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Showing posts with label Tango. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tango. Show all posts

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Beautiful art abounds this weekend in the Mission.

IMG_4927

***

There are people who can walk into a room and immediately magnetize it. They walk into a room and you know it. It's not a conscious thing they do, there's just something about them that captivates you.

I remember the first time I saw Soad. I just thought she effused some sort of magical qualities and I couldn't help wondering who she was.

I met her at Ney and Jennifer's tango studio for an artist's reception of Soad's tango-inspired paintings. At the end of the show, I introduced myself to her, and asked her if someday I might take her portrait for my new i live here:SF project. I tried to explain myself to her in a way that wouldn't make me sound like a crazy stalker, considering she had no idea who I was.

I'm glad to say that our photo shoot together, which is still one of my favorites, has also led to a wonderful and supportive friendship.

***

Soad is participating in the Open Studios weekend in the Mission. She's opened her gallery, her home and her heart to those who want to come and appreciate her art and meet other kindred spirits.

If you can, stop by and say hello. I'm sure you'll adore her just like I do, and discover a wonderful artistic talent, besides.

***

From her invitation:

StudioSoad SF Open Studios this weekend!

It has been said that art is a tryst,
for in the joy of it maker and beholder meet. ~Kojiro Tomita
I can't wait for us to meet... this weekend!

Saturday & Sunday, October 10th & 11th from 11am to 6pm
or by appointment
3560 24th Street, #5 (@ Guerrero, 3rd floor, no elevator), San Francisco - 4 blocks up from the 24th/Mission BART station

See you soon...
un abrazo,
Soad

http://www.studiosoad.com/
sign up to be on my email list: http://eepurl.com/dG8i

General Open Studios Info: http://artspan.org/

Monday, June 22, 2009

the best of friends

Patti and Ginny

***

The more pictures I take, the more I learn. Or perhaps the more pictures I take, the more I see and then wish to see beyond even that.

Today a friend who is a painter said that she wanted to take me to a photography exhibit with her because, as a painter, she knows how to look at a painting but thinks she does not know how to look at a photograph. That made me nervous because I am not sure I know how to look at a photograph either.

All I know how to do is look at what I want to see.

***

I've been very focused on taking pictures of people because I learn so much. I learn about lighting and angles of the face. I try to figure out how I can capture a person in the way I think I understand them to be and then sometimes am rewarded when the subject likes what I have done.

Up until now, I've also been very focused on capturing the individual in relationship to a place, but not to another being.

That's a whole new ball of wax. Taking a photo of a relationship. I had never thought about that before.

***

"Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet." ~ Colette

I have known Patti (the human in the photo above) for over two years. Maybe it's been three, I can't remember. We met on the tango dance floor. She was the first woman I'd ever danced with and is a very special dance partner to me. I wish that the tango community at large appreciated her as much as I do.

In getting to know Patti more outside of tango, I can easily say that she is probably one of the kindest and most sensitive, empathetic people I have ever met. Her heart knows no bounds. When I first wrote about K and the kids, she was one of the very first people to step forward with a donation (probably much more than she could afford but so very much needed), an incredibly honest letter of support and a continued interest that did not abate after the initial novelty of K's story on my blog wore off for some readers.

But that's just how Patti is.

Patti has a new girl in her life, Ginny the kitty. I finally met Ginny last week after hearing about her for a while. Ginny needed a special friend in the way only someone like Patti could be, and for this little kitty, there could be no better angel.

I hope you will read about Patti and Ginny. I think you will find that their combined stories, along with this most lovely set of photos, is the very essence of what it means to care and love, no matter the outcome.

This was the first photo shoot that made me cry when I edited it. It was so beautiful, knowing their story, that I could not help it. But the tears were so worth it. I'm truly grateful that Patti and Ginny wanted to share their stories with me, and with you, too.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Capturing the beauty that is Ney and Jennifer

Ney and Jennifer, Chinatown

We are professional Argentine Tango Dancers. We have spent the last four years traveling and teaching tango in such places as Italy, Poland, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia and Romania.

About a year ago, we
opened "TangoVida," an Argentine Tango studio and shoe store on the corner of Pacific Avenue and Taylor Street in Nob Hill.

***

Before I had tango crushes on both Ney Melo and Jennifer Bratt, I had a serious girl crush on just Jennifer, and more specifically, on her feet.

For those scant few tango dancers who still read this blog occasionally (I know there's still a few of you), you know exactly what I'm talking about. Graceful, expressive, and sexy as hell are just a few ways to describe the way Jennifer dances, and like a lot of other people, I pored over her tango tutorials at Bewitching Black Lotus.

And the thought of dancing in the exclusive and uber-tango-fashionable Comme Il Faut shoes gave me even more incentive to try to learn to dance like her.

