Garden Variety Tango

Learning, and Being

2012-01-30T19:49:00.000-08:00

We were talking about lessons. There is something about them that can ruin your dance for awhile. It is like you have been burning along on instinct and enjoying your dance and knowing that others like it well enough. Having fun, going along. Then wham. You learn something which amounts to a lesson in just how much you don't know. This is good, because it means the gate is opening to new ways of being in the body, of enjoying. But it can be killer for the confidence in the mean time.

I am going to take a carefully chosen technique workshop in a couple of weeks. Message to self: Enjoy being there, not thinking about what it means or where it goes. Because we never really know anyway, so right now just enjoy being with the friends, sweating it out, getting tired in a good way. I've stopped thinking of things as steps along the way to some future wonderfulness. And when faced with the defects one can simply give thanks for the information....the chance to work on that, or to work with that.

It will be fun.
Or generally devastating. But I'm going anyhow.
P.S. I love what Halbert wrote about his lesson and how it made him feel. Very good words.

What Time is It?

2012-01-03T09:01:00.000-08:00

We returned right after Christmas from a week long party of California sunshine and embraces.We came home at midnight, dropped our bags, fell into bed, and now, what is it. January something and the week is a blank. Sleeping off a flu and too much travel and the emotional weight of a significant birthday and the rewinding of decades. There are some interesting challenges to energy in having so many people to love. And a bit of drinking and indulging to boot.

The power had gone out while we were gone, and all the clocks were wrong, all the gadgets confused. We just left them to decide for themselves what time it was.

Somehow during that time I signed up for a workshop, bought some green tennis shoes online? And wrote three very cogent course proposals, meeting a strict deadline for art classes to be taught in springtime.

Both of us were, and are about as sick as you can be at our age without going to the hospital I suppose. We were thankful for a warm home, cozy cats, chicken soup also made in a stupor. Down comforter, movies. Robitussin. Hot toddies. We survived. Survive. It seems quite unacceptable, especially to one who has not been even slightly sick in years. But enough of it.

Went back to checking on the news, email, FB friends yesterday. With heart dropping like a black rock I read, and had to re-read, in Spanish, then in English hoping I was wrong. Andrea Misse, the brilliant, and now forever young, always joyful dancer, has died in a car accident. Her family including her mother, husband, and baby were all in the car. Reports were sketchy, but initially baby and husband were in critical condition, and now are thought to be improving....

I did not know her except as an inspiration, the one I only knew by how she expressed her self through the music and partner. Let's say there is a day (and isn't there always?) when one is not sure how it is going, and why keep putting in the nights of miles on the floor, always and ever to be not quite there...and on that day one would, as I did, find a video of Andrea, usually with Javier, but with others too. Her inner LIGHT was always on. It came from the inside. The calibrated elegance along with the down and earthy. I could see it, and then could remember why. And go on, and think of every hard practica or disappointing lesson and just another chance to be here, to just own the joy and tears of tango. To be happy that the music lives in our hearts. She demonstrates the reason.

To her family our deepest condolences. To her partners, and to her students, to her friends all over the world, a light has gone out. We have her gift though, a gift that knocked you over with the generosity, elegance, and talent. A Goddess setting the air on fire.

I won't post a video, they are easy enough to find online. I can't watch now. May she rest in peace.

So we put the clocks back on to some version of time. The time though, it seems, is Now.

Kitchen Tango

2011-12-08T18:12:00.000-08:00

Surely all of us, even the non tango-ers among us, have danced around in the living room, or the kitchen. Dancing this way is the most pure and innocent of our drives. I was thinking about how I like to practice walking or turns to the music at home sometimes, without a goal or without calling it exercise. Call it pajama dancing, sock dancing, waiting-for-the-water-to boil dancing. Since I DJ now, I am working on music a lot, and doing other things while working out the playlists. I am often moving to music while making spaghetti or even while working in the studio. Hard to stand still!

I tried something. It just came to me when I was at a wonderful milonga on Sunday. I tried following as if the leader were me being free and creative to the music. In other words, not preventing him or getting in his way, or making any block to his free and playful living room plaid flannel tango. Making space while just connecting. I had to connect with a lot of total concentration in order to be there and to....not be there. It sounds counter intuitive, but practicing this made me feel like I could dance much better, offer more, and be more.I had a great night, danced every tanda except one or two to rest. And so grateful for everyone's light. We need that light right about now.

P.S. The essential nature of the partner comes through more clearly too, bringing better communication, and just sweetness.

Becoming Young

2011-11-29T17:42:00.000-08:00

"It takes a long time to become young"
Pablo Picasso

I spent the day painting, or more precisely, half of the day. The first half was spent gathering fabric, (horribly wonderful lime green polyester, and fake Chinese silk in hot hot pink). So fabulous. Then to my market for things I do not need, but will enjoy in two phases: delicata squash so finely lined in green stripes on soft-yellow skin, and some little mandarins fresh with leaves still on them. Some gladiolus from the flower department in striated violet, dark to light.
A thrill to put it together in the studio, with the right lights, the violet against those awful and wonderful fabrics, a scattering of the fruits, some leaves. A storm. A winter storm in a warm place. Play. And as playful as this seems, it is work. A painting then, the first of several before things wilt and dry and become less of themselves. Then a print, then it all goes out somewhere, and people pay for it, so that I can do it all again given the inspiration of the next season, or even better, the in-between seasons, when all things are possible.

So Picasso is right, it takes a long time, but it seems to me that he was already pretty immature and stayed that way. I doubt if he could do anything at all with the delicata squash by the time he was done with it. Of course what he did with it was genius. A dark, wild, and destructive force. The difference is that I will cook the squash, bring the flowers in to enjoy during meals, then take them back out there to the studio. A common, garden variety sort of artistic drive.
It works for me.

Why write about this in my tango blog? Because now I am becoming young in my dance. It is a little sad, because to learn tango at an older age, we get old faster than we get better. But this is offset a little by the energy, the fitness, the joy in the music, and the depth that we can feel also at the older age, or an in-between season. It works for me.

You Are Home

2011-11-14T11:56:00.000-08:00

Things have been beyond busy. Finding moments to rest in action is a goal. Sometimes it seems like we are in a wave of life and cannot find a little place to breathe. My friend was here. He has suffered a terrible tragedy since our last visit. He needed us, and we needed to see that he would survive.

Sometimes all we have left at the end of the day is just enough energy to watch a movie. So we watched the charming movie "Almost Famous" where the main character is swept up in the tour of a famous band, At one point he is on the bus, frantic to get home. He is just a kid, but a professional kid. A writer. He needs to get back in time to graduate from high school. Swept up as in a hurricane with all of these eclectic managers, and musicians, and groupies. He is in over his head. On the bus, someone starts to sing "Tiny Dancer", the Elton John song. Gradually all the characters begin to sing along. The kid turns to Penny Lane (played so well by Kate Hudson) and laments that he needs to go home. She raises her hand with fingers fanned out in front of his face, casting a spell, and stops him. She says to him, "you are home".

Maybe you know the movie. There are lots of painful personal dramas, lots of trouble.

The scene struck home, right in my heart.

Last night I left a house guest, a greasy kitchen, a lot of unfinished work needing attention, and went over to La Garua with my partner. I was so tired I was dizzy. The parking lot was full early. I wondered what sort of dramas would be going on, and how to maintain what energy I had and not waste it on all the apparent pain that people bring, and to still be fully present. I usually don't go dancing when I am this tired. I don't want to turn it into work, or to dance without energy. But it seemed like an absolute need.

The milonga was in full bloom right off the bat. Great music, all my favorite leads. The early darkness, cold wind, and blowing leaves were all closed off behind the red drapery. The big mirrors around the room intensify the soft light of the room. After one tanda my head stopped throbbing, the life came back into me in the embraces of friends.

I thought about how I needed to be at home, about all that waits there. But then I remembered, I was home.

It's a Dance

2011-10-19T12:28:00.000-07:00

We just watched the movie "Buck" about the expert in natural horsemanship, Buck Brannaman. Our family is a lot more involved with horse culture than we sometimes want to be, but still grateful for all that it has brought to us, especially to Dr. Alice, our young Equine Vet daughter, and to my sister, Dr. Meg, one of the first woman race track Vets, if not the first.

For tango people, please watch it. Look at the trailer, look at how Brannaman moves with the horse so closely that in silhouette you see the centaur, man with the legs of the horse.

Brannaman uses the word dance quite a few times in this brilliant documentary. If you watch it, look at the scenes with the rope, the demonstration of connection through the tension of the rope, and what can happen around that.

Our first tango lessons were hard for me because in my mind I saw horse training, and I did not like being the horse. But here you see what the horse brings. You see why great leaders know how to listen and to bring out the best in the horse. There are so many words of wisdom in this film that we will surely return to it again. It is interesting too, that I have observed that both daughter and sister are capable dancers, and will follow beautifully, and this does not mean that they aren't fully engaged in leading in their professional lives.

Performance

2011-10-16T17:48:00.000-07:00

Some good friends asked us to "perform" a tango for their lovely 20th anniversary party. A first we were pretty sure we weren't going to do it, because, for one thing, we aren't performers, and we dance strictly in a style which is not flashy, and in which a lot of what is happening is not immediately apparent to the casual observer.

A few weeks went by and we both thought about it, and realized it was not about flash at all, not (too much) about entertaining, and more about giving a gift.

Our friends have been remarkably patient, (having passions of their own), with our absence due to tango nights on weekends when we would normally barbecue, or hike, or play in the back garden with their kids. They have been like indulgent parents, even though, we are old enough to be theirs.

So we thought to our own selves and to each other that we must say yes.

It became a search for music, mood, what could interest, and ended in a choice to use "Milonga Criolla" and to dance to that. A milonga. Our decision was helped along by our teacher and friend, Michelle Badion, who knows a thing or two about performance, and thing or two about us, and a thing or two about where we were coming from. She knows how traditional I am in embrace and approach. She gave us some gems of wisdom about how to be, what to address, and where to add a little pizazz.

Michelle puts on one or two cabaret shows in Seattle, and has done so for 18 shows now. They get more wonderful, deeper, funnier, and more varied every year. Michelle danced with Gavito at one time, and with many other great leads. She excels at understanding her students and their needs. She excels at getting them there. I was not nervous at all about performing, because in an earlier time I performed belly dance as a professional, and worked hard at that and at teaching it. I passed that off to my sister Annette who is better and more technically proficient than I ever was, and a dozen years younger. So, what was a concern to me was the thought of how it looked, how I looked, and that is not something that generally aids the social dancer who is more of a mind to work on how it feels. But by this time we had committed, and so we got all the help we could get, and then we ratcheted way back to what we know: That tango is a dance of love and connection. And what better way to celebrate an anniversary of a couple obviously still deep in love, as we are, after all these years. And it doesn't hurt to go very consciously back into technique. It only helps connection to be more "in the body".

We ended up pleased, and from the non tango audience response, they were too. But the important part is that it isn't always about us, but more about sharing. And being ever so grateful for the friends in our lives. The real friends. As we go on, they becomes even more important and more treasured. And as they say in yoga class, every time at the end, honoring our teachers teachers teachers.
Note: Those are glow sticks on Alan's head, his halo, and on my leg.

Help with Technology

2011-10-12T18:31:00.000-07:00

I spent all day trying to figure out the blogger to make better use of it as an agile art website. I got so frustrated. I am so tired of the inventors of these things who do not know how some people think and what they need. As these technologies take over as the default way of doing things, artists who know how to use them will be able to put work out. Galleries are now asking for just a website. Website must be fresh and up to date, and must have the bio, resume, statement etc. How to do this? Wordpress is not cooperating. I cannot get Word to send a Resume, cannot get wordpress to accept a photo to start building the page. So I thought maybe just change my art blog to do these things. Easy to upload photos, new images, etc. But still cannot get a Word file there, or even keep my template from dissolving when I try to make the changes I need. I am not stupid, but these things discourage me. I really really need help.
Just for fun, here is today's "news" from Wordpress: WPTavern: Revamping The 404 Page For The Plugin RepositoryWPTavern: Revamping The 404 Page For The Plugin Repository
See, isn't that helpful?
Anyone want some free artwork?

Viejos Milongueros

2011-10-10T15:06:00.001-07:00

I found these again, after losing my last posting to the quirks of blogger. I like these videos for the calm and normal quality of the event. This is the way I like a milonga to be. All kinds of regular folks having a wonderful time dancing to tango music. What else do you need? Every one seems to be having a good time from the looks of it. It is a very special space in life, to have friends and to have fun with them. I treasure it.

Since these videos were made more than twenty years ago, and a lot of the people are older...it makes me realize that some of them are gone now, or no longer dancing.

Carpe Diem my friends.

The Converts

2011-10-08T12:21:00.000-07:00

We have only one verifiable "Old Milonguero" in Seattle, and he is a good friend. He often sends out videos and stories of Buenos Aires milongas. There is a warm feeling of nostalgia in his stories.

His most recent videos are seen here.

There are several striking realizations:
1) Many people are not dancing in strictly close embrace.
2) Collecting, adorning, extending, and other showing business does not seem to have a place or meaning here.
3) People are often smiling and radiating joy, and fun.
4) Ordinary clothes, although carefully chosen, do not display a lot of sequins, fringes, feathers, etc.
5) Many people appear to be wearing street shoes.

Since we here are all converts, we are the worst. As they used to say when I was growing up Catholic, the convert is the most fundamentalist, the most annoying, the most vigilant, and generally the most trouble for those who grow up in the fold. (Note: I actually have nothing against converts or any religion...just making another half-baked analogy.)
When, as in our tango world, the convert is not even getting trained in the true church, it is even more likely to go wrong, or at least to go dogmatic in the extreme.
So I enjoyed, even got goose bumps and lots of dopamine, just watching. I even know a couple of the folks. But their church is kind of far away. But they are the root of my religion to be sure. A religion And I love seeing and believing that tango is not really so hard, so complicated, or so serious for the true practitioners. It is about the neighborhood, however global.

Tango Bitch

2011-10-04T19:56:00.000-07:00

It is common these days to hear that there are "tango bitches", also that there are tango snobs, tango divas, etc. What does this mean?
I think the slurs refer to women who might be:

Particular about who they dance with.

Who might:
Like to maintain a small skepticism about unknown people at milongas for reasons of safety and decorum. Or out of good instinct and common sense.

Women Who Do Not Like: having their regular seat taken. The seat they always sit in, the seat where their partners find them, the seat they have their purse and fan and shoe bag right there, with their glass of wine.

Or Who:

Plan their evening around choices that they make and instigate through cabeceo. (Not through coercion or being tapped on the shoulder or having to deal with arrogance and unwelcome verbal or physical insistence.)

Or:

Do Not like being told who to dance with or who not to dance with.

Or Who:
Dislike men who are arrogant, and who have no social skills or even basic manners, no matter how famous they are. This naturally includes men who are known abusers.

She May:
Prefer not to join women who grovel and stand in line to dance with visiting maestros or cool guys from out of town, at the same time dismissing those nice men who will be here long after Mr. Wonderful is gone.

If that is what people mean by tango bitch then sign me up!

Illusions

2011-09-29T08:57:00.000-07:00

I like this essay by Derik Sivers regarding how we regard ourselves and our abilities, and more often than not, overestimate how great we are. AND how much we gain when we come down to earth.

Read it, it's short and sweet.

And it gives us so much more chance to really get better and to grow when we realize how we ain't really all that.

SO. Back to private lessons for the fall season. I am absolutely aware of my averageness, lack of elegance, and need to reset my intentions around that.

The first lesson was hard. The realization that it is still a puzzle for me to have a straight leg. My legs are long, and so when I step back it feels like my leg wants to stretch and then it says, oh no, that would be too big a step, and then it sort of holds back. And so I make it stretch and at the same time take a smaller step....and that is hard for some reason, and I am sure I make it harder than it has to be. Does anyone else have this issue or any advices?

I have had one very elegant teacher threaten to poke me with a sharp stick, another one (famous mean one) actually kick me, and another one (my current beloved teacher), just keep reminding me to have a straight leg. She does it without abuse, and it seems to work better. Hey, we are not in Catholic school any more. I think.

Closing Doors

2011-09-24T10:31:00.000-07:00

http://youtu.be/798Ao3WZruI

The video above is about printmaking, and thus about life in my case. It is not the reason why I am simplifying life so radically these days, but it does explain something that bolsters my commitment to doing so.

We hang on to things, and things hang on to us. But things change, including our vision of life. And closing certain doors, however we resist, gives us, through the doors we choose to keep open a path to a deeper river.

After a most serious divesting of things, clutter, old and some newer clothes, paintings, and baggage of all sorts, (still ongoing) I divested myself of Facebook as well. I don't find it a good way to communicate. So if you want to talk to me, my phone number is 425-785-9553. My email is elizabethbrinton@gmail.com.
I will make time for real friends, and even for casual acquaintances, enemies, but especially for family.

With election time coming up, I don't want to hear or talk about politics, torture, the economy, war, or disasters. This means no Facebook. I already made it through the 1960's as a card carrying member. I don't want to talk about that either. I paid at the office and there were no returns.

Tango is a door still open. And the refinements of home and creating the environment to foster work, play, friendship, family. The garden door is still open, but must lead to a simpler vision. Too many plants. If you want some, I have some.

I want to talk about love, spirit, change, space, time, art, dance, connection, recovery, light, color, redemption, fashion, babies, or cooking. So call me. I will be here cleaning out the utility room.

Friday

2011-09-14T18:54:00.000-07:00

I just realized: Tomorrow I will celebrate six years of writing this blog. It used to be better, funnier, more light. I looked through some of my favorites, and those that people enjoyed. Everyone goes through stages, and this last year has been my stage for integrating tango, and writing, and for enjoying it.

The thing I realized is that there are all these subtle forces that render us silent, or shall we say, cause a softening one's message. It is a particular challenge when one is writing about their own subculture. You would think that something like surfing, or dancing would be free of the censors, or free from the people who don't want you talking, or thinking, writing, or even meeting up at the milonga. But just ask and Argentine person who lived through some recent decades. Ask.

My friend Chas Smith (a surfer) just had a piece in the New York Times Sunday Magazine this past Sunday about the surf and extreme sports culture, about a certain family in Orange County. Chas writes the truth about the dark underbelly of these things. And what happens when a writer is afraid? That is what oppressions and holocausts are made of. Reading his work, reminded me of the importance, and relevance of saying what matters. Of speaking the truth as observed. Not abstract, but truth told.

