Viver Brasil: Afro-Caribbean Dance in the District

After years of attending, watching, critiquing, participating, planning, performing, choreographing, and teching dance concerts parts of me are numb to the process and experience; yet other parts light on fire like fireflies in Washington Heights on a July evening near the Hudson River when I hear those drums strike the pulse of the dancers and the lights flash the floor and highlight each muscled movement of the dancers. Immediately, I am numb no more. In the same manner as always, this dance concert by Viver Brasil stimulated my senses and gave me inspiration in my velvet seat four rows back in the first balcony (the best view of the choreography, in my opinion).

I am always interested in Brazilian dance companies. Having studied, trained, taught, choreographed and watched various forms of the technique commonly referred to in the United States as Afro-Caribbean, I have come to the conclusion that Brazil and Haiti are my two favorite cultural representations of this dance style indigenous of the Diaspora. After some reflection, I've reasoned that this is probably in part due to the fact that both cultures still have very deep roots connecting them to the Motherland, Africa. Many other nations like Cuba, Jamaica, Trinidad, and Dominican Republic are a bit more removed from the strong African influences and have incorporated their indigenous peoples' (Teano) and European colonists' cultures (British, Spanish, Dutch, and Indian).

Another factor to keep in mind is how large of a country Brazil is, hence its population is that much more vastly diverse in culture, community, style, artistic tendencies and so forth. That being said, I can never expect one preconceived notion at an Afro-Brazilian dance concert. This evening's production told me new stories and dances but embraced the familiar and more common ones which introduced me to this captivating technique.

What happens at a Brazilian dance concert is the sweet, sensual and syncopated synchronization of Capoeira (both regional and angola), Orixa dances (reflective of the Candomble religion), and social dances such as the Afroxe and Samba (Americans often think of glittered girls in feathers, heels and a thong during Mardi Gras). Alas, Viver Brazil provided all that and more in their choreography incorporating contemporary modern dance techniques with the culturally unique and special stories of their spiritual saints like Osain the medicine man, Oxumare the fertility spirit of the rainbow, and Ellegba the gatekeeper and trickster supreme.

The piece I enjoyed the most told the stories of the African King Chango, who is also the keeper of thunder, political success, and overall machismo. Dancing with a big attention grabbing skirt of white and red with red pants, vest and hat he drums the seductive sexy rhythms swooning all the ladies in the room; a real playboy is he. I digress. We see the story of Chango and his three wives Oxum, Oba, and Iyansa unfold before us through layers of taffeta, beads, shimmies, polyrhythmic conversations and percussive drumming more expressive than Wendy Williams on a Monday morning dirt dish.

Oxum represents pure beauty, sensuality, and the epitome of femininity. She dances in the rivers and with a mirror. Oba covers her right ear, as the stories go she cut off her own ear for Chango to cook him a soup. Needless to say, she represents the relentless giving and devotion of a true housewife. Iyansa is a feisty warrior who fights off the other two wives to prove she is the one truly worthy of Chango's love alone. This story is familiar to me but I had yet to witness its visualization performance on stage. More popular and traditional dances are usually performed at dance concerts in the states (especially at venues of a higher socio-economic status), which may include the solos of Iyemoja, Oggun, Exu, and Babalu-Aye (a particularily popular character in the Brazilian dance culture).

I highly recommend this concert, and subsequent performances by Viver Brazil, to anyone interested in dance, cultural dance, Latin dance, Afro-Caribbean dance, non-European dance, or to anyone who wants to feel the call and response indicative of African based art forms. Live singers, musicians, story tellers and performers became the essence of Afro-Brazilian stories and musicality. We were dancing in our seats by the end of the show!

Youtube short:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJBfGSAEETs&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Company website
http://www.viverbrasil.com/



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Location:Swathmore, Bethesda, MD

(be)longing

Today I found out my grade for the first homework assignment of my linguistics class. 83%. 83 out of 100 points earned. That's a B-. Nearly average. Barely above average. I have to maintain a B+ average to maintain my scholarship.

B-...

And the weekend metro schedule is really starting to irk me. I have to leave an hour and a half before I get to work, which takes 20 minutes to drive. It is most definitely time to get a license.

And it's getting cold. Supposed to be 55 tomorrow. My roommate from San Diego said, "If this is Fall, I'm scared of what Winter will be!" For once I feel prepared for the cold.

And work was hectic, like it is every day. The queue is never right. My name is never where it's supposed to be. My coworkers think I'm forward and sassy. I'm just from New York, that's all. Hurry the heck up, already!

And I have two papers, a lesson plan, and test studying to do. But instead, I am here venting. Well, if I consider it journaling, Dad would be proud. So yes, that's it. I'm journaling.

My dad came home yesterday. His voice is clear as a bell and speaks in a natural rhythm and tone. I am so proud of him. So very proud of him. I am so happy that he has made such a feat!!

Sometimes it feels like life is so great, so precious and so uncertain. I wish I could have my twenties back. I told myself I would never say that. But there. I said it. I mean it. I wish I could do my twenties all over again. I feel like my talent, my peak, my vigor and energy for life was abused and wasted on trite choices.
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After a summer of counseling and a self-reflective assignment on campus, I am developing some insight.