***

When I actually met Ney and Jennifer, I was so touched to see how down-to-earth and kind they are. And then became so ecstatic that they were such generous and wonderful teachers because to be honest, I was star-struck and so terribly shy at meeting people whom I had admired from afar for so long. I wish Ney and Jennifer had been my first tango teachers... after taking their classes, I realized I had a lot of dancing baggage to unlearn. I became a much more comfortable, confident and relaxed dancer because of their encouragement.

On Russian Hill

The opportunity to photograph Ney and Jennifer for the i live here: SF project was just the most incredible experience for me, and a chance to pay tribute and honor this special couple who has brought the soul of tango into the hearts of so many people around the world.

This was the photo shoot that I've teased you with recently here and here. It's also full of so many gorgeous images that I was fairly stumped at trying to select my favorite ones to share with you, although the entire set is available on flickr, and when you see them, you'll understand why it was so difficult to choose.

You can read Jennifer's SF story here, and Ney's story is here, with links to the flickr set as well. I hope that you find them as beautiful as I do, and if you're in San Francisco, that you'll stop by Studio TangoVida for a class or a fitting of incredibly gorgeous shoes. I promise you'll fall in love with them just like I did.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Once Upon a Time in San Francisco...

... there lived an exquisite Tango Princess and her dashing Consort.

And I got to take their pictures... and we all lived Happily Ever After.

***

I never thought that being unemployed would make me even busier than usual, but in amongst filling out forms, looking for jobs, rewriting resumes and preparing for taxes (oy), I am even farther away from "normal" as possible.

I'll have some stories soon, I'm sure. But posting a pretty picture is better than nothing.

Hope your holiday weekend was wonderful...

xoxo

Monday, March 30, 2009

Little tremors

you feel that way sometimes

I wasn't even going to write a post today (it's Monday, and there's a stressful vibey thing going through the office... more closed door meetings, ugh) and then a little rolling tremble rumbled under our feet.

We're so tired or blah or whatever that we all look at each other and say, Was that an earthquake? (We're on the 9th floor.)

Or was that a truck?

Whatever.

It did end up being a earthquake south of here, rolling all the way up to the city and under our Aeron chairs, but maybe we needed a little jolt today.

***

Last night I went out tango dancing for a while but the jolt I needed there was missing so I left early. Another off vibe but that's just how it is sometimes.

The wise man says "No Trespassing."

Since it was almost dusk, I decided to catch some last shots in Chinatown before heading home. It's such a different place when the tourists are gone and the shops are closed.


Got some interesting photos of lights and lanterns.

And as the new moon rose over Chinatown last night, a perfect thin sliver of white, I couldn't help but notice how thinly divided we are in this city.

The building immediately in front, with the fire escapes, is a typical aging Chinatown storefront, selling cheap bric-a-brac, the same stuff sold in every touristy shop up and down Grant Street. The building behind it is the back of the Ritz-Carleton Hotel, one of the most expensive hotels in the city.

As I'm taking this photo, a little voice says behind me, good morning, help.

She is wrinkled, with a face like an apple doll and hunched over a cane. I can hardly make out her English. Good morning, help.

Then she says, I'm hungry. That I understand.

I had a dollar in my coat pocket. That's all I had but at least I know in Chinatown she can get something to eat for a dollar.

***

Some days I do get weary here. Don't get me wrong. This place isn't a postcard. It's like Kathryn described in her piece in i live here: SF. I can see what happens here. But there's enough beauty to make it worthwhile.

Thanks to Kathryn's blog, I found this wonderful video: "San Francisco" by Jill Sobule. I think I've watched this at least ten times already. It makes me misty eyed. This song makes me realize why I live here and love it even when I'm weary.



She shuts the door behind me, waits for me to get undressed
She ask if I need water, I can barely understand her
I think she asked me what I do and I said that I'm a singer
She laughs and claps her hands
And then she begins
And she sings:

"I like to go to San Francisco
I like to go
Put flowers in my hair
I like to go to San Francisco
I like to meet
Some people there"

She looks just like a sparrow, but she's strong just like a wrestler
She kneads and pulls and climbs on top
It hurts, but I will try to take it
Ask her if she's ever been
Been to San Francisco
She tells me that she can't leave
They won't let her leave
She sings:

"I like to go to San Francisco
I like to go
Put flowers in my hair
I like to go to San Francisco
I like to meet
Some people there"

And in Golden Gate Park
[ Jill Sobule Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ]
She'll throw a Frisbee
She'll bring a dog
And she'll meet a boy
And they'll fall in love
And she'll feel so free
Still walk on his back

Wonder 'bout the place I'm in and how they treat the girls
I know that it's legitimate
But still it makes me wonder
She gets up to leave
And I put back on my clothes
I tip her well, she bows to me
I really hope one day she gets to go

"...To San Francisco
I like to go
Put flowers in my hair
I like to go to San Francisco
I like to meet
Some people there" (Some people there)

La la la la la la la la
La la la la
La la la la
La la la la la la la la
La la la la
La la la la
La la

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

L'Égyptienne

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive." ~ Anäis Nin

How it happens that one meets a person, in any number of circumstances, and the lingering impression that one is left with, like a trace of perfume or a memory of a warm smile... aren't those the things that make us wonder more about a person? You pass by them, but are touched by something else much deeper that remains with you.

