Author: pocketalchemy

Dancing Semaphore

A late afternoon session at my sewing machine, buried in piles of netting, finishing the costume for my current dance project Semaphore:

I’m excited to be presenting this new wee solo Semaphore tonight and tomorrow, at a coffee house presentation put on by students of The School of Toronto Dance Theatre (my Alma mater). I’m friends with Megumi Kokuba, one of the current graduating students there, and we decided it would be fun to work on something together for her last student coffee house. We settled on Semaphore Flag systems — in both English and Japanese — as an inspiration point.We choreographed together, Megumi is performing and I’ve made the costume and set, comprised of giant paper airplanes (it was fun learning how to fold them online. I was never a big on making paper airplanes as a kid, so I had to look ’em up, now I’m hooked).

Megumi models the costume in studio B (I have spent many hours of my life in this room, taking class, rehearsing, teaching class, choreographing, sigh):

The work literally uses Semaphore Flag positions to spell out the words “remember” and “solitaire” in English and Japanese. We created choreography using the flag symbols as a starting point, tracing their lines through the space. We also walked the points used in semaphore flagging across the floor. Megumi and I worked fast (we spent just 3 hours in the studio together, yikes!) due to mad schedules for both of us and I’m really pleased with the result. The music we used is by Buck 65, a fantastic Canadian artist. Both his music and lyrics in the song Paper Airplane speak to me of longing and reaching across space and time. A beautiful, lilting song, it felt like the right fit for this dance.

Check out a 3 minute clip of Semaphore I’ve compiled on vimeo. It was filmed during the tech run, first time under lights and with the “living set” of 3 dancers that walk with paper airplanes across the space and around the dancer throughout the work.

Rudi and Gene (3 1/2 years and 6 months respectively) both came to some of our rehearsals and also sat through the technical and dress rehearsals — they are superstars with focus and patience that belie their years and months. They actually enjoyed sitting in the dark theatre (for the most part, Rudi was a bit freaked by the super-dark between dances and the cheering from the fellow performers attending rehearsal) and watching the magic unfold under the theatrical lighting. Rudi’s quiet little wonderings were so charming, “Where’s the music?” (a legit question, oh contemporary dance in silence!), and “I see ghost shadows!” (oh massive shadows thrown by theatre lights!). As a mom it’s so rewarding to still be able to practice my craft and involve my wee kids in what I do. I love that they won’t remember the first time they attended a theatre event, it’s just part of their lives.

Well, as we say in dance before the show, merde (instead of break a leg, that’s for the theatre folk) and may your weekend be gorgeous.

—

Click here for details on the show Coffee House: Dark Roast.

An Earthy Day

I am starting today with 2 things I love: soup making and contemporary dance. Food from the ground and feet on the ground — with consciousness and artistic purpose. A lovely way to enter the week.

I’ve got a pile of beautiful organic root veg (here they are enjoying the March sunshine!) begging to be made into soup. I shall oblige …

… and a deadline to have a wee solo completed for a performance this weekend. I’m working on a dance for Megumi Kokuba, a graduating student from The School of Toronto Dance Theatre‘s Professional Training Program. We’re collaborating on this solo for her, using both English and Japanese Flag Semaphore as a starting point for choreography. A dress is in the making and there are 3 huge paper airplanes as the set. I hope to share some video of the work later this week. In the meantime, feet-at-the-ready for final choreographic touches, which may or may not get settled on in the kitchen while soup making, just sayin’:

As per my post last Monday, I’ve spent the past week working on being conscious and present in the task at hand. Embracing or finding the simplicity of a job, a moment in time. And while soup-making and dance-making may seem disparate partners and dividers of attention, I think the cooking will provide some contemplation space for choreographic editing since the dance really is done, I just need to consider finishing touches, the editing of the movement and structure. And I think it’s working, this being present business; I seem to be a happier, more satisfied, less yell-y/cranky, exhausted and sad version of myself both as a momma and simply(!) as a being human. Happy week to all!

