see. think. dance.: The Blog

A blog that seeks to make transparent the machinations of performance networks + the ardor of the creative process.
Posted on Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Going into the 3rd week with Re-Frame, I was a little "workshop-ed" out.
It had taken me the entire weekend to recuperate from the beautiful intensity of participating in the motiroti project Potluck: Chicago.
I came to Rumble Arts on Monday still feeling a bit frayed at the edges while at the same time wanting to sincerely witness some kind of progress from the weeks before.

This, the 3rd Monday, was a pleasant and juicy reminder of the possibilities of Re-Frame.
We did a much better job of prioritizing and implementing a bit more structure around time.
We invested a good twenty minutes in breakout sessions that allowed us to examine some of our more complex My topic centered around financial sustainability and wealth-building for artists - something that I, and so many other creatives continue to struggle with.


At the end of the breakout session, Iman, Mike, and I, arrived at an important evolution of the original question - "How do we value time?" and started to outline a few structures that would make sense as one moved along the artistic trajectory. I made a mental note to chat with Todd Brown, deYoung Museum Fellow about his newest artist service project, The ITCH (Investing in the Creative Hunch).


But my most important takeaway of the evening was our vocal and movement exercises led by Rebecca and Iman.  Re-Frame is a gathering of individuals with an incredibly wealthy, embodied knowledge.  It was not until this 3rd Monday did we have the opportunity to shut off our right brains for a moment and engage with each other with sounds and movement instead of pen and paper.  The activity happened early in the evening and as our giggles settled down and our bodies loosened up, I vowed to TALK LESS and DANCE MORE. Whatever that may look like.
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Posted on Tuesday, November 8, 2011
This is what I did when I arrived home from the first coalescing of artists that will be Re-Frame: A Gathering. I took out some black eyed peas I had soaked, started chopping onions and scallions, washed some collards, and set out to make a stew that I had made once before via some quick post-performance notes from Amara Tabor-Smith.  Immersed in that fertile collective of voices, each one making themselves vulnerable just a bit, I wanted to feed everyone a hearty meal.  I wanted to tone down my “administrator” voice and offer up something you could eat with a bowl and a spoon.  I promise myself, “Next time, Eboni, next time.”


I feel compelled to pause and write about what Re-Frame is not. Re-Frame is not a meandering of artistic intent. It is a tangible, sink-your-teeth-in process, framed by the seasoned experiences of both Baraka de Soleil and his co-collaborator, Awilda Rodriguez.  Baraka made it a point to mention, more than once, that, as collaborative processes go, this would be one where, if you wanted to see something, hear something, say something then you should DO something about it.  Simply called “Two Feet”, it is a way of reinforcing a sense of personal responsibility.  As someone who processes quickly and is usually first to speak and offer “solutions”, I instantly latched on to such a concept.  At the same time, however, I am intensely aware of my “default zone” of organizing and curating and tried to preface my words and phrases with disclaimers.
I have no idea what will come out of Re-Frame.  Some of the artists seemed interested in building on a shared experience that occurred during The Theatrical Jazz Institute with Sharon Bridgforth.  Others seem to be throwing themselves in out of trust and a burning desire to work on something that has taken shape, just a little bit.  I believe myself to be in the latter camp.  Over the past 6 years, I have willingly dedicated myself to NOT being the artist, to do everything I can to support the creations of others.  On some level, one could say that I have been “playing small”.  Over the course of the next 7 weeks, I will be planting the seeds of a performance practice. I have no idea what form this will take or how it will take flight but my willingness is there and I am already enamored of the steps we have taken.
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Posted on Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Chicago continues to impress me with its ability to shoot straight from the hip on certain issues.  The City of Chicago's Artists at Work Forum was entitled, "Building a Creative Career as a Black Artist" and the panel delivered an informative past and present of Chicago's legacy dance and theater organizations.