***
abrazo soleado, 2008
acrylic on canvas, 24x8

So quiet was my introduction to the lovely woman you see above. Actually I had come to dance. Unbeknownst to me, the woman in the simple, elegant red dress and silver shoes who was dancing too was also the artist whose striking, beautiful paintings covered the walls around the dancers.

abrazo rosado, 2008
acrylic on canvas, 24x8

Watching her dance and looking at her art were one and the same. At the end of the evening, I had to tell her so, and the rest is still unfolding. I'm glad to say she is my friend now.


***

You have no idea how incredibly difficult it was to choose a photo for this post. The rest of the images live here, but you should read her story first.

grace, 2004
acrylic on canvas, 24x36

all images here courtesy of the artist

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Give this girl five stars

It's early... I'm up working on some great photos from yesterday for i live here: SF, so while I'm doing that I wanted to ask a favor of you.

A few months ago, I wrote about my blogging friend Sallycat in Buenos Aires. She is the star of this lovely video, which to me, encapsulates a lot of what tango really is. Also, Sally's got to be one of the loveliest and most thoughtful people and writers on the planet. Her blog is truly a gift, whether you are a tango dancer or not.



Her blog, Sallycatway, is a contender for The World's Best Bloggers (South America section). Won't you please go there now and give her a vote? She's dropped to second place but I'm sure you could help her get back to #1.

You can click here to vote. Voting ends on March 16 so don't wait...

Both Sallycat and I thank you! Happy weekend.

***

UPDATE 11:12am: Thank you to those of you who have already voted... and let's keep those votes coming for Sallycat!

Here's a little happy note for you from Buenos Aires...

My dearest TB

As your friend Relyn has said, WHAT A FRIEND YOU ARE! How many folks would go out of their way to support and champion fellow lovers of life, whom they have only ever met in cyberspace, so generously? I am very touched. And I thank you.

As you know, I type every one of my blog posts in Buenos Aires looking straight at your beautiful photograph of San Francisco on the wall in front of me. 'Follow your heart freely,' it speaks to me.

I want to thank your lovely readers too, for taking a moment to vote for Sallycat's Adventures. This competition is a step on the way to me fulfilling one of my dreams: to help more people get the very best out of their visit to Buenos Aires or out of the experience of relocating to Argentina, or indeed to any other land... and to inspire a few more folk to live their own dreams with gusto!

Thank you, you super guys and girls who hang out with Tangobaby. You are the best, and if you ever get to visit BsAs, make sure you let me know you are coming!

SC

Saturday, January 31, 2009

about last night

I feel decidedly unglamorous this morning in my sweats and fuzzy socks.

But now I have proof that last night I looked a whole lot better.

Thank you, Jennifer, for capturing the magic inside and outside of your beautiful tango studio.

(Look, you can even see the Transamerica Pyramid in the background, and a little bit of the Bay Bridge.)

Friday, January 30, 2009

A Three Advil Night


It's been a long time since I last prayed to Goddess Advil.

***

Tonight the red shoes came out, and yeah, it is like riding a bicycle.
You never forget.

You never forget how the music fills your ears and you dance with your eyes closed for minutes upon minutes. How your hair gets sweaty and sticks to your forehead and the side of your face, where it's pressed against the face of someone else. How you can't help humming the melodies, laughing when you make a mistake. Milongas, valses, tangos.

***

Tonight at Ney and Jennifer's.
Music, color, art and friends.
The three most favoritest people I could ever wish to dance with, this being my debut for 2009 and the first day back on the dance floor in many moons.

They didn't forget me!

xoxo to my lovely friends: R, P and T.
You made me feel like a princess, thank you.

ps.: And I got to ride the cable car there and back. Now that's what I call San Francisco Tango.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Excerpt from My First Press Junket

Okay, it's not the Frost/Nixon interview. But there's the Interview Me thingy going around Bloglandia right now, and when I saw there was an opportunity to be questioned by my blog crush, julochka, I thought now's the time, especially being on the Staycation and all.

Below are julochka's questions and my answers, and then at the end are the rules if you'd like to be the next Barbara Walters' special via me.

***

julochka: if you could throw a shoe at anyone, who would it be and what kind of shoe would you throw?