And I am celebrating all that the writing has brought to me and to the continuation of speaking the truth.

Here are some of the entries I wrote back before I realized how dark things can get if you say it like it is.

Crazy Lady:
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2008/03/crazy-lady.html
A story whereby I "help" newbies.

Igor and Morticia
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2009/10/workshop-schedule-igor-and-morticia.html

Small Conversation
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2009/11/small-conversation.html

Entrega
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2008/01/entrega.html
Trying to explain the unexplainable

Special Tango Goggles
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2009/09/we-went-to-milonga-on-saturday-night-in.html
Really, goggles....

Why people quit tango. People quit tango?
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2009/07/breaking-even.html

The Tango Break
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2009/05/tango-break.html

Whereby I find my true teachers.
http://elizabethbrinton.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-tour-guides.html

There are a lot more. I hope you read them and get something from it. Or just go dance. What else is there really?
There is more. Stay tuned. We are not silenced.
Thank You Charlie for upholding the truth.

Generosity

2011-09-12T10:09:00.000-07:00

What did he mean? He says that what he needs, wants, looks for, in a partner, is generosity. I try to get to the meaning in plain English. He makes an effort to explain as I question him. I think that what he says is about the partner finding her ability to make him feel good, to put her focus into that. And the paradox, because there is always a paradox in tango, is that she needs to have taken care to feel good about herself and to leave insecurity at the door, and to have put a good deal of time into her own dance, and her own self image and her own grounded-ness.
It is like what new mothers have to learn...you cannot do for your child if you come to them depleted. Or what I have to do an an artist.....I cannot go to an empty well. Selfish? Generous? Two sides of the same coin. Find your gift, then give it.

Less is Not More

2011-09-03T12:09:00.000-07:00

I tried not dancing so often, due to work, the need for rest, and general desire for a fresh view. Also having a Treme festival here at the house. Sometimes a little glass of cognac, cozying up with my man is just the ticket. If you haven't seen Treme, you must! No hurricane can keep the music down.

But alas. The message is all too clear. Tango is needed. Not just now and then.

Thanks to the universe, and to the gentlemen, for the lovely tandas last night. Thanks for the little "click", which turns on the light inside. Says now we are living. Irons out all kinks, perfumes the air, ignites the fire, soothes all ills.

Someone could just bottle it? Dreaming.

See you back out there on the floor.

Immaterial Gold

2011-08-31T16:17:00.000-07:00

This time of year the light turns gold. I always look towards Ocatavio Paz, the great Mexican poet. He writes in his poem, "I Speak Of The City", of this light:

Hablo de algunos antardeceres al comienzo del otono, cascadas de oro incorporeo, transfiguracion de este mundo, todo pierde cuerpo, toda se queda suspenso,

and, going on in English:

the light thinks, and each one of us feels himself thought by that reflective light, and for one long moment time dissolves, and we are air once more,.....

So that pretty much explains tango. I feel, myself "thought" by that reflective light, the light of my partner and the music. That perfect mirror through which I can travel in golden light. I feel myself thought by him.

Only, in times when I am working, and inspired, I have to rest, to have order. But as they say, Tango Waits.

DJ Thoughts

2011-08-08T13:10:00.000-07:00

No sooner had I walked into the room with my laptop when someone asks if I would please play some "weird non-tango music", since tango gets so boring....

What I did was laugh, 'cause, you know, it seemed like a joke. But they were serious. And then I thought, as I often do, What Fresh Hell is This?

I have been DJing only three years. I have a million things to learn, and that is one of the reasons why I enjoy it. I do not believe that DJing is an art. I make art as a profession, and it requires leaping into areas that you cannot find on Google. It is creative. Creative DJs do not actually do the job right, in my opinion. It could be thought of as a design process, in that the night has to have form, texture, a kind of trajectory of energy. Art is more of an individual endeavor, less of a service. DJ work requires intuition, observation of the crowd, mood etc. But the job is always the same....to provide the music for tango dancing.

One thing is certain. The best dancers listen to hours and hours of music. The same music over and over again. They know it inside out and still know that there is more in there. In the car, at work, at home, during practice, and in their sleep, they learn the lexicon, and it becomes part of the mind and body over time. Tango music. They may like jazz, blues, classical etc. Nice to listen to and to refresh and reset. But to be a decent tango dancer you have to have tango music, the greatest hits. Most of us have barely heard the surface.

Someone is always telling me about, or playing for me, a great discovery of some old tango, and they are usually quite proud of it, and would like for me to play it. It's a little like learning a new tango step-stunt to show off with. These discoveries don't bring any epiphanies.. What does: The way you think you know that old Di Sarli, and then your partner (or the unique energies of the two of you together) brings out a delicate new golden thread of melody, or an underlayment of tone, or emotion, that you have, until now, never heard or felt. Surprise! That is new, old, and forever. When it happens, it becomes a lifetime memory, something you think of as a reason for living. Something you will take to the grave with gratitude. My goal and pleasure is to provide the musical space for that discovery, or at the very least, to make an engaging sound world built out of the ongoing passion and delight of the classic tango. Mi Romance, Tanturi....bored? Really? El Recodo, Biagi. When you have heard enough of this then you must leave tango, having gone to the well and found it dry. Really? Di Sarli, Por Que Me Llaman Amor! Reverie enough to unlock your heart where it connects to your ears?

I may have appeared rude to laugh when asked to play non-tango music. But the music is close to sacred, and I would rather not DJ at all if non-tango music is a requirement at the venue. It's non-negotiable. It's fine with me, I like to dance even more than I like to DJ, and lucky for us, one of the best, Anton Sukhanov will be at the helm tonight!
Un Tango y Nada Mas.

Lucky

2011-07-25T12:22:00.000-07:00

The Great Bob Wills

After the Sunday milonga last night, our usual place to eat and wind down, our Argentine friend was talking with us about the great milonguero Alberto Dassieu. There is an interview, very touching, informative, and relevant to tango history, which is going around the YouTube now and you could find it at PractiMilonguero.

Our friend reflected on his own life in tango, and said how lucky he is. He speaks the language, grew up in Buenos Aires, and has many milongueros in his home, fed them, assisted them and interpreted for them in workshops and private teaching in our city. He knows them. So yes, he is lucky for the coincidence of his birth and also for his own ability to work and network so that he, and all of us, can study with some milongueros before they are gone.

But I think about this: I am not them. They don't want us to be them. And we can't be them. We share the tango with them, and now of course, tango is global, and you can find a real milonguero in your own backyard who has never been to Buenos Aires. It appears that the spirit can be channeled in rare instances. But, we are not Argentine. We cannot say we learned from our childhood barrio to dance this or that way of tango.

So who are we, and how can we bring all of ourselves to the tango floor?

I grew up in cattle ranching and timber country. The ranches of my uncles (Hereford cattle) and the ranch of my grandad, (dairy, cattle, and a few elite race-horses), were not herb farms, no lavender fields or massages. Dust, manure, barbed wire, blood, and men with cigars and suntans that stopped in mid forehead. A rodeo was a working sport. Cattle put in the corral and restrained for branding, medicine, and other things you don't want to hear about.

My family loved music. Bob Wills, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn..

Some of the family played instruments and an uncle and aunt travelled around playing in country places where people danced.
Sometimes there were grange dances. This was country before country was cool, which still exists, now that country is not cool. My beautiful Aunt Mimi played the piano at home. Lots of soulful country, just like tango if you know the words, and sometimes the music makes you dance, while the words make you cry.

Later I spent too much time two-stepping when I should have been paying more attention to my kids. I loved country bars, knew all the dances, and had a wonderful time. I had my same dance partner then. It was not as soulful maybe as tango, and certainly lacked the social stratification that goes on. It's America after all. If we have a country dance competition, most real country dancers won't be there. They will be at work. But they sure as hell would not deny anyone from any country the opportunity to scoot their boots.

I keep of gorgeous photo of fiddlers at the Willows Oregon fruit stand above the console where I put my computer to play all my tango music. It reminds me of who I am, where my barrio is, and most of all it reminds me that I am lucky.

Inner GPS

2011-07-17T11:59:00.000-07:00

I got out of whack with my energy, and spent two whole nights in one week with no sleep at all, staying up to greet a new day. This is not sustainable obviously. So new practice is put into place to organize tango life around work and life.

I recommend it! Sleep at a routine time, fewer and better milongas, fewer and better dances. Only dancing when it feels right, and the music/partner/mood equation suits. I would like to add a consistent practice and some brilliant lessons. But I will choose work first if a choice has to be made.

Looking around there are examples everywhere of people abandoning careers, creative work, family, relationships, and life opportunities for tango. I understand it, but am not going with them. I also realized that I like leaders who are leaders in more than one way. I only feel my woman's role in a way that rings true for me when he has that quality. I can only be myself in my way of dancing when that quality is there. I cannot describe except to steal from someone this idea: The man draws the picture and the woman fills in the colors. Now there is an analogy that takes my mind beyond the words.

Of course, it takes time for all of us to find the place, our place, and to grow into it. I am happy to grow along with others, but the path has to be clear in some way, no wandering around in the brambles with someone who has no inner GPS either in dance or life, or who at least is looking for the directions.

With more rest, routine and summer rain to calm things down, the path looks much much clearer.

(Does anyone remember the episode of the great series "Northern Exposure" when, during the period of 24 hour daylight in the summer, in Alaska, Joel Fleishman goes nuts from having so much energy, and so little sleep?) That happens in Seattle a little bit too, and I think it affects me rather significantly....

Wider Net

2011-07-07T12:42:00.000-07:00

Notes from a conversation.
Location: Kirkland garden on Foxglove Lane.
Dinner: Grilled skirt steak, Salad, Wine (ordinary), Bread from Macrina (extraordinary).
No Dessert.
Just Us.
It is light until after ten o'clock, and we have no mosquitoes.

As is often the case, we are talking tango. But things have opened up for each of us in our tango lives of late. For Him, in his way of progress, and for me, in mine. We have really given each other a gift of independence, and it gives us the opportunity to always bring something new. Our ideas flow back and forth. So these notes are from both of us, and no one knows for sure who made which points.

What Makes it Wonderful?
Musicality: is a given. Love of the Music is essential (tango music)
Intimacy
Clarity
Respect
A Huge Amount of Enveloping Protectiveness (this came from me).

We came to the subject in a round about way. We both eschew tango tribal behaviour, and dance with a diverse selection which seems to make no sense in terms of styles and preferences that matter a lot to some people. I feel, and have written here, that there is much pressure on people to limit their range. If we lived in Buenos Aires this might make more sense. But we live in Seattle, with an overlapping of groups. Actually, for me, a close style is preferred, but not required. Because I feel that I choose based on the above criteria, and those things exist in people, not in styles. And some intimate, musical, protective, and respectful people dance (gasp!) in a more open style.

It is not just one type of person who can get you there, into magic tango zone, forgetting what milonga you are at.
It has something do with how much, and how well, they read you. We both felt this was high on the list. Great leads listen to the partner too. They follow too. It is a two way street. A very delicate place but clear.

Sometimes talking is just like dancing. He is a quiet man, and I hope he will say more about his amazing tango life too. Someone recently wrote that North American men might not have the DNA for the "touchy feely, deep passionate tango. " But they do.

We sat across another table last week, and saw a man's actual aura, and a flash of fire, when he described how he felt all the pain in tango, and nearly quits every week....and then something clicks, it works, and he is in even deeper. We all know what that is.
But seeing it so brilliant, surprising, intense.....and then feeling it in his dance, it just knocks you down like lightening.

P.S. I like what Modern Tanguera says about musicality in her blog today: http://moderntanguera.wordpress.com/2011/07/06/musicaliwhat-2/

Bellingham Again

2011-07-05T02:57:00.000-07:00

Rebecca's Tango Life Milonga continues in Bellingham on the first Sunday of each month. It is a two hour drive north for us, and maybe about that long for the Canadians and some Island folk driving south. We love it. It is a slice of the Pacific Northwest community and very friendly and inclusive. Rebecca does a bang up job with food and decoration and ambiance, and makes everyone feel welcome and relaxed. The new venue, the "Majestic Ballroom" is old and big and grand and has a great floor. We have a great time there and don't mind the drive now that it is light until after ten. It makes us feel like kids.

I am greatly looking forward to DJing there in August. I appreciate the organizers trust in my ability to do it.

It was really seriously fun. Summer is really finally here.

Hard To Watch

2011-07-01T22:45:00.000-07:00

Re-posting with edit. Since I still believe that I decide what to write, and also I decide who to dance with, and if I take lessons or not, and that having heart in your tango might not be all that is needed, (necessary but not sufficient?) I am not going to be further bullied.

I am not sure about posting comments by people who think that this is about them. Since one comment is from a known member of our community, and since he thinks he knows who it is about, I choose not to post that comment. He leaves his full name, which is honest. But the post was not about him. It is about someone who represents a type. A type that others have written to tell me exists in every place where tango lives. I am truly not outing any individual, but if they recognize themselves, then well, there you go. The comment by the honest and self identifying person also seemed to be written in more than one voice. More bullying? I have published 503 entries, and have about 300 other drafts, and this is the first time I have felt personally threatened. And I just have to stand up. For the record I have always written without using names except in cases of teachers, and organizers or other writers, and I write in a 99 percent positive zone. So for the commenter to leave his full name is essentially him saying that he has a friend or companion that he is defending. Good for him, to be loyal. Not so good for his friends though. Who is to say which one he is defending? Only those in the community who have been personally affected know who I am talking about, but again, it is more about a type, not a person. And about taking care.

I don't think it was a mistake to write what I wrote. Women are being shut up, shut down, and shut out, out of fear. And it's my blog, and you don't have to read it. In fact I really could care less who reads it, and would put it on private mode, except when I tried that my readers begged me to put it back out there. P>S. I was accused of writing about a handicapped person???? I am not sure what people are reading into things. Are they claiming a handicap and expecting special treatment. Even the handicapped have to refrain from brutish behaviour in society.

I would love to post the comment, but feel that it was coerced.

So here is the repost, with an admittedly mean phrase removed. which was probably not about YOU. Cause, you know, not everything is:

It's hard to watch some of the awful things that go on. Surely in any community or activity there are predators and parasites. But in tango at the moment there is a steady supply of eager newcomers. After you are around for awhile you see the same guy "helping" newer women. He tells then not to take lessons, "to dance from their heart", tells them not to dance with certain quite nice dancers, and that he won't dance with them if they do! It only took one of these threats for me to get him out of my way, but I was already wise to him by then anyway. I already knew from the get-go, but was amused by his games. Silly of me, but I like stories, and characters too much. But I was sure not going to stop my own growth and opportunity in tango. I hope newbies will hold out for better and more respectful leads. But I can't be going around taking care of people. I dance for me.
Watching now, as he dominates the time and holds back the talent of yet another follow, I wonder how long it will take. There seems to be a rotten apple in every barrel. I get tired of being nice about it. Being nice is what jerks like him count on. Nice girls, lady-like women, and people who want to dance at the expense of their own dignity. Screw it.

Adventures in Leading

2011-06-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to amend this post a little by saying:
Patricio and Eva are great teachers, and if anyone could teach me to lead, it would be them. They weren't the problem.
And
I still love to dance with any good lead, male or female. Some women are fabulous leads.
And
You never know, I might change my mind some day.

I had to learn a little bit of leading last year. It was a stated requirement for the Brigitta Winkler and Tomas Howlin workshops in Maui. I would say now, in reflection, that taking intensive tango workshops on Maui is crazy enough, and something I probably would not do again. I mean, really, what sort of nut job tango addict wants to be indoors in Maui?Nothing wrong with the workshops. But if one is going to be learning and working all day on tango, it seems that there are plenty of cold places, cold seasons for it.

And, so, I joined a woman friend in Patricio and Eva's classes here in Seattle, to prepare for the Maui Tangobody course. I barely learned to lead an ocho cortado, and one half assed turn, (not the official term), all done in the dorky women's lead style seen on floors throughout the world now. I hated the feeling, and the look of leading. There are a few women who look rather nice, cute, and fun loving when they lead. I guess it has to be fun first. Or you have to be cute first.

But for me, it was most definitely not fun. Well, there was the sense of challenge, the sense of accomplishment of figuring it out, the joy of being with a friend I like very much. But other than that I just kept looking at the clock and praying that it would be over soon. Not a feeling I normally associate with tango, no matter how daunting the challenge. If any woman wants to lead, I support the idea. Just not for me. I used to think the men were having all the fun, expressing the music etc. For them it may be. I also no longer think of following as a subordinate role in any sense. I don't feel it that way either.

Knowing this made the leading exercise worth it. I also know a bit of technical stuff that comes in handy sometimes. And I respect leaders more, and see what they are up against. It probably helps me in my following role to have dabbled in the lead role, as little as it was. But I would not want to do much more of it. I worked so hard, and learned so slowly, to be a good follower, and I still progress I think. And it takes all of my being, and presence to do it in the way I need to do it. And wow, do I love it.

Seattle is undergoing a craze in "interleading" which I think means switching off between lead and follow, even in the same song. I suspect that the recent and now annual Ariadna Naviera workshops have an effect. She is super cute, and really knows how to move gracefully in both roles. These things may be the wave of the future in tango. And I don't mind. I just have to be true to my own self. Is this too old fashioned? Well O.K. then.

Here is a very interesting link regarding leading and following:
http://youtu.be/Cswrnc1dggg

And here is the cutest thing I ever saw in Tango, even though I believe it is a fox trot. There are other videos of these two that show the switching off of lead/follow roles. Easy enough to find.
http://youtu.be/HVAmfYgy7_0

Father's Day

2011-06-18T17:33:00.000-07:00

Father's Day is a little sad when your father is gone. Mine left this earth a few years ago. This is the age when fathers seem to be leaving in droves. Sometimes though it seems as if he is right here.

My dad wanted a lot of kids and he got them. He was a hardworking man but seemed to find time to be a kid with us. We made up his entire social life as far as I can tell. He had a way of making small things fun for us.

