For the past two weeks or so, I've been watching the counter on our blog, eagerly awaiting the 100th post, that first milestone in a new blog's life. It's true that we've been actually blogging for several seasons now, but this season's new format feels like another beginning. I have secretly been hoping that I would have the chance to write that nominal 100th post, but didn't want to orchestrate a reason just for my own geeky satisfaction. Luckily, after watching the Split Bill show last night, I have a really amazing reason to post.
Brendan Kiley posted about last night's show on the Stranger's SLOG:
"There are surprises. There is tap dancing. There is intellectual and emotional content beneath strange, beautiful, can’t-stop-watching-it choreography. It’s theatrical and smart and fun." Read On.
First, I will say that Split Bills are a unique opportunity for us to catch two performances by two artists within our region; allowing audiences to travel to two different worlds and be mystified, stupefied, or even sometimes compromised. I remember being involved in Split Bill back in the day when there wasn’t a Northwest Artist Series. I remember the excitement; the opportunity for two artists, one who had been in the community for some time (Peggy Piacenza), the other, a group (VIA/ Tonya Lockyer) who had their first big debut in Seattle. The latter of which I was apart of.
Out of the darkness comes the electric sound of static buzz. The lights slowly fade up on three women, dressed in variations of grey, moving in unison. The dancers face us, repeating a simple walking pattern—urgent but moving nowhere. It is as if they are caught inside the limitations of space and their shared obsessive task. Gradually they add to their repeating steps a skyward gesture of the arm. Over the next thirty minutes, we will see this gesture again and again—an almost desperate grasping upward.
Maiko from Theatre Replacement posted the story of their attempts to get into the US in time for the show here at OtB. Click here and scroll down to read the post.
Posted by Tania
Thanks to our friends over at Easy Street Records for this awesome window display for Allen's upcoming show. If you don't have tickets yet, get them now.
Posted by Tania, cameraphone picture by Keri. If you look close, you can see her in the reflection.
Black Rose Movement
Ok, next up is a dance group called Black Rose Movement, but I don't remember the name of their piece... Matt, do you remember what it was called?
Matt?
Well... this one is sort of a duet between two office workers competing with in the corporate system. And I think there's a third corporate boss person who pushes them around, and finally breaks them apart. I guess it doesn't really matter what it's called. We liked these dancers. It's gonna be great.
Northwest Dance Syndrome
Now that's a cool name. But that's not all it takes for me to like modern dance.
Welcome to our blog for Le Vu Long/Higher Together: Stories of Us!
Read the reviews of our four patron bloggers below or click on the Comments button to read the comments of other and post your own thoughts.
Since I am an ASL interpreter, a gay man, and a director of an arts organization (that could be the start of a joke) I feel like the textbook target audience for Together Higher: a dance troupe of Deaf artists who employ themes of HIV and queer identity. I’ve been anticipating this performance since I found out about it last year, and I wasn’t disappointed. The opening night performance of Stories Of Us was extremely enjoyable, beautiful to watch, and very thought-provoking.
Lane Czaplinski's notes from a dinner conversation with Le Vu Long and Luu Thi Thu Lan at Ray’s Boathouse on March 6, 2007:
Long’s wife Lan lived and studied dance in the Ukraine for 10 years. After the nuclear disaster at Chernobyl, Lan was stranded in Kiev 80km away for two months while other foreigners from richer nations were evacuated. When she became pregnant approximately 6 years ago, Long feared that his child would be born with a disability, specifically deafness.
The slow flicker of the bare light bulb, a firefly lost in a night breeze, the buzz of the music, slowly lights and music synchronize. Were these symbols? Signals? A language I did not understand? My impatient mind, a million miles a minute, was asking isn’t something going to happen, why isn’t something happening? At first I was upset by the domination of the sound elements. I thought why emphasize the music for a company of deaf dancers if they themselves cannot experience it? If the music only plays for the audience and not for the performer I am somehow less interested.
I’m Vietnamese American. My father is rabidly anti-communtist. I grew up with two Vietnamese cousins who are deaf. I work at an arts organization that is Audio-based.
Is any of that important? Not really.
The New York Times’ preview of this show discussed the lack of Vietnamese American community support for Stories of Us. Interesting. When I first saw this show in the OTB catalogue, I wondered, “What’s this doing in Seattle? ” After all, Seattle’s Vietnamese American community are mostly refugees from South Vietnam.
Leland Leichman writes about love, smeared on the walls of a bathroom stall. His life is his favorite movie:
SCENE: A bedroom with an apple tree in it. CUT TO: the dog with two different colored eyes.
Leland also sings and plays the guitar. His voice sounds like a cross between Mark Lanegan and Stephin Merritt, with a little Tom Waits thrown in.
Flashing light seemingly incidental, techno beats mixed with indigenous melodic sounds, lights at the same rhythm of the music, simple image, large landscape of doors and windows that were a metaphor to a world beyond. A meditative female who slowly walks away as I hear fairy tale words blended into the musical score that reminded me of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.
The room is so quiet that I could hear the thoughts of the person next to me. I didn’t even want to move because of the quiet, sacred manner of the performance, “something ” was happening.
Rob Witmer, one of our esteemed curators for the 12 Minutes Max showcase on March 18 & 19, begins a series of previews of the artists he and Matthew Richter chose for the performance:
Does anyone remember the Baithouse restaurant on Seaview? Charles Leggett does. So much that he's written a poem about a live jazz performance he saw there while eating the best crab sandwich in the Seattle. Mr.
Our webstats OtB popularity contest tells us that for the third month in a row, Steve Cuiffo of The Foundry Theatre is holding steady at #10...
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