You know, at first I thought this was going to be the easiest question to answer, and then I realized how many layers and options there might be. Also, I'm going to a Big Lebowski bowling birthday party soon, so bowling is on my mind right now, as well as what I'm going to wear. So I also keep thinking about rolling a bowling ball at someone. Anyway, back to your question.

First off, you have to decide what kind of shoe to use. Now I know in the past I mentioned a certain pair of stilletto heels that I would toss, but after really giving this some thought and thinking about the value and beauty of those shoes, I could never throw them. Anyone I would throw shoes at would merit an old pair of really stinky Keds that I had for a while that I wore without socks. They got pretty ripe. For extra impact, I'd probably load the Keds with some small rocks, and maybe even work a dog poo into the mix.

Then I would hire a baseball pitcher (I don't know jack about baseball, so I'd have to do some research) to actually throw the shoe. Because if I were granted an opportunity such as this, with the way I'm liable to throw, I certainly don't want to miss my target.

I know now I'm supposed to pick one person to throw my rock laden stinky Ked at, but choosing just one thing is never something I can do. Keeping the list under 10 is a challenge.

High on the list, depending on availability, are: Jerry Fallwell (I know he's dead but I still despise him), Rush Limbaugh, Anne Coulter, the two despotic cheerleaders from junior high school who were so incredibly cruel to me, and maybe Dick Cheney. I say maybe because I have this Big Lebowski scenario where at the end of the alley would be Cheney, The Shrub, Condoleeza, Rumsfeld, Gonzales-- who else am I forgetting here? How can I be drawing a total blank?-- and I'd get Jesus, the John Turturro character with his purple jumpsuit and his hairnet and his coke nail, to throw a perfect strike and nail all of those bastards. Whew, even in fantasy that feels good.

ps. If you want to throw a shoe at The Shrub (kind of old news now, but hey), you can do it virtually here at Sock and Awe. I am not very good yet, but I'll keep practicing.

julochka: you are a self-professed science girl...why didn't you study science-stuff and become a famous scientist?

This is an interesting question because I (again) have several answers. One being that when you're in college, you don't know what the hell you want to do. At least, I didn't for a couple of years. Luckily, I fell in love with printing and that gave me exposure to a variety of science courses that I was required to take, including materials sciences, physics, both kinds of chemistry, and biology. I think at the time I was so wanting to get out of college and start working that the thought of going for anything more than a BS was out of the question. I also gave myself short shrift... I'm a lot smarter than I gave myself credit for, and I just assumed that I couldn't handle the really hard classes. Or perhaps I didn't find the branch of science that really made me want to commit to it. Even today, I enjoy reading a book about quantum physics as much as I do about cell biology or even some of the social sciences.

That being said, there's a romance and a passion for scientific inquiry that anyone can have and I think that's what draws me to science because it is not only full of discovery and hard work and luck, but also training the mind to think and not live in a fairy tale. Science in its truest form is very democratic (I'm not talking about research institutes and the like), and for anyone to take an interest in the physical world around us should be applauded because there are certainly many more opportunities to live in fantasyland. I like to think of myself as a science appreciator, but back 100 years ago, it was not uncommon for many middle-class homes to own a microscope just for the fun of it. How many families today gather around a microscope after dinner, just to see what they might see?

Keep in mind that many people, not all classified as scientists, made amazing discoveries throughout their lives, including men like Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin, where science played a part of their naturally inquisitive minds. So perhaps there's hope for me yet.

julochka: what inspires you?

Ask me tomorrow. No, I'm kidding. But on any given day, the answer could be different. However, if I was to try to see a pattern in what I find inspiring, I think it's when a person can distill a feeling or experience into such a beautifully simple way that you're left in awe. For instance, there are sentences I've read by John Steinbeck, Anais Nin or Margaret Atwood that are so simply but perfectly crafted that I have to re-read them several times over because they amaze me with their truth.

Same thing with certain artists. Take for example Andy Goldsworthy. The things he can do with twigs or rocks or leaves are extraordinary. And you and I couldn't copy him in a million years.

I'm also very visual, so colors and visual textures make a big influence on me, and also the lack thereof. I am very influenced by certain kinds of music and instruments, especially the piano and the violin.

So I guess when I look back at my answer, it's Truth, Vision or Perception, and my eyes and ears. I'm sure there are more subtle influences I appreciate and find inspiration from, but this is what comes to mind today.

julochka: before you became tangobaby, had you had other dance lessons and so were, in general, coordinated enough to learn the tango?

I have to say that if it weren't for tango, I probably wouldn't be dancing at all. Keep in mind that just because you can do ballet, it doesn't mean you can tango. Tango is a partner dance (obviously) but being comfortable with someone in your very personal space is a uniquely different kind of partner dance, even amongst the other ballroom dances. When you watch people dance Argentine tango, like in my little video, keep in mind that it's completely improvised and all of your clues you read from your partner. With tango, you quite often never know what will happen next.

