The Day of Berry

For those who don't know yet, Berry is my goddaughter, my baby brother Lucas' first (and so far only) child. She loves Minute Maid orange juice, spaghetti noodles and ensaymada. She also loves to dance. The first time she danced, she was inside her mommy's tummy while mommy was watching me, my siblings and my family's ballet school perform Don Quixote at the Insular Life Auditorium. Seriously, as the entrada started, Erica's tummy started pounding as if there was a furious basketball inside.

She spent the day with us today, she arrived at our ballet school as I started class for our second level kids; she was wearing her tights, ballet shoes and a ballet skirt made of tulle. When I started rehearsals for this year's recital, she walked over to me and held my hand. So when my students started rehearsing, she was dancing with them also, sorta. Mostly she walked around as the students carefully danced around her, sometimes holding my hand, sometimes on her own. She would also stand in the midst of the girls doing skips and ballet runs, sometimes shaking her hips and shoulders. Since we're doing The Nutcracker this year, she would run about with her own wrapped gift (for the Christmas party scene) or holding a clump of fake flowers (for Waltz of the Flowers). At one point, while my students were swaying and galoping side to side, she would sway her head and shoulders along with them.

This is how I always envisioned how it would be when I have my own child, while I'm teaching or rehearsing, she or he would be hanging out in the studio with me; kinda like Twyla Tharp and her son, except not as cool. Of course, there already is the constant harassment to actually have my own kid and not play pretend with my brother's, and no, I don't mean my mom as she doesn't really mean to pressure me, she just likes the idea of having grandkids (and she won't admit it). The constant harassment is my own biological clock tick-tick-ticking away, at odds with the pact I made to keep dancing for as long as I can. I truly feel that when I do get pregnant, I will not be able to recover from it and dance the way I am dancing now. I'm giving myself a couple more years. The thing that frightens me though is what if after giving myself a few more years to dance, I find that my childbearing years have passed? I have recently been convincing myself that I'm not too old to have children and won't be too old to have children. After all, Jenna Elfman had her second baby at the age of 38 and she was producing and starring in a tv show the entire time she was pregnant. A couple more years is just about right. I hope.

There are days when I have this idea in my head that I can live the rest of my life childless. That it's okay to be selfish in this way in this day and age, that I'm just programmed for a different life, that I don't want to eventually deal with a sullen teenager (especially if it turns out that they take after me), that we all die alone anyway as I won't force my kids to take care of me in my old age. And then there are days like today.

priorities

I haven't been updating this blog, nor Runthru online as of late, and neither have I actually been going to watch other people's shows because of 2 things. First of all, at the day job where I'm working full time (that I've been doing for over a year), I was assigned to a new boss and there has been a turnover from simple website publishing to full blown strategic editorial concerns which has not been easy. It's a total paradigm shift, and not just a matter of getting used to the demands and quirks of the new boss.

I was hoping that this won't last forever, that this is just a really extensive turnover phase, but realistically, it does seem that this is going to be how life is going to be like for me, given the new demands of the job. And so I am forced to decide what to do with the little free time I have left, as there's not much room for so many things. Although I will try my darnedest to get some writing done, and will continue to post up events and news on Runthru Online, it is no longer a priority. The priority, of course, is dancing.

Yes, dancing is the second reason why I haven't been actively writing. I find that there's just not enough time in the day for both dancing and writing. At this point in my life, it's kind of obvious why I would pick one over the other. If you'd like, if you can convince me otherwise (or at least present a strong, almost compelling case for writing over dancing), I'll give you tickets to the next PBT show. (Yes, my day job has trained me to push interactivity with the audience haha).

In the interest of keeping my writing from getting rusty, I've promised myself that priority or no, I have to keep updating this blog - at the very least. It's not a big commitment - blogging is not the same as writing a review of a performance which deserves deliberated construction. It's just bits and pieces of thoughts on what's going on in dance. Sure, there's going to be more reflections on my own dancing, but I do promise not to post whining about how old I am and how difficult it is to rond de jambe my left leg higher than 90 degrees. I still have a lot of drama left in me, but I think I'm not that puerile anymore.

Will write more tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll have time to publish what I write some time between meetings, supervising my team and stretching my hamstrings.

In the meantime, I've recently put up Donna Miranda's performance notes of Agnes Locsin's Sayaw, Sabel and a profile on ballerina Carlos Garcia on www.runthru.com.ph. Baby steps, yeah?

Sayaw, Sabel

Just came from watching Sayaw, Sabel at the CCP tonight. It is, in one word, phenomenal. There is so much to say, that I'm worried that it won't fit in a review. Will find a way to to be able to say more about it, adequately. Will also get back to you when I do, hehe.

Photo of Sayaw, Sabel by Darrel Sicam for Runthru Magazine :)

Regional Dance Critics Workshop in Jakarta + 3 Reviews in Real Time Arts Magazine

I haven't blogged since March and I apologize, there was just so many things happening that I couldn't stop to discuss. One was I danced in a local version of Swan Lake, and it's no mean feat to rehearse everyday, and run a ballet school, and update a corporate website, and update the Runthru website AND see the actual magazine out in print. See, so many things happening.

