but little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheet of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do-

determined to save

the only life you could save.

So no, you don't know what happened, neither do I, but it was momentous and of great consequence, and if you ever meet Mr E, you will have something to start conversations with, and may it serve you well in the challenging days to come.

An A and E juxtoposition

SingerSongrapper: Concert for Scott Carnz

2010-04-14T00:34:00.000-07:00

SingerSongrapper: Concert for Scott Carnz from Michael Rioux on Vimeo.

Mr. Dr. Scott Carnz's post about his solo from Michael

2010-04-12T11:11:00.000-07:00

I showed up at the house right at 7. A beautiful woman opened the door, and I asked if Michael was there. I had, of course, Googled him to find out what I could. Pictures on Facebook were what I tapped into early.
Completing that questionnaire was tough without a face to write to; trying to convey to an unknown individual enough about myself that they could create a piece of art just for me was daunting. I didn't want my answers to be glib, or cute. I wanted them to reflect something important about me that was worthy of the honor of this experience. OK, what I submitted was a little sound-bitey, but through my exchanges with Michael I felt confident he had something workable. Part of what was intriguing to me about the process was to guess where he was headed based on the follow-up questions he had asked. I still wasn't sure whether this would a portrait, a commentary, or an abstraction. So I arrived with a few assumptions and a lot of questions, but wholly open to whatever would unfold.

We were directed to the basement where a band was set up and wine was waiting. I made small talk with folks while we waited for the solo to start, some of them seemed to know who I was, others didn't. I only revealed it if they asked.

Michael took the stage, and what began was a glorious five-song-set rock performance complete with original songs, cover tunes, audience banter, (four) costume changes and some wild stage dancing. Now, I had said I like big personality and big drama, and that's exactly what I got! Over the duration of the set, I found myself slipping in and out of listening to the lyrics to find myself in them, listening to them objectively as an abstraction about someone else, and just listening and getting lost in the show. It was, at moments, biography, commentary, conversation and interpretive reflection. The interjection of lyrics into the process was not something I had considered and brought an entirely new dimension to the solo. He's singing about superconductors! Hearing my own words spoken and sung back brought a personal immediacy to the piece that I had not expected.

This whole process of making art for specific people was so intriguing to me. The idea of being "for" someone and "about" someone raised so many questions in my mind. As I listened to these songs pouring forth, singing and dancing in my corner of the basement, I wondered if this was what subjects of a Robyn Hitchcock or Cake song felt like, or the subject of any song for that matter. It felt very personal and somewhat revealing about me, but without knowing me or that it was about me, would anyone care? If no one knows that "You're So Vain" is about you, you can revel in the mystery and curiosity like everyone else. And if no one knows, are you really so vain? I felt simultaneously exposed and anonymous—a curious and exhilarating dichotomy to be sure!

The next night was Art Walk and I saw Michael dance at SAM. It was so interesting to see him move in the manner I had expected him to at my solo, in the medium I had assumed would abstract me out of the work to a degree as to be unrecognizable. I am so thrilled that my assumptions had been challenged and that I was given the gift of these questions about identity and art, the merging of the two and who the hell is Mr. Dr. Scott Carnz anyway—all great fodder for a guy with a degree in epistemology.

What an incredible experience this was/is. I am still processing all my thoughts and questions. I feel certain I'll have to sit with this for a while to fully absorb it. Thank you Michael and thank you Lingo. Thank you KT.

Mr. Dr. signing out.

Post from Josh P about his solo from Bianca

2010-04-11T23:45:00.000-07:00

I arrived, a little late as usual, to find Bianca (I could only assume), buried under a blanket, crouched in the wet center of the sundial atop Gasworks' Kite Hill. The early, pre-sunrise light is familiar as Gasworks at
sunrise is my favorite place in the city. A chill wind stired the blanket and I noticed the first trace of movement as the hidden person made a halting, painful approach and reached out to me.

Do I accept the offered hand? Am I moving from the comfort of observer to the vulnerability of participant? After a slight hesitation, of course I do, and I am led to an envelope containing my absolute favorite quote from "The Passion", by Jeanette Winterson.

"How is it that one day life is orderly and you are content, a little cynical perhaps but on the whole just so, and then without warning you find the solid floor is a trapdor and you are now in another place whose geography is uncertain and whose customs are strange? Travellers at least have a choice. Those who set sail know know that things will not be the same as at home. Explorers are perpared. But for us, who travel to cities of the interior by chance, there is no preparaton. We who are fluent find life is a foreign language. Somewhere beween the swamp and the mountains. Somewhere beween fear and sex. Somewere beween God and the Devil passion is and the way there is sudden and the way back worse."

This quote was followed by the imperative "This is perfect."

I stood for a moment - awestruck. I had mentioned this, my favorite book, in the course of my discussions with Bianca, but had never mentioned why or anything about this passage. But it was perfect. And more perfect than either of us could have known.

I am a traveller and love exploration, but have been home-bound for a while and contentedly enjoying my space. This week I had a trapdoor open up underneath me and shake me loose, causing me to question everything in my life. The insight was frightening.

When I woke from my thoughts, I pressed play on the stereo and turned to watch what was in store for me. Bianca emerged, with fiery red hair, from her outer layer of overalls (disguise within disguise within disguise) to reveal a bright orange and red dress. She moved spritely around the hilltop captivating all of us with the intensity of movement.

I was overwhelmed from the beginning of this process by having an artist that I respect so much create something so specifically for me. And overwhelmed at how intimate and personal this piece was. I saw so many parts of myself embodied in this spry and diminuitive dancer with flowing red hair. It wasn't always easy - it is frighting to see these internal thoughts on display. She had penetrated to amazing depth, right through my inner walls and disguises.

It reminds me of another quote from "The Passion":

"Not much touches us, but we long to be touched. We lie awake at night willing the darkness to part and show us a vision."

Once I had crossed into becoming more than observer, I knew that there would be no turning back. We danced and Bianca led me on a promenade around the hilltop. I was grateful for this opportunity to be so touched by a piece.

And of course, all things must end. As Bianca resumed her original disguise, she paused, looking at her dressy heels, aware that they were a remnant of this adventure and knowing that she had to go back to her overalls and sneakers. I found myself rooting for her, that she might stay in the adventure and not go back to 'normal life'. And with some sadness she did finally return and depart.

And so we followed her back into our lives, but with a secret smile from the experience.

Solo for Lucy by Michael

2010-04-09T11:12:00.000-07:00

The very beginning was not taped. frowny-face.

Guest Artist Mimi Allen on Solo For Jing

2010-04-07T12:02:00.000-07:00

Wind storm in Seattle. Arrived early at the Rose Garden by the Woodland Park Zoo in Fremont. It was cold, but thankfully not raining. I placed some special things in their special places, then wrapped my
red apron/skirt around me, took up my position in front of the gazebo and held out my red balloon and wax-sealed letter. I could see Jing coming from far away. She was running. She was worried because she was a few minutes late, but I wasn't worried. It was fun to see her rushing towards me, across the parking lot, then across The Rose Garden. When she arrived, she introduced herself and her friends. They were holding warm drinks and cameras. I gave Jing her first letter.

