Lost Moment

Last night my niece and I rushed down 56th Street to meet a designer friend at City Center for the Fall for Dance festival. Our meal ended later than anticipated, and I was concerned that I was late and that my waiting friend would be worried.

We passed two unusual ballet dancers smoking cigarettes outside of City Center's office door. These were tall men wearing full drag make-up, their hair in buns (with flowers), tutus, and point shoes.

Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo was on the program that night, so I figured they were members of the troupe.

Once I met my friend inside, I realized my camera was in my purse. My niece was visiting from Boston to see the performance. She has studied dance for many years, and attends a special arts school.

I will forever kick myself for not taking a photograph of my niece with the unusual ballerinas!

Uprising

My mermaid friend in Coney Island often hosts holiday feasts. I took the hour and a half subway ride to the beach on a beautiful Easter Sunday.

I walked the length of the boardwalk to her Seagate apartment. It was a glorious sunny day. I ate a caramel apple and carried a bag containing my roasted potatoes dish for the party.

The mermaid has a wonderful collection of friends. We chatted and grazed until the needle dropped on the Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack.

The six foot plus former Golden Gloves champion couldn't resist doing a John Travolta move across the floor. This was our gateway to bliss. Every song got our bodies moving.

We formed a line and danced. We had duets and solos. Other guests arrived to find us in full swing by 6pm.

An extra long twisting session left us exhausted and sweaty. We put on our coats and walked to the beach.

It was cold but there was a beautiful sunset. The strong wind swept the sand so it looked like a low, moving fog hovering above the dunes. The cold water swimmer took a dip in the frigid ocean.

You never know where the day will take you. This was the best Easter I have ever celebrated. I felt uplifted. None of us expected a joyous dance party. We were all grateful to get one.

Dancing requires more than timed movements. It also takes a nexus of participants, a rare event in the US.

We seemed like a diverse crowd of personalities. We didn't know whether others at the party were the type to risk swaying to the Bee Gees. What an unlikely blessing that all of us shared a love for the music and movement. We created elation.

Holi

Color is endlessly fascinating. I took a color theory course a couple of years ago, and am still reading through the suggested reading list.

Much interpretation of color is cultural. White is a color associated with purity in the US, but it is a color of mourning in other parts of the world. There is a wonderful book, Chromophobia, that includes an exploration of color and economic class. The author argues that a lack of color is strongly associated in the US with good taste and wealth.

I love color. It is difficult to pick a favorite because I like almost every color in some context or other.

Visiting India was a joy for me because it is rich in color. It isn't unusual for people there to paint their homes bold, saturated, contrasting colors such as orange and blue. Their clothing tends to be bright as well. Unlike New York, it is very unusual to see someone wear black in India.

This week Indians are celebrating spring with the festival of colors, Holi.

For many years I have enjoyed taking Bollywood dance classes. I have no Indian ancestry but most of the students do. They got together today to celebrate Holi at the South Street Seaport. They wore white clothes and threw brightly colored powder at one another.

We had a long rehearsal today for an upcoming recital and many students still had green, red, purple, and yellow powder on their bodies.

At the end of rehearsal our instructor distributed costumes. Most of the dancers are female, but there are a handful of men. At one point the instructor held three costumes for male dancers in her hand. They were identical except color: yellow, green, and bright pink.

Immediately the men began protesting against the pink costume. They pleaded with the instructor to have the yellow or green costumes.

The large number of women in the room began chanting "pink, pink, pink!" while clapping their hands.

This same group had just celebrated color boldly and felt comfortable walking about with splotches of colored powder on their skin, hair, and clothes. Yet, they had internalized the US correspondence of femininity and color enough to cause a loud commotion when men were offered a pink costume.

Action Figure

Computer-based social networking is a god-send for this New Yorker. Through an exchange of wall comments on Facebook, I secured a half-priced ticket to tonight's David Byrne concert at Radio City Music Hall. I have not attended a rock concert at a major venue since 2004.

I have admired David Byrne's art and music since high school. One of a few theater pieces I saw at the time was his "The Knee Plays" at Warner Theater in Washington, DC. I am aware of contemporary art work he has made (i.e. Playing the Building) but I haven't heard much of his music recently.

This is all a big wind-up to say: the mix of my long-term admiration, the suddenness of the event, and the element of surprise in getting the ticket all enhanced what was already a fine experience. In fact, losing my right contact lens directly before entering the theatre didn't dampen my enjoyment. I watched the show happily with my right eye shut or covered.

The band wore all white, which increased the impact of the modest lighting effects. The outfits also punctuated the gospel/preacher elements of his music and performance.