That being said, I am the world's worst bellydancer and the saddest looking ballerina you've ever seen. I am definitely all about dressing up, so it's hard not to fall in love with bellydancing because the costumes are so awesome and when you have a pile of coin belts and finger cymbals and veils draped about your bedroom, you feel like Bathsheba. And the music just makes you want to move. But the difficult part about bellydancing is that people will be watching you at some point. That was what killed me. I'll never be able to perform, and with bellydance, even if you are just dancing in class, there comes a time where it's just you and the mirror and someone else's eyes. I couldn't do it. Somehow the tango doesn't affect me that way. Or I just took to it so easily. I never had a really difficult time with tango.

And ballet is just plain hard. I'm a baby. So is flamenco. Wow! I'm really bad at a lot of dances.

The only other thing that I kind of sucked at but enjoyed a lot was fencing. I do hope to get back to fencing someday so I can live out some of my little Errol Flynn daydreams (except we'd be fighting Basil Rathbone together if I was Maid Marian). The fun part about fencing is that when your arms and thighs are covered with little dark perfectly round bruises, you can look in the mirror and say, Yeah, I got those in a duel. It just makes it hard to wear short-sleeved tops.

julochka: if you were going to run away to somewhere in the world, where would it be?

I think it's not so much as a matter of where, but where and when. For instance, I would give a major body part to have been able to travel the Orient Express in the years between the world wars. Or to have taken a steam ship from New York to Europe during the same time. Or to have traveled through Africa or Arabia with Sir Richard Burton. Or the Silk Road. I am very intrigued by places where the East and West intersect. That's why Venice was so incredible last year for me.

I would also have loved to see the Earthrise from an Apollo mission. I wouldn't have minded not getting to do the moon landing, but to see the earth from space has to be one of the most amazing trips a human being can take. *sigh*

As far as destinations today, it's tough. I think I'm such a dreamer that if given the opportunity, I'd probably give almost any place a shot. I always have my passport on me, just in case. ;-)


But Turkey (anywhere in the Baltics actually), Morocco, Russia, Spain, back to Italy... anyplace there's a gypsy encampment... see, here I go again. Maybe I should think about taking up bellydancing again.

Thanks, julochka! That was fun!

***

Here's "The Rules."

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Thanks, and I'll try to do my best Barbara Walters impression ever.

***

portrait of a Gypsy Woman by Nikolai Yaroshenko.
image of Earthrise from LIFE Magazine.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Let's Face the Music and Dance

“A good dancer is one who listens to the music... We dance the music, not the steps. Anyone who aspires to dance never thinks about what he is going to do. What he cares about is that he follows the music. You see, we are painters. We paint the music with our feet..." ~ Carlos Gavito



Gosh, I haven't watched this video in ages. This video feels positively prehistoric to me.

It's the only video I have of me dancing tango.

I have to try to love this video more than feel terribly uncomfortable watching it (i.e., cringing) because I was having such a wonderful time dancing, with a leader that I love to dance with. But I also have that inner critic watching me, looking at my form, tsk-tsk-ing at all of the mistakes I made. And then that brings up all of my other tango-related issues.

But then I look again, take my imaginary hands away from my eyes and remember the warm summer night, the music, my new shoes (that dance was a test drive for a new pair of shoes from Argentina), the pleasure of dancing to a song I love with someone who likes dancing with me. The impromptu creativity of the dance where you never know what the next step will be but you just feel the music and follow what you are led. Painting the music with our feet.

And at the end. How we laughed.

I have to send an email to that guy and say hello. It's been forever and a day. I need to get my dancing shoes out. For reals.

***

ps.: The story of the video is here.

pss.: "Let's Face the Music and Dance" is one of my favorite Astaire/Rogers numbers, from Follow the Fleet. I know the film is not as well known as some of their others, but I really like it.

psss.: A nod o' the head to Gabby and Lala, who both in their own little ways inspired this post even though they might not realize it. And to my sweet friend Red Shoes, who was brave first and who will get me back on the dance floor sooner than later.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

All or Nothing/Starting Small

Words of wisdom: As you advance in age, falling asleep on the sofa is not a good thing for your back.

It is either very early in the morning or very late at night as I write this. If I was dancing tango, it would be very late at night. As things stand now, it's just very early in the morning.

A year ago today I wrote this post.

I still have that dress, that perfume, that bracelet and those shoes. I still can conjure up the feelings I had that evening just by reading my words again and listening to the music in the clip. The tango is still in me; it's like riding a bike or having sex. Even if you don't do it for a while, at your core you still know how to. For the scant remaining tango dancers that might still read my blog once in a while, you know exactly what I mean. For you new readers that came later and have never danced tango, you can use your imagination about that feeling and you'd probably be right.