She broke the wax seal and thus the journey began. The first letter simple said "Let go." I handed her the red balloon. She let go. It had a trip line, so it was caught a few feet above us. I pulled it back down and gave it to her again. She let go again. It popped up above our heads. It seemed she wanted to take it away, so I broke the fishing line that was holding it to the gazebo. Then she really let go. And off it soared! I wasn't expecting that. It got swept by the wind far far far away. It went high into the sky and we watched it all. I'm not in the practice of releasing balloons, not since my childhood anyway, so this is something I haven't seen for a very long time. It reminded me of all the sad, magical, childhood moments when the balloon got away

The roses weren't yet blooming and, while there were some tulips in bloom, the garden was mostly bright green grass and dark brown earth, so I decided to add some color. I'd made 30 red, blue and green patterned paper flowers and attached them to wooden skewers. The four of us planted them in 3 rose beds. Then Jing and I put tags on the real roses. I'd made 20 round tags with new rose names on them, names from the information Jing shared with me in her questionnaire. There was Jing Rose, Funny Rose, Honesty Rose, Order Rose, Real Rose... We tied them on with thin black ribbons. Then we had a tour of Jing's Garden and read out the names! That was fun.

After this came more wax-sealed, handwritten notes, 12 in total. One note told us to fill a little blue vial with revitalizing water from the fountain, one asked us to dangle our fingers in the fish pond and wait for a fish to kiss it, one asked us to "Follow" and we went up onto a little hill and into the woods to find some funny invisible birds with black feet, then we went through the echo chamber and said the one word we wanted most of all, which not surprisingly was DANCE which we did for a bit, then we went over a bridge where we struck poses that reminded us of our home country, China, then the whole group of us stood on golden disks which allowed us to see ourselves as our family saw us, then Mimi wrapped herself around the Tree of Dance

many times in many ways. The next note said "Stay." Jing stayed while Mimi ran down the hill and up the next hill and almost out of site. Then she waved her red apron and came ambling back down the dirt road.

The second to last letter said "A Greeting," which Jing received in the form of a hug when Mimi came back. Then came "The End."
Mimi

--

A. K. Mimi Allin is the current artist-in-residence at "Project: Space Available" on Capitol Hill in Seattle (1 April--31 May 2010). Her residency project is called HAM or Hold, All Movement, for which she'll build a hold (think of a ship's hold or a closed inner space) and stock it with a cot, teapot, personal library and a communications station, complete with shortwave, VHF & HAM radios. With this she'll learn morse code and earn her amateur radio license. Not long into the residency, she'll begin to reside in the hold, listening to radios at night &turning the info she records into gestures by day. Yes, lo &behold, she will eat ham sandwiches during her residency. At the close of her project, there will be 3 public performances, 2 within the hold and 1 in thin air, after the hold has been dismantled. Forget what mother told you. Tune in. Tune in!

http://www.projectspaceavailable.com/
http://thepoetessatgreenlake.blogspot.com/
http://corporate-poet.blogspot.com/

From Satya, in regards to her solo given by Bianca

2010-04-06T10:48:00.000-07:00

Bianca Cabrera’s solo for me was performed at Denny Blaine beach on March 24th. It is exciting and honoring to have someone take a bit of me and transform that into movement/art. The piece took place at
one of my favorite summer destinations. Bianca wanted to perform when it was nearing dark so the dance began at 8 pm.

Bianca took on a meditation posture, which eventually turned into a restless sleep. I felt as though we were having an uncomfortable dream. Yet her movements were articulate, calculated, and beautiful.

Eventually stripping off layer by layer while moving closer to the water, fear and restlessness gave way to more streamlined/integrated emotional context. Dancing in the cold water was BRAVE, and the sense of restlessness I was feeling earlier in the dance became beautiful in the moon light and the lights of the city in the distance. She stayed there for longer that I ever would have, which was surprising and added a lot of strength to the piece.

This process reminded me how powerful art can be. In our conversation afterwards, Bianca mentioned that she had fears of the dark and did not know how to swim. I loved that she worked with those in this piece and I found myself going back to that in my mind and heart. I will always have the image in my mind of that strong women moving in the dusk. Going beyond her own fear, and transforming passing thoughts and emotions into movement.

What a gift, thank you!
Satya

Michael and Les / The Holy Work Truck Trinity

2010-04-05T23:22:00.000-07:00

Michael and Les / The Holy Work Truck Trinity

2010-04-05T23:18:00.000-07:00

Michael and Les / The Holy Work Truck Trinity

2010-04-05T23:14:00.000-07:00

Michael and Les / The Holy Work Truck Trinity

2010-04-05T23:09:00.000-07:00

Michael and Les / The Holy Work Truck Trinity

2010-04-05T22:56:00.000-07:00

Michael and Scott / SingerSongrapper

2010-04-05T22:49:00.001-07:00

Video of the dance solo disguised as a rock quintet to come soon.

Impressions after Annie's Solo

2010-04-04T09:52:00.000-07:00

Offerings of flowers, a cairn, and the melding of something once broken. The sound of rocks clanking and clapping in the pockets of an indigo blue pea coat. The Fremont Troll, existing in all his complex states of

dark, looming, caretaker, icon and shelter all at once. Annie, so small standing on the Troll’s gargantuan hand, watching me dance up the street to her through a pair of binoculars. The weave of traffic patterns and cars that didn’t quite know how to handle a dancer in the street. Two halves of a broken rock- on one, “Look from the Troll’s point of view,” on the other, “What was once severed, now whole.” Annie coming to see that these two sides fit together. Annie relating to the Troll in a symbolic way in her life. Her being a “connecter.” The Troll’s point of view being a spatial dream of curved archways, one after the other, upholding the bridge under which he sits. The contrast between the huge and the tiny. The feeling that Annie was with me. The heaviness of stone, the powdery, goldenrod-colored sand, the brilliance and eventual disintegration of all living things. Two people working together to make an offering of life in a dark place. The beauty of leaving something behind.

Kinetic Installations at SAM: Bianca

2010-04-02T15:45:00.003-07:00

bianca_04-01-10i
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

See complete set of photos from Bianca's April 1 installation at Seattle Art Museum.

Photos by Anne Lawrence.

Ricki's 1-to-1 Solo For Heather

2010-04-02T15:45:00.001-07:00

ricki_03-30-10d
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

See complete set of photos from Ricki's solo for Heather.

Photos by Anne Lawrence.

Jamie/Kate Solo-J's Response

2010-04-01T21:53:00.000-07:00

As I got my family ready to head over to the park to watch my solo dance performed by Kate Wallich, I started to wonder what themes Kate could possibly have picked up on from the questionaire I had filled out
weeks ago. I had told some friends about the performance, and a courageous few braved the rain to turn out and watch. As my family and I ate peanut butter sandwiches in our van parked accross from the park, I saw two people approach with a green arm chair hoisted in the air. We went over and I introduced myself. The chair was for me, she said. She handed me a camera, saying there was no film in it, but I might want to watch the performance through that lens. I held the camera up to my eye and looked at this dancer. She wore a dress, a jacket, a scarf, black boots, a hat and a purse. I looked down and noticed that I, too, wore a dress, a jacket, a scarf, black boots, and a hat. (I had left my purse in the van.) I had no idea what to expect. Suddenly the rain stopped. "Ok, well, we might as well get started." Kate walked up to the little merry-go-round and began to laboriously push it, around and around and around, wearing an ever deepening circular track around the thing. At moments she would reach up towards the sky, collapse onto the merry-go-round-- struggle against it, and ultimately, return to pushing it round and round. At one point she pulled her hat down over her eyes and began bobbing her head up and down like a bobble head doll. "Put your shoes on. Put your shoes on. Put your shoes on." That was me. Me the bobble head doll, pushing my life around and around and around-- struggling and stuck and bound and reaching all at the same time. Me home with my children, . I felt vulnerable and exposed-- what was everyone else thinking of this? Can they all see my psychic pain being acted out here in this public park? I mean, this was all so PERSONAL, and so private, I thought. I think what struck me was the way Kate used her arms-- at one moment strong and forceful, the next fragile and reaching and then exhausted and limp. She was beautiful up there-- pushing and stopping and starting again, dancing me there on this merry go round. This children's park, with my children there next to her, playing oblivious on the swings, on the climber, my husband oblivious sometimes watching, sometimes negotiating the play problems of the kids.

