leave the pantyhose behind

When I was little, I made a list of jobs that I never ever wanted to have when I grew up. At the very top of the list was:

“Any job where I have to wear pantyhose.”

Last week I heard this great interview about a business based in Yonkers, NY that doesn’t interview or do a background check on any of their employees.

Instead they have people go through a 10 month apprenticeship, and if they cut the mustard they get the job.

They are upending the paradigm and doing it their own way.

They are making their own rules, following their own set of values, and creating a way of being in the world that works for them.

You can do that too.

If you want to.

Yeah, it’s gonna take a lot of work.

Yeah, there will be a lot of trial and error.

And yeah, it’s risky.

Honestly though,

I kinda think that is the way things are going these days, so get on the boat and the rock the hell out of it.

I know I am.

It is scary and unpredictable and I am failing and falling A LOT.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way,

You know why?

Because I never have to wear pantyhose and I get to choose how I am spending my time.

It has taken me a long long time to be able to say that:

I have paid my rent and bought my groceries by counting the number of ball bearings that have fallen out of holes in giant cardboard boxes in a windowless warehouse in Massachusetts for 10 hour stretches, 6 days a week.

I have left my house at 3am with boxes full of healthy heart posters, driving to doctor’s offices all over New England to put up the new posters and take down the old ones with a screw driver and a box of screws.

I have worked as a Lancôme Lady where I was required to wear lingerie and sell make-up to women who didn’t need it (I got fired from that job two weeks after I was hired when I was heard saying that thought out loud to a group of consumers who were clustered around the make-up counter).

I have bussed tables, driven busses, done hours of data entry, changed diapers on all ages of people, mowed lawns, and trimmed trees (I trimmed the wrong tree, and got fired from that job too).

I have served and sold tea and coffee and cookies and ice cream.

I have done all of those jobs, wearing pantyhose, that I never wanted to do.

And now I am rocking the boat, falling into the water, and swimming.

Not gracefully, mind you, but swimming, nonetheless.

I am saying this to you because it is time to burst the bubble and to get out into the world to do what you were meant to do.

Do it in a way that no one has ever done it before.

There really is only one you in the world, and you are going to do it differently than anyone else around you, and we are waiting to see what it is that YOU do.

So be proud.

Be shameless.

Be unrepentant and brash.

Get on the boat, and start rocking.

Your Dance Mission for the week is to dance in unexpected places, at unexpected times.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending

PS:

Have you clicked on this link to check out the summer dance classes yet?

If not, do it now.

Enrollment opens on JUNE 1st and you want to make sure you know what's what so that you can make the best decision for you and your dancing time this summer.

xo jo

more space

Last week I wrote to you about the new project I am working on with Laura Ann called Goodnight, Courtney Love that will take place at our local swimming pool.

I talked about the challenges of working in that kind of environment, and about what was not going so well.

This week I want to tell you about what is extraordinary about working in that kind of environment, and about what is going well.

So let’s “dive”  in:

Dinosaur Dancing:

Dinosaur Dancing has transformed itself  into Whale Dancing (it doesn’t role off the tongue as nicely without that little alliteration, but I think you get it anyway), which is about jumping as high as you can out of the water and then landing with a splash and a smack on the descent back down.  

Disclaimer and Tangent:  

I first practiced Whale Dancing two summers ago while at a Holiday Inn in Laramie, Wyoming.

I was in the hotel swimming pool with my niece and her friend.  I started catapulting myself through the water, jumping and splashing as much as I could.  

When I asked the girls if I looked like a swan they both said “No. You look like a whale.  A clumsy and crazy kind of whale.”

I said “Really?  Well thats kinda cool.”

The girls rolled their eyes and continued practicing their backflips.

I have been wanting a place to insert that whale like movement for awhile now.

I think I  just found it.

Privacy:

There is no privacy in a public swimming pool and that is what makes site-work, any kind of site-work, so very interesting.

I love working alone or with a small group in a dance studio, shut off from the rest of the world, as I find my way into the creative process through the physical body.

There is something compelling about what arises in that kind of solitary and reclusive sort of environment. 

But for me, bringing the creative process out of that exclusivity and into day to day living is exquisite.