Moderated by Meida McNeal and Queen Meccasia Zabriskie, the conversation sought to cover a broad range of topics from Audience Development and Education to Criticism and Funding.  As a transplant to the area, I listened respectfully to the histories of ups and downs presented by Joel Hall (Joel Hall Dancers), Nicole Noland (Independent Artist), and Kemati Porter (Producing Director, eta Creative Arts).  My interests however, are strongly attached to models of sustainability in these fluctuating times.  I found the best examples of the future of arts entrepreneurship in the words of Deeply Rooted's Artistic Director, Kevin Iega Jeff.


My takeaways from his main points:


On Developing Your Audience
  • -- Engage in an Authentic Conversation
  • -- Value Comes Before Support
  • -- It takes a "safe environment to liberate genius."
On Fundraising
  • -- Create a process for people to back your work
  • -- Commit to reaching out to "our" community
  • -- Who is going to advocate for you? (outside of the Black community)
On Criticism
  • -- Know the difference between informed and uninformed criticism
  • -- What are your driving principles?
  • -- If a critic is being other than intelligent and constructive, he or she may have another goal.
The overall discussion was alternately proud of accomplishments and frustrated with some of the obstacles that Black artists face.  Towards the end, Iega Jeff offered this gem in response to the new mayor's intentions and initiatives in the cultural sector:

"Diversity is an organic response to Humanity."

I found myself in deep agreement as I, too, believe that the more the arts see, acknowledge, and explore our common connections, the more support we will receive as a whole.
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Posted on Friday, April 15, 2011