I felt part of this piece as viewer, watching in my arm chair, with my camera, just one of many lenses through which to view this piece. Later, my friend Amy mentioned that she enjoyed watching me watch the piece. I felt a bit depressed, watching her up there-- I felt a bit Sylvia Plath-- looked around in case she had stashed a little toy oven for the end of the piece-- but thankfully, no oven in sight. Kate had captured a part of me not usually on display, and projected it onto this setting, reflecting this part of me back to me. I am definitely changed by this experience-- I have been thinking about my world differently now. Art really can be a transformative experience-- imagine that!

-Jamie Katz

Dianne Responds To Aaron's Solo

2010-03-28T21:00:00.000-07:00

....connection.....connection to self.....connection to other....connection to the natural world.....receptive.....emerging.....connecting.....unfolding.....surrender.....these were the themes of my dance,
themes I saw and felt in every gesture Aaron made. I could speak of these, could speak of how he curled on the rock in the middle of the reflecting pool, could speak of how he stood haltingly and opened, could speak of the feathers tied to his ankle and how they floated on the surface of the water. But what has captured my attention more than these, is the moment when the security guard came over and said we were on private property and that what Aaron was doing had to stop. Why would this capture my attention? Because, in the face of what is emerging in me - a deeper level of my feminine being, a complete re-orientation of what it means to be a woman on an emotional/sexual/spiritual level - I almost always feel "at risk" and vulnerable. The question I am living is "how do I live with/expose a deeper level of my feminine knowing despite the real fears of it being attacked, controlled and/or violated?" So, there it was, mySelf unfolding in Aaron's every gesture while, in the background, KT was speaking with the security guard who wanted to control what was happening. And there was real beauty in that moment....While continuing to watch Aaron, I heard KT's voice - quiet, non-defensive - and I felt her gentleness even as she was requesting that we be allowed to continue. When it was clear that Aaron had to remove himself from the reflecting pool, KT walked over, beckoned to him (at this point, KT became part of the dance), took his hand, and together, they walked along the edge of the pool until Aaron stood facing me. These are the questions I am left with: Am I willing to continue to expose my vulnerability? Am I willing to step into the light of a new consciousness? Am I willing to give up power and dominance and make room for a deeper wisdom that is connected to the sacred in life? Am I willing to forge a new link of love through my heart to the hearts of the whole of humanity?" Thank you, Aaron, and Lingo for this unique opportunity.

Dianne Grob

Dianne...Vulnerability...Connection

2010-03-28T20:52:00.000-07:00

I picked up on a craving for intimacy, authenticity, interconnection and ongoing transformation in Dianne’s communications with me, and set off to keep it simple and pure with her. I knew the location would be the
reflecting pool at Seattle U. I had the idea that I wanted feathers and other floating objects tied to me and floating in the reflecting pool. I knew that I wanted Dianne to be holding a thread connecting her physically to me, I knew that I would be wearing a burnt orange shirt and chartreuse scarf, two colors that she knows go brilliantly together ( a nice discovery for me, as I have never worn that color combination before, but quite fancy it.) I knew that nests and birds figured deeply in my connection with Dianne.

8:20am I arrived with my son Kaveh as Alia finished parking. Dianne was already there, and sure enough, we were wearing matching colors. I sort of set up and engaged with Kaveh awkwardly until Alia got there, at which time I could focus on Dianne. We tied feathers to strings together, and then tied those strings to my right foot. I realized that I should have jumped out to the little island before tying the string on to my foot, but then made the jump anyways, sort of holding then releasing the strings as I leapt. I placed 2 small bird sculptures on the more nestlike island in the reflecting pool, then waded over to the bare rock where I planned to do the majority of the performance. Diane moved to the chair I had set up for her to sit in and handed me the green string, holding the spool while I tied the end to a button at mid chest. I untangled a few of the strings, but it was cold, I realized they would tangle again as soon as I began to move, and I felt the need to “begin.” I closed my eyes and tried to move from my body and heart, keep my cells open and allow my vulnerability to flare into movement. Movement happened, though it was too cold and small on that island for me to feel very patient. I had trouble balancing, I played with the strings with my foot, I listened to my sons commentary, I wrapped the string around my head and took it in my mouth, I could feel the motion of Dianne unwinding the spool on her end as I did this and it was delicious, like the feeling of connection a kite must have as it soars.

At a certain point (time gets pretty vague with eyes closed) I opened my eyes, opened the bag which was hanging from my neck, and began to float little pine cone wings (what is the name for the little pieces that so cleverly together comprise a pine cone?) on the water. The sting ray shaped pine cone wings had reminded me of cedar waxwings, and I had the thought of releasing a little flock of them into the water. I moved off the rock, thinking to continue releasing cone wings as I moved back to the nest island for a finale, but noticed KT beckoning me, and a security guard. I grabbed the birds from the island and headed back to shore, unsure if the solo had found an unexpected end, but it was OK, I kept going, walking closer and closer to Dianne as she wound in the string. Walking around the edge of the pool, the string had created a horseshoe, and the u of it dragging through the water towards us was somehow very poignant for me. I placed cone wings on the ground before her, getting closer and closer until I placed one in her hand, and then upon her heart, where it obligingly balanced and stayed. Then we looked into each others eyes and I felt an end.

Afterwards I felt the awkwardness of having shared something slightly inexplicable: vulnerable, intimate and fleeting. We walked into the chapel to warm up and bask in its spiritual energy, the needs of my family caught me up again, I felt somehow cleansed, both heavy and light at the same time. There are no answers, but I feel thankful none the less.

And then I read Dianne's words, and my feelings shifted, and there were answers of sorts, shared experiences, connections, and a deep gratitute to both Dianne and KT.

Here they are

....connection.....connection to self.....connection to other....connection to the natural world.....receptive.....emerging....connecting....unfolding....surrender.... these were the themes of my dance, themes I saw and felt in every gesture Aaron made. I could speak of these, could speak of how he curled on the rock in the middle of the reflecting pool, could speak of how he stood haltingly and opened, could speak of the feathers tied to his ankle and how they floated on the surface of the water. But what has captured my attention more than these, is the moment when the security guard came over and said we were on private property and that what Aaron was doing had to stop. Why would this capture my attention? Because, in the face of what is emerging in me - a deeper level of my feminine being, a complete re-orientation of what it means to be a woman on an emotional/sexual/spiritual level - I almost always feel "at risk" and vulnerable. The question I am living is "how do I live with/expose a deeper level of my feminine knowing despite the real fears of it being attacked, controlled and/or violated?" So, there it was, mySelf unfolding in Aaron's every gesture while, in the background, KT was speaking with the security guard who wanted to control what was happening. And there was real beauty in that moment....While continuing to watch Aaron, I heard KT's voice - quiet, non-defensive - and I felt her gentleness even as she was requesting that we be allowed to continue. When it was clear that Aaron had to remove himself from the reflecting pool, KT walked over, beckoned to him (at this point, KT became part of the dance), took his hand, and together, they walked along the edge of the pool until Aaron stood facing me. These are the questions I am left with: Am I willing to continue to expose my vulnerability? Am I willing to step into the light of a new consciousness? Am I willing to give up power and dominance and make room for a deeper wisdom that is connected to the sacred in life? Am I willing to forge a new link of love through my heart to the hearts of the whole of humanity?" Thank you, Aaron, and Lingo for this unique opportunity.