Rearview Fridays: Paint Sample Art

Today’s Rearview Friday is my paint sample art — a piece I made to brighten our bedroom wall last year. I’d found a stash of leftover paint samples from another project (which I describe below) and the muse woke up!

It’s an quick and dirty way to make a beautiful (if I do say so myself!) piece of art. I think I’ll make a how-to for it soon, so stay tuned!

Now why did I have a stack of paint samples tucked away? Press on …

When I present my dance work, I like to make unique program inserts, something to treasure, a little piece of art that supports the dance. In the spring of 2008, I created a dance about Achromatopsia (colour blindness). I used paint samples as my program inserts and put a quote from Dr. Oliver Sacks on the backs of them, a teaser to whet the audience’s curiosity. I’ll eventually include a Rearview Friday post about the dance, a piece called A|Chromatic.

The quote is awesome, I’ve gotta share it too:

“What, I wondered, would the visual world be like for those born totally colour-blind? Would they, perhaps, lacking any sense of something missing, have a world no less dense and vibrant than our own? Might they even have developed heightened perceptions of visual tone and texture and movement and depth, and live in a world in some ways more intense than our own, a world of heightened reality – one that we can only glimpse echoes of in the work of the great black-and-white photographers? Might they indeed see us as peculiar, distracted by trivial or irrelevant aspects of the visual world, and insufficiently sensitive to its real visual essence? I could only guess, as I had never met anyone completely colour-blind.”

Dr. Sacks wrote about Achromatopsia in his book Island of the Colorblind, a fascinating read. I was drawn to explore the idea of colourblindness — black and white vision — in my dance project because my mother and aunt were both born with Achromatopsia. And in spite of literally growing up alongside someone so close to me whose eyes see so differently than mine, I was/am hard-pressed to imagine what the world is like through a constant black and white lense.

Tiny blankets & pillows

Today was the cold, windy, flying-snowflakes variety. Good for staying in, cozying up, and playing with Playmobil! There were pirates and adventurers staking out the cottagers, the lawn boy was lunching with the motocross racer and Mr. Snake got chewed by Gene … just another day.

An awesome perk to having kids is easily justifying the purchase and procurement of Playmobil, one of my favourite toys ever. I adore little things and toys, making set-ups with them and marveling at the clever detail.

Rudi and I decided that the cottaging couple needed blankets and pillows for when they’re out camping on starry nights, so that was the craft of the day:

A pocket full of thoughts …

I love/need to mull things over, weigh thoughts and ideas thoroughly (sometimes that means ad nauseum, I admit it!), check ’em out in different lights, size ‘er up. I don’t have a lot of time for that these days, but I grab my moments, my in-betweens — in bed as I fade out, nursing on the couch, walking to the park, making soup, riding up the stretch of highway between us and Nana&Papa’s house for weekend visits.

Which brings me to:

As mentioned in last Wednesday’s post, I’ve been meditating on simplicity. For me, right now, I think simplifying means not planning too much in a day, a week, a month, something I was practicing when Gene was under 3 months, but since then I’ve shifted into planning/hoping to do too much and often end the day frazzled, thinking I didn’t do enough, frustrated by the unstarted or unfinished projects staring at me with longing eyes. I set myself up for failure every time I plan too much in a day because my natural response to having too many things going is to panic and run for cover, figurative and literal. I stop thinking clearly or being able to prioritize and I just sit on the couch hoping the things I wanted to accomplish will get some of that Disney-princess-story-magic where they do themselves and have a catchy soundtrack and a subliminal message to boot!

So last week I started consciously planning to not plan a whole lot. I do the basics of my stay-at-home-mom day (which is a full-time job, I know I know, I grant that to others in my position but have a hard time feeling legitimate in it myself) and then I choose one thing beyond that that might, just might, get done. And funnily enough, I’ve actually been more effective since it seems this approach has alleviated the flight response. We’ll see if I can keep it up.

