Project Flying Siren

Ah, the siren. She's human, but wild in the most wonderful way, a mysterious creature of the wind and waves, a predator but the sweetest kind. I've loved this concept for years and always wanted to put it in play in an aerial or pole piece. While I'm nowhere near as experienced in the air as I am on the pole, and I didn't think there was a conceptually logical way to make a pole-dancing mermaid work, the concept was just too good to put away for good. But after about two years of (very sporadic) lyra classes, and a lot of playing around on my own, this summer I felt comfortable enough to attempt a piece where my legs wouldn't be available for emergency gripping, spin assistance, invert help or audience distraction, haha!

A friend of mine is a professional mermaid - what a brilliant job title, right!? She's incredibly talented in the water and recently got into circus herself, performing acro yoga as part of her shows for parties and corporate events - in her swimmable silicone tail! (Check out her fantastical adventures as Catalina Mermaid at Sheroes Entertainment!) That was the final push I needed - if she could mermaid it up in the circus world, I could too, and I needed to stop dreaming and make it happen. 

The original inspiration.

Once I decided I really, absolutely, must find a way to do this, I started doing research. Pinterest is of course a godsend for conceptual development these days. It's a great way to find a huge amount of visual touchstones that help you shape a nebulous concept into a good story. This photo of a mermaid on the rocks was the first image I saw that really struck me.

The tail would be the biggest challenge. Sticky silicone wouldn't work, since it would grip the lyra and prevent me from doing anything. It's also enormously expensive and not very sparkly, bad for stage performances under bright lights. What is smooth, sparkly and looks like scales? SEQUINS. Every pole dancer's favorite fabric. So I began searching far and wide for a sequin fabric that would hold up to repeated aerial scuffing, pulling and compressing under body weight. I wanted hanging sequins, not the kind sewn or glued side by side to the fabric, so that they would actually look like scales when made into a tail. And I knew I wanted gold or white - both bright, beautiful shades that would look great in performance. Fortunately, they were also colors that worked with Catalina's tails in case we wanted to join forces for performances in the future.

Inspired vs. Discouraged

This weekend I went to the Pole Sport Organization national championships in Vegas to shoot the performances as one half of Alloy Images. Over two days, I watched every minute as nearly 100 dancers presented their pieces onstage - and I have a confession. I came away inspired, but a little discouraged too. Watching competitions can be such an emotional roller coaster.

When does a dance become just a gymnastics showcase? When does inspiration become discouragement? I can't pinpoint the moment. But at some point in the day, I turned off the camera after one piece and I let out a big sigh. I'm never going to be that good, I thought. I don't care about fonjis. I can't do those insane power moves. Why am I even dancing? Why do I bother performing? What's the point? I don't even compare to that girl.

I know that I'm not alone. After every competition, big or small, someone posts a video on facebook of an uber-intense power pole routine with a caption that's a variation of "what am I doing with my life? why do I even try?"

Well, after feeling sorry for myself for a good 30 seconds I remembered why I try. This weekend I also saw some visceral, brave, soul-shaking pieces that didn't have anything to do with power pole. Don't get me wrong, a great iron X can make me cheer, but it doesn't necessarily SAY anything to me. The performances that stuck with me this weekend were deeper. They required a kind of rawness, something I've written about many times on this blog. Crystal Belcher performed to "Strange Fruit," and left the audience in shocked silence, absolutely torn open with her hauntingly beautiful piece about the lynching of African Americans - before they burst into wild applause. Danielle Romano honored a relative with her heart-wrenching performance about going slowly out of your mind through torture and captivity. These dancers were the definition of epic - in the literary sense.
They didn't just tell us a simple story. Their characters had nuance and depth. They clawed their way to triumph, felt the torture of heartbreak or came crashing to earth in despair. These were not pole ROUTINES. They were STORIES. They were artwork in motion.