Dianne Grob

Receiving a gift, in the middle of Marty's garden, in a round-about fashion, via Ricki

2010-03-26T20:07:00.000-07:00

and there we were...

Perched, via two folding chairs, in the middle of an intersection round-about filled with flowers (later
discovered to be "Marty's garden") at 14th Ave East/E Thomas St. Giving&receiving, as cars curved past us on both sides, sometimes slowing down to have a curious look, and passers-by gazed, noticed or merely just accepted our presence. The post work day neighborhood lightly buzzed, while a stunning view of the Space Needle, bright water and evening light casted across the mountains, provided a lovely lull for our exchange.

Thus was the setting for my gifted solo from the lovely Ricki.
__

I should back up a bit; especially to contrast this calm, picturesque scene.

The truth is, just 10 minutes before my arrival at the intersection, I was manically pacing up and down the squeaky isles at Safeway, pretending to be chill, pretending I wasn't fixating on this upcoming performance, but merely, non-chalantly deciding which almonds to purchase. When I finally made myself locate the chosen intersection and was only a block or two away, my body immediately spun around and skittered to the nearest bus bench to settle into until it was exactly 6:30pm. I worried what I might be interrupting or perhaps starting if I arrived even a minute early. "Jeez Ambryn..." I thought, feeling silly, especially because I consider myself a confident, dive-on-in, adventurous person, with experience in the performance world, but still...this was...vulnerable. All the sudden I was back in junior high, uncertain of what was expected of me, what to say and how in the heck to direct my body.
__

Back at the intersection and after our greetings, Ricki brought out a paper bag filled with a six pack of IPAs (one of my favorites), with each bottle individually wrapped in its own smaller paper bag, perfect for on-the-street sipping. Ricki handed one to me, another to my sweetie along for the performance ride, and yet another for herself. As she knocked off the tops, we each toasted and took our swigs. This, I decided, was indeed a fine start.

We were seated face-to-face, as if preparing for a long story-telling session with a close friend, as Ricki brought out a small, colored wire notebook with my name on the front. She began reading...

At first, the words I heard were completely foreign and I had to work to figure out where they were from, and then, I quickly realized they were mine. The familiar ramblings of my answers to Ricki's emailed questions were now, oh-so brand new as they flowed via a different voice, with unique meter and rhythm, and with a new kind of care and attention to their intimacy. After an adjustment to this role exchange, and an easy reassurance from the care in which Ricki was handling my words, I settled in and opened my senses. I heard myself with a new meaning, as the neighborhood, my nearby-sweetie and the Seattle air listened to what I had to say, via Ricki.

My choices and stories of home, my emotional dream patterns and late nightlife, my messy insecurities and body aches, my secrets and reflections of new love all handled so lovingly and carefully, with attention to their prominence became my solo. Me reflected back to me, only different, because my only job was to accept. To sit back and accept the stage, merely by being there. Suddenly, my words had a great, great power.

"There's one more part," she said, and then came the movement. Big and expansive, yet intentionally controlled, with circling wrists and rolls through the back. Carefully located motions, with time to perch and notice, allowing herself to take up space. Connecting and opening to the sky, paying homage to the vast, open plains of my Midwestern home, stepping up onto the nearby curb to claim, and then choosing a long, powerful bubble of stillness, with great attention to the sky, perhaps following a passing plane, but choosing to be fully present. Focus to the slightly aching left side of her/my body, pushing it down, wringing it out, urging attention. Big arms, full back, swirling fingers and lots of wrapping. With great drama, but quiet stillness. An embodied weaving of my values, patterns and work-in-progress choices. With great care and honesty.

I felt as if I was being taken care of, affirmed and given immense permission to be exactly where I was. And, ironically, exactly where I was included an offered chair, a good beer, in the middle of a street full of life, with two honest witnesses along for the unknown ride.

After Ricki finished, she graciously answered some of our questions, offering some nuggets of her own process, of the collective vs. individual crafting, of the project itself and asked her own questions. I could have easily filled the next hour with this questioning and discussion, so tempted to want to know more, but it soon became quietly clear that it was time to end. It was time to part the space and leave this gift as much as it was, without any more picking, digging, or inquiry. Allowing this exchange to be. To be in the intersection and in the changing evening light. In Marty's garden round-about (her husband came out to kindly remind us not to put our bags and feet into the flower beds, but happy we were enjoying the space). To be in the folding chairs and clinked beers.

This, it seems, is what receiving a gift is all about.

Thanks Ricki and Lingo for your good courage, wise ponderings and embrace of the gritty, in-between space.

a verbal response to Mykaila's solo gifted by Bianca

2010-03-25T18:25:00.000-07:00

In Love With Something New

I stood, not knowing what to do, so afraid but not showing it, was I showing it?

So this is what it feels like, I remembered, to be in love with something new.

Just loving every little life force, every moment making me.

This wouldn't happen if not for me, and if not for her,

And she was dancing, dancing her, dancing me, dancing us.

Bending, swooping, hopping, And with every little imperfection of mine,

Every moment I live through, I want to be.

She's known me for ever, she's known me for never,

She's my best friend and I barely know her.

How do we live through when we don't know the beginning or end?

How is this only yours? Only ours? With everyone around us? What makes this special?

I don't know, I don't know. How will this end? When?

Friends, some kind of comrades, we're brothers.

This was us, this was something real. Real from beginning to end.

Was it planned? Everything I thought I believed says no but I think I might have found god.

What if I did? What if it was fate? What if it was written?

Maybe if nothing else in the world was planned, that was.

I've never believed in Meant to Be, but I cannot believe in Random now.

----------------

My journal on the experience can be found here, on the Teen Tix Blog

Kelly's 1-to1 Solo For Pamela

2010-03-24T23:45:00.000-07:00

Kelly 1-to1 solo with Pamela
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

See all photos from Tin Table solo.

Pamela Semken Solo

2010-03-24T23:37:00.000-07:00

Photo taken by Pamela Semken

Wednesday, March 24^th, 3:45pm, The Tin Table. I arrive and set up the back room of the restaurant by pushing two tables out of the way to make some space to dance in, and setting a place at a long table for
Pamela to watch. I put on her plate my digital camera and a card for her colored in reds and yellows, with instructions for the rest of the solo.

4:11pm, I order two of Pamela’s favorite drink- Tanqueray 10 and tonic with lemons and limes (sorry

Pamela, they had to use Sapphire!) I drink half of mine before she even arrives, out of nerves and anticipation.

4:15pm, I meet Pamela and her entourage at the front podium of the restaurant, and she gives me a hug- I immediately feel less worried as I see that she is instantly warm towards me. I lead her to the room I have set up, sit her down at the table, and have her read the card, which says:

“Pamela,

Here is my digital camera for you to “capture the experience, and savor the memory” of this performance. Enjoy the drink!

Cheers,

Kelly”

I turn on the song “Hollywood Perfume,” by The Pretenders- one of my favorite rock-out, sense of abandon songs. Pamela and I clink gin and tonics, and I say, “to being alive.” I put down the drink, and dance an all-out abandonment solo, placing loosing and enjoying myself at the top of the priority list. Four minutes later, the song ends. Sweaty and breathless, I pick up my drink again, and toast Pamela once more, this time, “to living that bar dream.” Then we sit and finish our drinks, talk about the Glimmer project and its components, and share our experiences of the journey leading up to the solo.