I’m consciously working at, reminding myself, to be present in the moment I’m in. It feels a little cringy and trite to write that down. And I am fully aware it’s not original. But it’s exactly what I need to know and practice right now. Actually Being Where I Am — in heart, head, body.

All my life I’ve been a planner, an anticipator. I think and yes, definitely worry, about the mythic “down-the-road” days … the big one for me right now is what happens when the mat leave is up in August? I just don’t know. And the lack of security in the not knowing freaks me out. But then I sabotage the lovely, suspended, necessary time that I am so privileged and deeply glad to have courtesy of this mat leave, particularly because I know so many women that don’t even have the option to have this year of partially-paid mothering. And when I am fully present, I experience such deep satisfaction, in everything really.

Someone wise recently reminded me that as a trained dancer, I’m practiced at being acutely present in the physical moment I’m in as a mover. I am working on translating some of that knowledge from studio to living room.

My 3-year-old is in a creative dance class on Saturday mornings. He loves it, skips down the street, has a buzzing, jumping energy in anticipation. He’s in class with two little friends of his whose moms and I have grown into wonderful friends through our kids. The class is only 45 minutes but we go for coffee during that time and honestly, Saturday coffee with these ladies has been a fantastic anchor point in my quiet maternity-leave life. In a period without a lot of adult-only interaction, I revel in those minutes of catch-up, giggling and gossiping and trading stories. We’ve decided to keep it up once classes are out, because somehow knowing that that visit is set gives the week a marker, a turning point of shared-experience. I must say, I like having a regular ladies-visit in my calendar. I highly recommend.

Last week I got a joyful email on a sunny morning from a lovely friend with the following link she was inspired by. And I think it’s worth sharing. Thanks to the writer Amelia Olson,

Click for the whole thing.

This bit feel particularly relevant, not directly but something that I often sense, and subsequently temper myself because of:
“As a woman, I feel continually shhh’ed.  Too sensitive.  Too mushy.  Too wishy washy. Blah blah.  Don’t let someone steal your tenderness.  Don’t allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable beating heart.  Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to truly be affected by things.”

I’m going to keep feeling deeply. Cheers.

Rearview Fridays: A Tale of Two Quilts

Today’s Rearview Friday title today comes to you courtesy of my amazing cleverness at 3am while contemplating my inability to actually sleep while the baby is sleeping and thinking of blog titles to pass the time/lull me back to sleep. Ah-thank-you. As a tangent, I feel I should add that A Tale of Two Cities is my favourite Dickens tale and one of my all time favourite books. It captured my 16-year-old heart when it was assigned for a grade 11 Social Studies assignment. But this post is not about Dickens, or cities for that matter. It’s about 2 quilts and my first “grown up” knitting adventure.

As a Waldorf student, I learned to knit in Grade 1. I made a multi-coloured Gnome with a long body (we’re talking upwards of 18 inches) and a pointed hat, a triumph for any 6 year old. Not sure where that gnome got to after all these years, probably tending a fir tree in Alberta and smoking something fragrant on a mossy log … anyhoo, from there I knitted this and that as a kid and knew the basics — knit, purl, basic increase and decrease, I could knit a scarf or a mitt or a leg-warmer if pressed.

But by the time I was 30 and expecting my first son Rudi, it had been years since I’d knit. I had a long daily commute on the subway and thought that I’d really like to knit my baby a blanket. I discovered Knitty and Ravelry and the amazing online knitting world. There were multitudes of tutorials on YouTube to learn any stitches I didn’t know, so I waded in! I bought beautiful yellow washable wool at Romni Wools in Toronto [aside: a totally amazing wool store in Toronto, if you visit here and love wool you must go!]

I found a lovely pattern and even taught myself to cable! It came out beautifully. Then I took the washable part too literally and washed it in a machine. When I took it out, the centre bit of the machine had literally chewed my hard work up. It was so bad I laughed, learned a valuable lesson, and thought I’d keep it as a car-blankie and a reminder to be gentle on hand knits in the future.

