Inspiration

"The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word."

--Mata Hari





Natasha Wang, who won the Amateur poler category in the East Meets West Tri-polar competition this weekend.

Beauty secrets

So this past weekend while in Chicago, I had an amazing makeup lesson from Julia Hamilton, who is a trainer for Smashbox Cosmetics in the midwest and an absolutely ridiculously talented makeup artist. She taught me how to apply makeup to my Asian hooded mono-lids in a way that ACTUALLY looks good! She also let me in on a little trade secret:

There exists a makeup brush company out of the midwest called Crown Brush. Compare one of their "studio series" brushes to one by Stila and you will find... they are... exactly the same. Because Crown makes the private-label brushes that other companies stamp and sell! And check on Crown's website and you will find that brushes... are $2-5 each.... and those exact same brushes.... are sold for $20-30 by Stila and the other companies! So, if you don't mind having a brush without a logo on it, and are looking for high quality without the price, they are a great resource for brushes.

This 23-piece kit sells for only $55!

Too good not to share this kind of info =)

And, breathe.

Off to Chicago tonight for a 4-day weekend! In an effort to curtail my usual over-packing, I have made a list of clothing that I am bringing with me. And it only includes ONE pair of shoes? I may have to do something about that.

SYTYCD

Some pieces transcend dance. And you stop seeing the steps, and you start feeling the heartbeat, and you start hearing the dialogue. And you know, when it ends, you want to know what happens next.

Revisiting the past

Wednesday, May 26, 2004

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about first loves. It’s a complicated thing, this whole ‘first love’ business. The first person who was the welcome recipient of your heart on a silver platter. The first time you had the thoughts that maybe, just maybe, relationships could work out. The one you could spend hours with and never tire of, even after the honeymoon and the legendary ‘one year bumps’ had been passed. The one who, even when you fought, you both understood that the relationship wasn’t at stake, that it was a point that you were arguing over and that no matter what the love was still there. The person who had you before you had baggage from breaking up with them and having your heart broken. The first person who, instead of judging, you simply accepted for who they were. And loved them for it.

The problem is, your first love is your first experience at having a real relationship. Neither of us knew how to really handle love, or problems, or commitment or arguments. We did the best we could, but what experience did we have to tell us, ‘yes this is typical, this is expected, this is normal.’ Because despite not wanting to be average... you want the reassurance of knowing other people go through this too, and this is how they deal with it. And when growing up knocked on our door, neither of us knew how to answer it. Real life, graduation, jobs, finding an apartment. And so we broke up.

He still has yet to be replaced, and he never will be, because he was the original that the mold was formed from. The only thing I can do is to change the mold, little by little, using what I’ve realized since then. I see my past with him as a huge learning experience, one that I’m glad for and that I would do all over again in a heartbeat-but still, a past, one that I hope to move on and grow from. Because if I were to ever go back… it would be out of fear that I can’t do better. Out of fear that I will fail. Out of fear of giving my heart away again. Out of fear of getting hurt. And more then anything, I don’t want to live with that guiding me. I want to do things that cause me to continue to grow and mature.

I know a part of me will always love him, no matter how he feels about me or whether or not we talk or see each other. But I know that our eventual break-up came simply because it was time, because we had learned all we could from one another and given all we could to each other.

In Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, there are a series of reincarnations. With each one you learn, with each one you grow until you reach enlightenment, always in a constant state of change and evolution. And the idea of reincarnation, the idea of recycling, rejects the idea that there is one true love. It rejects the idea that there is only one person out there for you. It is more about becoming the kind of person who can be loved, and how to love, so that when a person comes along that fits, you can adjust and form to each other until you’re no longer two separate pieces, but a whole.

That's my idea of being a romantic.

That's my ideal.

One Hundred Sonnets of Love XVII

by Pablo Neruda

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep

**I have always loved this poem. I was reminded of it going through my old blog entries. It strikes a chord today, and I thought I would share.

Inspiration

I have been thinking a little bit more recently about what I am drawn to in other people's movement, and what I am going to aspire to more as I develop as a dancer.

I've been fortunate enough to live in a city where there are amazing dance companies and choreographers, and over the past 8 or 9 months especially I've been trying to broaden my horizons, watching pieces by the New York City Ballet, Christopher Wheeldon, Alvin Ailey, Alvin Ailey II, the Cedar Lake Dance company, Savion Glover & the OtherZ, the Batsheva Dance company, Paul Taylor, the Boston Ballet, the Australian Ballet, Sang Jijia, and Diana Vishneva.

I may not necessarily understand the themes in all the works I have seen, but it has educated me more in the breadth and scope of what dance can be. I think it will also inform the influences that I absorb in my own movement, and shape the kind of dancer I will be moving forward.

Dance, to me, is:

Honest.
Movement driven by breath.
Not necessarily beautiful. Pain is not beautiful. Hurt is not beautiful.
A means of communication and expression for the dancer, music, or choreographer.
Most intriguing when it is improvised.
Un-self-conscious.