From our correspondence, I had learned that one night, while drinking the very drink she now had in her hand, Pamela observed how happy her fellow bar-mates were as they unwound from long days, laughed with friends, etc., and she thought, “this is good.” She said this “inspired [her] to break out of [her] dolldrum life and open a bar/restaurant- how much fun to share your working day with people breaking out of their monotony…” As I got to know more about Pamela, the thing that kept coming up was this spark about living, of having a good time, of sharing wildness with people you love. Coupled with this, I got the sense that she was a badass, and a bit of a rocker at heart. I wanted her solo to have that sense of abandon and enjoyment that comes when you are euphorically drunk, and let go of everything to which you normally cling tight.

My pants totally ripped half way through- a HUGE RIP exposing the entire right side of my bottom. It felt completely appropriate.

Bianca's 1-to-1 Solo for Mykaila

2010-03-24T13:01:00.001-07:00

bianca2 03-23-10p
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

See all photos from solo.

Photos by Anne Lawrence.

Chat response to my Solo for Mykaila, March 23rd. 6.15pm

2010-03-23T21:28:00.000-07:00

Bianca

hey lady

whoa, right?

8:23pmMykaila

totally.

8:23pmBianca

how do you feel? or, what do you feel?

i feel vulnerable and young

8:24pmMykaila

i feel so out of my body.

8:25pmBianca

more...

8:26pmMykaila

i'm not sure. i think... it was perfect.

8:27pmMykaila

but it feels like it didn't happen, a little bit. it's hard to realize that things like that are possible, that they really happen... and then on top of that i have to wrap my head around that it happened to me, happened with me. that without me, it wouldn't have happened at all.

8:29pmBianca

yes

8:30pmMykaila

what do you think?

and feel?

8:30pmBianca

to start

i feel little

like i am 13

again

and again

i feel responsible

and the weight of that is heavy like when i was 13

i feel opened

surprised by that opening

i feel like we just had a sleep over or something

i feel weirdly close and unclose

to you

and

8:32pmMykaila

mhmm, definitely, like that first time someone spends the night at your house

8:32pmBianca

i also feel old

and happy to feel young

i almost cried a little when we were singing

that really surprised me

i love singing and do it all the time

8:34pmMykaila

i noticed that.

8:34pmBianca

but that became so loaded and nostalgic so fast

darn! i was hoping you missed that ha!

8:34pmMykaila

yes

8:34pmBianca

did that weird you out?

i am so dorky sometimes

8:35pmMykaila

not at all

i'm like that too

8:35pmBianca

i would have said that if you had asked me to fill out a questionnaire

like what, dorky?

8:36pmMykaila

what else would you have said? and what things fell away easily from my answers?

dorky, sing-y, crying a little bit-y

8:37pmBianca

ahh, what else? i say too much when i am unguarded and too little when i am not. of course

what fell away? nothing.

what could i subscribe to in an honest way was all musical and emotional

8:39pmBianca

other things fell in kinetically instead of literally

which makes them harder to see

8:40pmMykaila

yes

so... where did you begin? i don't know what i would have done...

8:42pmBianca

i began by distilling your answers and looking at parallels between us

or commonalities, better put

8:42pmMykaila

what are our parallels.commonalities?

8:44pmBianca

bedroom. car talk. colors. languages. the first 13 questions minus number 6

genocide. no understanding

structure

musical musings

8:47pmMykaila

it's crazy

8:47pmBianca

did you sense any?

what is?

8:50pmMykaila

yeah, i think that whenever i've learned about you, through emails or through facebook or whatever, i've sensed some kind of weird connect. i don't know if it's commonalities but more that we move through life in somewhat similar ways... and weird coincidence, like our birthdays.

what is crazy is just that this can happen. i'm not over it... i won't be for a while.

8:50pmBianca

don't be over it.

8:51pmMykaila

the hippocampus is the center of emotional memory in women

i have an extraordinary hippocampus

it's gonna stick around for a long long time

8:52pmBianca

i bet, me too.

8:52pmMykaila

i don't know how to keep it with me, in some ways. i am a big sharer, it's kind of how i keep track of myself, in an odd way. but i can't share this... it's a challenge for me. i like it but it's so different.

8:52pmBianca

so interesting. does processing with me feel like sharing?

8:53pmMykaila

yes it does.

8:54pmBianca

is it hard?

8:55pmMykaila

a little bit, mostly trying to figure it out is tough. i have people all over the place asking me how it was, and i just don't know what to say. it's really comforting that there's another person in the world--you--who really gets it.

8:57pmBianca

yes. and i get what you just said about sharing. i do that thing too- blurt and process out loud. some things, i really cradle and keep quiet.

8:59pmMykaila

cradle--that is the perfect word.

8:59pmBianca

i have a proposal.

9:00pmMykaila

yes?

9:01pmBianca

what if instead of blogging and trying to make some palatable prose for people

9:01pmMykaila

i like where this is going

9:01pmBianca

i just copy this chat to the lingo blog and let them have at it. does that feel right or does that feel invasive?

just a thought

9:01pmMykaila

i'm not sure

9:02pmBianca

maybe this dialogue is more indicative than a summary

i am not married to the idea, it just popped up

9:02pmMykaila

i think that what we are saying is very true, in some ways, because it is what we are feeling--raw and fresh. but i don't want to miss anything...

9:02pmBianca

where did you think it was going?

miss anything?

9:03pmMykaila

somewhere that i didn't have to figure out how to translate that experience into words

9:03pmBianca

well, what does that look like?

i like that

9:03pmMykaila

miss any feeling or reflection or idea or something

9:03pmBianca

right

what if we did that and then some non verbal response

9:04pmMykaila

i like that

9:04pmBianca

or in tandem with another verbal response

9:04pmMykaila

yes

9:05pmBianca

pick your favorite combo

all three? just two?

9:05pmMykaila

all three, if you're up for it... or down with it

9:05pmBianca

yes yes yes

three yeses

9:06pmMykaila

perfect

9:07pmBianca

in Biancaland, that gets a big 'Ting!'

9:08pmMykaila

like the sound?!

9:08pmBianca

yes!

9:09pmMykaila

I DO THAT TOO

9:09pmBianca

WHOA!!!!!

Rocktober babies!

9:10pmMykaila

keeps getting more and more intense!!

9:12pmBianca

on and on...

as it should

9:15pmBianca

okay then. i will start the response train with this chat.

9:15pmMykaila

great

i am really excited for this... weird but it feels like it's still the beginning

9:15pmBianca

i can't wait to see what gets done and written

it is!!!

for a while, i think, it will feel new

9:17pmMykaila

yes, i think that's true

9:17pmBianca

thank you for today. i felt you go far with me. i asked a lot. you did a lot.

9:18pmMykaila

thank you for asking. i would never have gone there if i was never asked.

and i'm really really glad it happened

9:19pmBianca

you!

yes!

9:19pmMykaila

eh "glad" is a weak modifier. i feel so beyond everything.

9:19pmBianca

words aren't always the best modifiers

says the dancer tot he english teacher...

to the

9:20pmMykaila

it's true!

9:21pmBianca

true.

9:21pmMykaila

i wish i could speak every language in the world. there is a word in afrikaans that means "the feeling you get when you see someone you used to be in love with but aren't anymore"

if there is a word for that, there is a word for everything. but i just don't know them.

9:21pmBianca

i need to know it i feel that way all the time

keep searching

and always feel good knowing that you know the corresponding feeling first

9:22pmMykaila

yes, feeling is better than describing feeling.

i'll figure that word out. i'll ask some friends.

9:23pmBianca

standing by for good word...

to end, I say this

i can't wait for more

yes yes yes and more and yes

9:24pmMykaila

i am so with you.