Baker City, Oregon, sometime in the late 1950's:

We lived where the winters brought snow. We could go ice skating. We could go sledding. I remember sledding one night with my dad. There were seven children in our family, so I am wondering how it came to be that it was just us. We were walking home after it got dark, walking away from the slope of snow and all that crazy fun, ambling down a quiet street. There was ice glitter in the air lit by a few lights from the houses. The snow was building over the tracks left by cars, and we walked down the center of the street, crunching along. We weren't talking too much, and we were cold.. My dad said something to me though, Something I keep in my memory always. I can't be sure of his exact words, but it was something like this: "We are always going to remember this aren't we Bethy? We are always going to think back and see it in our minds eye just like this, a long time from now." My father did not think he was special at all, and lived as modestly as a monk. But he had to be special to have thought to say this to a small child. And to have known.

And now I answer him: "Yes daddy, we always will".

My Tour Guides

2011-06-03T11:28:00.000-07:00

"If I could only throw away the urge to trace all my patterns in your heart, I could really see you."
David Brandon, (Zen And The Art of Helping)

Sometimes, when travelling far, we observe, (in others and in ourselves) that couples will walk around loudly making statements, their minds working out all the unexplainable mysteries of a a new place. "Oh honey" they say, from a safe distance, usually behind a camera, "stand there, isn't the water so blue, let's call the kids over here in front of this palm tree. You know you can eat those things, I saw that on the Martha Stewart show!" "Honey, no! stand there, a little more to the right, no, to your right". This used to be me, I say, cringing.

When things are foreign, we make a mighty effort to get it organized. A futile effort. Women especially want to understand so that they can "help" In beginning tango classes the women "help". The urge to say "helpful" things is irresistible. I think most of us have been there. I would like to rewind to those days sometimes. If I could, I would go there with as much silence, and as much listening as I could muster. Totally against my nature, and exactly what I need.

A few times in the very beginning I was blessed with tandas with some much more advanced men. This began to quiet me down. I realized that my entire job was to be listening with the body. The gratitude I feel for these people now...there are no words. But, since I know my partner, and he is so patient, I still ran all over him with advice, opinions and demands for this and that. Showing him YouTubes, asking for enganches, boleos and such. Trying to describe a place where I had never been. There are lots of unexplainables about a long relationship, and so I won't try to explain. It would distract me from the view.

Well, he was very pleasant about shutting me up, and he did it with grace, but he did do it. Patiently, over and over, like training a high strung horse. He has taught me tango like no instructor ever could. He, primarily, and nearly every other man that I have danced with, have been my teachers. I went to a strange land, wandered around, got seriously lost, and there, before talking loudly on the beach, I decided to be open to it, just let the new waters wash over me, taking away all that I brought there, I let my baggage drift out on the tide. "Oh well" I said, "I won't be needing those things here."
I opened to see the unfamiliar plants, to hear the crazy sounds in the tree tops, to be present without associations and ideas. Let my tour guide tell me the story. Those beautiful tour guides, kind, warm, protective, appreciative, silent, except for the secret language in their hearts....

What If?

2011-05-23T11:00:00.000-07:00

I have a big garden. We moved here over 12 years ago and were faced with a third acre of lawn and the sort of plants that you find in the bank parking lot. What we have now is a jungle of perennials and less lawn, although I wish it were even less, and large trees which have turned us gradually into a shade garden full of ferns, mosses, ground covers, every shade of green. And weeds.

Weeding brings out the philosopher. A quiet mind in nature, a repetitive task and then, voila! Thoughts of how life has changed, how I have changed. The garden was neglected at times during the top of the tango craze in this family. Late nights are not good for garden people. Afternoons too are taken up with cooking, showering, figuring out what to wear, choosing shoes, listening to music in a cloud of expectation and perfume. Then DJing started, and the whole thing just went to hell. Does anyone really appreciate the work and planning and self-educating that goes into the job? Well, in any case, the garden does not appreciate that either.

But my tango is no more perfect than my garden. Very defective, full of weeds and pests.

The wide swaths of wild buttercups gave me an idea. They are weeds for sure. But they are pretty ones. "What if", I asked myself, "what if, I just declared the weeds to be flowers, gave them the place where they seem to thrive, and enjoyed them?" Would the world come to an end? I think not. Would I still enjoy the garden? Probably more than ever! Maybe I can just sit with a glass of wine and enjoy!

And so, I applied the idea to my dance. "What if", I asked myself, "what if I just declared myself happy with my dance, forgot all that concern and just enjoyed my partner, the music, the night, and the full moon shining down on the lake during the drive, pouring light onto the floor of the milonga? What if I accepted whatever I bring to the tango, and just turned it into buttercups instead of weeds?" What if I let nature take it's course with the pests? What if I turned my awareness away from whatever is outside of that moment?

I will still be weeding, and I will still be learning. But what happens, is that suddenly, I live in a very beautiful if imperfect garden.

Interview with Ney Melo

2011-05-18T10:21:00.000-07:00

http://tangoreviews.com/2011/05/10/interview-with-ney-melo-part-1-3/

Very good, articulate, smart, and relevant in a thoughtful way, to what is going on in the scene in the U.S.A.

What I Learned At The Skate Park

2011-05-08T14:44:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day May 8th 2011. Redmond Skate Park.

I was hanging out at the skate park with Ava, my grand kid. She is a little blond with the genes of extreme sports parentage.

There she is "dropping in" to the concrete bowl, showing the big boys how it is done. I like this, but feel constantly that I must not show any concern, (broken teeth!) as athletes need the support and belief of the people around them. It is beautiful to watch and heart stopping. I avoided the snow parks where my daughter (her mother) won her awards and stripes not too long ago. I just couldn't watch. Now, having grown up a little, I choose not to miss it. In any case, naturally I thought of tango. I was watching the kids watching each other, sort of cool, not too obvious. Ava was the smallest person there, and the only female. Kids, some of them reaching adult size, rolling and swishing through space. How can it be that they rarely contact one another? They would be ashamed and ridiculed if they did.

They have the best "floor craft"! No one is too cool to watch out. No one closes their eyes, (as we see here on the tango floor, an asshole so in love with his own dream that he cares nothing for the group). Oh, I'm sorry, asshole is a bad word, so let's just call him a jackass.

They keep a safe space calculating in each moment the speed and distance while artfully swooping and looping. I saw Ava scurry over to avoid a rough looking guy, and then later saw him invite her with one hand to take the first swoop while he waited. He nodded his head and dropped into flight just after her. After a half hour or so, you could see that they saw that she was a skater to be reckoned with. There were other things: who sits with whom, who is not an insider. I heard my son in law say that "shoes don't lie". What brand, where the wear is. Sound like tango? I thought so. And as far as the floor craft..and the respect...we could learn a lot. Maybe we could even learn not to call persons jackasses. Maybe. Fine to be cool, but not fine to dismiss those things which foster the group goals. Not cool at all.

The Floor Whisper

2011-04-26T19:24:00.000-07:00

A friend, another Liz, was sitting with me one night. She called my attention to the most beautiful sound. All the people dancing in a quiet and concentrated way, all together on the wood floor up at the Queen Anne Masonic Hall. What she called to my attention to was the sound of the shoes on the floor. A soft, complex rhythmic underlayment to the music, and when one listened it brought another dimension to the music. She said that the sound was significant, that it meant a good night. How right she was. What a discovery!

The last three milongas that I have been to in Seattle had the softly singing floor. I am quite amazed to say that last night at China Harbor, where I was DJ, that the floor whisper was in full voice.

Yoga and Tango

2011-04-05T10:18:00.000-07:00

Yotan, Tanga, Ga Tan, Ga Go. Pretend names for something that really helps my tango. Or my yoga.

I missed yoga yesterday. The past couple of times we went dancing after very long and good work days, a fast dinner prep, and fast enough showers, and dressing to qualify us as a quick change artists. But missing yoga makes a difference.

I danced last night at the early part of the evening, with a favorite lead who was fresh out of yoga class. Warm skin in a cold room, glowing face, and relaxed and supple moves, and balance. What is even better is the sense of non-judgement, humor, not being in ego-mind. So. That was fun. Even missing the increased mobility and the tranquillity of my own practice, I felt I caught a nice yoga vibe.

In a less obvious way, the tango also helps the yoga practice. All the same foibles that spin around in any world are there too. So. It is.

Reminder to self. Go to Yoga, forget how busy I am. Be Here Now.

Beginner's Luck

2011-03-31T10:43:00.000-07:00

I am going through some music, and planning a gig. I wonder why I feel that I was a better DJ before I knew all the rules? I used to put together music tandas by orchestra, as per the tradition. But I was not shy about putting things together that might not be so common, although still tango music. Or, putting in one thing that felt unusual, still danceable, but a bit out of the norm, something fresh to the ears. I am able to hear music in my head, and to put together a string of pieces creating "texture", I know who likes what, having danced in this community for a time. I get nervous enough to pay attention, and then to just jump in. I think it is worth taking seriously, all those dancers there to realize the dream of a beautiful night. I have minimal techie skills, but learn them when I have to.

So, then, I got all the rules, from my mentors and from the written material re tradition and the milonga. I also used a lot of the music I heard in Buenos Aires, naturally, and set it up in a similar way, as I was nostalgic for that mood. That mood which is like trying to remember a street from the past, in a place you did not reside. That old American nostalgia for unknown places. A tree lined street and the heat rising up from the pavement, and a sound in the distance drawing you.

I look at my early work in art this way. I did some things straight from the heart, and then I got educated, and my job now is to channel right back to the place where the work arose to begin with. The place where the passion is. It takes a long time to let go of the knowledge in favor of knowing. I can only play tango music, No hip hop here. Just in the way I always work towards my experience of beauty. I respect other ways. We all have to channel into our own spirits.....but in DJ work, and in art too, the listener/viewer is important. So, I just do my best, and stay true to instinct as well. What else can I do? I am not yet at the place of having enough training or skill as a DJ that I can throw that over and forget it in favor of riding through the night on pure awareness of the moment. Working on it. But I have to learn more of the language, and put in the time.

Rivers

2011-03-22T12:01:00.000-07:00

We had a good time last night. A fine DJ and a table of friends peppered with some real glamour, and partners who are kind, funny, creative, and damn good dancers make up for a perfect night. How does it get that way, that I am there, and able to participate? I look around and wonder how anyone ever gets past all the gates, and across all the rivers of fire. What do you say to a new student who looks longingly at the floor? What would you advise if they asked you? Building community and encouraging people is part of keeping tango here, and available for us into the future.

Just Learning: What are the chances that of all the people in a beginning class, that any of them will be dancing in a year, or even trying to? Pretty slim. Why? Is it the teachers fault. Not entirely. Tango journeys that are long, and enjoyable, are best taken with some strategy. I know that my partner hears different things from teachers, has a learning style entirely mysterious to me. So we wander around, and eventually even our learning has become a kind of tango....a conversations with aha moments, and unique understandings that enhance our life, our dance.
So, try a teacher for awhile if you like their dancing. After some time, try another one. See who works for your style of learning, and your goals for the journey.

Walking and Balance: We realized around a year into our journey, when we finally went to a milonga, sitting like deer in the headlights, that there was no possible way that we were getting on that floor. Why is it so hard? Nice dancing just looks like walking...so why aren't we doing that? From then on, my own particular path has been backward, in heels, extending, intending, over, and over, moving on and on backward. In order to do it right, which I still strive for. With re-set intention, I had to stop taking classes. Oh, I take them, just not too seriously. (I respect the teachers tremendously, but I know that what they are telling us and showing us will take a long time to sink into my mind and body, so I just go and enjoy the camaraderie and trust myself. )
Walking, I take seriously. To walk, I had surgery. To walk, I embarked on intensive and frequent physical therapy, yoga, and to walk, I practice balance. A great teacher who no longer resides in Seattle made me aware of the need to practice this, and to put oneself on to edge of imbalance in order to get the brain to know where that point is...put it out there a bit, then when one is simply walking it is so much easier. I am so grateful for that. It informs my life in other ways, allowed me to scare myself a bit. I think I am able to DJ because of this too. Just got out of my comfort zone.
So, work on the walk, in class and at home. Find a fitness program that works on balance. Remember that balance is mental and physical, and is a concept for life. Be easy on yourself if you forget what happened in class. You will get it later if it is worth getting.

Intention and Elegance: Teachers Mayte and Carlos are masters. In class they often uses these words. They are not just saying words. They are living them. Teaching is sometimes just living. You cannot make someone an artist. I learned that I cannot teach art. But by living art, I can touch people, change them. How one finds the elegance, the inner elegance which is not fake, is each persons journey. Being a performer does not mean one does not understand tango. No one loves tango more than these people. They can dance in a milonga setting, and they do, and are the best possible examples of floor craft and courtesy. A few local "milongueros" could take note of this intention.
So. Elegance matters. Find some.

Being Nice/Giving: For a while we took private lessons from Michelle. She is a true dancer. She dances probably every night and she dances for fun when she is not teaching. She loves it. And she cares about her students. She is open, available, kind, funny, and Nice....and underrated quality in tango.

This is a rambling assortment of thoughts, I know. But each of these are rivers that I have had to cross, swim along in, drown in. Then come up dancing. Other bullet points for another day: Tranquillo. Compassion. Laughter (my favorite), Clothes, Conversation, Being Nice without being a doormat, knowing when to Go Home, Fear, Letting go of Resistance, Managing Emotions, Taking a Break, Giving yourself a Break, Getting Easy with It All., Remembering that You Have A Life, Breathing, and what else ? Oh yeah, Discretion.

For Today

2011-03-14T16:38:00.000-07:00

I believe I have posted David Budbill's fine poem before. Since we are silenced by the power of nature, and the repercusions in Japan, I post it again.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow

we are

bones and ash,

the roots of weeds

poking through

our skulls.

Today,

simple clothes,

empty mind,

full stomach,

alive, aware,

right here,

right now.

Drunk on music,

who needs wine?

Come on,

Sweetheart,

let's go dancing

while we've still

got feet.

Mixology

2011-03-04T10:12:00.000-08:00

We signed up for Patricio's not-quite-beginner class. We like to take beginner classes from good teachers who focus on technique and body mechanics rather than step sequences, and beginner classes, no matter what our level, help us to refine.. So before the classes my partner and I discussed whether or not we would rotate partners. I sometimes really dislike this, because I am just at the mercy of very rough people, and I have no opportunity to learn my side since I am always having to switch to the next guy, I have been injured more than once by beginner leads. So screw that. But when we got to the class and there were at least ten extra women, the pressure to "share" my own nice leader was on. Why cannot the instructors create a sign-up procedure which balances the class? Just make it be equal? And ladies, don't you know anyone who will come to class with you? Brother, co-worker? I am sort of tired of sharing all the time. And tired too of all the whining. Which is a funny thing to say, since I hear myself whining here....

Well, another nice follow who also brought her partner gave him up as well. We thought it was bad karma to be selfish etc. Also screw that.

After one round of cat fight rotation, I got the right idea and decided to go to the bar and order a drink. I met a new friend there. The bartender had a box of a mysterious tropical juice and he asked me if I knew what it was. The picture was of a yellow fruit with lots of seeds. We tasted it, and it had a delicious combination of grapefruitiness and guava, and something else. So we start playing with it. A bit of light rum and some lime and a few sips later, and we decide we have a new drink. I loved it, and forgot all about the class which was sweating away and vibrating with angst on the other end of the room. Sometimes you get what you think you paid for and sometimes you get something else. I don't know how I will handle eight weeks of the class but at least I am going to have some fun.

What You Bring

2011-02-26T10:22:00.000-08:00

We are just home from Tangobody in Maui. Stunning place. The venue: The Makawao Union Church Annex next to the church in the beginning of "upcountry". The constant breeze off the ocean, along with the view in the daytime, and the real stars at night, give us decoration, sparkle.

I learned a lot. So much so, that it will take awhile to absorb it and to convey it. The kernel will take time to sprout.
Concept, maybe viable, but the execution not so: Teachers in training in the morning. Learning to teach. We go in the afternoon to learn, primarily from Brigitta Winkler, (my goddess), and Tomas Howlin, (a genius). But, we have to endure the teacher trainees, most of them actually not exceptionally good dancers, and a few of them, not very nice people, as they "practice" their teaching on us! Poor Us! Well, except that Brigitta, and Tomas were in charge. Not easy to be in charge in Hawaii. You know. A lot of people there are there because they cannot be or have not been in charge, or had anyone in charge of them. If someone is going to teach the teachers, Brigitta and Tomas are it. They have deep and well founded concepts of educational principles. They put their teacher trainees through the paces. Glad I don't feel any need whatsoever to teach or to turn tango in work. But it was sort of work being the poor sucker guinea pigs.

Epiphany! The subject was a favorite one, mostly around active conversation in tango. This is the reason I was there, being a kind of active sort. What is there to learn. Man, or Lead, leads. Woman, or Follow....follows, but then since follow has it's own power, she/ he is in intense presence. Presence brings it's own demands, requirements, gifts, and pleasures. The lead who can allow is in for the ride of his life.

Fine enough. But it left out some things. My teachers in Seattle teach the real Tangobody. The tango of the body. How to be fit to receive the partner. The body, shoulders, core, beauty in the feet, heart! Elegance. The conduit. I appreciate so much what I (am tryiing to) learn here. In Maui, nothing of technique was discussed or taught.....and actually no steps really either, except as examples of spaces that can be created for the conversation. The follow who can deliver. The lead who can invite. I thought, from the title "Tangobody" that the body would be part of the focus. I thought because of my previous many experiences in Hawaii, that the body as it thrives in nature, the way the heart opens when the physical chest opens, for example, would be a part of the training. But it wasn't and that was fine. Brigitta is very German, and she likes organization, and she is good at it, and uses that skill to keep things in focus, which, in Hawaii, and especially North Shore Maui, is a unique force, much needed. And so she and Tomas brought their considerable teaching skills to bear on a challenging and very diverse group.

Tango conversation with active follow....can it be taught ? Isn't it natural when the two have the tango body in proper alignment and posture, to begin to move together in that way that we know as moving together to the music as in a dream? I learned that active follow is/can be a damaging concept to teach, because a natural follow already knows it, and knows how much it requires delicate surrender and connection and complete attention and fluid relaxation. I felt my self knowing and resisting the doing-too-muchness of the ideas and exercises. I just wanted to melt into the lead. Guess I am old style.

Nice for me that old style-ers find each other no matter where we go! I had some great dances at the evening events, and felt the training did allow me to be old style but with more presence....