Originally posted as part of the Emerging Arts Professionals - Bay Area, Spring 2011 Blog Salon.
“In a capitalist system, culture is an object of control.” – Todd Lester – Founder, www.freedimensional.org
It’s 3am.
I just got off the phone with a friend of mine – a talented visual artist – who is threatening to become a Republican and abandon her practice. She says that the American public has voted with their dollars and that she cannot continue to make a living in a society that doesn’t see art as relevant. Especially now that she’s a mother.
Our conversation started at 1am.
Throughout it all I had to draw upon the immense spirit of collective action present at the Emerging Program Institute, an intensive offered by the Alliance for Artists Communities for culture workers interested in creating or strengthening residencies for artists.  Todd Lester’s quote struck me to my core.  Upon hearing about Quan’s plan to cut arts funding, my first response was, “F— Oakland! We can do it on our own, we MUST do it on our own.” The personal is political, right? As a single woman, I would never wait around for a man who had courted me and left me dry to one day wake up and recognize my value. I would go out and seek other options, secure in my self-worth.
It is now all about options.
Lester’s organization, Free Dimensional, works with an international network of individuals who are interested in providing safe space for artists who have been persecuted for their work. They do not accept money from government agencies, depending on foundation and individual support.  I am ready for Oakland to do the same. To turn away from the City, turn to our neighbors, engage them as cultural stewards, and say, “Hey, I’m doing this really beautiful/amazing/RELEVANT work. Why don’t you come to a rehearsal, check out my studio? How would you like to support a show?”
I appreciate Randolph Belle’s wisdom and continued enthusiasm after years of working around Oakland arts and culture. I trust his proposal that “reforms to the permitting, planning and zoning processes to expedite housing, venues, and special event projects would generate significant impact.” It is a broader way of approaching recent roadblocks.  I want to temper the heat of my disbelief, the sting of budget rejection. I want to believe that Oakland will value its artists. But I know we have to value ourselves first. We have to take inventory – what we have, who we know – and leverage that to a sustainable future.  It is time for Plan B, C, and D.
My friend is not going to become a Republican. Of that I’m certain.  I can’t say that she’ll continue her practice. I know that she’ll forever be a mother. Faced with the economic realities of raising a child, my passionate words on policy meant very little. So I spoke about relationships.
I spoke about a neighborhood where a child might see an artist doing their art. Where that child, coming home from school one day might ask the artist a question, “What are you doing?” and follow up with a “Why?”  I spoke about the subtle shift that occurs when a child, a family, a neighborhood, a COMMUNITY maintains consistent contact with creative thinking. How creative thinking would seep into every day life. To the point that, hopefully, when it’s time to vote again, that art isn’t some thing on a pedestal. Art is your neighbor.
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Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Originally posted as part of the Emerging Arts Professionals - Bay Area, Spring 2011 Blog Salon.
“Katrina played a big part in spreading bounce… We were displaced all over the world.  People were trying to find bounce music like it was a drug.” ~ Big Freedia (on Late Night with Carson Daly)
I was introduced to Big Freedia – a transgender star of New Orleans’ bounce music who has a hit song entitled “Azz Everywhere” – last year via Namane Mohlabane and the New Parish.  In that one concert, it felt like all my worlds – Southeast college parties, Brooklyn dancehall sound systems, and gender-fluid Oakland – had collided and settled comfortably around me.  I can only imagine what it would have felt like if I had been one of the hundreds who had come to the Bay Area from New Orleans. The rapid tempo, the booty-shakin’ bass, the gritty, insistent call and response could very well have sounded like “home.”
At one point in the show, the beat dropped out and Big Freedia’s acapella verses hit hard.  We all stopped gyrating and caught our breath to witness this person who was giving her all, working a limelight that was a long time coming and might not last.  I looked around and wondered, how many in the room could feel the history in Big Freedia’s voice and follow that thread to the story of New Orleans? 
If we’ve learned anything from DJ Kool Herc having to reach out to hip hop fans to cover medical expenses, we cannot depend on market forces to assign value to the subcultures that make up this nation’s legacy.  It is too easy to equate cultural stewardship with a certain class.  At the same time, we cannot ignore the fact that the cultural forms that have the investment of time and money from their audiences are the ones that thrive and become representatives of what we value as a whole. 
One day I found myself inputting plans in my Google Calendar for an evening out.  San Francisco Ballet at the War Memorial Opera House at 8pm… Big Freedia at Public Works at 11. In that moment, it saddened me to think that while the San Francisco Ballet has multiple tiers of support, is touted as one of the city’s gems, and will probably live on for another 73 years, the event at Public Works is only one of Big Freedia’s many solo shows in a packed schedule. She performs up to six nights a week, working the music circuit from nightclubs in New Orleans to SXSW, attempting to bank on a “trend” that’s just reaching cult status after 20 years.
Who will be cultural stewards for Big Freedia and bounce music?  Can we get the hipsters that dive into the safe space of “shaking for Big Freedia” to also support the post-Katrina communities that remain dispersed throughout the U.S.?  Can we get urban Black communities to embrace “Big Freedia, the Queen Diva” AND move towards accepting the LGBTQ community as a whole?  In the attention deficit world of “click, click, done” viaKickstarter campaigns how do you get someone who buys one ticket to one concert to understand the effects they could have on a subculture?
Sometimes you have to start where you are, build relationships, and hope the significance sinks in.
In the dance world, intimate artist-audience conversations are too often a “benefit” reserved for high-level donors.  When I created the DANCEfirst! salons at the Museum of the African Diaspora, attendees jumped right in, taking in performance, asking the hard questions after, and coming back the next month.  In the push for empowered citizens of culture, I am inspired by local institutions who are making the move to deepen relationships.  YBCA’s Big Idea Nights earned it a reputation as “that museum that throws really good parties.”  Oakland Museum’sOakland Standard gets me out almost every First Friday for the eclectic, socially-responsive activities that celebrate local community.
If we look at engagement alone, cultural stewardship is evolving. We are a DIY, participatory culture – we curate our own shows and raise our own funds.  Now we just need to be consistent.  See ourselves as “supporters” and not just “consumers”.  The difference is what will ensure that the art we value, that speaks to our multiple voices, continues to receive the support it needs to be heard.
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Posted on Monday, April 11, 2011
Originally posted as part of the Emerging Arts Professionals - Bay Area, Spring 2011 Blog Salon.