I am not sure whether it was a reflection of the music he selected to play this night or whether it is a theme throughout much of his work, but it struck me that a lot of what I was hearing was based on traditional gospel or African-American religious folk music. Also, his vocal delivery mimicked that of a preacher (he specifically mentioned that he was providing the evangelical preacher vocals for "My Life in the Bush of Ghosts").

He was accompanied on stage by a three-person troupe of dancers who performed choreography that resembled Twyla Tharp's work. Occasionally, all standing stage performers would coordinate movements (such as rocking back and forth or walking back and forth in a large formation). For the most part the dancers seemed to weave their movements around the musicians and backup vocalists, and the movements of all groups would only intermittently coincide (as when David Byrne leaned down to play his guitar lower and a dancer jumped over him as part of his routine).

It is difficult to explain, but it was as if there were two performances happening that were not necessarily related. Of course the dancers danced to the beat of the music being performed, but they were clearly separate from the band. Occasionally the two performances intersected. It is kind of like watching some mechanical thing in motion, such an oscillating fan, while listening to music. Sometimes the fan would appear to move to the rhythm. In this way, the band sometimes seemed to join the dance.

I am someone who is only now gaining a deeper appreciation for dance performances in middle age. The tension between and coordination among dancers and live performers is very interesting to me. I am not well versed in the field, but it appears that most modern dance is performed with recorded music. Ballets may have an orchestra, but it is tucked away in a pit.

Many traditional ethnic dancers, on the other hand, continue to perform alongside musicians. When I see these performances, there are three levels of appreciation operating. The dancers and musicians are engaging in two separate activities that can be appreciated independently, and their combination is a third element that heightens the enjoyment of the experience. The choreography of this show seemed to feature that third element, the coordination of artists, by shifting back and forth from separate events to a combined event.

If I recall correctly, there were four encores that evening. The third one was the best encore I have experienced. The ensemble returned to the stage in their usual white outfits, but each member had put a fluffy, white tutu over his or her outfit. As they played "Burning Down the House," the dancers became more prominent on the stage. Near the end of the song, the stage was flooded with male and female ballerinas in white tutus. They did some coordinated movements and ended with a grand kick line. This was particularly appropriate on the Rockette's stage.

I suppose music videos were created to provide a vision to go with songs. I certainly think of some old videos when I hear music from back in the day when I watched videos. The use of these ballerinas was a very effective way to facilitate the reinterpretation of a standard song visually.

Which leads to the next device in the show, the majesty of Radio City Music Hall as a venue. At one point David Byrne played the introduction to a song on the gorgeous Wurlitzer pipe organ to the right of the stage, but then moved to pick up the rest of the song with the participation of the full band. The organ was lit throughout the show, and should have been. It is a work of art and Americana that deserved its own spotlight.

This theatre is probably the most beautiful theatre in America. I recall eagerly taking a tour of it in my early 20s. Although I have only been inside twice since that tour, I still recall some of the things pointed out nearly 20 years ago.

For example, the stage was designed to appear like the sun setting in the sea. The walls and ceiling are a series of concentric half circles radiating out from the stage. Each half circle is scored to appear like rays of light. From the back of the theater facing the stage, the chair backs look like waves. The carpet is a stylized rendition of blue sea animals and waves.

It is such a blessing that this theatre was restored. Even attending a rock concert in jeans feels glamorous in this art deco palace-like setting. The entrance hall with large chandeliers and two-story murals is elegant. The bathrooms are still large lounges with beautiful murals, fancy tables, and leather club chairs. These are spaces that in modern times are usually encountered in private clubs.

The restoration includes the continuing function of the original hand dryers in the bathroom. A curved pipe emerging from the wall blows air when one steps on a pedal below. Charming.

The whole evening was charming.

Gym Pass

As I walked up the subway stairs at 53rd and 7th Avenue, I received a text from my dear friend. He informed me that he got tickets to the Miami City Ballet performance that night, and would meet me at the bar during intermission.

This is the grown up version of passing a note in class to make plans to meet by the gym soda machine between first and second periods. It thrills me now as much as it did in high school.

Another friend, an abstract painter, made plans to see the ballet with me. I admire her work profusely and am intrigued by her astute and unusual perspective on arts and events. It is a treat to spend time with her.

We saw two older pieces choreographed by Balanchine: "Symphony in Three Movements" and "La Valse." The evening closed with the fantastic "In the Upper Room" choreographed by Twyla Tharp.

Each time I see dance performances, I am struck by the young ages of the dancers. If the quality of the performance wasn't superb, I would mistake it for a high school production. This probably is a testament to my own advancing age.