It is where I am drawn to over and over again.

The people I meet, the conversations I have, the way I begin to look at the space, the way I begin to interact with my environment — the way the environment and the people change me — its like communion.

A perfect example happened yesterday at rehearsal:

LA and I were working on a section where I am draped over her back as she slowly crawls forward singing Dona Nobis Pacem.

I keep falling off of her back and climbing back on as this is happening.

LA’s head was down so she couldn’t see that she was crawling directly into a mom and her toddler.

I got really really embarrassed as I realized what we looked like from the outside so I slid off LA’s back as quickly as I could and apologized to the mom for getting in her way.

The mom said:  “Oh no, you don’t have to apologize.  I’m just so curious about what you’re doing.  Why are you singing Dona Nobis Pacem as you crawl forward, and why do you keep falling off her back and getting back on again?”

When we explained we were rehearsing for a Dance Performance, the mom got really excited and started to tell us about her work as a documentary playwright.  

That got us really excited and we began to ask her all sorts of questions about documentary playwriting.

If we hadn’t been in the middle of rehearsal and if we hadn’t all been soaking wet I have a feeling the the four of us would have gone out to breakfast to keep the conversation going.

And the lifeguards, the staff, the front desk people, the cleaning crew, and all the other employees at the North Boulder Rec Center?

They are amazing.  

Truly amazing.

I have done a lot of site-specific work and this is the first place I have worked where everyone really gets it. 

And if they don’t get it, they are curious enough to try to figure it out.

The generosity, kindness, and delight at having us rehearse in their swimming pool every Tuesday and Thursday morning is palpable.

The Space:

The space is still huge and overwhelming and loud and industrial with stray hairs and band-aids all along the edges and also in the water.  

And that is what makes it amazing.  

The possibilities are endless:  there are slides and windows and water fountains and play structures and offices and locker rooms and saunas and shallow ends and deep ends and railings and drains and steps and hallways and alcoves and basketball hoops and water. 

Lots and lots of water.

So we go slow, knowing there is no way we are going to be able to give all of that space the honor and time it deserves.

We notice where we are drawn to and we go there:  the water, the basketball hoops, the shallow ends, the edges.  

And then we wait to see what happens.

Peeing in the water:

What can I say?  

People will always pee in the pool.

Thwarted, Crushed, and Defeated Dreams:

Oh I was just being dramatic.

We will figure out a way to make this dance happen with whatever limits there are, ‘cause that is just what happens no matter where you are working and no matter what you are working on, right?

Your dance mission for the week is ambitious, so just see what happens.

Be creative.

See if you can figure out a way for the instructions you are about to read work for you, your resources, our time, and your yearning:

Go and find a body of water — any body of water.  

Dance on the edges of the water.

Dance in shallow ends of the water.

Dance in the deep ends of the water.

When you are done and soaking wet, get out of the water and dance again:

on the edges.

Let me know how it goes.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes,

Joanna of Joanna and the Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending

space

Laura Ann and I just started working on a new performance project called Goodnight, Courtney Love.  

The most fascinating, frustrating, and endearing part of this project is the space we are working in.

That space is the city’s indoor swimming pool.

So let me tell you what is not working so well about that space:

Dinosaur Dancing:

Before we started rehearsing in the pool, we were in a regular dance studio:  wood floors, beautiful light, windows, privacy.  

While rehearsing in the dance studio, we began to work on what we called “Dinosaur Dances”. 

Dinosaur Dances were these rough studies of movement where we would fling ourselves through the space with the least amount of grace, nuance, beauty, and technical prowess as possible.  

We would land hard against the wood floor with loud clunks, smacks, and thumps.

We were thrilled by our lack of finesse and panache.

We started to call this way of moving Dinosaur Dancing.

However, Dinosaur Dancing does not translate so well to concrete floors and concrete walls that are submerged underneath the water.

Nix the Dinosaur Dancing that we spent weeks practicing so that we wouldn’t get injured.

Privacy:

There is no privacy at a pubic swimming pool, even when it is closed to the public.

That delicate process of slowly creating something beloved that will change the way sentient beings relate to each other, which in time, will then change the ways of the world? 