9:24pmBianca

i look forward to the other two responses

and thank you

and wow

9:24pmMykaila

me too. you're welcome. thank you. aaaah. what!

9:25pmBianca

whaaaat.

and finally

a big

fat

Ting!

9:26pmMykaila

TING!

Bianca"s 1-to-1 Solo For Xaviera

2010-03-23T14:43:00.001-07:00

bianca_03-23-10c
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

See all photos from solo.

Photos by Anne Lawrence.

Running From the Cops (My solo gifted by Bianca)

2010-03-23T13:06:00.000-07:00

You know those days that you just don't feel like crawling out of bed and throwing on your war paint? Well, I was having one of those this morning. Then I remembered, today I was going to receive a solo performance from a complete stranger. With this in mind, I was able to drag my ass the long distance (1.5 blocks) from my
apartment to the performance location.

Although I had nothing to do, other than enjoy, I was a little nervous. Kind of like a blind date, but in this case one that I had revealed things to via Facebook messaging that people I've slept with have never known. Very intense, and left me in a bit of a sweaty condition upon arriving at Broadway Market.

All the anxiety was for not. Bianca and her posse were just what the doctor ordered. The original plan was to have the piece performed in the Market, but it was decided that outside on the sidewalk was probably a safer option. Cardboard was laid down and boombox was cranked. It was time to receive my dance.

I loved the 5 tracks chosen and found Bianca's movement intense while simultaneously hilarious. Bringing me in by having me select the order of the music was a fun surprise and got me more engaged than it may have had I been purely an observer. Finishing off with a run (possibly from the cops)hand in hand with Bianca was a perfect ending. I look forward to seeing the photobooth shots.

Solo for Xaviera, Tuesday March 23rd at 11.30am. Outside Broadway Market

2010-03-23T12:55:00.001-07:00

It happened. I was nervous from coffee and a bad habit I recently picked up again(soon to be quit...again.) I gathered my posse; Bridget, Annie, Soleil and Greg and built my dance floor of cardboard. Sir Mix A Lot,
Wu Tang Clan on the bright yellow boom box. Sneakers. Ideas. Hopes. Fingers crossed. How to be intimate with a stranger? The question that keeps coming up. How to take these answered questions and build a knowledge base about someone. What the answers say to me is revealing, I see myself in them. I would
want... I would need... I see this... I hear this...How can I see clearly without using myself as a lens? Is that the way I should be working, I wonder? I wanted more intimacy than I got. I wanted more time with X, wanted this dance to be a culmination of some other experience we had together rather than just the response to what I think I know of her. Being present with her, in front of other people, who may not know the what's or who's or how's of creating this performance was difficult and just keeping my eyes and hands or her helped me ground down. The container I set up was a shy one, very public, easy, like a crowded restaurant for a first date rather than a walk through the woods in duet. I found myself hoping, really hard hoping, that she would pick up on the subtle(often not so subtle) 'clues' or trademarks of her, aspects of the solo that I felt were really un'me' and truly, only coming from her as inspiration. you and me. unknown and unknown. fingers crossed.

Kate's 1-to-1 Solo For Lois

2010-03-23T10:27:00.001-07:00

kate_03-20-10d
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

See complete set of shots.

Photos by Anne Lawrence.

Insert Bubble Gum Snap Here

2010-03-23T10:25:00.000-07:00

So apparently Lois is a gemini :) Trinkets trinkets galore, salted pigs, measuring spoons, salt, salt, salt, perfume, sloppy spitty bubble gum, bow ties, ribbon, shakkkkkkkkkker, bird whistle. Behold lady bird
woman.

Arriving at Volunteer park on a very sunny Saturday afternoon, my nerves began to kick in as I saw the
overwhelmingly large amount of people wandering the park taking in their daily dose of vitamin D. Finding the space I chose to perform the solo for Lois, I felt I needed to settle in and declare the space as mine. While setting up the space for Lois' arrival, I began to read through my notes/jottings based off of our correspondence. The wind was just strong enough to blow the fresh spring buds off from the trees creating this very magical atmosphere. Putting the final touches onto my "costume" which happened to be a bow tie and button down shirt (office job anyone?) Lois and her family arrived. Sharing conversation, I realized how surreal this moment became. For some reason throughout our correspondence I so closely related Lois to my own mother in my mind and to be standing with Lois herself was so bizarre but, so refreshing to know that Lois was Lois to state it simply.... A few minutes later I decided to begin the solo. Taking a deep breathe and breathing in the spring air I began by aggressively shoving pieces of bazooka bubble gum into my mouth. Once soft and malleable, I attempted to blow some bubbles, failing miserably by it turning into huge sloppy spitty wads, I spat the gum out. Removing my shoes and breaking down this business woman character which I was dressed as, I began to play with the world which I had created for myself and Lois. Being engulfed within this playful, almost child like character, I slowly transformed into almost the playful mother roll as I was blowing a whistle and shaking a percussive egg at the same time with a pink ribbon tied around my neck in place of the typical bow tie. At this moment a large group of children herded around the "bend" aka corner as if they were flocking to this sort of magical bird woman mother. It was totally amazing and made me really excited for Lois and myself. Being swept away into this world I slowly came back into the reality of my character, unlacing the pink ribbon around my neck and replacing my bare feet for everyday shoes. Inserting another piece of bazooka bubble gum into my mouth I repeatedly attempted to blow a bubble until I finally reached a successful one only to be popped once again...

The Poem from Ken's Solo

2010-03-23T08:13:00.000-07:00

Ken Shear’s solo, or How to get heckled by teenage punks while throwing apples, constructing a poem, and dancing from the “gravity in my chest”

2010-03-22T18:54:00.000-07:00

These are the things I learned about Ken that influenced/shaped/inspired this work: he is a writer, and had an unfinished poem he was working on with two lines completed: “Sir Isaac’s apocryphal apple fell,” and “truth
without believer never was;” two colors he thinks go well together are yellow and gray (yellow sunflowers on a cement grey stage); the last gift he gave was 12 jars for storing gluten free flour; he plays tennis; the poem he was working on has to do with thoughts about honesty and truth.

I arrived at Volunteer Park around 1:30pm on Saturday the 20th, to find it filled with people basking in the incredible March sun! Needless to say, the pick-nick tables and cement stage I was planning on using for the solo were occupied- by Frisbee tossers, chatting friends, and even a group adorned in medieval-looking attire, preparing for an Equinox Celebration Parade. Luckily, the sun had put everyone in a great mood, and no one had any qualms with me taking over the stage with a vase of sunflowers, a tennis racket, tennis balls, a bag holding 12 empty glass jars, a microphone and mic stand, a single apple, and small amp.

Ken arrived with his wife, his son, and a friend, and I read everyone the definitions of “truth” and “gravity.” I then gave them two minutes to write down anything inspired by those words on a notecard, then had everyone give their cards to Ken. I gave Ken three minutes to construct or select 10 different phrases using

any of the writing he had been given, and/or anything else he wanted to add. As he was doing this, I ran to the stage and set up the 12 glass jars (lids off, lining the front of the stage), turned on the microphone, and prepared for Phase II: the construct a poem section. Speaking into the microphone, I asked Ken to drop one of his phrases into each of the empty jars (I had already filled two of the jars with the two lines of the unfinished “Sir Isaac” poem he had sent me.) I then asked Ken to take a fresh piece of paper, and transcribe every word I said for the rest of the piece starting NOW.