The teacher trainees were sort of annoying and in the way. A couple of them were downright disrespectful. Tomas and Brigitta, and some of the terrific people of Hawaii, were wonderful . The concept of the trainee could be improved with better filtering of the participants. I don't know how they would do that though. And after all it is a business, a livelihood for them, so one cannot probably turn people away who will pay. It was nice to have some Seattle people there. Our community goes deeper than we know.

The best part of the trip was swimming, every day in the ocean across the path from our house, champagne of waves over and over in deep clear turquoise water. Wave comes over the reef, breaks into a zillion bubbles. Bliss. And a massage, by one of the Maui tangueras, who later gave some insights into their whole picture, not so different from our own. Nothing changes that much, other than the venue, and this was so pleasurable as to be a dream.

Embracing Imperfection

2011-02-07T18:56:00.000-08:00

Here I am, dinner done, not yet cleared, a moment of quiet. I am working every day, seven days, no weekends, at chosen work. A gift. But we did take time for old and new friends in Bellingham last night. An hour and a half to drive, up near the Canadian border in a beautiful ballroom. Chandeliers, warm yellow walls, white trim, lots of glass and mirrors. Wine and treats. The venue is gorgeous. But, we were tired. It was not Buenos Aires, cabeceo was not in full use. I, however used it for all it is worth and it paid off in all sorts of lovely ways. It is really just attention....I am paying you attention and I see that you noticed me and so, lets acknowledge it all, and get up and dance. It is so natural to me now. I cannot imagine who I was when I thought it was difficult or strange.

I danced, as I always do, with my own imperfections. I work on them, and now I have become friendly with them. When a partner feels his own imperfections I try to conform to his. A good and kind partner conforms to mine. We end up with something. A one-of-a-kind tango, never to be repeated. Not boring, the seeds of style. Like art a little bit. Like a signature on the work that only the two of us can sign.

I see that I get better at about the same rate as I get older....so this condition of imperfection is unlikely to change.

Now, I have to finish the dishes, and put things away in the studio. We won't make it out tonight. Thursday I will go out to class and drill my feet and posture into some version of proper tango. I will do this for one reason: to become a more fluid conduit for what is. What is. Not what is perfect, but for what just is.

Thoughts on Community

2011-02-05T11:20:00.000-08:00

Modern Tanguera posted a nice piece on community, with a link to a thoughtful article.

And I see now there is a part 2. Good thoughts for Seattle community.

Wholehearted

2011-01-18T12:05:00.000-08:00

I never know which blog to post in, since my heart and interests go towards both art and dancing, or go to both at once. I remember a long ago conversation in a garden with the man who would become my husband. We were talking about the idea of compartments for life. It is a common practice...today, or at this moment one is this way, involved in that thing, or person, Then in another moment, one is another way. Our subtext was our life together, what would it be. Because at that moment we were in full awareness that it would be something, forever.
I could not then, nor can I now, subscribe to the compartments. If I open my awareness to life in the garden, that garden, or any other, or to the paintings or to the tango, then I strive to have the heart all there. This is not a preference, it is just the only way I am able to experience life.
I can see that the compartmentalization of life works really well, and people get a lot of money, and perks from drawing little boxes and putting certain things into each....a box for work, a box for time with the kids, a box for pastimes and illusions, a box for home, a box for art, a box for tango, a box for boxes.
In tango there are a number of people who love the "anonymity" factor. I absolutely do not. First I dance with someone I love, then I only want a person with whom I am either a friend, or at least friendly with, to have arms around me. I have heard of people having dreamy dance partners only to find out, literally, that the person has committed war crimes. One could argue that that was then, they were different then, at that moment or in that compartment. But I am not there. Even our minor local con artists and charlatans must have had a mother somewhere who loved them!

It has been a time of it here of realizations along these lines. One can become transparent to the problems, let them move on through. But what happens to an open heart in these instances? A protection seems like a compartmentalization. Removal from bad situations which become apparent may be an option, but not a solution. We love tango. Maybe this is one of those stages in the journey. I know I won't retreat too far, just from certain aspects. Even if one has it sorted out, knows the good people will be there, how do we cope with the dark stuff so present, so often? I wonder if others out there find this negative dark vibe in the dance world, and I wonder how they find light?

Note: Cherie wrote about some aspects of the Dark Side in Buenos Aires milongas. Very informative and a must for anyone venturing to dance there. All true, all disturbing, and all manageable if one is aware.

Happy 2011

2011-01-01T14:34:00.000-08:00

Wherever your life dance takes you this year, may it bring a measure of joy.

I am writing, and working an awful lot in the studio. Taking lessons again in tango and loving the challenge and the growth, as slow as it is. I have some stories to write, some paintings to paint, people to take care of. Times are very changed for many of us. Our lives our lived in the moment more. I have no resolutions, only the intention to accept.

Happy New Year.

Thanks Bora

2010-12-28T13:42:00.000-08:00

I have been enjoying Bora's story of her trip to Buenos Aires. She recognizes that she is in tango mecca and proceeds to take full advantage of the teachers and the milongas there. I loved reading it. She is young, beautiful, and adventurous. Having been adventurous at her age, I appreciate reading about someone who still takes to the road, full of expectations and ready for what comes. Not worrying about the f-ing SAT scores or whatever.

I thought she was brave to put up video of her lessons and in depth and honest assessments of her progress. She throws herself into it with such love and discipline! The pursuit of one's personal style is served by a training that often includes a variety of techniques and styles. The journey often brings us into the circle of very talented performance dancers. They are aware (generally) that they are teaching people who will be on the floor of the milongas. The extreme refinement that they insist upon can only make one a better dancer, wherever one takes it. I will include here, our own elite dancers Carlos and Mayte, and Eva and Patricio, who's teaching reflects their dancing on the stage, but does not include an expectation of performance dancing at milongas. Instead the training is absorbed and adapted by each student in their evolution as a dancer. Another teacher Michelle Badion, can teach anyone to dance. Even though she performs in her own cabaret show, she can be found, just about any night of the week, out on the floor.

So I was a little put off to hear that the tango-l "discussion" group had a long list of entries by the self-appointed experts. I could only read a few, but there is some belief and critique that Bora is learning a performance style. I did not see that in her videos. I saw a semi-open salon style. But I don't really care for the labels in any case, The bottom line for these "experts" is always something about line of dance and blah blah. After six years of being on the floor several times per week, in a town with all sorts of dancers, I have been expertly used as a battering ram in the floor fights, more often by the "milonguero" than by the salon or open style dancer. Hmmm. Something about being quick, eye foot coordination, balance? Leading with awareness of the energy flow in the room is more important than style. From my perspective there is no connection between one's idea of style, and one's ability to navigate with courtesy. Tango is tango. You may argue, but please do it over on tango-l.

Don't get me wrong, I love milonguero style dancing when it is done with care for the partner. I could be wrong here, but do not the milongueros have the job of making the woman feel good? When I was in Buenos Aires this is one thing that I noticed. And also, the listening that goes on between the partners. Listening. Seems good. Being young seems good too. I remember that. Thanks Bora.

Above Average Tiara

2010-11-08T17:53:00.000-08:00

I was in the ladies room at a brew pub in Bellingham yesterday. We were in Bellingham getting a bite to eat before going over to DJ at the Leopold Crystal Ballroom, for Rebecca's TangoLife Milonga. While standing at the mirror I heard someone come in but at first could not see anyone. "Hi" I heard. Looking down I saw a very small and confident blond child. She was looking up at me without a bit of shyness. "I like your rose" she said. I had a small ribbon rose in my hair. "Thanks, I like your tiara". Small blondie was wearing a fairly good tiara, silver filigree, lots of rhinestones. "Thanks" she says. She goes into a stall and I am still out there putting on some lipstick. She comes out and looks at me while washing up. "I like your lipstick, it's a good color on you". I am particularly pleased to have the approval of one who wears a tiara so well.

There is a style among little girls these days. The look involves boots worn with delicate dresses. Stripes. Tiaras for casual wear. Hand me downs layered with your dad's old ties. The outfits are not found in stores. The style mixes practicality and comfort with glamour. I like it. Girl Power style. Wearing a tiara while you can. I just imagine wearing one. At this stage in life it might be seen as a sign of dementia. But right about now, the boots with the delicate dress: perfect on a cold but festive night.

I had my best and happiest DJ night so far. I have been dancing six years if you count all the side roads. November 7th was the day of our first lesson. Last Wednesday was our most recent lesson. Some great friends from that time were there in Bellingham last night. We dance with the good vibes of six years accumulated to wordless sweetness and delight. What would it be without the friends. Nothing really.

Reality or Cartoon?

2010-11-02T16:28:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQ2u-xLu-QI&feature=player_embedded

Tango dancers have been enjoying a batch of very entertaining animated videos. They are funny and cute, and spot on.

We watched a "documentary" movie, "What the Bleep do We Know" a week or two back. It is a bunch of scientists and new age types giving sound bite interview and some half baked story with Marlee Matlin. It's kind of dumb and kind of interesting. It also has a really creepy guru lady who did not appear to know what movie she was in. It's about how we actually create our reality. We have these receptors and they get used to reacting to things that we give them. For example, we might be eating a lot of sugar or shooting up heroin, or devouring large amounts of ice cream on a regular basis, or just being negative. Any of those things, if we are doing them all the time, start to be demanded by the receptors, which, after a while, won't be satisfied by anything else, ever. That is a simplistic interpretation of a very complex thing.

We can be addicted to substances and/or to behaviours and mental messages. And so it occurs to me that a beginner tango newbie might take the little videos to heart, and write off tango altogether. I hope not. It just seems like the positives of tango are pretty hard to convey. I mean, nobody knows what we are talking about. It defies words and even the best stories just write a big giro around it. We have to put the right stuff into our brains and we at least ought to welcome others into the community if they want to tango. Dances have a way of waxing and waning. Tango could go away altogether if it isn't nurtured a little.

We can treat tango like an addiction, like a bad drug that never satisfies. Or, we can treat it as a pursuit of something lovely, always new, always leaving us calm and making life better. There are endless things to learn about the dance, the culture, the music, world of tango. We can complain about it or we can use that energy to become nicer dancers, both in our technique and in our attitude. Whatever we decide.

Enrique Rodriguez

2010-10-19T14:20:00.000-07:00

Notes for Thursday Practice:
For the first hour of Thursday Practica at Dance Underground we will focus on Enrique Rodriquez (1901-1971).
Rodriguez is a real dancer's musician, and is associated with an emphasis on rhythm. A strong beat is what we often look for when we are practicing. Even in the few Vals pieces on the menu, there are not many long melodic phrases and you won't find much that encourages a big swoopy move (all this is my opinion so feel free to swoop!).

Following that first hour some good melodic choices, (Fresedo, Di Sarli) will give some contrast.

The Only Constant....

2010-10-18T11:44:00.000-07:00

What a year. Here it is October and the year just melting away. Last November the changes started to hit the fan fast. We have a big family so someone is always suffering, someone is always rejoicing, someone is always changing, and someone else might be gripping on to the status quo with all their might. And as such, change is the only constant. And I suppose it's true no matter what size your tribe or what your circumstances. So aside from, and maybe because of all these ever changing and confusing things, I continue to dance as much as I feel I will enjoy, and to continue to learn the art of DJ for tango, and to work in the studio.

We lost another elder family member late last year, then the two of the kids finished grad school and started on the bumpy and narrow path to careers in the "new economy", then some happy things, then some more sad things, then some boring things, and then some stupid things happened. And then I decided that soon enough all things will be back to the peaceful world of just living and working and being fine. And then,(yes, I am slow), Big Revelation: I realized that things are always going to be uncertain, and shit is going to keep happening basically. So, one more reason to just keep dancing. Not to suggest that dancing is therapy for me, although it can be for sure. The main reason is still the music, and being in the music with friends. That, and that it is all so devastatingly wonderful and surprising and gorgeous and deep. And somehow every dance informs, comforts, carries and sustains.

People say they wish they had started younger so that they could be good at tango while still young. I just say thank God I discovered it period.

One of the first things that happened this year was foot surgery,(boring), and it was a good move. Last week I was able to start on my new project to re-build my tango from the ground up. This entails fewer milongas, and more lessons and practicas. I have a new teacher, who is a true lover of tango and a brilliant dancer. In the first class I was suddenly aware that I am no longer even thinking about the foot and I am not having pain or making compensations. This freedom allows me (will allow me), to totally attend to the lesson and to the partner. It is the freedom to be in the correct body position to most enjoy and express the music with the partner. It is true that we are our own best teachers when we can allow it. I have been pro-active, and fortunate with great physical therapy, and with a gifted yoga teacher as well. (Sometimes I think yoga has taught me quite a bit about tango, but that is another story for another day.)

Now if I could just learn to flow with all the life changes too. Maybe what we learn from the tango path can be instructive that way.

Man From Mars Says

2010-10-12T13:08:00.000-07:00

If the tales are true, Tango began in a world full of lonesome men, new to the city, who were creating a dance out of bits and parts of music and moves from their places of origin. Africa via Cuba, Spain, and later a bit of Parisian flair, great Italian voices, a strange German instrument, all came into the mixture that has grown now to expand out beyond, and back to all those places. The journey fanning out and about to such exotic places as Idaho, Colorado, Texas...you name it, you can find tango. Maybe just one lost Argentine in the wine bar in Bend, Oregon, teaching the waitress, or a handsome builder in Texas Hill Country putting in a deck built to tango music. It's still tango. If a Martian looked down from space and could hear the music, he might want to tango too. Of course he might want to do other things as well, like surfing for instance, or getting a pair of those white framed Gucci sunglasses, or driving the 2002 Thunderbird sports car, preferably in turquoise. Which by the way was Motor Trend's car of the year, but that's another story.
In those old days though, women were in the minority. Even the oldest and most out-of-shape woman must have looked pretty good to those guys when there was a shortage of what men most need...
Now in most places there are lots of women sitting at the dances till their bottoms go to sleep. Nice women who take the dance seriously, who look good, might be of any age, some who dress well, smell good, and have their own money. What on earth would a Martian say who looked down and saw her pandering to men who, in the upside down world of our contemporary tango, are not inclined to make the same efforts, shall we say, at presentation. Or, sadly, at manners.
Man from Mars says, why pretty lady sporting the Gucci gear and spa after-glow, getting out of nice Benz and sitting bored waiting for guy dressed in 1970 JC Pennys poly with old car smell? Guy from Mars just asking, Don't seem quite right. It's not adding up in Martian math. But that's what happens when too many ladies around to say yes. Standards go down fast. A guy can get away with a lot. Ladies old and young, rich and poor, like to dance. But Mr. Moldy with the unshaven face and the last night's garlic, and the heavy sigh, and the ruthless clutch with whiplash technique: He is swimming in an ever changing sea of women. More women than men does not a better lead make. They "teach" one select single after another. Those gals are young, so they move on quickly as the young do, not needing things so much. Salsa with the fun guys, or go back to school or go play the fish where the smoother forward looking guys are fishing. Ladies naturally gravitate towards a more copacetic environment.
Now these days standards are compromised by this bad math. A man with even a slight advantage in the suave-ity department gets uppity. Becomes untroubled by his own defects and it's easier to let them slide. Standards, as we said before, decline rapidly. He is not compelled to be polite. He is not compelled to take a lesson or two now and then. No reason since after she gets offended, or basically tired of the same old one-two shuffle, he has another one right there. Hey why improve?
So, if he is not improving, not motivated to do so, and she is not dancing, since he only moves through women, not with them, then years can go by with the community languishing at this stagnant place. Too bad really. Because the guy from Mars could see, especially in the younger crowd, a potential for a brilliantly beautiful community of tango growth and evolution, But it takes a kind of community spirit and energy to support it. The Man from Mars is wondering why people on earth always claim to love something, then they claim to own it, then they ruin it.

One Martini Please, Up.

2010-09-23T11:21:00.000-07:00

Cherie wrote a nice entry on the subject of embrace. She lives in Buenos Aries, and has for some years now and so her view is through the lens of the tango culture there. I like the embrace, and I like what Cherie says about it, especially this: "The embrace is the position for dancing tango-it's the base for all the emotions and feelings that arise from the music and being connected not only to your partner and the music, but to the Universe."

Now I can imagine that might sound a bit far out to some. But if you've been there you know. In cultures where embrace is not a normal thing, where people have not grown up with it, problems arise quickly. When one grows up in a non-hugging culture, the embrace can be interpreted as primarily sexual. In milongas there are codes around the whole event and they are there (I think) to be like manners or etiquette...to keep people from misbehaving and to protect people from misunderstandings, awkwardness or worse. But disclaimer here: I am not that familiar with Buenos Aires. I've danced there a little bit, but that's the extent of it.

This week there have been "incidents" at milongas . Some protracted discussion of the creepy guys and how to handle them. These guys have been around for a long time, and the women who are friends have shared information and look out for each other. But new women arrive every week...unaware of the creepy guys.

So here we have in the beautiful North country, a condition where the tango population is made up of people who start out so uncomfortable with the embrace that they have to be taught open style, so that the teacher can retain them in the classes. Students will eventually step out to the "milongas" where there are no codes, or rules. A recipe for trouble.

Even among those who have been dancing close for awhile, there is a sense that the dance is "sexual" as was said to me last night in a rather heated argument on the subject. I was shot down pretty thoroughly when I tried to compare women from here and from Buenos Aires in how creepy tango guy would be handled. But still, I think when people grow up with touch they know the difference between a grope and an embrace and when they are dancers with some experience in close embrace they know it too, no matter where they live. Since here we are supposedly "equal" and on even ground, we have not learned to handle the old fashioned pass. And it's time, as one of the guys said last night, for women to put on the grown-up panties and start standing up for themselves. I go for throwing a martini in their faces but unfortunately I cannot find a martini when I need one, and if I could I would not waste it on creepy guy.

Learning Through Music

2010-08-10T12:17:00.000-07:00

It interesting to read new tango blogs and to recognize the familiar path. Phrases such as "mechanics", "freeing the foot", "dissociation" (which sounds positively unhealthy to me), and "technique". I've used those words ad nauseum myself, I will doubtless use those words again. All these things are part of the new language, and learning that language is costly. And over time it has dawned on me that it is not enough.