Gone.

Instead there are a handful of 20-something lifeguards watching you very closely.

They are so wholly confused by what they are seeing that their whistles become permanently stuck to their youthful and sprightly mugs, as they desperately try to figure out which rule you just broke.

Bless their hearts.

And then there are the two and three year olds who definitely need their turn on the slide. 

That section you were just working on at the slide?

That section that you really want to run just one more time so you don’t forget it?

Gone.

Gotta let that one go.

And the moms that walk innocently into the kiddy pool to introduce their new babies to the water?  

The moment the mom walks out of the locker room, cooing to her baby with a love so pure it makes your heart break,  quickly transitions into a moment of such confusion and terror when she sees you doing your post post modern dance explorations, that you skedaddle back over to the slide as quickly as possible and ask if you can have a turn too.

3. The Space:

The space is huge and overwhelming and loud and industrial with stray hairs and band-aids all along the edges and also in the water.  

That’s all I have to say about that.

4. Peeing in the water:

I was told by a good friend that the chlorine in a swimming pool is so strong that it is totally okay to pee in the swimming pool as an adult.  

I can’t wrap my head around that one, but when we are diving and dancing in the kiddy pool for hours on end I repeat that mantra to myself over and over again so that I am not thinking about how much pee is making contact with my skin from all the kid swimmers (and adults swimmers too apparently).

5. Thwarted, Crushed, and Defeated Dreams:

These were all of the dreams and images we had when we began to make this dance:

Climbing up the slide.

Dragging furniture into the pool.

Eating pancakes in the pool.

Cooking pancakes in the pool.

Cartwheeling in the shallow end.

Doing headstands over the fountains while reciting James Joyce.

Having a musicians play electric guitars, drums, and keyboards in the pool.

Filling the pool with sand.

Hosting a 24 hour dance party in the pool for a hundred people.

Oh well.

A girl can dream, can’t she?

I will tell you what is working, and working really well, next time.

Your dance mission for the week is find a space that you would not consider a “dance” space.

Take a walk around that space.

Sit and contemplate that space for a minute or two — really see what is there and what is not there.

Begin to dance.

I would love love love to hear how that goes for you.

You can email me personally or comment by clicking this link:

As always,

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes,

Joanna

of

Joanna and The Agitators

sweetly agitating/persistently upending

have you heard this song?

I have been thinking about music lately.

Thinking about it because I don’t think about it that much when I am planning a dance class.

I plan the dance class.

Then I make a random play list that consists of songs that are atmospheric or minimalist or atonal or just plan weird.

Then I mix those up with songs that have a strong rhythm or beat or cadence.

Then I mix all of that up with silence.

I do this because I am interested in seeing what kind of movement emerges depending on what sound is happening in the room.

My sense of rhythm has always been a bit askew.

And counting……………………can we change the subject?

When I was living in NYC I was asked to substitute a ballet class one Saturday morning.

I won’t go into the details, but basically the class started out at 10am with a robust group of about 20  students.

By 11am the class had dropped down to half of that.

By 11:30am, there were a just a few stragglers left.

The stragglers stayed purely out of pity.

I love dancing to music.  And I love dancing to the beat.

But I also love dancing when there is no music or when there isn’t a clear beat.

I don’t think one is better or more “pure” than the other.  

For me, the dancing is just different and it comes from a different place depending on the sound happening around me.

I saw this incredible dance when I was living in NYC in the late 90’s.

It was one of those dances that changes you in a profound and acute way.

It was one of those dances that sets you on a path you didn’t know you were interested in taking because you didn’t know it existed.

The dance was a solo created by Ann Carlson and was called Grass/Bird/Rodeo.

Ann had three different costumes that she kept changing in and out of:  Her grass suit, her bird costume, and her rodeo outfit.

When she was in her grass suit, she could only move when she heard a sound.

There was no music, so that meant if someone coughed she moved.  Or if someone shifted in their seat, she shifted in her grass suit.

And in all honesty, the grass section wasn’t so interesting to watch,

(the bird/rodeo sections were phenomenal, but the grass section…meh) 

but I was intrigued by her commitment to this inherently random and arbitrary task that had to do with sound.