Then, a dash between all the jars in random order, and interspersed with reading each phrase, tennis balls were bounced, TRUTH and GRAVITY signs were set up (GRAVITY fell down, ha!) an apple was thrown out into the field, and yes, some dancing. My favorite line said “I’ve got gravity in my chest, can you feel it? See it? Hear it?” I also particularly liked the line, “Sky falling, Frisbees fall, no leaves on the ground.”

A quartet of punky teenagers were busy commenting on EVERYTHING I said and did, “Call an ambulance, she’s dying!” “Look at me! Look at ME!” “This is the most truth I’ve seen all day!” It definitely made me aware of the fact that I was doing some serious INTERPRETIVE DANCING.

At the end of this hootenanny, I asked Ken to bring me the transcribed poem, which I read in full form, then gave to him. The idea all along had been for him to finish his unfinished poem. Hoping to post the poem soon….

Michael Upchurch solo

2010-03-22T10:52:00.000-07:00

I went into this solo with a few pieces in place. I knew that I would be working with Michael's colors, turquoise and magenta, creating a sort of messy puzzle arrangement that I could configure and reconfigure. I
knew that the pockets of my brown trenchcoat-like thing would be crammed with miscellaneous useful and useless items, I knew that I would be walking in circles in different ways, a habitual movement of his that resonated deeply with me and felt useful for depicting multiple states of being. I knew I would be trying to
channel a slightly worn out man, something that Michael's magnet is pulled towards. I knew the alley where it would go down, I knew that I wanted to levitate ( as Michael sometimes does in his dreams when faced with adversity).

Upon arrival, I decided I wanted a cup of coffee to use as a prop, which somehow fit my character. I headed into the alley, set up Michael's chair and my milkcrate, stuffed my pockets with clutter, and sat to wait,
drawing in the energy of the alley and getting excited about how much energy the place was sending my way. Michael showed up and the solo began, a true solo to start, as it was just him and me in the alley for the first few minutes.

Start with quote form Alain de Botton, author in subsubgenre Michael deeply appreciates. "I imagined the wound he must have felt at seeing how stories so central to who he was should have required and act of charity...to be heard. He had no biographer to pick up his words, to chart his movements, to arrange his memories, he was leaking his biography into a host of different vessels who would listen for a moment, then pat him on the shoulder and move back to their own lives."

In such a light, I circled the milkcrate, circled through male characters, ripped and assembled scraps of paper, walked the slim line between sanities, and generally charted interior landscapes I felt might resonate with Michael. The first more vigorousmovement I remember coming up was a sort of frantic pivoting dance as the wire grate next to Michael attempted to suck up my foot. Sometimes I hobbled in a circle, sometimes I paced, sometimes I moved quite serene. Slowly more of the door wall behind me filled with bits of paper. Next, reaching up high I got fascinated by my outstretched arm and did a bit of a hand solo, ending up atop a dumpster. Seeing two workers dumping trash in another dumpster I drew a harmonica from my bulging pockets and played a little song. Then I stretched a line of tape across the space and began affixing bits and scraps to it, including my coffee cup when I finished drinking and sloshing the brown liquid. I finished by reading my journal, putting my hand across mouth and nose as Michael is wont to do, putting him to sleep. I rose atop the milkcrate, busted through the tape and ran down the alleyway, scampering up along piping to hang, journal in hand, high above the concrete below. Half levitating, half being hung, I ended the double edged solo,journal in hand, both joyous and depressed, playful and serious. The solo felt both new and familiar, I hope that Michael was able to make some personal meaning from amidst the tangles of chaos.

Aaron

Kelly's 1-to-1 Solo For Anna

2010-03-20T17:00:00.001-07:00

kelly_03-19-10d
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

See complete set of shots.

Photos by Anne Lawrence.

Kelly's 1-to-1 Solo For Anna

2010-03-20T17:00:00.000-07:00

Videos by Holly Arsenault

Thoughts after Anna’s Solo, “Taking the Plunge:”

2010-03-20T16:58:00.000-07:00

Woke up at 6am, loaded the old Geo Metro with an inflatable raft, a kayak paddle, a battery-powered amp, my computer, and a change of clothes. Drove down to Lake Washington around 6:30am… the sky was
beginning to come to life with gorgeous, orangey hues peeking up over the Cascades. The rest of the sky was a deep indigo, pierced in some places by the light of a few remaining stars.

Unloaded the car and tested all the important pieces: the boat floated, the music was working, and the sun
was rising- it all looked like a “go.”

7am- Anna arrives with her younger sister, a friend, and Holly, the director of Teen Tix-an arts access program for Seattle teenagers, through which Anna heard about Glimmer.

7:05am- Got in the raft and pushed out into open waters for the maiden voyage of “Yon ’Flater,” the amazing inflatable raft. Ravel’s Tzigane, Anna’s favorite piece of violin music, started playing on shore from the little amp. As I paddled out to the dock, the sky was getting lighter and lighter- the soft, saturated light of dawn. Behind me- the shore, Anna and Co., and perhaps my better judgment. Ahead of me, the dock, the water, the mountains, the sun, the question of what would happen next. I got to the dock and tied the raft up to secure it from floating away, climbed up the ladder onto the dock, and commenced to dance. It was COLD. My body didn’t want me to stop moving, and so I basically didn’t. Lots of facing the sunrise, back to the shore, arms and legs in big swoops. Climbed up onto where the diving board would be and found some fun hangs on the metal poles. I could barely hear the music over the sound of waves and water splashing around me. I could see everyone on shore, and hoped that I was dancing with the music and that they were connected… it was hard to feel connected from that far away. As the music crescendoed at the end, I made one last leap- over the edge of the dock and straight into the water. It wasn’t as cold as I had expected. Swam back to the raft, got in and untied it from the dock, then back-paddled to the shore.

Was met by Anna and Co., and said to her, “I would give you a hug, but I am sopping wet.” She said something like, “Oh, come on, I don’t care, I mean you just JUMPED in the water for me,” and gave me a hug.

Things that I knew about Anna that informed this piece: she is a violinist, and her favorite piece is Ravel’s Tzigane; she is a morning person; she knows how to river dance; she hugs everybody; she is a lover of fantasy books (including one of my favorites, A Wizard of Earthsea, by Ursula K. Le Guin), and she drives a “white marshmallow van named Carslisle.” From our email correspondence, I had the sense that we shared a sense of awe and excitement about life, appreciation for those special, wee morning hours, a love of beautiful things, and a quiet confidence. Our meeting only solidified this knowledge.

Here is what Anna wrote about her experience of the solo:

“I’m not a person to lose my words. I always have something to say—flippant, sarcastic, serious, or profound. I’m not queen of comebacks, but words always find their way to my tongue in time.

But this time, I don’t know what to say. This gift of a glimmer solo from Kelly Sullivan was intense—like someone had taken the lid off my brain and was peering inside. If I step back from the whole thing and just think about it for a bit, I have to admit it’s not a normal thing—having your own dancer choreograph a solo just for you about you, like a viewport into your being from someone else’s eyes. My parents totally didn’t understand the concept, actually, and still don’t. There’s a lot of material here to talk about the relevancy of art, and how Glimmer is bringing art down to an intensely personal level—this one to one solo business.

I don’t particularly want to talk about the deeper meaning behind the entire project, though. I wish I could express in plain and simple words the incredible way Kelly understood me through her dance; the moments where I could see myself and the moments I could see her interpretation of me. It was a seamless blending of my answers to the questions (really, very little to go on for an entire dance) and Kelly herself—because she chose the elements of me to emphasis.