And that's what yanked me out of feeling like I don't belong in this world. So maybe I'm not going to win any competitions unless I learn to fonji. But the bottom line is - I'm the only one who can tell my stories. I just have to reach deep enough, give enough of myself to the audience that they feel what I feel. And anyone can do that. I saw little glimpses of it even in the Level 1 performances - women who are just learning basic spins and still struggle with their bodies - nevertheless, they gave me moments of delight. It's not about being "good." It's about what you have to say.

There were too many dancers this weekend who opened themselves up onstage, didn't place or forgot a trick and ended up crying in the wings. It just kills me when I see that happen, because I have walked offstage feeling like a failure too. Although - it's always from trying to be impressive, comparing myself to other dancers, and feeling like I come up short.

Of course in a competition, it feels like it's all about that comparison - but in my experience, the pieces that felt as if they were crawling out of me were what impressed the audience, not the routines I put together because I was TRYING to be impressive. It takes time, and it's so hard, but it's worth it. As an artist you will always be hungry and you will never be satisfied. But when you can give voice to a story that comes from your soul, it's as close as you will ever get. Find those stories. Pay attention to them. Your inner artist is saying something important. Listen.

I leave you with this quote from Martha Graham, that hangs on the wall in my home studio. It keeps me sane, on those long nights when I am choreographing all alone and feeling frustrated.

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others. 

Martha Graham

Dance deeper.

From left, Dru Bramlett, Anna Grundstrom, Danielle Romano, Tracee Kafer. So much amazing.

I keep coming back to these words, dance deeper. I taught a freedance workshop in June, and I was going to teach another in July but the time slot I could teach didn't work out for anyone, which was a real bummer - but anyway. Late in June, I was putting together the flier for July and trying to come up with a phrase that would really stand alone as the core of what I was trying to coax out of my students. Something that would emphasize the kind of dancer I was trying to help them become. And it sort of suddenly fell in my lap. Dance deeper.

I shared this on my Facebook page last fall, but I just came across it again today and I think it is as relevant now as it was then. Sharing again, because it's such brilliant advice from the gorgeous aerialist Alysia Michelle James.

Today a friend asked me what to do about getting into performing. What I thought was going to be a short and sweet answer turned into this manifesto. I wanted to share it for all the aspiring performers of any artform out there that had the same question.

Bringing sexy back.

Sexy. It's easy to breeze right past the word, and the whole idea, when we see half-naked women plastered on every empty space, physical and digital, every day. It's too simple to think that there's no value to emphasizing the sexy in pole dancing - after all, hasn't it made us too easily mocked already? We're dismissed as strippers, sluts, whores, desperate for attention.

But deep into the first week, on the second year of UPA's Bringing Sexy Back, I've been thinking about why sexy is important in pole. Why it feels so satisfying to watch a class of Level 1 students, wide-eyed, laughing nervously with each other as they discover body rolls for the first time. What is it about that breathless, heart-thumping high I get from a no-holds-barred freedance in heels that makes me feel not just sexier, but more alive?

Why I can never be rich.

Because Etsy takes all of my money. Really. It's true! There is just too much wonderful dance stuff on Etsy, and I love that I can spend my money with small businesses - people who care about what they make, can often customize for you, are usually involved in the dance/circus/yoga community, and are conscious consumers themselves. Here's my top 10 of places to get rad dance stuff.

 OmBeautiful Leggings are wonderful. They come in multiple lengths (including extra long!!), lovely custom colors and any size. Foldover waistband, thick fabric perfect for aerial or stretching, and the color holds through the wash. Yes please.

Excerpts from my pole journal

I love my pole journal. Ah...journals. I can never finish one, so I have about four that I've tried to combine many times. One is lined, with notes on what I taught in each class and the date. One is a hardcover art book with blank pages, perfect for costume sketches and stick figures of new moves. But I honestly don't know how dancers get along without at least one. Recently, I taught a freedance workshop - which is probably the class where you need a journal the least - but still, I gave all the participating students little journals so they could make notes on the exercises. Every time I open mine up, I find a combo or trick that I had forgotten about. Or a half-choreographed routine that I should really finish. They are the solution to my awful memory, and a repository of works in progress. Also a good place to doodle while you think up new performance pieces.