In my wallet is a little card I stole from Zoe, my artistic/life-friend partner currently rockin' organic farms in Italy via WOOF, with a little angel reading, "Inspiration." I hold this close to me wherever I go as a reminder that the spaces we exist within are never empty.
My kitchen serves as a makeshift dance studio. I have a key to the Dance Factory, less than a mile from my house, but when I feel like waking up and moving or tumbling from ballet class to a place of improvisation, I open iTunes and find myself falling, rising, risking, leaning, caking the dirty yellow floor with the weight of motion. The door frames become makeshift lovers, the counter tops turn into floor surfaces, and I can't help but wonder what neighbors walking their dogs at night see when they peer into my windows.
I have found a way to keep warm during cold Vermont nights.
Zoe and I had little money to rent a theater in Cambridge so we held shows in our house - open house dance productions. Now home spaces feel so intimately connected to possible dance performances that I find myself sitting in different corners of the living room, watching imaginary dances.
I am ready. And students are ready. I'm looking forward to my home become a performance space again. Keep posted for the next open house dance production in late January 2009. Zoe, when you come home, we'll have another one just for you.