I often think about why I haven't danced in months. I could say it is my personal finances that prevent it, or I could paint sweeping generalizations about the drama of participating in tango society or I could point fingers at specific people disguised in anonymity. Part of the reason is that tango, for some, requires a kind of immersion that is not copacetic with "real" life. To experience tango, for some, it's an all-or-nothing scene. Compromise is hard.

And I tend to be an all-or-nothing person.

Some people come to tango and it's like enjoying an apertif: they drink their cocktail, enjoy it, and then move on to dinner. And then there's the other people: they start with one drink and then stay until the bar closes. For them, tango cannot be practiced in moderation.

I think about going back to dance, but in the limited way I could manage, that would put me in the perceived lower echelon of random occasional dancer and that doesn't seem to be worth the effort. The retirement home of Tango.

So now I'm in this space where not dancing is like coming out of a bad romance: I don't want that guy in my life anymore, but I still think about him. Perhaps if I was younger, I would have made the sacrifice.

***

Speaking of being younger, last night I went to see something that was pretty awesome. In the inspiring, look what kids are doing today kind of way.

About five blocks away from my house is a circus school. I kid you not. The whole works: acrobatics, juggling, contortion, aerial silk and ropes. Of course they have adult classes, but I wonder how many adults could stick with such an education, even if they had comprehensive health coverage.

But those bendy and talented kids--they put on quite a show for us, a crowd of friends, family and a few random neighbors like me. It was a cross between an Andy Hardy movie (hey kids, let's put on a show in the barn!) and a seedling class of Cirque de Soleil future talent.

As much as I was enthused by the young performers and how capable they are (and slightly cringing at times in a protective reflex that someone was going to get hurt), I mostly felt so glad that these kids had the opportunity to discover something they loved from a very young age, practice it so they were advanced and talented enough to perform, and still have many years ahead to make their talents deepen. The little Julie inside me was more than slightly jealous of them having that chance. The older Julie knows not having found that creative niche as a kid has driven me to explore many kinds of outlets, tango included, but that creates the bedrock of my personal dilettantism, too.

Sometimes I feel like I'm too old to be good at anything at the deepest level. And the other part of me thinks I just haven't found that thing yet. And a tiny voice says that all of these thoughts surface in the wee hours because I should be sleeping right now.

But you'll be relieved to know for my own personal safety that I did not sign up for circus school.

Yet. They have an open house where you can try the flying trapeze and more on December 20. Hmmm.

Image: Tight-Rope Walker by Jean-Louis Forain, 1885.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The Tango in My Heart

This is me (with pals), in a cab, in Buenos Aires. (I'm the one on the end. You knew that.)

We're just coming back from a wonderful class at the Dinzel's studio. This may be a capture of one of the happiest times in my entire life, one that I can remember like it was yesterday.

But it wasn't yesterday at all. It's been a while since that day.

***

I was awakened this morning by a dream about tango. I never dream about tango.

In my dream, I was wearing my flamenco shoes and I think I was in a hardware store (go figure), but they were having some sort of dance competition there. Some guy asked me to dance. (You know how in your dreams there's someone that seems really familiar to you, but doesn't look like anyone you know in real life? Well, this guy was like that. Upon awakening, I still don't know who he might be.)

Anyway, the song they played is the one that makes me melt, the one that draws me like a moth to a flame: Desde el Alma. In my dream, I could sense my partner's nervousness (he was a beginning dancer) but since I had more experience than him, I could feel his happiness and relief that I could follow his steps so effortlessly, and could even feel his cheek smiling, pressed against my own. I closed my eyes and danced to this beautiful waltz.

And then I woke up, that song still haunting me.

***

I haven't been dancing in several months now, not flamenco, not ballet and not tango. It's been an amalgamation of reasons, a snowballing effect of things I don't need to bore you all with, but to some degree a bit of this, some of this, vestiges of this, and other mundane things like being flat broke and tired at the end of the day.

But dancing in my dreams, and still having my beloved song playing on endless loop in my brain has made me remember all the wonderful things, the lovely things, the tango in my future, when I was a tango angel, and especially this memory, the tango in my past.

For those of you new readers who weren't sure where a silly little name like tangobaby comes from, to those few remaining tango-loving readers who still read my blog even though I don't really write about tango anymore, let's watch this dance together, to the song that haunts me even now, as the faint rays of the sun start to brighten the sky and I wait for the day to begin.



I need to dust off my dancing shoes already. I still haven't even worn these shoes yet.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Making an Honest Woman

Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then. ~ Katherine Hepburn

***

At a recent milonga, I danced with someone that I see on rare occasion. Each time we dance, the only topic he consistently makes small talk about is the status of my boyfriend. How is he doing, is he still around, etc. Aside from my grandmother, who is the only other person I could regularly count on to inquire about my marital status (although she stopped that years ago), I am just not used to people wondering about when I'm going to get married.