The part we never hear much is this: None of this means anything without the music. Someone said a student ought to be put in a room with the music for a year before they take one step, and if such a thing could be done, the tango would start to filter into the inner brain, to soak down into the heart. The feet would take care of themselves. If I am hearing tangos in my sleep I am making better progress than say, weekend workshops with the flying Luigis, as charming as they are. A good teacher might be able to open some doors to a receptive person, but the path of listening is taken by each student, and lasts forever and is not "done" on a certain day. For the women especially, we have to learn not only our own music, but how to hear the man's music, and that is not even a describable, let alone teachable, way of being. And without it, you may as well just spend your time doing molinetes around a chair.

Irene and Man Yung

2010-08-08T13:16:00.000-07:00

http://ireneandmanyung.blogspot.com/

If you are not aware of the delightful journey of Irene and Man Yung, you might enjoy checking them out. I was especially pleased to see the latest entry, with video of their friends Osvaldo and Coca. Wonderful to see them dancing in Italy! For awhile it seems they weren't out and about, but like the tiger and the tigress, they were waiting to pounce again!

Summer Practice

2010-08-06T12:06:00.000-07:00

Good times this summer with friends who want to work on their tango and are ready to see the flaws and to make improvments with and for each other without judgement or ego. Lots of laughter and fun, and a fair amount of sweat. Thanks to my friends. Really. After surgery only a few months ago I have new doors opening where before they were impossibly closed. Without a kind and loving community it would have been awful. Instead it is another fun challenge. Several of us have been in the same boat. But as one friend says.. "I have a right foot and you have a left, so we should be able to make a good tanda out of that". And lo and behold...tango.

The picture above was taken during a filming. A small group of trusted friends got together to take video for our own use. The goal is to dance with our own partner, and then to rotate with others in tango, vals, and milonga with each and all. None of us wants to be performers. We do want to feel good to our partner, to respond well, to deal with our wonky-ness where we detect it. We may not post on blogs, emails, facebook, or YouTube on penalty of something horrible, but I forgot what.

All said and done, I was dreading the "viewing". But it's not so bad, even when we make mistakes we have ways of fixing it within the music and without losing connection. The things I did see that were problems are things that I can fix. I hope the others feel the same. We all look pretty good. With any luck we can do this next year and see progress.

Those shoes are not all mine, they belong mostly to a certain shoe diva who organized this thing, herding a lot of cats.

Where is Magic?

2010-08-02T13:41:00.000-07:00

This is the first year since we started dancing that we did not attend much of the TangoMagic Festival. We can't do everything and summer is busy. The festival is well organized and fun, and many old and new friends get together, but things have changed. The changes are more in us than in the event. At the one venue we attended, the Salmon Bake, we noticed a lot of nuevo, a lot of people not so young but certainly a lot younger than we are, and a jangled vibration that leaves us looking towards Buenos Aires once again, at least as a touchstone for locating ourselves , for centering.

I won't critique the fest. I can only imagine the work and the stress and the expense of organizing and launching this enterprise. Lovely teachers, good ideas, great music, and the embraces of friends old and new. That has to be a good thing. I won't put it down, but if you are looking for deep milonguero style dancing, you are off course by 6,892 miles or 11,901 kilometers. Or it could be as close as the next neighborhood milonga, or in the living room for that matter. It just takes a few friends, or just the two of us. Tango, as they say, is a feeling.

Workshop Schedule, Igor and Morticia! Back for Tangomagic!

2010-07-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

Igor and Morticia are going to be back in Seattle for the Festival, So I am re-posting their schedule. Before the classes they will give a little talk on surviving in Buenos Aires! Any resemblance to teachers living or dead is sort of acurate, but not enough to get me in trouble I hope.

Weekend of sort of creepy Joy. Be totally milonga-ready after one weekend of workshops with:
Igor and Morticia!

Thursday night 9:00-9:30   50. dollars. Reservations required
Seminar on the really real tango.

Discussion of important tango related topics:
How North Americans destroyed tango.
How to have a good time when you go to Buenos Aires. Special section on not committing the Faux Pas of smiling or being too nice. Includes special information on learning to look melancholic and downright depressed.
Why the taxi driver is always mad at you.
What to Wear: Why Argentines can wear blue jeans but you can't.

Special opportunity to sign up for Igor and Morticia's tango weekend in Buenos Aires. 4000. Does not include air fare, lodging, lessons, food, or anything else. Partners are not required but if you don't have one you won't get to dance. Note: We need more leads! Cash only. Special deals on shoes and psychiatric care, both provided by our good friend El Gato, who will also dance with you. 50. per hour. Cash only in USD.

Friday night 9:00
Welcome Milonga for Igor and Morticia. 15 dollars, does not include anything.

Workshops 20. each for one, 55. for two. (people) or 150. for the whole day...for one, 300. for two. Women who are single plan on paying for both you and your partner. No you don't need a partner, but you have to pay for one.(partner that is). Men without a partner better find one or pay for yourself. Hint: It helps if you don't wear bike shorts. Cash only.

Saturday 12:00-1:30 Walking and Traipsing around.
How to walk. Thought you learned to walk when you were a baby? Did your parents think that was walking? Did you? How have you managed to get anywhere with that silly walk? Think again. Igor specializes in staightening you up. This is the first in a progressive series, so don't even think about taking just one workshop! First we learn to walk heel first. Then Morticia will pull you around by your bra strap to condition you to like being humiliated. All very useful for the beginner.

Saturday 2:00-3:30 Women's Technique
Walking to music. Women will achieve a more graceful walk by looking in the mirrors all afternoon and pointing and flexing their feet while trying not to fall over. Morticia works extra hard to convey just how unprepared you are for dancing with any grace whatsoever.

Four inch heels mandatory! The spiky ones that cost 200. dollars and fall apart in a few weeks. It is totally worth it though as Morticia will show you in her amazing special demonstration (no extra charge!). Once you learn to levitate (in the advanced class), the shoes last longer. Igor will supervise and help and handle all of you who signed the waiver. For the men who paid for this workshop, sorry, no refunds. You can make good use of this time though by training yourselves to step toe first, as we have changed our minds about the heel first thing. Denise will be here selling gorgeous and hot "Chaussures Qui Font Mal".

Saturday 4:00-5:30 Fitness for Tango.
Everyone will be revived by all the exercise they get in this workshop on endurance for tango. Pilates, Yoga, Running, Bicycling (espeically for you Portlanders), and a smattering of pole dancing for the remainder of the afternoon will get you all warmed up for tonight's milonga.  It will sure help when you start doing those overturned back sacadas with a double helix twist. Your back will thank you! Being in shape is crucial for the milongueros of Buenos Aires, as you can see in all the YouTubes. So let's get moving! There will be a cigarette break at 4:10 and another one at 5:00. Bring wine to share with the instructors.. It is not included in the price.
Bring a towel, some bandages, and provide an emergency contact.

10:00 La Milonga de los Malos Suenos.

With perfomance by Igor and Morticia, if they show up. 25. BYOB. There might be crackers and cheese.

Sign up for a Private lesson for your once in a lifetime opportunity to study with the true masters of the really real tango. You don't want to miss it because you won't get another chance ever, except next spring and then next fall, and then the year after that. See our web schedule for details.

Private Lessons Available for 175. for one (teacher) and one (student). For two teachers it is more but we can't figure out how much. For two students it is not a private lesson anymore and won't be any fun. Bring a piece of paper with the price you are willing to pay. It is less if you are young and beautiful but tell us first because Morticia won't like it, and special arrangements have to be made. Remember ladies (and gentleman) that this is the way to get to dance with Igor. Maybe the only way, but not guaranteed.

Available time slots:
                               Monday at noon, but we won't be up yet.
                               Tuesday, never
                                Sunday, we will be gone.
                                Monday again at noon but in Boise

Day of Friends

2010-07-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

This has been a beautiful summery week with the moon moving through half towards full. Almost every night we've followed it as we drive somewhere, almost always involving the trip across the great water of Lake Washington, to dance, or visit, or eat, or to take care of something or someone. But the phone rings and I don't want to know what is on the other end. So often these days it is someone in my family breaking a bone, having a surgery, facing aging and difficulty. From talking with friends at the milonga last night, we are not alone. Mostly people leave the troubles at home, but we are friends now, and so we know, we sense it one way or another.

There are always the lone wolf tangueros. They enjoy a little mystery for themselves, and allow us to keep our own. They don't want to know what we do for a living, or how many kids we have. For a woman like myself this is perfect, they are asking me because they choose to embrace in the music,. They take it all in, they tell me lies, and I wholeheartedly believe them for about fifteen minutes. They are a part of tango life. But over time, in our community, even they reveal themselves willingly or not. It is a gentle world in its restraint. We are not bothering each other for details unless offered, we are not prying. We are all there to get some tango sweetness and we go for it with all the energy we have left.

Last night we were ready to crash, or watch a movie, and we remembered that M was djing, and we just jumped up and got ready and took our drive under the moon, over the water. The venue is on Lake Union. A big glass wall frames the skyline and the space needle. If you are going to be at Tango Magic, you might be there. The floors are so dirty that I cannot get the black goo off of my shoes now. The restrooms are horrible. You must promise me that you will never eat the food in the Chinese Restaurant there. But if you want to dance like a mystery man or an unknown glamorous itinerant gypsy, or just as a friend, you might find it to be perfect, just right.

I walk out alone, waiting for my partner who cannot stop. I run into a former tango classmate from The Year of Jaimes. He embraces me, says, "you smell good", I laugh and hold on just long enough to tell the story of friends, no words, just happiness, restored to my singular womanhood, me. Happy Friends Day.

Postcards from Penelope

2010-06-17T10:17:00.000-07:00

Somewhere I read that every story is either about leaving home or about returning home. I have been looking for this in movies and in written words. It's true quite often that long roads, separations, reunions, and all sorts of travel of the mind, heart, and body, are the points of the story, the devices used to tell us a tale. Actually those roads are the tale. Or the trip, in either direction is the way that things get worked out. I guess it all starts for most of us with Homer, and just continues wherever we find our stories.. I remember that Odysseus had a wife who, waiting for him, would weave a cloth all the live long day. She told her suitors that when the cloth was finished, if her husband had still not arrived back in Ithaca, that then and only then would she accept a new suitor. At night she unravelled the cloth.

I love writers of the west, and I personally knew Ken Kesey. I love Sam Shepard, Annie Proulx, Jim Harrison, Raymond Carver, Sherman Alexie, and a lot of others who inspire me to write, and to use the voice from the place where I live, not from some fantasy world. I have been working for way too long on a longer work. Guess what friends? It has nothing to do with tango! Not directly. It is about Art and Family. True and made up. The making up makes it true-er.

I realized that I began to form the story before tango (BT). And so inevitably the journey of tango, and what I have learned on that road, informs the writing. I don't know how to get it done, because I have two other jobs that come first: Family, and Art. Neither can be shorted. Tango is not a job, and I am careful not to turn it into one, because I need some re-creation. Those of you reading this who dance already laugh at this because if you really dance tango you know it takes discipline, commitment, hours, days, years. For many of us, if we are honest about it, we would say our careers have taken a back seat at times, to our milonga life.

So tango seeps into everything. It gets into our thoughts and conversations, our meditations, as a sounding board for the heart. You always know, from the first split second of the embrace, if you are going to be able to be in the moment with the person you are with, and more challenging, with the person that you are. The business of open heart in tango, it really is the tango for me, the lesson, the reason. There have been so many difficult challenges in finding that place. Open hearts can so easily be hurt or disappointed and then, well, the heart closes. How to keep the heart open is a good puzzle in life, dance, art, and writing. If you make barriers, all is lost. If you don't have boundaries though, you will fail. We are only human. There is a great essay/lecture by Pema Chodron on this subject, I think it is a lecture called Boundaries and Barriers. I might need a boundary between tango and writing, the way that I have it between the studio and tango now. But I will be crediting tango as being my clearest advisor, the sound board, the heart beat meter.

I looked through my archives here and I feel that I don't even know who wrote most of it, but I enjoy it, and it strikes a chord, seems familiar and pleasing. There is so much of it, gosh I could write my story in one hour per day, and eventually I would have it. Before you know it I would be back home. I, as a woman, am both the sailor and the one at home. This to me is the fate of the feminine artist. I have to finish the cloth from one end so that I can arrive, from the other. Pray for calm seas, and weavings that unravel easily.

Making Me Cross

2010-06-03T14:08:00.000-07:00

In beginner classes for tango, often there is a lesson for "going to cross" in which the leader learns eight count basic, or just a forward walk leading the woman to cross her left foot over the right and to change weight to left. This is a training pattern. The hope is that as we get our dance legs and learn to listen and feel for one another's energies, that cross is optional.

Detlef and Melina teach a workshop in this concept of growing beyond the automatic.
As they say, when we learn that cross (or any other move) is not automatic, that then all the doors to tango open, that anything can happen.

There is a little problem. I am making my leads very cross, by not going to cross, unless and if cross is really led. I am waiting for the option, giving them the benefit of the doubt as it were, to NOT put me into cross, but to suggest, and then being open that we may land here, or there. Also this cross impetus when led with sensitivity allows for possible turns, possible pause, possible not going to change weight, possible everything. But many people do not want the possible, or don't realize the potential for a very deep and connected sharing of the possible. I can explain it or practice it with a willing partner, but often the open-ness seems remote.

I was so upset by being challenged on this issue that I wrote to Melina, who very generously answered me. She set my mind at ease that the problem is not just mine, but typical. I don't have any automatic steps and don't need to know any steps at all. Her advice included continuing to set a higher standard for communication, and if that makes someone "cross" then hopefully they just won't ask me again. She did say (and I am sure she won't mind me telling you all), that if the partner is a beginner, to just try to make him comfortable, in order not to discourage him. But if the problems come from someone who thinks of himself as "advanced" then I am not obligated to tolerate the insistence of atomatic steps. Amen, and Thank You Melina. I hope to get another chance to study with these great teachers and dancers.

Following Life

2010-05-21T11:05:00.000-07:00

The concept, the actuality of following, becomes deeper and more of a mystery as we continue. I looked it up:
(a.) Next after; succeeding; ensuing; as, the assembly was held on the following day.
(p. pr. & vb. n.) of Follow
(n.) Vocation; business; profession.
(n.) One's followers, adherents, or dependents, collectively.
(a.) (In the field of a telescope) In the direction from which stars are apparently moving (in consequence of the earth's rotation); as, a small star, north following or south following. In the direction toward which stars appear to move is called preceding.

Now, just as a side note, you could look up the word all day and still find a slippery slope, but the above were good examples of being as clear as mud in the case of dance.

I am back dancing quite a bit, and the interesting thing to me is how much I have to adjust to each person. I find that I am used to certain people now, and not too interested in a wide range of things, but more interested in the quality. Quality, which, though some might disagree, continues to improve in our little tango pond here in Seattle. And, quality is more than movement or skill, it is heart business.

There are unhappy people, they come back from Buenos Aires and feel very grumpy about the fact that this is not Buenos Aires. So many great people here, beautiful floors, clean streets, mountains, lakes, eagles, the same moon overhead, the same Di Sarli on tap. Friends who don't need your money to be your friend. We are a small star, following south. Everything we know we got from the music, the music came from Argentina, so we follow.

When you get back from your trip to Buenos Aires, walk in, smile, greet us, have a glass of wine, stop and think...this is our home, we love it, and we want to tango here, under the same moon. Last night at Cielo, the big beautiful windows framed that moon. The way you respond to returning or to being here for the first time,(in the direction from which the stars are apparently moving,) belongs to you, and makes it what it will be. Make it a milonga, and make it positive. Adjust, follow, follow the moon all the way back.

Following Life, a picture from Club Sur, why did I give that dress to Goodwill?

2010-05-21T10:31:00.000-07:00

Absence of Malice

2010-05-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

Paul Newman's character in the movie, speaking to Sally Field after she propositions him: "I'd like it to be my idea".

Yeah, I'd like it to be his idea too, since in that case, I would know that he chose me. Same for dance invitations.

Waiting/Reposting

2010-05-02T14:33:00.000-07:00

Time spent in suspension. Now every day I find gratitude for the healing powers of the body, but suffer a bit the realization that no matter what actions I take (and I take them on willingly) that there won't be any five inch heels in my near future.

I have taken long time to learn to wait in tango. That is because no one teaches it, or even suggests it. Many classes here take advantage of the women's fantasies. I wanted to move and to be smooth and to extend and to pretend and too many things.

Now, I wait. Wait in a moment which can be explored by both of us, elastic, small, sharp, hot, cold, drop of sunlight, then... the next place. Who decides that place? Surely he does. And surely he decides in response to the quality of the wait and the energy contained..

Now as I return to dancing, I find some clouds. Men routinely dance with women who are essentially leading them. When I wait it seems to them that I am not doing what is expected. I don't (can't!) go to cross unless it is led. When the guys have been dancing with women who go automatically and undirected into a pattern, then a woman who does not seems unmanageable. Maybe she needs too much direction? Maybe the spaces in between the steps have not been discovered. But if i just go automatically as is expected, so much is lost, even my own dance. What to do about this? Just wait. Without it the communication is lost. In reality now, it isn't a big problem, I can dance regularly with those who lead with respect, and who are not automatons. But I see it all the time, this rushing through the patterns. Enough of that in life off the floor.

2010-04-24T21:33:00.000-07:00

Garden Variety Tango

2010-04-24T21:32:00.000-07:00

I have changed the name of this blog. Art related entries will be over at Elizabeth Brinton, Life In And Around The Studio.
Since beginning this tango life nearly seven years ago I have navigated through all sorts of iterations of dance, finding place, making space, learning much that is physical and much more that concerns attitude, the place in tango emerges in much the same way that life emerged for me in other arenas. Garden, Variety. Two lovely words. You could take them to mean plain, the average strong kind of plant. You could take them to suggest gardens full of variety, or variety in plain old good botanical materials.

In the large garden here it has been a long experiment. What will grow, what won't. Right plants grow in the right place. All I do now is move things around in a way that differs only slightly from painting. If euphorbia is going to grow everywhere, then I must edit, move it to a place where it won't crowd things, make that citron green over there repeat on the other side. If periwinkle will cover the ground around the edges and keep the dandilions at bay then it is welcome. I could use more of this, less of that. Roses seemed like a good idea at the time, and an infatuation that takes hold every few years. But these days I prefer not to be torn up by thorns when I am enjoying the garden. Same thing with dance. I like it garden variety, non-injurious, casual. Garden Variety. Just keep me out of the garden center while those roses are in bloom!
And save me from milongas with gorgeous famous dancers! Ouch!
I haven't lowered the standard, just been able to see what can be sustained and also what can sustain me.
People are forever starting grand gardens that end up as weed patches. What it takes year after year is an ability to be realistic, to stick with it, to love it beyond other distractions. To be a perfectionist will ruin a garden and the gardener, and the dancer, and most assuredly, the artist. Garden Variety here at home is preferable to having to pay to visit someone else's historical garden which is a stage set anyway. Garden variety at home in the studio is better than all the museums of Rome, if you will permit me to say it...because it is mine.
So I take another tack. Writing and dancing tango as something natural. Garden Variety, right here at home.