In the middle of all that, I was invited to attend a Dance Critics workshop by the good folks at Goethe Institut in Jakarta, Indonesia from June 14 - 18, moderated by Real Time Australia's Keith Gallasch, a very lovely man who walked in the rain with us. The workshop fell on the same week as the Indonesian Dance Festival and it was a whirlwind of dance, writing about dance, and talking about what we wrote. Despite all my years as a dance critic, I still learned a lot from that workshop, especially how to clean my words and word choices, and how dance criticism is a responsibility and not just a blowing off at the mouth. I know all this, but I needed them reiterated.

Here's Keith's account of the experience, with lots of photos of me (okay, 2 photos): http://www.realtimearts.net/article/97/9920

And here's a list of the three reviews I wrote in that crazy week.

Aspiration and Influence: Final Night Program at the IDF

They look out from behind the frame as if from a window, peering at the audience as we inescapably stare back. The man in the tutu, revealed to be the source of the relentless singing, pauses only to rudely ask, “What are you looking at?” From a choreographer who has danced for Madonna and appeared in films, Supriyanto is obviously questioning such scrutiny and what all the hoopla is about. What I find compelling is that the audience gets this.

Journey Into Light: Asri Mery Sidowati's Merah

The dancers are only very slightly illuminated by a smattering of light on the cyclorama that simulates moonlight shining through thick leafy branches. Because we had been in the darkness so long, I was not even sure if the second dancer, situated in an upstage corner, was indeed actually there; he seemed to blend into the cyclorama so much that my still-adjusting eyes were convinced that he was merely an image projected on the screen.

When Does Forever End?: Meg Stuart and Philipp Gehmacher's Maybe Forever

In Meg Stuart and Philipp Gehmacher’s Maybe Forever, the pair then sit with legs outstretched and backs to the audience, leaning to the side at the same angle, plagued by a weight that neither can ignore. The performance space is hazily semi-lit, reminding me of the way light creeps into your bedroom at dawn. There is little stylization in the way the couple suddenly grab each other and spread against each other full length only to discreetly remove themselves from contact to find another spot on the floor; but this push-and-pull feels like a dance.

Remembering Giselle

(Lucas as Albrecht, me as Giselle convinced that "he loves me not" during the mad scene)

While putting CDs into storage (because who uses CDs in this day and age?) and checking on a bunch of unmarked discs, I came across a DVD of my school's 1998 recital, where we did Giselle. It was unmarked because it was originally a VHS copy that I had digitized, and it had snow and static from the deterioration of the tape. Still, I went on and watched parts of it (forwarding is easier when digital obviously) and marveled at so many things.

First, I'd like to comment on our choice of a full-length Giselle for a recital. After the show, we (my family who owns and runs the school) all agreed that it wasn't such a good idea for a school recital - the story was too sad, and almost scary (Erin is caught off cam saying to our videographer, "Daddy, I don't want to watch ballet na..." while I'm losing my mind in Act I) and the kids only got to be 2 characters: peasants and wilis. Swans are okay, even fun, but wilis? As Lucas put it, it seemed we just wanted to do a full-length Giselle and we forced our students to humor us. Granted that none of them complained at all, and they really got into the story as much as we did, it was still something we never did again.

Secondly, you know how it's easy to say, oh it's just a recital? Therefore, not really taken seriously? Given that there were kids as young as 5 who made up the corps de ballet (we simplified a lot of their steps), if you look closely at myself, Lucas (who of course played Albrecht), Quincy (who of course played Hilarion), Jacqui (who of course played Myrtha) (of course, I was Giselle, if it isn't obvious yet), and even at our Bertha (Mimi) and Bathilde (Besy), we were oh-so-seriously doing Giselle. Very seriously, really.

This struck me right after I died in Act I, when Lucas and Quincy blame each other for my death - how real they were portraying it. Before that, I was watching the mad scene with amusement - how Ika was just a baby but she was already acting and projecting, how the kids were filed in single line watching me go crazy, how my Capezio pointe shoes didn't show off my instep at all when I was not en pointe (I hated Capezio, but I only discovered Gaynors around 5 or 6 years later), how fat I was and how super OMG thin both Lucas and Quincy were, and how my hair was giving me such a hard time because it was at the height of being balik-ayos (What I would kill to have that kind of hair again) and therefore falling all over my face at every opportunity. It's not that I wasn't doing it seriously, it's just that, as a spectator being nudged by this distant memory, I was noticing EVERYTHING. There were so many things about it that was so, "Wahaha, school recital!" but there were so many things about it that was very real, too.

Fast forward to where Giselle rises from the dead and tries to make her presence known to Albrecht, who is visiting her grave. I am flooded by memories of all the hard work I put into dancing this ballet - making sure my leg was high enough, the pains I took to make sure that my characterization emanated from each movement, practicing not jumping into the air but evaporating as would a mist. My technique 12 years ago is nowhere near what it is now (or better yet where it was 5 years ago), but I'm really impressed with my then-24 year old self. It's actually quite inspiring.

My mom would chide me when I get too emotional over preparing for a performance in one of our school recitals, saying the audience won't notice if I don't live up to my standards, that what I do is pretty good already. I love my mom, but this is one case where I'm glad I don't listen to her. If I found this video now and my performance was lackluster, I would wonder why I try to dance at all. Getting older and nearing that point where I won't be fun to watch anymore, I've been treasuring each day that I can still dance and the kind of dancing that's worthy of my time, that's worthy of me. Tonight, I'm realizing again just how lucky I am, and I'm very grateful.