I am going to chalk this strange fixation on discussing the well-being and intentions of my boyfriend as a slight difficulty in making casual conversation. The moments between songs can seem long and one might feel some pressure to make light banter. And since I am sure I have said plenty of lame things at dances and in life in general, I am not going to sweat it.

This time the guy commented on a ring I was wearing and asked if my boyfriend was going to make an "honest woman" out of me soon. Inside, I had to laugh.

Right now, if there's any one person who can rein me in, who can talk me down off the ledge, who can comfort and help me, it's The Boy, and having a ring wouldn't make a whit of difference.

***

I used to have a ring.

The truth is that I became an honest woman in the moment that I took that ring off my finger. Having put it on in the first place, although well-intentioned, was when I was dishonest.

I think some people are not cut out to be married. I happen to be one of those people.

Took me years to figure that one out.

***

I get the feeling from some dance partners that if I am not single, then I should be dancing with a regular partner or not at all. Or that if I was serious about tango, then I should be involved someone who dances. I've had some people tell me as much.

But since I don't equate tango with coupledom and/or conjugal bliss, this advice falls on deaf ears. And since the people who offer it to me unsolicited don't know the first thing about me and who I am off the dance floor, I have to ignore it.

There is so much more to having a true friend, a lover, a trusted companion than being compatible on the dance floor. I realize that more all the time.

***

The other night, The Boy and I got dressed up and went to see Herb Alpert at the beautiful jazz club, Yoshi's. Located in the Fillmore, the historic former home of jazz in San Francisco, we listened to a world-class trumpeter and his band play a polished and classy two hours of music.

Although known for his trumpet playing, back in the day Alpert sang a hit love song called "This Guy's In Love With You" (penned by Burt Bacharach). Alpert didn't sing this tune at the show, but The Boy belted it out in his smooth baritone on the way home in the car, and even though he didn't know all of the lyrics, it was the best part of the night.

To me, moments like this are worth a million diamond rings and make me the most honest woman in the world.




Thursday, May 22, 2008

Double Your Pleasure

I have been wearing tango shoes all day, since 8am (oops, I mean Wednesday am--I am writing this after midnight).

I don't know why this never occurred to me, to wear my Comme Il Fauts during the day, to work. But it finally dawned on me that I don't need to save my stash of beauties for the dance floor.

I adore the shoes above and they fit really well. But for some reason this particular pair doesn't have enough support in the heel and I can't dance in them. They have actually been collecting dust, which is totally shameful. So I wore them to work and they made me very happy: to have tango feet at work, on the train, walking down the street. And I got compliments on them, too--a bonus.

And then when it was time to dance tonight, I switched to these puppies. I think these are a little too sassy for the office. I'll have to work up the courage to be seen in these shoes during daytime hours.

***

The milonga was nice, okay. No fireworks tonight. I saw some friends I have missed a lot. And I left earlier than I thought I would. You know, it happens.

But I was so happy to have that one dance, to "Milonga Triste," which, when I first started dancing tango, I used to listen to on continuous loop. I love this haunting piece.

When this song starts, it just makes me ache to dance to it. And luckily, someone asked me to dance so I didn't have to miss it.

He was very sweet and obviously loved the song as much as I do. He paused and moved to the music. And he smelled nice.

So that was a great way to end the day.

***

If you want to hear "Milonga Triste," I've found a lovely little video for you. The dancing perfectly matches the feeling of the music, another nice surprise before bedtime tonight:



Good night, everyone.

xo

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Go Here

This is the place.


For this.


And this.


And this.



But not these.


Because they are mine.


Covet.


Go on.


Anyone wanna dance?

PS. I realize that I will soon be assassinated by the Comme Il Faut ninjas for photographing these shoes, but I don't care. They're worth dying for (almost).

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Tango, For My Non-Tango Dancing Friends

This post is for my friends, new and old, who do not dance tango. (Those of you who do dance tango are welcome to read this anyway.)

When I started this blog (ostensibly so my mother could find out what I was up to in the Big City), I chose the name tangobaby because I had to think of something so I could get my gmail account. And then as I got used to blogging, I wrote a lot about tango because it's a big part of who I am, even when I'm not dancing. That quickly chosen name was well-chosen after all.

I was, and am, in love with the dance called tango. Even though I've obviously branched out to write about other things that excite, delight and interest me, I am still tangobaby at my core.

The name tangobaby: Tango, because to me that is the only real dance for me--despite what else I might say, and Baby, because this dance is so intricate, so involved, so enigmatic and unfathomly beautiful when the moment is right that I will always be a baby in tango. Always learning and growing, but never growing up.

I am happy to admit that tango is something I will never master (although as someone with a dilettante's nature, that is a rare thing: mastery), and because of that I will always keep dancing it, as much as I am able.