Got Mojito?

2010-04-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

Sunday on the way into the dance hall a few minutes early, we encountered a lively group of Rueda Salseros on the floor, Two walls of Sonny's hall have windows all open on a spring day, a little breeze to stir the music around and to dry off the glowing kids and to waft the energy about. Everyone high, dance high...the best. The second I walked over the threshold some darling latin cupcake asked me to dance. In my most kind and superior voice I said I was a tango dancer, and today I was the DJ. "Oh", he said, "well maybe next week, four in the afternoon? We just bring our CDs and share the music".

They were all wearing gym clothes casual, and when we walked in, silk dress, sparkle in the hair, and most gorgeous of all, my man in his cashmere jacket, dark slacks...the girls turned around to notice. A left the room to help carry in the ceremonial items which make a milonga: cookies, wine, table cloth, the punch bowl of ice water. My friend N is setting up these things, wearing a gold sparkle top and slinky black skirt. One of the guys said, hey, "those tango people have better snacks!" Another feminine voice says, "yeah, and they wear jackets." I was just about to say, just to myself of course, that they seemed as if "they have more fun.". But instead I just went about preparing to play the music.

Later at home, I was thinking a lot about Salsa, thinking about how happy and non-suicidal all these people appear to be, and how friendly. So when Elena, my housekeeper shows up on Monday, I ask her about it. She lived in Cuba for a time, and she is a Polish Cuban, so you know she dances. She comes in carrying her lunch and coffee, and as usual we start to talk. Normally she is talking when she walks in and she is an interesting and lively person. And normally I am trying to sidle out the door, with my arms full of things to take to the studio in hopes of getting a few hours of work while she takes care of all the rest of it. But today I ask about Salsa. She tells me how it is easier and a lot more fun than tango, and by her words, and the charming hip motions while we talk, I can see clearly that she knows the territory. She offers to bring me a video. She usually plans things and supervises while two helpers rip through the house making order out of chaos. E goes into the bedroom and Spanish words fly about..bailar, cumbia, Elizabeth, tango, que lastima, etc.
I sneak out the back. A couple of hours later E finds me in the garden. "We are finish". O.K. I walk back as they clear out, and E is saying something about "Mojito". "You have Mojito". O.K. maybe I do. E know my kitchen better than I do now and if we have "Mohjitos" I'm in. But what she then finds the word, the word "ingredient". "Elizabeth, in your garden, you have the ingredient for Mojito"!
I follow her out to the front where her assistants are picking my mint, and pulling some out to take home. "OOOOH I see, yes, take all you want, it is everywhere, it is like a weed here". E looks at me in such a way that I think she feels a little sad for me, old white tanguera who does not know what a patch of mint really means. Does not know a Mohito from a glass of frikken Chardonay. Does not know cumbia from kumbaya. My lord.

Thinking about it all, why we love to be sad, why we love tango, why. How dark things can actually bring a kind of joy, deeper than you might think just looking from the outside. But I only have one question left today that will help me to find all these answers: How do you make a Mohito? From E's pantomime I am sure it involves some crushing of some ice accompanied by a slight smooth hip action, and of course it has mint. I plan to find out later today. When E was leaving I said I was going to maybe try some Salsa, like a vacation from tango. She says, "well, try a Mohito, it's the first step"! I don't know about you but I know where I will be next Sunday at four.

Never Mind

2010-04-17T12:21:00.000-07:00

Sorry to post, then un-post. I read what I write and sometimes it is not exactly communicating what I meant! Also, wondering how much I can say about tango. This blog turned from my art blog into a tango blog. My ART life did not turn into a tango life, and thank God for that. Tango is a most hard-won recreation. All the time spent getting to a place of comfort in the dance and of finding a perch allowing perspective has been wonderful. A great journey worthy of some expressions in words. I do not have too many (words) at the moment.

There is always something going on...the same things go on in different disguise in all areas of life. Desire or attachment to something prevents it from being fully realized. Letting go makes room for it. Easy to say, not easy to live by.
I am DJ for a milonga this Sunday. I love to play my music and see that it makes for a good and happy milonga. So wish me luck.

Quiet on the Western Front

2010-04-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

Words need time. The thought is always expressed more clearly after it soaks. All the lessons and ideas that I had, and have, about tango are just something to take up the time while I (me, the body, me the mind, me the heart) catches up to tango. Tango heart is long in coming. A friend who knows says to "open up the chest like a book", when I tell her I don't know how to connect with a particular lead. She urges me to try. So, nothing to lose, I try.

I am returning night by night to some measure of grace. I doubt if I missed it so much, from January to April. A rest was welcome. I was tired of the crowd, of my own pursuit of things. Nice to read, to write, to work small. As the sun comes back I step back on the floor with an stronger step and something else. This dance is a part of life, a past time, a re-creation of the sweetest sort. A port on the sweetest beach. Because a moment in the music is so precious, and because time is precious, tango falls into the proper place in my universe.

I step onto the floor only with those who bring a heart with them. There are talented and amazing dancers here to dance with, but unless there is trust on a deep level, and something else, something of a two part awareness and sensitivity, I don't need it or want it. I am asking for a lot, expecting a lot, but bringing all I have...so really, why would anyone open that book for blind eyes? The things you learn in this world.

New

2010-03-24T17:56:00.000-07:00

I go out walkin', after midnight...

2010-03-23T15:45:00.000-07:00

Just home from my physical therapy session. I walked backward in high heels while the therapist watched, adjusted, encouraged me along. Always learning to walk....
It's like a women's technique class invented by me and the physical therapist. The doctor does not care for high heels, but still prefers to see his patients return to what they love.
Tomorrow I wait for the Fed Ex truck, bringing me new shoes....a reward for all this work, I guess, or just some fluff. I don't think shoes matter so much to me now. But the physical therapy guy seems to like them...

Changing Times

2010-03-19T20:12:00.000-07:00

Some friendly and respectful arguments have erupted in our community here in Seattle over women leading. This phenomenon spilled over into workshops (leaving the men wondering), into milongas, (leaving men sitting in the bar crying into their scotch), into practicas, where it seems marginally acceptable. I have had some soul searching into the issue in recent days.

Intimacy between women and men, and the aesthetics of this dynamic, seem to be central. Tango all dressed up in man, woman, yin, yang, this, that, black, white, estrogen, testosterone. Since I dance primarily with men, but with women when the right invitation arrives, I have a lot of thoughts. Intimacy is read in tango as the intimacy between man and woman. But of course, since time began the grey areas have been with us in the daylight at times, and under cover of night and restrooms in airports mostly. Sad...

But some of the argument against the current wave is that it brings a practica mood to the formal milonga. That problem though has nothing to do with the same sex issue. Equality in guilt abounds. Some same gender partners are just dancing together for fun, and they are not lesbian, some are. Neither situation is popular with some of the guys, and they are vocal.

Intimacy, is a state of deep connection. In the tango, all dressed up in fishnets and perfume, we sense this state as sexual. Certainly people are attracted to the dance and it's outward and marketable signals for the hope it provides for a romance, or just a one-nighter. Intimacy is a lot of things, permutations of life.
When one dances with one much younger, in a deep tango, the dark place is lit with motherhood, sisterhood, the sweet recollections. With an older person ones departed father comes home, a grandfather returns for a bristling brush of the cheek, still flirtatious...still protective, still larger than life...still.
Dancing with anyone could bring out surprising feelings. If a dance presents itself with a woman much like myself, same size, same world, and we allow ourselves to go there, we are sisters. I have four sisters, one dead. Which one is here now? No matter, I will dance with her. Where else will I find her? In particular, if you will, traditional, very connected tango has much to offer in these less than traditional modes. Precisely because the dance takes us to these sometimes surprising territories, we create the atmosphere of manners and sanctuary which protects.

For some the connection with a same sex partner is their center of romance and passion. They do nothing to distract my attention from my own center any more than a gay couple "threatens" my marriage. Strong couples are the heart of life, community, the traditions of life. It is how they present as active and sincere members, working toward the common good, that matters to me, not their orientation in private matters.

Believe me when I tell you, for me, to dance with a beloved man is nature at it's finest and most understandable and clear, perfumed with all the scents of lovers past and present, and all the lovers long gone who brought us forth into this life. The stars align. We all know where we are. But male privlege aside, tango is just bigger, more evolved, (or at least I want it to be),and in the words of a so-so poet of my time: "The times, they are a changin". Or as my friend, a much better poet says,
"...the climate shifted some time ago."

Going Away and Coming Back

2010-03-13T16:28:00.000-08:00

Continuing to get my foot and my dance back. Small doses, small steps, short evenings.

We went over to Sonny's for the return of DJ Mourad, back from Buenos Aires. It was, as we remembered, very good. A good DJ, the nicest floor around, on a Sunday early evening makes for a good combination. Sonny used to talk about the concept of "going away and coming back" in tango. So I went away, I come back.

The majority of dancers are nice. I had my camera on for awhile, and later looked at the video before erasing it. Some guy was dipping a poor woman almost head to the floor and repeating it. What a nightmare, what a jackass. The only thing worse than this is seeing the woman just suffer through it. What on earth? What????

Being eight weeks or so out of surgery, and in physical therapy, makes me extremely aware of the floor, frightened if it is too crowded, or if Mr. Jackass is there. I am unwilling to put myself in danger. My partner is protective too, in fact I only dance with people who do all they can to make me safe. Never has the importance of this been more clear to me. At his point if I see that guy again I am going to tell him what I think of it. I need K who is very good at swearing in Italian to be there! Now I wish I had saved the video so you all would know who to avoid or to smack upside the head. Also to a certain confused woman who has somehow stepped on me three times over my dance career, and never once acknowledged me or apologized...go away.

Slow Spring Tango

2010-03-01T10:27:00.000-08:00

Sunny days, warmth, blossoms popping open ahead of time! How do we survive the winter? We operate on hope.

I have had a different perspective now on the past six years of tango life. The perspective is a gift proferred by the time of rest and healing. The stage I am at is one of savoring and taking it slow. I have been keeping up with blogs new and old and seeing patterns. Everyone starts out with some lessons, some new shoes, having fun, then it gets harder. Good for them if they can stand the insecurity. They make it to a point of "how to manage the passion", (laughable unless you have been there). Confusion about lead, follow, sexual politics, and roles. Then comes a bit of cocky confidence turning to cynical know-it-all-ness and then comes Buenos Aires and a realization that YOU KNOW NOTHING and that appropriating a cultural treasure is sort of.....sad, futile, and not what you really want. And then you just begin to realize that tango is out of your control. Tango waits. You will have completely unexpected moments of bliss and other times when you get all dressed up for nothing.

Tango is so much more than dance. The moment when you dance with someone who has had a knee repacement just weeks ago, and they take you to a new state of mind. Acid trips recalled and savored here...decades later...with no chemicals needed.
Friends making dinner, sending a little vals youtube, phone calls, lunch, a first dance after six weeks of recovery. Emails with encouraging words, partners asking when one will come back. Best of all, those one-tanda sock dances at home. A little goes a long way. I may take this slow lane as far as I can get away with it.

Nice surprises too. One of my blog entries from two years ago published in the very good "Tango Moments" newsletter, published by the Minnesota Tango Society, arrived in hard copy in the mail today. They will have the new issue online soon, and then I will put up the link.

So, even though there are really only so many things to say about learning tango, and those phases, there are many more things to say about what it really is, what it meant for the immigrants long ago, for us today. The dance survives, thrives, blooms.

Progress and Thoughts

2010-02-17T09:45:00.000-08:00

Today on allseattletango discussion board someone put up a link to a story about getting "pillows injected into feet" for pain relief. The one response so far is from someone who states "Yoga is ideal if you aren't up for surgery....etc.".
When my foot began to talk to me in loud tones, a couple of years ago, I listened to all sorts of advice in hopes of understanding and fixing the problem myself. I don't like the medical mafia and avoid it normally. I have been doing yoga for twenty years and even a good yoga teacher was agreeing that things were off. A foot problem can become a ankle, knee, hip and spine problem because we compensate. I was compensating well until my foot would no longer bend with any range of motion in the front. So I experimented with all the "cures" eastern, western and very far off into space as well. Some worked in temporary ways for sure, and some gave me more awareness into history and practice of charlatans and people under various illusions and dilusions.
Off and on for six months or more I would go to a very good doctor and board certified surgeon who has helped many dancers and athletes as well as people who just want to continue to walk. He did the x rays, and the diagnosis and gave me the facts. There was bone rubbing on bone, which wears it away and destroys joints. The fact is that in time this would lead to the ruination of my foot and would take me away from not only dance but from normal walking. I had a bit of time so that I could decide what to do. If I did not dance things were somewhat tolerable, but even my long walks were starting to be troublesome, as in "how am I going to get home."
So, I scheduled the procedure for mid winter, since it is a slow time for art, and for gardening. The thing went fine, and I knew for sure that I was in good hands. The recovery is often reported to be terrible and painful, but frankly I am in less pain than I was before. I can now practice a little in the evenings, wearing socks, and I have increased range of motion in the foot and am loving this and all the renewed abilities for exercise and fun and simple motions of living.
So, my yoga teacher will work one on one with me to help me to align things, and a physical therapist will work with me as well. How fortunate I am to have these advantages. I am glad I listened to myself and to my own body.
When someone has foot, or any other pain, they need to get facts, not judgements, not what worked for someone else, or ideas for potions or processes. They need facts. That's why we have science, history of what works. Smugly telling someone that yoga is your cure does not negate the facts of age, injury, abnormalities, or other debilitating things. So just maybe think about it. I know I would not want to be telling people to do this or that while time is going by and joints might be destroyed. Some things are mechanical, simple, and can be fixed.

Good Design? or Just a Good Laugh

2010-02-10T14:26:00.000-08:00

http://unhappyhipsters.com/

Pretty funny blog for those of us who are confused about design: Do you want a funky warm, outdated, messy, eclectic house, or the most cool and modern abode?

O.K. I am sure there is a dance analogy here but I am not slipping down that slope.

Fernando Sánchez y Ariadna Naveira bailando un tango en La Marshall

2010-02-02T16:14:00.001-08:00

The Colors of the Union

2010-01-28T11:52:00.000-08:00

If you are old enough to recall watching "The Wizard of Oz" in black and white, then you may have had the experience of realizing that once you see it in color it is a slightly different movie. Dorothy gets to Oz and suddenly the world glows in colors. Not like in old black and white Kansas.

Color is pretty much like nourishment to me. My husband frequently comes home and looks momentarily confused until he realizes that Periwinkle dining room is now Savannah Green and that he missed the whole Waterfall era because he was working too hard. One comfort might be that the living room is always Tulip Red, (Benjamin Moore 1315), although I am not sure if he would notice if it were suddenly to become Spring Tulip, (Benjamin Moore 2001-30) which is a lighter and warmer. But you can bet your pantone chart that I would be watching for minor mood alterations for the record. Transformation, the theme of Dorothy's journey.

Watching the State of the Union address, I thought back to the old days of watching political conventions and speeches. Watching in my parent's (Apricot) living room, it was all old white men, and dark suits and white shirts. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I kept wondering, where is the color, and what does this have to with me?

O.K so there are lots of very important things to learn from last night's speech, and you can google it if you aren't already dizzy from the spin. But hey, history is made in all kinds of ways. When people in the dull business of government are showing up in canary yellow, bright purple, pink, teal, and more yellow, then you know the times they are a changin'. I know it's a big deal that young, old, black, brown, and all shades between, and women are right there at the seat of power. But canary yellow? Toto, we really aren't in Kansas anymore.

Good Reading

2010-01-23T18:09:00.000-08:00

link

I do not know Miguel Angel Pla, but these essays are good. I especially appreciate the one titled "Behaviour at Milongas" .

The Tango Lesson

2010-01-22T19:22:00.000-08:00

Overheard at a milonga:

Did you say "nice ambiance"?
(loud voice): no I said "nice ambulance"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I went to observe a beginner and an intermediate tango class last week. It beat sitting home, and provided the pleasure of music, a bit of conversation and some insights.
When we walked in a class was finishing up. The instructor was (wisely) teaching a very basic move, just walking. The intermediate class followed with a simple ocho and more walking.
I put my foot, clad in a lovely post-surgery boot, up on a low table so that I could settle in there and enjoy the Di Sarli. Like babies learning to walk, the students warm up to the music and the motion. People are happy to be there, the mirrored room a pool of light in the dark winter night, while we wait for the sun to return.
Seeing all the stuff, the wobbly ankles, and wonky feet, the awkward wide stance, wobbly..stuff, I am carefully reminding myself that I was there once and probably very advanced dancers look at me aghast now in the same way, trying to be a little compassionate and maybe helpful.
I get up against the limits of my caring though in these ways:

* Ms. Diva hopeful: For some reason none of the guys are jumping at the chance to practice with this very attractive woman. She is sweating away over at the bar throwing some huge ocho/boleos around. I am thinking she has been YouTubing some rocking "women's technique". God save us. Later in class she is in the rotation and gets the best lead for a song or two and he just quietly stands there waiting while she runs a perky little molinete race all around him for awhile. He is doing nothing, just seeing how long it will take for her to realize that nothing is being led. She is probably over there still doing her molinete triathalon all by herself. The gentleman went home, slept, got up, went to work, and she's still there grapevining herself into oblivion.

* Ms. "I can't learn much because I don't have a partner": Mentally, I cross her off the future tanguera list. On the bus or off lady.

* Ms. Totally Crazy Person: The woman suddenly goes into a one footed crane pose, I mean suddenly like in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. I am watching real close, because I have nothing better to do, and I don't see anyone leading this, and it isn't being taught, and it isn't even a remotely tango-ish move, even in a nuevo style. Just freaking insane and here I am trying to be compassionate and all. Her partner looks alarmed, as he should be.