I've always been looking for a place to belong. I want to belong somewhere. I want to belong to a group of people. If I'm not mormon like the rest of my home community, where do I belong? If my family had unhealthy relationships, where do I find a healthy one to belong to? Where do I belong? Black dance companies? Deaf campuses? Nerdy breakrooms? Hipster bars?

I have tried so hard to be independent, my own shining star. I could find a way to tone it down if I could just find stars like me, or stars who like me.

I just want to belong.

My life in ASL

Hi guys!


For those of you interested in my journey through Graduate School to become an Elementary school teacher for the Deaf, please follow my other blog here!

But I do not want to get up today.

I packed a lunch. Found a snack, and even something for a small dinner. I picked an outfit for today and checked the weather. I even checked mass transit for alerts. I made breakfast and had a glass of juice. No coffee though.

But I do not want to get up today.

Overcast clouds cast shadows on vitality, making energy and excitement for life seem droll. The birds chirp songs to induce the sun but alas, he's not coming out to play today.

Cramps and foot aches don't ease the mood, they fuel the flames of self-pity and reclusion. I have everything I need right here. I do not, I will not, be a social butterfly today. For a blanket of complacency and mediocrity has covered the earth and my spirit.



UPDATE: I went to work and a pleasant day of helping others. Thank you, birds.


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Danza Contemporanea de Cuba

Note: I watched this beautiful dance concert in May 2011.
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Viva la Cuba

White tank tops and gym shorts carried ample youthful bodies onto the stage with black sneakers and converse. Natural hair, dyed hair, cut & curled hair tossed dancers' energy through the the stage to the heavens. the first piece shared ideas of what it means to be Cuban... and seventeen. Finding yourself, finding your friends, enjoying life, celebrating accomplishments, confusion, identity, finding your rhythm and flow with another person. This choreographer created and utilized the best use of partnering ever. I never knew where the weight was! They moved and morphed like a captivating screensaver, but ostensibly much more expressively. His male dancers had legs like daddy long leg spiders; everywhere, lithe, & long. At first the simple isolated movements bored me of traditional class warm-ups. But then the vitality, professionalism, and passion of each and every dancer shown through. No more gym clothes I saw, just everyday folks sharing what it means to be Cuban. And loving it.

The house is sold out as I am surrounded by spanish speakers and dancers, white haired whet ladies, and many New York City educators. Again, I miss my S/BAD family.



This second piece was vignettes into the domestic partnerships in the home. Again, beautiful partnering and a great use of prop as political statement, domestic roles, expectations and disappointment. So real, the uncomfortable angst of romantic disputes hit a little too closet home. The woman next to me fell asleep. She sure missed out.

Oh Afro-Cuban dance companies, take me! Take ME!!



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Interested in more info?
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/10/arts/dance/danza-contemporanea-de-cuba-at-the-joyce-on-first-us-tour.html

Or
http://www.havana-cultura.com/INT/EN/performing-art/danza-contemporanea-de-cuba/contemporanean-cuban-dance.html

Muggy Feelings

I woke up in a good mood. The rain is exciting and refreshing. But after waking up again, muggy from the weather, to overcast windows, a grey apartment and a grey to do list, a forced breakfast of leftovers with no coffee and alone... I've had a hard time getting excited about life today.

My landlord texted me regarding my lease, if I want to renew or not. This snowballed into a stressful frenzy of feelings of uncertainty in my future. I still don't know where I'm going to school. I have a test and one more interview to complete. Then I'll know the right neighborhood to search. Then I can answer him.

Meanwhile, I have a paper due tomorrow and four vlog reviews due Wednesday. A workshop to rearrange my schedule, an upcoming work meeting, a dirty kitchen & bathtub, a half-marathon I should've started training for months ago, a computer which needs a full day's worth of software repair, and a pimple on the side of my jaw.

I let myself feel drowned by all the errands and chores and must-dos and concerns. How do successful people manage all of this? How do they not go crazy or turn into alcoholics?

I need to pull away the layers of errands so that I can see the light, space to breathe, room to move and make things happen!

First step: Starbucks
Second: Making a manageable list for just today. Just. Today. Cause really, that's all I can take care of right now.


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Small town memories

I found this old post waiting to be...well, posted from May 6, 2011.

Coming back home always stirs up old, familiar emotions and feelings of tradition. This time it feels so different. The same lockers, the same quad, the same framed pictures in the foyer of the school office. My face still hangs up there in cheerleading and dance competition posters. Visiting my old teacher, dance coach, and lifeguard trainer was fun. She still posts my picutres up on her wall, and not like on Facebook. But on her real walls of her classroom. People are so proud of me, so supportive of me, and kind. They can't believe I would just pack up and move to New York from little old Boron.
Being from a small town has plenty of disadvantages and it's fair share of advantages. Because it is small and everyone knows everyone, and the law swings into town every now and then, there is an air of independance and self-reliance. I remember picking flowers, rocks, and pieces of dilapidated asphalt to add to my collections and playtimes. I could walk anywhere and climb any hill. I rode my bike anywhere in town, as long as I was back by sundown.

Location:Boron, CA