A little while ago I was trying to describe what tango really is to my sweet friend Relyn, who was delightfully curious. (What I was trying to explain is that tango is not what the mainstream culture thinks it is: as seen in Dancing With the Stars, over-edited Hollywood films, glitzy Forever Tango shows, ballroom tango (ugh), the rose in the teeth, and that hokey, smarmy pablum that is a total anathema to most tango devotees (and only uttered by those who don't dance): "Tango is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire." Blech.)

This is part of what I wrote to her in an email:

Imagine this: you are surrounded by people from all over the world, nice people, charming people. But you cannot speak their language and they cannot speak yours. And then the music starts, the lights lower, and a man takes your hand and you dance with him. You dance with him as though you have known him for your entire life, and you've only just met him. He smiles and you smile because you communicate perfectly.


That is tango. And that is true.


Tango is that lovely fantasy, a shared moment of pleasure and connection that might only last a few minutes, but is the nicest way I know to transcend, share and communicate with another person.

And then I saw this video that Sallycat posted on her blog. (For those of you who remember Sallycat from the last wonderful post...)

When I watched this, I got the chills. I watched this video in silent amazement and joy. This video, of Sallycat and her teacher Ariel, explains more about what tango really means--to dance it with your heart--than I ever could in a thousand-word essay. When you watch this, you are watching tango.




If you want to read more about Sallycat's video, click here.

Beautiful tango image by Métempsycose.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Ney and Jennifer!

I couldn't be in two places at once yesterday...but if I could have, I would have been enjoying Ney and Jennifer and their new studio downtown! Studio Tango Vida on Pacific Avenue in Nob Hill.

It's so exciting to have them here in SF, and in a beautiful new location that sounds perfect for them...and us!

Here's the link for you. From what I understand, they have a Comme Il Fauts shoe store, too. Oh my!

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Run Away, Tangobaby

I wish I had a great followup story to my Tango Angel/crazy milonga last night, but I don't. I did try, though.

Tonight I went to the Milonga That Shall Remain Nameless. It's one I used to go to religiously back when it was crowded and the best game in town. And then it just wasn't my place anymore, so I started going elsewhere. (And lots of other people stopped going there, too, apparently. Which has nothing to do with me.)

I had seen on the calendar that Miriam Larici was supposed to perform tonight. For those of you who have seen Miriam, or like me, have had the opportunity to take classes with her, you know she is a gorgeous, amazingly talented, and super-wonderful lady. Just to see her for a ten-minute performance was enough to get me back to the Milonga That Shall Remain Nameless. I was also kinda hoping that maybe things had changed and I would enjoy going there again. No such luck.

Not only was Miriam not coming (sounds like a scheduling snafu because I seemed to be the only person expecting to see her) but the place--for me--well, I'll be PC and say it is just not where I'll be needing to frequent anymore. I now have exactly zero curiosity about the place.

To illustrate my point, I have selected a video clip that will give you an idea of my feelings on the evening's festivities (or lack thereof), where the rabbit would be the milonga and I would be King Arthur:



So now I am home, in my pjs, eating my dinner (some Junior Mints) and singing this song. Nothing better than some candy and a little Mick to revive your spirits:



Better luck next time, tangobaby. (But my eyeshadow looked hot. Oh well.)

***

PS. If you want to know what I was hoping to get a smidgen of tonight, click here for some awesome Miriam Larici performances. Watch the 3rd and 4th songs especially where she dances with Hugo Patyn. I was there in the crowd (no, I am not going to tell you where), and let's just say that was so exciting to see her dance like that. She has so much energy and grace--the woman is amazing. And Hugo is not too shabby himself.

PSS. I am kind of amused with myself that I was able to bring together Monty Python AND The Stones to illustrate a tango post.

The Calm in the Eye of the Storm

"Please send me your last pair of shoes, worn out with dancing as you mentioned in your letter, so that I might have something to press against my heart." ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Someday I hope to have a pair of shoes like that.

***

Cellspace again tonight. The dancing does have a wildness to it that I am not used to. Lots and lots of crazy boleos and ganchos and leg wraps. And twirls. Twirls?!!

I am not always able to hear and feel the music because so much movement is distracting me. Plus, I got
kicked twice and stepped on once. I cannot believe my fishnets survived such abuse.

But there was yet a new Tango Angel who made it all worthwhile. He made me forget those other people even existed. He hummed and sang the music softly while we danced. He danced so smoothly, so calmly. Pausing and moving to the music so I would hear the music though his movements. Waiting for me and not rushing me through my steps. Letting me do my thing. It was a partnership.

And then I self-wallflowered when I realized I had already danced my best dances of the night. So I got to enjoy the others enjoying each other and captured a few moments before calling it a night.

Good night, tango. Good night, tango dancers everywhere.

Un beso.