Danceletter 23

Despite my attempts at finding some kind of routine these past two months — with respect to exercise, sleep, working, not-working, calling my friends, spending time safely outdoors — I so far have not really succeeded. I have a conflicted relationship with routine, as someone who grew up adhering to strict ones, like practicing Irish dance alone in my basement for an hour or more every day. I aspire to it, but I also resist it, and being forced to (mostly) stay home has not done much to change this.

The one routine I’ve established in quarantine is sitting down to write this newsletter sometime between Friday and Sunday every week. Which is why, even though I’m not totally feeling up to it this weekend, I decided I would still pop in and say something.

Here are some nice things that happened this week: Got takeout for the first time in two months (a catfish sandwich from a soul food place in my neighborhood; nothing has ever tasted so good); watched someone who appeared to be a professional figure skater practicing jumps on dry land; watched Judith Jamison in Alvin Ailey’s Cry (no longer available, but you can see the same piece with Deborah Manning here); turned in my final grades (so relieved that the university changed all courses to pass/fail); talked to my friend Anne on Zoom (hello out there, Anne!); expressed to my family that I only had the bandwidth for one family Zoom call a week (not two), and it didn’t turn into a fight; continued tuning in to my new favorite nightly “show,” on Instagram Live, in which my high-school friend / prom date films his 3-year-old son cleaning his room while providing sports-announcer-style commentary (it’s very funny); made a goofy “Happy Birthday” video for the same child, who is about to turn four; got my $1200 check from the government (somehow I didn’t think that would actually happen).

It was also nice to hear about your #dancedreams.

Sima Belmar from Berkeley, CA, writes:

“I've dreamed many times over the years of forgetting choreography. I guess it's the dancer equivalent of the dream about not being ready for the math test or forgetting to put on pants.”

From Hawaii, my aunt, a former actor and dancer (and the subject of one of the dreams I shared last week) told me about her recurring “dance nightmare” of the past 33 years:

“Have to go onstage immediately with the Adaptors Movement Theatre and realize while backstage that I haven’t rehearsed the pieces since 1987 and the director gives me a look that says, ‘Well, if you had been at rehearsal….’”

On Twitter, Brittany Duggan from Vancouver shared this recent one:

“dreamed the most specific duo phrase (lots of elbows, for reasons unknown, and a challenging flip lift) on loop, could not move on. So vivid when I woke, like it was in my muscle memory.”

And from Barry Brannum in Los Angeles:

"I've had so many [dance dreams]...Cunningham technique has popped up a couple times, as have gallery spaces and (strangely) floors where the marley and wooden boards are ripped up. I've even had a Sarah Michelson dream or two — which, if there's any category of #dancedream in need of analysis, that would be it ;-P" 

I could not agree more with that last statement.

I’m pretty much just free associating today, and Sarah Michelson always makes me think of Twyla Tharp, especially one of my favorite ballets ever, In the Upper Room (1986), which Michelson quoted at length in her 2011 work Devotion. So here are some Upper Room excerpts from a 2013 performance by Ballet de Lorraine. (If you want to see the whole work, there’s this, from what appears to be an Italian TV broadcast, though I’m not sure of the company/date; maybe someone out there can tell me.)