Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Nameless; the Beauty of Dancing as a Woman

I can't recall if I have talked about this or not, and frankly I am too lazy to search my own blog, but I have season tickets to the Dance St. Louis season. I have for the past three or four years. I am completely enamored with dance, the artistry and athleticism. It just amazes me. 

That being said, the industry is not free from fault. The pressure they place on dancers to obtain an unrealistic body image is unnecessary. I remember the dancers in college, who were already thin, constantly dieting to get skinnier, and girls with breasts being berated because of their boobs. I definitely understand that a slender person makes a better line, but once slender becomes emaciated the boney ridges of a gaunt arm or torso or leg can distort the line. It seems as though female dancers are forced to lose their femininity to pursue their passion. As an ardent supporter of women that look like women, this crushes my soul, just a bit. 

Luckily, there is usually the one standout. The girl that somehow fought the system and won. She manages to steal my focus every time. Last Saturday, I took my dad to the Joffrey Ballet, and she showed up, only for the first piece In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated, but she was there. And not only did she look like a healthy woman, she was a ginger in a sea of dark hair fading into dark curtains. So I wrote this for her, whoever she is.

Nameless 

You 
With angry hair 
Tamed 
Steals focus 
Even when moving in unison 
You 
Eclipse her 
Like moon hiding sun 
Allowing but a rim of light 
While your milky radiance 
Illuminates dark corners 
Then 
You 
Reach center stage 
Full breasts and soft skin 
Your smoldering movements 
Force eyes upon you 
To bear witness to woman

I could not find a photo of her, in this piece, on-line, and I did not want to distort the image by providing a picture of someone else, but I did find a snippet of the piece performed by another dance company which I thought might help you get into the mood.  

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Within Her Arms: Recalling the Movement

The day before I went in for my surgery I had the pleasure of seeing Hubbard Street Dance Company, out of Chicago, perform with the St. Louis Symphony. It was the merger of so many passions, exploding through each of my senses, leaving me mind numb and in love, as all great art should do. 

What the wonderful haze of anesthesia made me forget were the notes I jotted down during the performance. One dance, Twice (Once), choreographed by Terence Marling and set to "Within Her Arms" by Anna Clyne, had a powerful affect on me. There is something about hearing the dancer's breath that always moves me, but this piece went to the next level. The music was inspired as was the movement. After finding the notes, I wrote a little something in response to my experience.

Feather Light

Their breath rose above bowed bass drone
Exhaled in unison
While moving in opposition
Counter balance
Fabric
Sheer
White
Innocent
Released
Effortless as limbs launched into air
First flight
Controlled by extension of hands on waists
Now draped over grounded limbs
Stage right light shadowed statues
She
Feather light and shallow breath
Resolved independently
Within her arms 


While I was unable to find a picture of the exact moment I tried to capture with my words, I thought this shot would help you to see what was in my head while writing.





Friday, March 2, 2012

Micro Poetry: January – February (2012)

March 2nd and already Mother Nature is reeking havoc in the Midwest. This morning found me eyes open and ears alert to the sounds of hail and thunder. 

Before I can turn my pen towards these wonders, I wanted to give you my #MicroPoetry recap for January and February. As always, there may have been some slight modifications since the original post but most should be familiar to those that follow me on Twitter or are my Facebook friends
 


Micro Poetry: January – February (2012)

We greeted midnight
Wearing our birthday best
Lips and legs locked
Hands roaming
We paused to welcome it

Exhaustion
Sits heavy on tired bones and body
Mind
Restless
Removes surface images
Focuses on true joy of your smile

I have been here before
Separated from heard
Wolves circling
Teeth gnashing
No longer a fawn
I use my rack to escape

I sat in silence
Stunned
Tracing words with eyes
Like they formed a picture
Not a paragraph
Alone
Empty

And I
Trapped in a sensory montage
Bury emotions
Silence the heart
Clamber for awakened thought

Fingernails track forearms
Cold sweat shivers
Life patterns disturbed
Rocking
Comforts a soul
Fixated on quitting you

I lay
In black morning silence
Staring at a vacant pillow
Waiting for a sunshine that never came

I loved you since I first feared you
God like grumble chasing explosions in the sky
Had me counting distance
Waiting for your arrival

Thought about you
As I massaged your abandoned lotion into my skin
It smelled of late night laughter and hot kisses

Chased the black snake
Through pre-sun morning
Watched it disappear into fog
Like an ancient magician

Laying in bed
Listening to Grace
Clutching pillow close to chest
Craving the sensation of your skin on mine

Fought the buzz
Silenced it with one swift punch
It waited 540 clicks
Then retaliated with a vengeance


Forced neurotransmitters to cross synapses
Seeking clarity of creative thought
Clouded by life's what-if white noise

Slow movement morning
Another physical reminder of youth's fade
Like the grey threatening to overthrow the brown

I found him
Hiding behind toxic eyes
Love drunk
Gazing at the world with malcontent
Like a dog staring at his cage


Descending from heavens
Mechanical Angel lands sharply
Allowing God's children to put feet to soil

Vacation coffee
Opens senses wide
To experience new morning

Spanish moss
Hangs from limbs
Like ghosts of witches
Long ago persecuted

Live Oak leaf
Solitary
Spins through atmosphere
Like bird with broken wing
Still trying to

Having deflected arrows with potioned points
I am alone
Neither wanting nor content
Just alone
Silent
Reflective

I giggle when I think of you
Return myself to shared experiences
And conversations about nothing
That meant everything