* Mr.Strong Man: Well, it is understandable with the ladies who are dancing away there by themselves, but most of the women in the class are able to follow..so lighten up before you hurt somebody.

*Mr. Teacher: (self appointed) He is dancing with a graceful and somewhat advanced dancer and he is giving her all sort of tips, like "no you go this way" etc. Just lead it man, figure out how to lead it for christsakes.

Mr. Pelvis: I don't think I need to elaborate. But man, if there is no daylight between yours and hers...well that is just not nice.

You all know about the basic offenders in regard to basic hygiene and grooming, bike shorts, etc. Won't go over that. I am just watching and trying ever so hard to be nice. A sincere student who just pays attention to things will eventually start getting the brain changed to tango brain, that just takes time and practice. Some of the other stuff requires a smack upside the head. Now I ought to go to a truly advanced class and trash those people while I am at it. Should have gone over to the Pablo Veron deal to see if any fights broke out...

My Partner adds:
NOTE: I am going to beginner classes not to laugh at people or to feel like I know it all. I am going to learn what I thought I already knew, and to try and get what I know I didn't get the first time. An opportunity to learn outside of the highly technical nature of the maestroes who come through town (although that is very valuable too.)
I add:
Also seeing that the most ego driven posturing is always done by the worst offenders...so striving to be in a zen state of beginner mind. Not very easy.

Foot-note

2010-01-18T19:51:00.000-08:00

Post surgery: It went smoothly and my physician said that it went "very well". I am really surprised at the small amount of discomfort. I am opting out of the stronger drugs in favor of knowing what is going on. I may be wrong but I can imagine being back on the floor sooner rather than later. It was something that needed to be fixed, and I was able to get it done, and grateful, even though I have a way to go before it all works right.

Fixing things. Look around and there are always things in need of repair, look inside and see things there too. A young friend sees a pattern in her life, her choices, and finally says something is broken, and commences to find the help to get it fixed. But fixing is hard, harder than living with something with a small break in it, or a small misalignment.

I am stir crazy though because I have to stay still with foot elevated. I am reading short story collections of Sam Shepard, Annie Proulx, Wallace Stegner, and a historical fiction of the life of the Roman Emperor Hadrian by Marguerite Yourcenar.
I have some other books on the way, but if any of you have ideas let me know.
I will also be sketching and writing some of my own tales.
I have some good Tiber River photos and drawings and want to make some small prints that will convey something of the unspeakable tender light there, or something of my feelings there, or something --anything at all to take me there again.

The sitting still is so strange. Maybe it will be good for me.

Flying with Tete, Reposting on news of his passing, originally posted 7/28/08

2010-01-07T14:30:00.000-08:00

Seattle Summer TangoMagic is just winding down, with one more milonga tonight, and some teachers staying around for a few days. I only took one workshop from Tete. Tete does this thing. He spreads out his arms, and leads his partner with only his center, (in his case, from his important looking belly), and it looks a little crazy. I have seen this on video, and now in person. I have heard people express some opinions about it. And some say it is just a way of showing how the lead ought to be done without the arms.

The workshop was brilliant, not so much in any way related to content, but in a way that he conveys his passion. That is how I experienced it.

I realize that there is no "summing up" that can be made when so many people and communities overlap. Each person is having a different festival experience. People looked happy though, and things were well organized. I know I enjoyed the rewards of making the effort to meet and to be welcoming to dancers from out of town. I danced with people from Minnesota, Montana, Oregon, and the usual suspects. The whole point is to mix it up a little, or a lot, and to share and to get out of our milonga routines.

It was a marathon. We were very selective, and did not do everything. Still, it was a challenge. I tried to catch up with some out of towners, especially Modern Tanguera, but we missed it this time.

The performances always tend to mess with my mind, and maybe with my emotions. No matter what, I won't be doing what those artists are doing, in this lifetime. And still, I let them inspire me. They are unearthly in beauty and accomplishment. But tango, you know, it is really on the inside. The elegance is a feeling, a way of being that is available to everyone who can hear the music, and who will make the inspiration real, through work, through carrying forward the fantasy into the life of dance. Flying like an old eagle, around the floor, to the drum beat of ages, and I knew...it isn't a gimmick. Old Tete, he is flying.

The Gazelles

2010-01-04T10:34:00.001-08:00

Monday, January 4, 2010
The Gazelles

Sometimes I have a general dark cloud about the dancing. Why does it sometimes just feel...sort of sad? Maybe partly because I have had a headache for about a week, off and on. A really horrible headache. Other reasons:

1) In Seattle, and I suppose in other places, there is always a group of elite dancers, who seem to be elegant gazelles, mostly unaware of the "rest of us". They are there to let us know how schlumpy and imperfect we are, how late we came to the game, and how....less we are. Often they are teachers, who suddenly do notice us if they are having a workshop soon, or other saleable service or item.

2) I know I have limitations, and that my dance is just average, but I know the feeling, the depth, the power of connection and it drives me to work on the body, and the headspace of the dance. But in any case, I know I am late, and I just have to grieve a little for that.

The upside: I am in pretty good shape, I have energy, I dance a lot and love it, without complacency. I have a partner who loves tango and gets it. One of the gazelle people was very good at teaching a technique class which changed my body. It was only for a brief time, once a week but it got me to have the aha moment which compels one to get it together (even at a late date). This phase had a profound effect on me and I am grateful for the way it put my mind into my body and has given me a pathway back to a measure of strength and knolwdege of my abilities. (I see how the gazelles could be sort of cynical about the people who just won't make the effort to be strong enough to even walk with power and balance.) Teachers who require technique classes are right to do so.

I am aware of where to spend the time and money...no more lessons with performers who have little or no social dance skills. If I haven't seen them on the pista, dancing like humans, then I may admire them for strength and beauty, but they ain't getting a cent from me for lessons. The local instructors love it when these people show up. They probably yearn for some high level dance and some lessons for themselves. It's fine. Whatever. But think about it. What are your expectations? Are they foolish pipe dreams or leftover childhood dreams of dance stardom? Romance, like in the movies? Do you even know?

All I know is this: When I am in the moment (him, me, music) it is one of those moments of non-thought-- of pure living....inside I know that this is what life is and I that am living it. Everything else, including gazelles leaping around, is just a distraction. And tango cures my headache....

Update

2010-01-02T20:06:00.000-08:00

For this New Year, I am manifesting: lots of long delicious days in the garden, and in the studio. Meals and dances with friends and family, and good paying gigs for the art. An organized and peaceful house, happy grown offspring, (hopefully employed in work they love.) I want to be a better dancer and to do that I have some fixing to do.

Between the trip, the holidays, and a loss of a family member... and just life, I have not been out dancing much, and not at all locally. I am getting messages and emails from friends and partners (how flattering!) about when they might expect to see me. I hope I get out once or twice in the next two weeks.
But then...
Some of you may recall that I recognized a foot problem a year or so ago, and dancing seemed to cause it to flare up. I learned to compensate for it a little, but the compensations have caused me to have some alignment issues etc. which do not make for lovely dancing. So after much gathering of information, second opinions, and continuing to "adjust" I have decided to take control of the situation and to get my foot fixed.
Thus I will be out of the dancing business for about three months if all goes well. When I am back I will have increased range of motion, no favoring (sickeling) of the right foot, and hopefully, the ability to become a better dancer, walker, runner, yogi, gardener, and to do all the things that I love for another few decades. I trust the doctor, who has done the same surgery on professional dancers and athletes, and has done this surgery every other Friday for thirty years. I am not in the least bit worried about it.
Dear tango friends: I do want to stay in touch, and hopefully I will have a few DJ gigs so that I can be a part of the happiness that we all experience together in this wonderful tango life.

Rome and Me

2009-12-25T16:42:00.000-08:00

Being in Rome: The whole world is violent as seen in the artworks and stories left there. Bloodshed and martyrdom, domination, rule through fear, darkness. That's what the world seems to be. Confirmed today in the news, and yesterday in the evidence.
The best and most meaningful artwork for me: The private, decorative, and domestic work of the houses of ancient Rome. No blood, nobody crucified, upside down or right side up, no one burned at the stake or roasted on a spit. Just orange trees, birds, plant life, and the sky. Eternal, and there whether you suffer or not. Perfect. And comissioned by women. Go figure. The frescoes of the private rooms of the wives of the emperors. The best, and most vibrant and enduring art in Rome. For me. About me, and about what I am about.

In recent conversations about my own work and the future of my place in the art world, I have been challenged by the proponents of angst. The dark side is very very popular in art. You can make a lot of money making people sad, or making them appear to be sophisticated. It is much cooler to have a tortured painting on your wall. Sunshine is not in. There is value in knowing just who you are...even in knowing how simple you are.

Well, I have nothing to contribute to darkness. So much of it is already available, that I hate to add to the whole stinking pile of it. In fact I am unable, and disinterested in adding to the constant barrage of blood and war, of hatred and violence. Easy to get that on the news, in the paper. All over the place.

Time for something else. I only started making art when I was very young, to express my own delight in nature, in life, in pattern, color, scent, sex, love, the sky, the starlings over the river at twilight. Why not? Why change now? It might not be so cool, but it is as old as the House of Livia. And that is my house.

Home From Rome

2009-12-25T14:27:00.000-08:00

Back here again, on a sunny Christmas day, waiting for the prime rib roast to come out of the oven. Four family members are in the other room looking at their laptops so I may as well....
Being back in the house, here in suburbia...what can I say, I love it. Went to the Central Market yesterday, a food wonderland. Bought everything. The house is strange. Did the door handle wiggle like that? Does the heater sound that way all the time? Are my cats really that adorable? Do I know where my things are? All jet lagged and have to make another small trip tomorrow.

Want to tell you about tango in Rome. Four milongas. I am not interested in reviewing them at all. Everyone dances for their own reasons in and their own way. The people there are musical beyond belief. At two of the milongas I had lovely tandas with Roman men, and lovely tandas with my man. But being in Rome was work, to a certain extent, because you have to see the place. There is a reason no one ever describes Rome. It is not possible to describe the feeling, the sights. You are walking over the visible layers of time. Nothing is as clear as you thought it would be, and all the while it just bowls you over. How can I think about tango there? The milongas were stronger in salon style (slightly open), generally a forty-ish demographic give or take the few straglers on both ends. Saw some good dancing and some sort of "look at me!" dancing. Loved that they serve food, are friendly, down to earth. Music was different. Less beat, more orchestra. Drama.

Fanatics that we are, we did want to dance, and to dance on that ground. And I/we did. But more than that, I just looked and looked hard and long at Rome. And ate, walked (my god we walked) and looked and looked some more.

I drew some, and have some resources to work from at home. But even that just had to take a back seat to the job of looking at Rome. Big old ruins, driving by in the Taxi at night, lights raking across the bricks of the house of Augustus, the Colosseum, the Palatine, the Vatican, around the circle, moon rising. Cold sunny days on the floor of the forum, up to the Aventine. The lovely evidence of a brutal and beautiful world.

But right now, I never want to leave home again. Just right now. Next time, a country trip, or the beach! Or the back yard! And for sure some tango. We have our own empire to build, and it is built on art, dance, love, and peace.

Merry Christmas everyone. The rib roast is calling.

Turtle Farm

2009-12-21T06:43:00.000-08:00

In the first days of our life in Kirkland, I discovered the urban wilderness around Lake Washington. Within sight of the Seattle skyline the Juanita wetlands have provided a daily journey into the heart of nature. Beaver, heron, many types of duck and fish, and the occaisional surprise visit from a coyote or even a cougar, and eagles...on and on. The favorite animal for us has been the turtle.We named it the "Turtle Farm". On a sunny day they come up from the mud and muck below, and climb like babies onto the logs to soak up some rays. We love them. They go away for long periods in the winter and the seasons are clocked by their arrival in the spring in great numbers.
One of the small things (and the small things are the best) in Rome was to make it over to the Turtles at Piaza Mattei. It is a small piazza. Not a wilderness, just small fountain, but one of the sweetest. The turtles there are just like ours, and they bring us over on a walk to a place of rest and refreshment.
At home our turtles are about six blocks from home, and these Roman turtles who look exactly like ours, are a short walk too. It will be spring before I see our locals out sunning I suppose, and I look forward to it.

Dear tango friends: I think I can bring the turtle image in here too. I dance slower than the Romans, and with less talking, and no ornamental footwork to speak of. Rome is such a big discovery. No one who comes here leaves with the same idea of life..if they do then they haven't really been here. Tango seems a smaller thing, a real and permanent thing for me still, but some change a gonna come.
Mostly I can hardly wait to see my kitchen and my studio. Lots to bring to both!

What Remains?

2009-12-20T02:36:00.000-08:00

When a great adventure ends, what remains? A souvenier is for a tour, but what do you keep for an experience that goes beyond the holiday, the trip, the guidebook?
Only the memory, and the quick sketch of light on the Tiber. on the burnt orange and sanded ochres of the houses? It will be something more in the mind. Rome is an education in distruction and endurance of western civilization. You can barely go out for pizza without tripping over some broken ruins, or vice versa. Right now I hear voices in the street, always voices. The same as it ever was.

Yesterday we had the delight of being with a beautiful friend from Perugia, one we know from our tango community at home, where she used to live. We also met a new friend through her, and they took us to a most Roman eatery for a delectable lunch. (Although our new friend says the spaghetti carbonera is not up to the standard he is accustomed to with his mother's version.) I have learned that there is an effect of pleasant sedation in the meals here, bordering on buzz. More later, going out for one of our last bright days in Rome.

At Home in Rome

2009-12-18T07:14:00.000-08:00

We will be going back to Seattle in less than a week. The weather here has been sunny for the most part with a few partial days of rain.
We loved having rain on the day we went to the Pantheon, where rain falls through the dome's oculus in seeming slow motion, a soft wet blessing.

Today I saw my absolute favorite artwork in Rome, the frescoes of the House of Livia. Livia was married to Augustus and they had by all accounts a happy union. They sought to show their power, and knowledge, and to influence people through the meaning and details of the paintings and decorations. This is a nice place for us to visit on the day after our anniversary, as by all accounts we have a happy union as well.

Rooms painted with all forms of plant and bird life in delicious and cool colors can be enjoyed at the Museo Nationale Romano in Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, in a beautiful modern and protected setting. The frescoes line a room and an effort has been made to create a light situation which changes in the way that the daylight changes. It is stunning, sublime. It fills out the experience of the visits to the ruins, from which many frescoes have been removed. (To leave them there would mean distruction.) The same very airy and light filled museum has many fine examples of decorative arts of ancient Rome. I wonder how changed the colors are?

The Trastevere neighborhood and the house here has been delightful. A report on the tango here may have to come later. I came with the goal to just be open and to absorb. So, the processing is the thing that takes time, and that is the next thing. As with my last trip to Italy, it can take decades to understand it all.

Sort of looking towards home, and to all sorts of way to continue the adventure there.

Just before the guard kicked me off.

2009-12-17T02:26:00.000-08:00

Florence Revisited

2009-12-17T01:43:00.000-08:00

It was such a long time ago that I was in Florence for a few weeks. So long ago that I walked into the Accademia and swooned over the David in sexy white marble glory. We would hang out in the square next to the Uffuzi with other young people playing guitars and spending the day with the sculptures and the pigeons. We were living on nothing but adventure, sleeping on the hill at the campground, worrying our parents to death probably.
When Alan and I got off the Eurostar train we checked in to a central hotel, and I walked us straight to the Accademia like it was yesterday, and I could have been blindfolded. David stands slightly back now, seeming to have lost some power by being fenced in with security glass, through which I could see the left foot that once I could caress. I believe that, in a misguided effort to make the art more relevant, they are now trying to put modern works in with the old. The black and white photographs of Mapplethorpe are being shown alongside the Michelangelo works, flanking them like cheap posters. It is really an insult. A big part of the David's impact, aside from the monumental beauty of the work in the soft natural light from above, is that it stands alone. David, just past boyhood, standing very alone, to take on the threat of the Goliath.
Aside from what seems to be a big and ham handed installation of the photos, there was another big change in my perception of the work. The face of David. His furrowed brow and piercing expression balanced in some exact place between fear and resolve. There is the sense of destiny, beyond acceptance and into the moment prior to action. There is much to compare with our contemporary situation, without it being crammed down our throats.
I will just say, that as a young person, not yet an adult really, when I first saw this work of art, my eyes could not have seen what unfolds there for me now.
Well, Florence was dirtier, and less like a glittering outdoor shopping mall. Was there a Chanel store on the square? I think not. Did the cops kick you off the stage of the Sabine rapes? Never. There was even a sign with the red bar crossed through the guitar. Now there are lots of rules, disallowing the relaxed venue for the the nursing of one's vision. Those baby eyes that I had, that empty head....Thank you Florence for being what you were then. I am sorry for the wanderers now, crowded around in a tour, being fed what sells, no place to sit without having to buy something.

Saturday in Trastevere, Random thoughts.

2009-12-12T08:14:00.000-08:00

I am getting a few more sketches done. Since Rome has so much to offer, I have had to see it, or the pieces that I can see and receive before overload sets in, before I can then process in the form of drawing. To really get some good images, I think I would/will have to settle in for a longer time.

It seemed to me after the first rush of images and spaces, that ancient Rome was more tempting and informative to the work (art wise) than the lurid flaming and thinly vieled religious pornography of the Renaissance. It doesn't take too long though to realize that early Romans and early Christian all speak back and forth with a lot of hand gesturing and in loud voices. Pretty soon one pagan virgin is just another nun with a twinkle in her eye. A ceremonial chamber with fire and chant is good enough for Aphrodite and just as good for Mary. Went to the Vatican yesterday, saw a bit of the installation of the nativity scene, and that was sweet, with little kids climbing up there while the workers put the lambs in. I have to say though, that all the scenes elsewhere of torture and cruelty are pretty overwhelming, pervasive, and sickening. Why do we have to honor it and hold it in such high regard?

We have been to four milongas (well, three for me and four for Alan). I will go with him to alicetango tomorrow. He enjoyed it. At least it is near us, and does not involve a crazy taxi ride to and fro. After pounding the cobblestones all day it is fairly heroic to go out to something that starts at 11:30.
But..when in Rome.