There are so many things that are now imprinted with this solo in my mind—like my favorite piece of classical music, Tzigane. It’s a gypsy-ish soloistic crazy violin piece, and although I’ve never thought of it that way before, beautiful to dance to. I’m never going to forget Kelly rowing to the dock during the beginning notes, harsh and fiery for the early morning twilight; her pose, held to stretching point, during the middle orchestral section, and the unforgettable jump into Lake Washington on the final notes. There could not have been a more perfect morning for dancing right before the sunrise—everything was clear and beautiful. I don’t think you can know how much you love Seattle until you’ve seen sunrise on Lake Washington. And yes—Kelly was dancing on a floating dock out on the lake. Not what I was expecting at all, but perfectly staged. The predawn light silhouetted her against the water from where I sat on a cold stone wall. And yes, I know that sounds pretentiously poetic. But the whole thing was—very poetic, at least. I am extremely grateful to have been given the chance to participate in the Glimmer project; it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before, being so involved in a performance when I wasn’t performing. Kelly Sullivan is seriously awesome. And so is Glimmer.”

Ricki and Richard's Excellent Adventure

2010-03-17T12:39:00.000-07:00

Richard wrote some really exciting answers to my questions, revealing himself to be an adrenaline junkie...here's some of what inspired me in the solo:

"Magazines: I usually start at the back. Skip over the features. Read the product news and
letters. Then I might read the features if they interest me. One time usually. Fairly quickly. I don't save magazines, but recycle or give them away.

...The experience reminded me that I was alive and not just going through the motions of living...And then there's the actual flying...Your life is literally suspended for the time of the flight...

Stepping on a stage is metaphorically like jumping off a cliff. I liked doing it to prove to myself that I was alive. I liked the churning in my stomach before opening night. Acting is another skill intensive activity. Voice, speech, movement, emotional control--all learned skills. One of the things I like best about acting is that I am put in touch with people of all ages, experiences and histories working toward a common goal. It doesn't matter where you're from, what you do, how much you make, where you live--all that matters is can you do the work.

I never felt frightened by paragliding. I've had more nerves on opening night that I ever had at the lip of a cliff prior to launching. Apprehensive, maybe. Focused, yes. Excited, certainly."

As Richard was running up the stairs of the water tower (yikes, I barely beat him up there even with my head start!) I sent a parachute down to him with instructions for receiving the rest of the solo. Here's what they said:

March 11, 2010

Hello Richard!

Welcome to RICKI AND RICHARD’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE! Please read through the full instructions now, and then feel free to refer to them as we go. This adventure has three chapters. We will begin at the end.

CHAPTER 3:
Stand on the yellow dot. Look out the window. There is a performance for you, by me, on the picnic table below.

CHAPTER 2:
Take a walk around the top of the water tower. There is a performance for you, by Seattle, outside each window. Use the pen to write a few words about one of Seattle’s performances on the back of this page, and place it in front of the corresponding window.

CHAPTER 1:
There will be a performance for you, by me and you and Seattle, inside the tower. Move about the space as you please, watching from whatever proximities and angles you are curious about.

PS Once our EXCELLENT ADVENTURE has reached the beginning, take your time leaving the tower. I will see you at the bottom when you get there.

Richard and I had one more email correspondence, post-adventure:

Subject: Thank you!

Hi Richard!

Thank you for being part of the GLIMMER one to one solos! I really enjoyed working on your piece, and loved our foot duet. It would be great if you want to share some thoughts on our blog — either by blogging directly to the lingo website or by emailing me an entry to submit.

Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed your dance as much as I did!

Truly,
Ricki

Subject: Re: Thank you!

Ricki, I had a terrific time. Thank you.

You were so enthusiastic and engaging I was compelled to join you on the bench. The "foot duet" just seemed right.

It was wonderful that you thought to reconnect me with Capitol Hill where we lived for 22 years.

Your entry with the parachute set a happy tone for the dance. It reminded me of how I miss flying.

Your idea to look out the windows of the water tower made another important connection for me as I've spent the last 30 years advising people about commercial real estate in Seattle. What better place to see Seattle real estate than from the water tower.

As I told Florangela, having this special event in Volunteer Park and at the water tower has forever changed my understanding and appreciation of those spaces and places. I will always think of you flying on the picnic table, twisting around the tower wall, stomping up the tower stairs, and foot dancing on the bench.

Many thanks. And best wishes in your dance career. Richard.

Aaron 1-to-1 solo for Kaiti

2010-03-16T14:23:00.001-07:00

Aaron 1-to-1 solo for Kaiti
Originally uploaded by Lingo Dance

Check out all the photos from Aaron and Kaiti's solo, including gift giving and an encounter with a security guard.

Photos by Anne Lawrence.

big heart for Kaiti

2010-03-14T17:03:00.000-07:00

Wow, that was intense, here is the breakdown.
10:20-arrive, ask guard (older asian man) if I can plug in clock radio to outdoor outlet, he responds no music in park. I try to explain that I am doing a dance for someone, he says that is not allowed either, explains that
it is a private park. Cue sinking feeling, looks like I've gotten off to a rough start.
10:30-take toy kitchen to far end of park, ask homeless men who frequent the park, charging their cell
phones and running their lap tops off the power, if they have had any problems with the guard, none of them have, none have even talked to him. I see him watching me disapprovingly.
10:40-I have the feeling he won't let me dance full out in the park, perhaps if I set up the kitchenette in the perfect spot I won't need to get up from my chair. Guardman comes over to inform me that the kitchenette must go, "people want to take pictures of the waterfall, not that!"(direct quote).
10:45-remove kitchenette from park, pace nervously, meditate slightly on shifting nature of things. Gradually a few brave souls arrive to watch the solo. Time begins to fuzz.

Kaiti arrives, I explain to her the situation and look at pictures of her loved ones that I asked her to bring. Start solo on the sidewalk, guardman comes to pester me, says they upkeep the sidewalk. I am trying to give a big heart solo here, I move the kitchenette into the street between 2 parked cars. I set up the soldiers on the curb and get into my box with a hole in it (Kaiti has a recurring dream of being chased by men in uniform which becomes the central theme of this solo/duet). My hand is shaking, knock down soldiers, bring them into box, put them into pot to cook, open dictionary randomly to word Icebreaker, read definition, begin icebreaker solo. Soldiers finish cooking, make triple decker sandwich with mushroom and cheese, bring sandwich to Kaiti and read her three words, epee, humanize, pushy, can't resist adding pusillanimous, since it is such a great word and right after pushy. Time for the big open heart dance solo, figure it has to be next to the waterfall and if I get kicked out that will be part of the event. 1-2 minutes glorious dancing in my pajamas, spray and roar from waterfall, this environment is perfect powerful perfection. Guardman returns for final duet, herds me from park, me a one man procession, arm raised, hand shaking slightly and waving slowly, big open heart meets old sad life, I end in the adjacent alleyway, spent and strange, lying on the ground, understanding the challenge in dealing with uniformed men.

2010-01-11T12:19:00.000-08:00

The Four Components of Glimmer

2010-01-11T12:17:00.000-08:00

Multiple events will happen in multiple locations throughout the city, providing opportunities for the public to participate in four unique ways, ranging in intimacy. These various interactions between performer and public will come in the form of four separate stages, all capable of existing on their own; however, designed to culminate at the final ACT Theatre performance. A
journal on the Lingo Dance web site (www.lingodance.com) will track each experience – a platform for the performers and participants to share their thoughts, insights, and unique experiences for the public to respond to or just observe. The four components of Glimmer include:

One Performer, One Recipient, One Public Place
March 1-31

Seattle Art Museum Sightings
February 26, March 18, 25, April 1

Pre-Function with a Performer
April 22-May 15

Final dance event at ACT: A Glimmer of Hope or Skin or Light
April 22- May 15