Working Artist

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.

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.

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.

Workshop Schedule, Igor and Morticia!

2009-10-18T20:18:00.000-07:00

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 in Buenos Aires Milongas. 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

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.

Spanish Grandma

2009-09-25T10:55:00.000-07:00

We have friends in Leon Spain, and they are almost like family. Both (now grown) daughters in the family have lived with us for a time, and our daughter stayed with them. Upstairs from them lived their darling grandmother. She was truly adorable, and very aproned and traditional, she cooked all day, her hair up in a little grey twist. So it surprised us to learn that she was studying yoga. "Yes," Laura, the granddaughter told us, "she is getting very good at it." We asked what she was doing in her yoga study, and Laura told us that she would lie flat on the floor, breathing. We wondered where the accomplishment is in that. "Well" said Laura, proudly, "she is up to thirty six breaths in a row."

I thought of this today for some reason. Last night tango seemed so easy, and yet it has taken a lot of work to get to the place to have those steps seem easy, like breath, like walking, or like being stretched out on the rug, counting. I am channeling the Spanish Grandma in myself.
And the problem is, dance, and life, aren't easy every day. May as well work on the breathing.

Special Tango Goggles!

2009-09-21T10:07:00.000-07:00

We went to a milonga on Saturday night in Vancouver. I won't review it here or name it. I did have some thoughts about choosing partners when you are in a room full of dancers that you don't know. I like to put on my invisible tango goggles and just watch very carefully for awhile. The first filter is the jerk filter, also known as the jackass filter. It reveals the guy who is strutting around, cock of the walk. He just grabs a partner and off they go to tango hell. Half the fun of a milonga is to tell him no. One of them walked right up to me, while I was in conversation, and asked me to dance. I said "no thank you", and he just reared back slightly and quoted me perfectly: NO THANK YOU???. I then made a stupid girl type mistake of making up an explanation, when silence would have done me fine. I also tried to cabeceo a good dancer who was older, and smooth and cool. But I think he just could not figure out why I was sitting up staring at him....sigh. This kind of thing really makes me miss Buenos Aires (and Seattle too!) like crazy.

The second filter is complexity filter. It filters out all the guys who pull out the entire tango repertoire for every single tanda. This filter overlaps with the next one which is the musicality filter. A few steps done with innovation and musicality are all I need. There are slightly less important filters for presentation, (dress). I would have liked to say that observing which guys the good tangueras accepted would be another filter. But for some reason these women seemed to lack judgment in this area. Sorry to say it. It is alright to dance with someone for heart reasons...they are elderly, sweet, a friend from way back, or you relate to them on some unexplained level regardless of dance...but that is not what was going on here. I don't mind dancing with an earnest beginner or newbie who is not trying too many tricks. In fact I learn from them.

It bugs me to no end when guys think they are god's gift to the world of dance and that a woman sitting down is by definition unhappy. Milongas is Seattle have good lead/follow balance and this keeps the guys a little more sharp I think. The milonga in Vancouver had way more women than men, and so every guy had the illusion that he was desirable as a partner. I saw elegant and talented women saying yes, just because they wanted to dance and felt they had no choice. I understand, they came all the way to the milonga to dance, they got all dressed up. But there is a choice, and the choice is to decline. Please gently decline these bad dancers ladies, or they will never never get better. Let them sit and watch. They might learn something. If you are concerned with kindness, and I know you are, just remember this is the best thing that you can do for them. They aren't like us. They learn from competing and trying to out-do each other. Make them watch and learn.

There must be other filters, I wonder if you all have some you could share? Leaders or followers.

P.S. These are not the goggles I refer to...speaking of jackasses.

Anniversary! September 15, 2009

2009-09-15T00:01:00.000-07:00

Garden Path September, 2009. Photo by Alan.

Today marks the fourth year of this blog, which is amazing to me. Writing with the option of having a few readers has made me much more attentive to clarity, to imagination, to the conveyance of the ideas, to writing. I have found it nearly as much fun as mucking around in paint...but not quite.

It all started out as my own small journal to keep track of, and to share, artworks in progress. We all know what happens to tango dancers. They become obsessed for a time, or in some cases, forever, and then all things become tango, including their writings. But it is amazing how much one can write by writing a little bit every day or so, or even just every week...after a while it is as much as a novel, or a screen play. Makes you think. I don't know where these things will go, they just write themselves. I look forward to finding out.

I have continued to work in visual art as I have for over thirty years, every day in one capacity or another, and it deserves it own place. I have many journals (paper and pen, pencil, paint) which are stored away, and when I looked at some pages this last week while cleaning the studio office, I noticed that I used to have nice handwriting, inconsistent, but expressive, and legible. Now I type.

So now, I am having a new, pretty blog made up in wordpress, which will also serve as my website for art. It won't be launched until the first of the year. I hope readers will jump over to it from time to time. I think it will be of interest to dancers, I hope so. My inquiry in visual art for the next phase includes the dancing figure and is inspired by the dancer as the conduit to spirit. I want and need to keep track of that in a designated spot.

I will continue devote this one to writings of life and tango. The magic of the technology, this writing in an open venue, is that it offers up the chance to find others who share one's passions and who bring such richness to the conversation. That part is a true gift. I have met many of them, danced with them, shared wine and meals, laughter, and sadness. A few friends from BT, (before tango) still read and keep up (put up?) with the adventures. We have been little voices in the dark, cheering one another on. To that please raise a glass today, to connection through art...writing, life, dance, ideas, mutual support, and general fun.

Attending to the blog has had the effect of getting me, if not comfortable, at least more fluent in expressing through words. The habit, and the confidence gained, has led to a cabaret, a few short stories, tons of essays,and a fair start on a screen play. I have been inspired by tango and by the people, and will continue to write and to try to be open and to put it out there when it is good enough. Now that I am past some of the early stages in tango life, I feel I can go a bit deeper into the discoveries, and into the interesting parts where the dance collides with life and the universe, without so much stuff about learning and angst and all that drama. No one has to read it so I don't worry about it too much. But some of you will agree that it takes a little extra courage some days to post things...the real-er they are, the harder it is, and I just sneak up on it. The goal for this year is to keep it real. I hope all of you keep writing too, because I love to know what you are doing, and what you are thinking about, as I work away here in a somewhat isolated little world, and because you inspire me.