Insanity or stubbornness prevailed and I decided to start again and whup the butt of that blanket project. I bought more wool, I did it again. I prevailed! Here’s the one that’s been bundled around both my wee boys. The blocking has been pulled beyond recognition so that it’s almost square from all the wrapping and stretching around tiny bodies. it’s been washed a number of times without incident — even in the washer on the most delicate of delicate cycles.

The pattern was free and easy to follow, even for a relatively green knitter. Find it at For the Love of Yarn. I followed the pattern exactly as given (with the noted corrections on Feb. 5, 2007).

 

Quilting Challenge: February

My 2012 Quilting Challenge (to myself) continues today with February’s result. It’s a little apple! I’m pleased with the simplicity of it, the detached leaf.

Simple.

I’m working on simple in lots of places — sewing, walls, dancing, writing, art, teaching, choreographing, mothering, being. Simply being where I am. I tend towards complicated, tangled. I need to unravel, unfold, see more space, feel more space, give and have more space. Perhaps that’s cryptic, but it’s what I’ve got for today. More on that soon I imagine.

And here the little apple sits beside January’s leaf:

Rearview Fridays: Dresses for Cedar Stories

In August of 2001 I had my first professional gig as a dancer. Freshly minted from The School of Toronto Dance Theatre’s Professional Training Program, I felt a 50/50 mix of apprehension/excitement about life in dance. The choreographer and employer was my dear friend and regular collaborator (to this day!) Lindsay Zier-Vogel. [ASIDE: you should check her out, her writing and crafting and sheer verve are intoxicating. I’m sure she’ll come up on this blog often! Her Love Letter Project is particularly awesome.] The piece was called Cedar Stories.

I costumed Cedar Stories, resulting in some of my favourite original costume work to date. Lindsay actually still wears one of the dresses around socially!

We found some fantastic fabric that stretched in all directions but was somehow not spandexy. It was dark green on one side and light on the underside, which was fun design-wise. I measured and drew and patterned up a storm. And the costume-faeries were with me because they worked like a charm, timeless.

Cedar Stories was performed in fFIDA (aka the now defunct Fringe Festival of Independent Dance Artists). I shared the stage with 2 fellow students from The School of TDT, Jennifer-Lynn Crawford and Kate Holden (centre and left respectively in the above shot) — both women who have gone onto active, inspiring careers as dance artists. The music was live, a cellist named Rachel McBride. Her skills were remarkable and haunting, it was magic working in studio and on stage with her.

Lindsay and I got to know each other at The School of TDT. I actually remember her choreography at a student coffee house before I really remember her. It may or may not have been to Ani DiFranco!  She’s got a rare choreographic sensibility. I still remember running backwards in a big arc in this work, feeling rather kamikaze, imagery — such as a hand gesture mimicking the way Chestnut leaves fold down. A pair of my Fluevog shoes also featured in Cedar Stories, I think I had to toss one behind my back, and I may or may not have clocked another dancer at some point *ahem*.

I’m not sure if there is video footage of Cedar Stories available, 2001 being the dark ages before little digital gadgets with more memory than I can conceive of were readily available. I don’t even think we have photos from the actual performance. But I do have these backstage pics. And great memories.

Oh, 2001 was also the summer I met and fell in love with a boy named Adam. Now I’m married to him. Still in love, actually way more than I was at first blush. ‘Twas a good summer!

Post V-day …

Yesterday was Valentines and Rudi worked for hours at making some spectacular cards for us. He’s learned to use tape and is very proud, his tongue sticks out with concentration and his little fingers work so carefully:

I’ve been trying and mostly succeeding at doing some of my artistic work during the day amidst and around the mothering of my 2 wee boys. But it’s come at a cost, I feel like I’m unraveling a bit and the balance of life vs work/art is swinging back and forth wildly, dizzyingly, instead of wafting tolerably.