I also find myself pondering the differences among all of the perfect physiques. All of them have been trained in the same way for the same purpose, yet genetics has formed their muscles in different ways. All of them must have about the same body fat ratio, yet some are lean, sinewous, and bony while others are more bulky with more visible muscle.

A variety in body development was particularly unusual in this ballet troupe because it is not diverse. It surprised me that a group based in Miami appeared to include only a few Latinos. I didn't see a single African-American on stage.

Alex Wong was outstanding. His leaps were spectacular. He hovered in the air. One is accustomed to seeing the special effect used in karate films of freezing a jump kick and changing perspective. Wong seemed to bring that effect to the stage.

At the end of the performance, the dancers took a bow with the ballet founder Edward Villella and choreographer Twyla Tharp (still lithe and beautiful at 67). I noticed that she had her arm around Alex Wong but only held the hands of the other dancers. He must be a universal favorite.

The costumes and sets for these dances were very simple. "Symphony in Three Movements" is an older piece with the traditional movements, but it is also quite athletic. "La Valse" was more typical traditional ballet. "In the Upper Room" was an energetic fusion of modern dance in ballet with jerky, mechanic motions and asymetrical movements that seemed unbalanced but allowed each dancer to retain equilibrium.

It was fun to meet during each intermission with my friends to discuss the dances. My dear friend is an avid arts fan, and has seen these ballets before. He pointed out several young dancers among the bar crowd. They looked like average high school students. If I had not been told that they were principal dancers in the New York City Ballet, I would never have guessed that they hid highly trained physiques under those jeans and slouchy sweaters.

Grace

On Wednesday I got one of those wonderful windfalls that arts-loving, middle-class denzions of cosmopolitan cities adore: a free ticket for a wonderful show. In this case, I was invited to see the Alvin Ailey dance company.

I am a fortunate person. This is probably the fifth or sixth time I have had an opportunity to see this amazing troupe perform. I'm actually gaining enough familiarity with the group to recognize certain dancers and to have seen some dances more than once.

Last night was extraordinary because the seats were the best I've ever had for Ailey: orchestra fourth row from the stage. In another stroke of luck, the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra (conducted by the brilliant Wynton Marsalis) accompanied the dancers live. As if this wasn't enough cake and icing, a small group of gospel singers joined the orchestra for Revelations at the end.

The program was a sampling of pieces choreographed by Ailey over time: Night Creatures, Revelations in D, Caravan, The Mooche, The Road Show of Phoebe Snow, Pas de Duke, and Revelations.

At other performances, I found Ailey's older pieces (with the exception of Revelations) to be a little tired. This was not the case tonight. Perhaps my excellent seat allowed me for the first time to appreciate the facial expressions and subtle movements of the dancers, such as arching backs, rhythmic ribcages, quick hand gestures.

Perhaps the impact of the dance was heightened by the live music. Seeing them move before the orchestra punctuated the fact that the two disciplines are working in tandum to the master of movement and time. I've seen traditional dancers from India, Hawaii, or Indonesia perform with musicians and singers on stage. Generally, the musicians are very closely watching the dancers who move to their beats.

Last night I noticed that the musicians and singers were not watching the dancers at all. They were focused on the music as the dancers were focused on the dance. If either lost their sense of rhythm or control, the performance would suffer. Of course, both were masters and the performances were practically flawless.

Another wonderful aspect of the show was watching it at this moment in time. It is the 50th anniversary of the troupe. Alvin Ailey died in 1986 and one of his dancers, Judith Jamison, took control and facilitated the organization's professional and artistic growth. Ailey has grown from a small troupe for a marginalized group to a major cultural institution that recently opened a huge dance facility in NYC.

Ailey's choreography and dancers continue to convey the experience of African Americans, but they are also diversifying and this is intriguing to me. The dancers and choreographers now include people of other ethnicities. The dances now cover a broader range of experience.

This seems positive to me because it indicates progress. First, the community that supports Ailey has probably broadened and its traditional base of African Americans donors has probably prospered and grown. Major corporations support Ailey, and the ranks of African American CEOs is probably bigger than ever before.

Second, there is an indication that the larger culture has diversified to the point where an African Americans dance troup doesn't feel compelled to provide opportunities soley to African Americans. This strikes me as a healthy way of moving from a protective and closed attitude forged from strife to an attitude of renewal and regeneration in an optomistic environment.

Finally, we are in what must be one of the most optomistic environments for African Americans. The first black president is poised to take the oath of office.

Watching the story of this group of people through their choreography to their music at this time was particularly poignent. While the economic crises unfold, many people are hurting, and anti-Western radicals continue to spread violence and hate; this extraordinarly display of talent, narrative, moxy, and diversity declares that there is good reason to hope things will improve.