The neighborhood: Every morning I open the shutters and watch the life on the street for a few moments. We are one story up on Via Natale Grande. People meet up at the outdoor tables below and everthing happens as grandmas go up the half block to the market to get foods for the day, mothers are out airing the babies, waiters are showing up for work.I love how it all buzzes with life and energy and civility. Really drives home the need to get into a richer setting permanently, and/or to have the alternate option of urban life.
I watch the way people walk. A sort of amble, a processional style with no need to rush. I walked behind an older couple (black cashmere coats, bright scarves, suede boots for her, leather for him, good hats). They were old, maybe had twenty or more years on us. We had to slow way down. They walk as though they know who they are and are proud of it. I was fully into the zone, learning my Italian walk, when after about two blocks, a car stops and an Italian woman asked me for directions, like I live here. Well, for this month, I guess I do. Slowing way down now, Roman style.

December in Rome

2009-12-07T12:27:00.000-08:00

December 7, 2009

The ancient past presses from below, and the church presses hard from above, and in between there is a rich and coffee scented layer of motorbikes and pizza. The neighborhood life pleases more than the crush of tourists. What must it be like "in season"? We saw a throng of people nearly shoving each other into the water to get a look at the Trevi Fountain today, but made a hasty retreat a bit away from the madness to have a leisurely repast for a couple of hours in the back (always sit in the back for serious eating) of a fine place. Artichokes baked and drizzled with olive oil, osso bucco, good bread, house red, espresso in the tiny cup, the entirely reasonable bill delivered with a couple of choices of excellent regional liquors. Nice, and it gets you through the day and whatever rigors the Bruegels and the Caravaggios will put you through.
We've been here less than a week, and so maybe I can forgive myself for doing only two drawings, two milongas, and a bunch of ancient Rome. Right now the drawing and the inspiration gathering are the matters that matter. For an artist, all the pile-up of painting and stone work from two thousand years can take a back seat at times to the dove on the edge of the obsure fountain, or the old roses still blooming in the ruined gardens of the empress. Why, even the smallest thing drips with the past and it goes by all the time.
From the top of Garibaldi at late day, those colors, all seeming related to yellow, and shot with an old gold, well, it's enough .
A lovely season going on, lights and decorations to mark the advent. Remembering Christmas from the past, with nativity scenes everywhere, and preparations all around that don't seem to have anything to do with hectic shopping or the salvo of inadequacy, but everything to do with renewal, and light in winter.
Simple pleasures in a place of robust enjoyment, devotions, family...and I would say, if you can stay in the minor plaza and not the guide book plaza...real peace.

Rome, first impressions for the record

2009-12-03T19:59:00.000-08:00

Arrived in Rome on Tuesday, settled into a beautiful home in Trastevere, and now, in the middle of the night on early Friday, I am wide awake. The nature of the city is a surprise...it is a big lovely neighborhood. We can walk everywhere. The sound of Roman life on the narrow street is music. When people say something in Italian, it really gets said. As our friend here says, you can find the pizza, just down the street and turn right and you will hear the smells.
Walked to the Forum area today, no pictures or words can quite prepare one for the vastness and the beauty of those ruins, and how they layer back and back in space across and vertical, and blended in urban mists with tall pines creating another landscape high up. All the emperors creating a piece of the power of public space,
Water: Gorgeous and always flowing from small and large spouts everywhere. Delicious, pure. In the bathroom here it comes full force and luxurious from the solid spigots and the rain style shower. I don't think we have had to touch anything plastic or flimsy since we arrived in Rome. Things are old, and they work.
People: Damn they look good. Chic but casual. Every man seems to have a perfect black coat and a scarf. I am happy to report though that one can wear sneakers with black jeans and get away with it as long as everything is intentional and of course, cool. There is a great blend of speed and youth with slow and old.
Don't see a lot of face lifted ladies. At least in this part of town, people are presenting as who they are, and they are doing it with great posture and a lot of energy.

The day before we left town, our own family lost an elder. I am sure today that, even though it might have been seen as a bit selfish of us to go on with our trip, that Grandpa John would totally approve, and I know it in my heart.

Small Conversation

2009-11-29T11:00:00.000-08:00

Really, you know how to tango? I love tango, saw it on Dancing With The Stars. Don't you love Donny when he tangos? Did you see that?

No, I don't watch it..
That isn't really the kind of tango I am into..

Ooh, ooh! Do you have some dresses like they wear, wow, where do you get something like that?

Um, no, I usually just wear something simple, a skirt and top, something I can move around in, and....

...but, could you show me some tango now?

It's really not that interesting, you can't see from the outs...

ooo, oooh! I think my aunt does that, it's expensive, she had to sign up for a year of lessons but then she gets to dance with the teacher.

...no, no that is not how it works. How about I send you a link to a site where you can find a place to drop in and try it, no contracts.

oh, I don't have a partner.

Don't need one. Just try it out.

My boyfriend won't go. You are so lucky your husband likes it.

It was his idea, now we both enjoy it.

It must be so romantic to dance with your husband every night.

We only dance once or twice in the evening, mostly we have other favorite partners...

(silence....)

....you dance that tango with other people? (more silence). (raised eyebrows).

Do cute guys go where you dance?

...I guess, but I am more interested in how they dance, you see, the way it feels is.....

I am too old, and the high heels won't work for me. No one would dance with me.

Things change when you get to learning..everything...

I have to be up early to work, most of those people can stay up later than I can...they must not have jobs.
I don't think I can get away with that.

O.K. well, it's not for everyone. But if you decide to try it, your life will change forever.

....(silence).

Purpose in Writing

2009-11-17T22:09:00.000-08:00

Why do people blog. It has come to my attention that people "monetize" their blogs. I think that means that they allow a lot of annoying blinking ads and things. Also people blog because they need validation. I just started because it was amazingly non techie and I could actually write and save drafts easily, and could communicate about my art and/or tango. I went smoothly and without angst from little black journals to the computer. These are strictly my own journalings, and if people want to read them they can. Believe it or not, I have heard that people used to write alone, in a room, with no realistic expectation that anyone was going to read their writing! Can you imagine, creating without having all those people practically watching you type?

I do not track the numbers of readers and don't even know how to. I don't care, but I confess that when people enjoy a post, it makes me feel great. Maybe that is all that it means for me.

I have realized, that if a person writes, (or sketches, or practices dance, or exercises or sings, or plays the piano or conjugates verbs or anthing) for just a little while every day or so, that eventually a lot gets done. And I have become comfortable with writing, and casual about what people think, If I think that I am so important that people really care, then I am not going to be able to say anything of value or truth. The blog has been great for creative growth, imagination, fun, record keeping, and just having some way to put things into words. Words. Sometimes now I dream in type.

I made rules for myself in the beginning, to be careful about mentioning names and to protect relationships. Even that is difficult because people sometimes think that things are about them. (Thank you, Carly Simon). News Flash: It isn't about you. For it to be about you, you would have to be in my brain, which is terribly full and cluttered with stuff to the point that if I did not write, I would explode. I nearly broke my rule this week about a reported incidence of violence at a milonga. I have strong feelings about it. In this case, I can say that the old practice of writing alone is a help in sorting beliefs and ideas without the instant feedback, or flak. We can curate our minds, our morals, better in a clear environment.

Anyway, thanks for reading and thanks for all the expressions of enjoyment that you all got out of the workshops with Igor and Morticia. I have to tell you, that I heard that Maria, of Maria and Gustavo, who were just visiting and teaching here, played the theme from the Adams Family as cortinas at the China Harbor Milonga, where Maria was the DJ. Nice when people have a sense of humor. I also heard that there is now a version in Spanish out there. I would like a link to it if someone has it.

The Previous Entry

2009-11-14T13:49:00.001-08:00

I took down the previous entry regarding the rumors about a famous male dancer hitting a woman. All sources of information on this are now suspect and I don't want to be the Fox News of tango. However, I still think it is wrong in any case for a man to hit a woman.

Journey

2009-11-10T12:21:00.000-08:00

We did get to one milonga in California. Tangueras and tangueros know that they can find the local milongas wherever they go, and will be welcomed into an international community. They love to search around, find the address somewhere in the world, walk up or down the stairs, around the corner and listen for the familiar notes of the tango. Then they find themselves at home again.

But much of our trip was not play. We were working, and had business and family to attend to there in the land of eternal sunshine. Every day I walked three or four miles starting in Cardiff, surf and surfers on the left, all the way to Encinitas, north up to Swami's. Swami's is the affectionate name given to the Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda who lived on the bluff and by his own labor created the exquisite gardens there on the temple grounds. Established in 1937 in Encinitas, and carried on by followers today who exercise careful stewardship of the land on which the retreat center stands, and also of the lands around the community which they care for and make available for public benefit. I am not a follower, but I admire the organization greatly. Yogananda Paramahansa's book, Autobiography of a Yogi is a classic.

I always make my pilgramage to the gardens, which are open to the public, and always speak in soft whispers and gentle splashes every day to visitors who each interpret this stunning legacy according to individual needs.

California is a strange place. Sunshine does not always seem to bring out the best in people for some reason. I spend some time at an outdoor plaza where people get their Starbucks coffee and hang out in the mornings. I hear people talking. People talk about their feelings, a lot. Stick thin, overly tanned, panic showing in eyes that cannot express through the botox. Desperate. I always want to say, "do you see there are orange trees here, there are pots of exotic flowers? We are sitting under frikkin' palm trees and we can see and hear the ocean across the street! Hello! There is a hummingbird landing on your head!" But no one would hear me, or see me, because I am over thirty and not wearing this year's hip gym clothes.
I heard one muscle man guy say to a weeping woman, "nothing can make you feel bad unless you allow it."
A typical sort of California sentiment.

A couple of years ago I sat on a bench in the Swami's garden on the bluff over the sparkling Pacific. My father had called me a week or so prior to this, to say, almost apologetically, that his long, grueling and inspirational marathon run with cancer was about to end. Forever. I sat up there and felt it like a black fog and it went right through me, while my middle daughter sat calm, quiet, slipping her arm around me to take some of the impact.

This trip I sat there again, alone. The bad (?) sad feeling was still there, but different now that my father's transition is complete, that he is past all that business of the dying body. But the feeling is all there, bringing me along on my own journey.

That guy at the Starbucks, maybe he was right in his own way. You can put up a thick and muscled suntanned wall around your heart--you sure can. You won't feel bad because you won't allow it. But the problem is, you won't feel anything else either.

The way I absorb that garden, and what I learn from it, is to hear a message from beyond the Swami's life on earth. Make a garden, make life beautiful, feel all of it.

If You Are Looking For My Artwork...

2009-10-23T14:16:00.000-07:00

...go to this.

Muma

2009-10-14T10:34:00.002-07:00

Muma, a milonguera from BA was here for the past week. I could not take the workshops all weekend, but I tagged along with Alan to his private lesson with her last night. Muma (her only public name, like Cher or Bono) promotes, and teaches the older classic style of the salons. She danced with Ricardo Vidort, it is said, and since he, and so many others are gone now, there is a struggle I think to preserve and promote something that is very hard to teach.

The old milongueros, as Argentine friends and writers tell us, did not teach. They did not take lessons, they learned on the floor. They learned from each other, from watching and sharing tricks, and they did not travel around giving lessons and creating fame for themselves. They were milongueros plain and simple.
The way they move has a special quality. I am wondering to myself, can a tiny secret of how to step, how to move the foot and leg, be a bit of preservable history? If not for YouTubes and the few living examples that some of us have seen, and even danced with, this dance would be lost forever in the dust of history.
Boring and unsolvable arguments abound about styles and techniques of tango.

Life evolves, things change. The only constant is change. Nothing is the same as it was even ten years ago in this world. So why care? Why do Muma, Alicia Pons, Susanna Miller, Ruben H, Tete, and the rest of them travel, at their age, to a far away country where arrogant people do not embrace them, where the food does not suit them, where the generally optomistic and dispassionate people do not get it at all? What keeps them from running away screaming when they see swooping high kicks delivered with wild disregard, and disrespect for age, talent, history, grace? The money has to be a motivator wherever you come from. But for sure, it is about more than that.

Is the promotion of this old way of dance about keeping antiques? I hate antiques. The furniture of the old days had better be totally free of bad spirits if it comes to my house. The few pieces in this house are well known and any bad vibes are purely family history and would be here anyway. But it interestes me. That a tiny way of setting the foot, of holding the center, that that place of physical movement can tell us so much, can reveal to us a sense that a person felt, many years ago, in a land far away. Or just yesterday, right here.

P.S. Scroll down to previous post for video of Vidort. I especially like seeing this room where Cherie and Ruben invited us to their table, where they made sure we danced...and where, if we are lucky, we will dance again in the afterglow of the giants of tango.

Note: I am not promoting anyone, or any particular style, just writing down things I am thinking about.

Ricardo Vidort y Myriam Pincen - Chique (Canaro)

2009-10-14T10:34:00.001-07:00

Work and Tango

2009-10-12T11:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to keep the energy up during a big rush of fall work.  In addition to my work, I have a house and garden which at this point look rather scraggly and in need of TLC. I have family to see and to help, and trips planned, and a husband who works in a job that requires him to be "on" for way more than a standard forty hour week.  It is up to me to keep the home running smoothly so that he can do what he does.  And I take it seriously. But given all that, I am feeling a little wobbly, worried about getting it all done.

I have time yet to really make something with my career, and it has to take priority.

Then there is tango. I dance a little less, and that is just fine, but even that is taking more energy than I have. I nearly had to go home early last night,  then I warmed up. It was a great night, and the joy it brings me keeps me going. But wow. How do people do it? I don't think I can proritize any of these things. How to?

P.S. I missed the Muma workshops, but Alan went to all of them. Someone asked where I was, and he said that I was working and had deadlines. The person said, and Alan quoted: "I didn't know artists had deadlines."
This is the kind of thing that makes me a little crazy. What do people think artists do anyway, sit around and sing Kumbayah? We work. We work with our hands and our brains, and our eyes, and we have to run a small business besides, which no one trained us to do. Galleries and museums and arts organizations are businesses as well, and the have set dates for the delivery of work and for submissions.   Besides dealing with them, I have to be at full awareness and skill level to be a participant in the art world. I am getting a little ranting here, so that's all.
And to make things worse, blogger seems to have taken away my spell-check. How the hell do you spell Kumbyyah anyway.

Entrega, reposting just because.

2009-10-08T16:00:00.000-07:00

This was originally posted more than a year ago, but I am reposting because Tango Commuter was musing on the meaning. I don't know the meaning, but I had thoughts about it.

Informed passion. A trinity: Man, Woman, Music.
Literal translation: Deliver, or Surrender.
In our case, it may be safe to say that surrender is the more accurate meaning, but not the whole story. It seems like one of those zen koans or a riddle. How can I attain something which is unattainable, and which is really in it's essence, a letting go, or surrender.

I recall a night at a milonga about six months ago. Sitting, dancing a few tandas...nearly at the end of the tango road, sitting there thinking how many hours, how many trips to workshops, how many fruitless hours learning steps and moves. All the while knowing that there was some kernel, some heart, some little bite of chocolate and love and juice, waiting. if I could only get there. How much can one invest in a little promise that keeps moving away as soon as you get close, like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? You know it's there, like God, Love, the Future, the Universe, Springtime, but you cannot see it or feel it except in a dream. Driving home, nearly in tears over the unreachable joy that waits somewhere at the end of a maze, beyond the dark tunnel.

How do you know it is there. At the very beginning of learning this meditative dance, it is felt, and almost anyone you talk to, who has stayed with it, will tell you, yes, it is there, I am waiting for it and I am patient, and I can go there. When all the stars line up, and the partner knows, and you know, and the music starts, and you launch your little boat upon the waters of tango. On that night, you know, or have, entrega.

Even now, knowing that it can be found, the truth about tango is that there are people who can dance, and admirably so, and then there are people who have "it". They might be rank beginners, old, young, fat, thin, beautiful, not beautiful, strong, weak. It does not matter.

I would like to know how others define etrega, and what it means to them. It may be too delicate to talk about. If so, then we will not.

Rick McGarrey at TangoandChaos, where there is an essay on this concept, and David, at RealityPivots, thanks for ideas about the meaning.

Pass the Pasta Please.

2009-10-06T10:55:00.000-07:00

Pici noodles, made by Tina and friends this past summer. Bon Voyage my milonguera friend.

Sometimes from this perspective, of dancing tango for five years, it occurs to me that it isn't nearly as hard as people make it out to be, or as hard as I thought it was. Tying oneself in knots, tottering around in adornment classes, doing gobs of drills, spending lots of money on workshops that never really sink in or make sense...and then there are the trips, the shoes, the festivals. We have to have a talk about tango expenses one of these days.

It is a business, this tango, and it appears to be a hard business for those who make their living from it. But why should tango be so difficult for the student? It takes some technique and awareness. But is it necessary to be an athlete? For most of us, we just want to enjoy our dancing. Last summer during a dinner here, two of Seattle's best dancers were at the table when I said I needed to take more exercise classes and get in better shape, lose a pound or ten. They all sort of shrugged their shoulders, digging in to more pasta and salmon, and said, more or less: "meh, it isn't too important to be very strong." O.K. I say, allright, "pass the pasta.!

Now, I have a general attitude, which is to dance with those I want to dance with, to stay quiet, (although at times I fail), and to just follow. In the future I will: Listen to the dancers and teachers that I admire, work at it as much as I feel like. And mostly, I will have some warm connections along the way. I am not that good, but my partners aren't complaining, and there is growth through calm steady attention. Getting to this place is the harder journey.

I poured a lot into it for five years. I think it could have been easier though, but possibly not as profitable for some. I have paid plenty for it, in real money, sweat, bruises physically and bruises to my self image. And every day I start over as a beginner in spirit. But, now, time to relax, and to detach. Most really good teachers already know that some things, maybe most things about tango, cannot really be taught, and that no amount of drills and conditioning, and self-denial will make a milonguera. So, I think they might consider teaching that.

New Art Blog

2009-10-01T15:55:00.000-07:00

If you are reading this and wondering where the art part of the blog is, you can now go to my new blog to read about life in and around the studio! This blog, will retain the misleading name of "Working Artist" but will focus, as it has for the past four years, on the great tango adventure.
For a while I thought I could blend these subjects. They sure will overlap, but this way, art people won't have to sort through the tango conversation. As you all know already, we bore everyone to death with our never ending tango talk.
The funny thing is, that tango people have been much more tolerant of art talk than the art people are of dance talk.