It was working for a bit but I realized that I was putting-off my 3 year old more than usual because I was either preparing food, nursing the 5 month old or working on some sewing or online on the blog or researching. Not fair to him. And sending me in too many directions, which always ends up making me feel useless. Not fair to me. And since I have a lot of interests, I tend towards this anyways — being in too many directions at once, having a lot of “in progress” projects that get done bit by bit as interest and time allow. And then the feeling useless translates into me getting defensive to the world and being a major brittle, cranky pants. So it’s time for a schedule overhaul!

We are now playing with Rudi for a while in the mornings immediately following breakfast, instead of us both going off on our own, he to play and me to work. Today we were in spaceships (he made one for me by arranging all the balls he owns around me in a circle!) We talked on walkie-talkies (wood pieces from his play tool set) and took pictures of planets with his toy camera. It gave a much better tone to the day, Rudi was happier and I’m feeling like I actually accomplished something rather than just spinning my wheels.

And instead of trying to do everything — mothering and art-working — all at once, I’m going to try dedicating 2 to 3 nights per week to the sewing and crafting instead of surrendering to the couch and good/bad TV with the hubby every single night, as tempting as it is. And the days will be more for the boys, and food prep, and walks and whatever comes along, like unexpected poos or cuddles or naps or cleaning jags! We’ll see how it goes, I’m going to give it the old college try anyways.

I’ll leave you with this little nugget of goodness in honour of yesterday’s love day. I’ve been following the blog of artistic mom Adele Enersen since I found it in 2010 — you should check out her etsy blog to see what I’m talking about – her sleeping baby adventure photos are utterly inspiring! Rudi was too old to try this with by the time I saw her blog, so when I had Gene I knew I wanted to make some of my own with him during his sleepy times. Here he is, rocking the Cupid:

Rearview Fridays: rug hooking

On Fridays I dig up an old project, craft or choreography or costume, and feature it here. However I am not the star of today’s Rearview Friday. My Nana is. But my humble contribution is pictured, circa 1989. Hers is just a “hare” younger than I am because she made it for my toddler self. Read on …

I love rug hooking. And I don’t mean that awful, fluffy polyester latch hooking stuff from the 80s, though that has it’s place I’m sure, I mean traditional hooked rugs. Practical art made from wool on a burlap backing. My grandmother spent her retired years rug hooking and I knew implicitly that she loved it. As I write this post I realize I have no idea how she found rug hooking [note to self: check with auntie about that]. She and her group of “hooker” friends (my 6 year old self did not get the joke) made the most lovely, textured pieces. I think they even had lacquered, handmade wood name badges that said “happy hookers” on them. I remember watching her cut wool on her cutting tool, dust motes swirling, she leaning back and looking down her nose through bifocals then leaning back into her work. And I would hang about near her work table fingering the stripes of dyed wool, loving the texture, the variation in the dye and contrast in colours.

My Nana taught me how to hook rugs when I was a tween. She was both smart and kind enough to have me work on coloured burlap so that I didn’t have to fill in the background. The hoop still has my name written on it in her handwriting.

Thinking about Nana and her rugs has me waxing nostalgic. I feel a deep yearning for her and Edmonton, my home city of big sky and crisp cold. Thinking about this post also made me curious, prompted me to look for Ontario hookers — and it seems there’s a lot of action up North (that sounds so wrong, I’ll give you a moment to collect yourself, but I really am taking burlap and wool here ladies and gents) and I am sure that at some point, even if it takes me umpteen years, I’ll find my way into this art. It’s a meeting of painting and craft. I won’t be able to resist. But for now I should really stay on sewing and parenting task, plenty at hand. So many things to do with my hands and so little time.

My Nana bunnies:

I am so happy that I carry a piece by Nan. She made this one as a chair back cushion and my tiny self did sit against this lovely rug on my tiny rocking chair. As you can see, she wielded wool like paint. She also used a very fine grade or cut of wool that yielded finely detailed rugs. Her initials sit in the bottom right, RK, Ruth Kendal. My father’s mother. For her I am thankful in ways impossible to articulate in words, but I know her art and vivaciousness permeate my life and work inextricably. Happy, inspired Friday folks!