“Our communities need to see our artists doing their art.” ~ Senay Dennis (aka Refa 1)
As a transplant from New York (8 years and counting), I have come to expect the performing arts to take over the landscape during warm weather in major cities.  New York sets the bar withSummer Stage across 5 boroughs.  L.A. organizes Grand Performances in spite of its urban sprawl. Chicago, with only 2.5 real warm months, has a jam-packed schedule at Millenium Park.  San Francisco’s approach is a little disjointed but at least the effort is there: Stern Grove and Outside Lands fill a niche. And in SF, when all else fails, there’s always someone performing at BART & MUNI’s busiest stations.
So what’s going on in Oakland?
Oakland is home to some 90 parks, (compare that to Brooklyn’s 39).  With so much public space, why are we only graced with two days for the Art and Soul Festival, four days of Sundays in the Redwoods, and a smattering of lunchtime performances as part of Sweet Summer Sounds?  In the debate around encouraging arts appreciation in youth, why are we not making it simple, direct, and affordable?  While we’re at it, why not change the focus in favor of involving whole families through a dynamic network of outdoor, neighborhood-based performances that span the range from music to dance to theater?
Outdoor performances (usually) = free performances.
The economics don’t add up. Nor should they, according to Arlene Goldbard’s urging that we “start with open eyes: refuse to pretend this debate is about money; explain how the arts are being used to send a political message.”  Oakland’s political message is a charged one that mimics the overall United States emphasis to exercise control and boundaries rather than encouraging diverse communities to connect around public performance.  What if, post-Mesherle verdict, the City of Oakland spent less on overtime for law enforcement officials and invited Turf Feinz and Youth Uprising to engage the public in a dance demonstration at Frank Ogawa Plaza?
What if Oakland committed to outdoor performances as much as is its highly-publicized restoration projects?  CBS Outdoor contributed $6.5 million in billboard revenue so that Oakland School of the Arts could pre-pay its first seven years of rent to the Fox Theater.  What if the City negotiated with CBS Outdoor to use a portion of the billboard’s continued revenue to support site-specific performance activating the Uptown Sculpture Garden?
In the midst of the furor around Mayor Quan’s most recent push to cut Oakland’s arts funding, we also need to look at our neighbors’ understanding of “the arts”.
I would bet that the majority of Oakland-ers, like the majority of Americans, don’t define themselves as artists or see “the arts” as vital to their lives.  Even in the Bay Area, where we are supposedly so culturally-literate, I listen closely to the subtext when young second-generation business owners think artists are people who just want to “live off society” and graduates of Berkeley High are instantly cynical when a new acquaintance describes herself as “an artist.”  What if Oakland’s residents, encouraged by the presence of dance and music almost in their backyards, became more active cultural stewards, showing just as much enthusiasm for new bars and restaurants as the performance-packed but seemingly one-off Uptown Unveiled?
Performance artist, Adesola Akinleye, discussing the overlapping elements of bodies and buildings, writes:
“… The person who watches dancing does none of the physical work themselves but in perceiving the performance they experience the rhythm of it as though it were in their own body…  I see choreography working in such a way that the audience becomes aware of their own feeling of the aesthetic of the body in space.  I aim for my work to continue to be alive within the space when the dancing bodies have finished; for the dance to have left a trace.”
Dance demands a kinesthetic empathy, a way of experiencing art bodily simply by watching.  Another video featuring Turf Feinz is “RIP Rich D”.  The intense and simple beauty of humans finding an outlet for mourning through movement has accumulated over 2.5 million views on YouTube.  Such empathy has the potential to pierce the layers of urban existence and bring together Oakland’s diverse yet self-segregated neighborhoods.  Especially if we commit to it in public.
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