I push up against my relationship to sound and music all the time when I am teaching.

Yesterday I had to turn a piece of music off.

I just could not bear to hear Julia Wolf of Bang on a Can recite all 52 states in her song “The States” in that looping, atonal, dirge like manner of Bang on a Can.

So I put on an old favorite, Sæglópur by Sigur Rós.

But since I am the teacher, I get to do that.

What happens when you are not the teacher and you are hearing music that makes it impossible to drop in?    

What happens if a piece of music is playing that you love dancing to, and then it gets turned off?  

What happens if someone in the class is growling like a lion and you have been doing a dance that is quiet and soft and transcendent?    

What do you do if the growling lion wants to join you and yet you do not want to join the growling lion?

Here is your dance mission for the week:

Click on these songs, and dance to them.

Sigur Rós – Sæglópur (Live) Julia Wolfe – Steel Hammer: The States Noze – Tuba Goldmund – Threnody

Dance to these 4 songs in anyway you want.

Maybe you dance to these songs while sitting in a chair, or lying on the ground, or bounding through your backyard, or doing a little gig in the grocery store.

Notice how you feel.

Notice if you don’t know what to do when a certain song comes on. Notice if you feel stuck.

Notice if is easy and enjoyable to dance when a certain song comes on. Notice if you feel free. Notice if you don't.

One is not better than the other.

If you can, stay curious about how your dancing changes, or doesn't change depending on what song you are listening too.

And if you have any songs that you love to dance too, you can share them here:

As always,

With so much warmth and jivey vibes (thank you Jordan!)

Joanna

of

Joanna and the Agitators

when was the last time you tried something new?

Was it sometime today?  or yesterday?

Last week?  or last year?

When was the last time you fell flat on your face?

We are two and a half weeks into 2015 already, and my question is:

What have you done so far that is brand new to you?

What experiences have you had where you are the newbie, the tenderfoot, the fledgling.

When was the last time that you were the new kid on the block?

When was the last time you were emerging?

For me, I am pretty comfy.

I know my way around.

I know what I like and what I don’t like

I am aware of the hierarchy in my little bubble of a world, and I know my place in it.

I haven’t been a neophyte in a long long time.

So for some godforsaken reason, I thought it was time to put myself in the position of being a beginner so that I could fall flat on my face.

And  I did.

Exactly 3 hours ago in my skate skiing lesson.  

I was on a tiny hump of a hill, and started to go down that little bump in the road, and then I was in snow, on my belly, sprawled out in all directions, flat on my face.

I can’t wait to try it again, though I am really glad I have 7 days between now and the next lesson.

I think there is something kinda amazing about being brand new to something.

Somebody told me once that when you are in that sort of experience — that sort of klutzy, unsure, and dithering experience — especially when it is movement related — that millions 

(she didn’t say millions…I don’t know how many, but I like the sound of millions, so let’s just say millions) of new neurons are forming in your brain, making connections with each other, and ultimately making you smarter and more shrewd.

So when I was face down in the cold cold snow earlier today, that is what I was saying to myself:

 “YES!!!  I am growing millions of neurons in my brain RIGHT NOW and those neurons are making connections with other neurons, which means that when I finally figure out how to stand up on my skis and get my head out of the snow I am going to be really really intelligent and really really perceptive and I will start to see the universe in a brand new way.” 

And that is exactly what happened after my instructor and another student pulled me up and out of the snow and I was sent back to the lodge to warm-up and drink hot chocolate while they finished up the lesson.

But in all seriousness, I think there is something fundamentally amazing about being in an unfamiliar and new environment, where you don’t know anyone and have no idea about how to proceed.  

I do actually think connections are made in your body and your brain that are psychically life altering and cellularly pleasing.

So, my dear:

Your dance mission for this week is to try something brand new that you have never tried before.

Notice how it feels.

Notice the sensations in your body.

Notice your breathing.

Notice how it changes over time.

As always, I would love love love to hear from you. 

You can leave a comment here, or email me directly.

With warmth,

Joanna

of 

Joanna and the Agitators.

sweetly agitating/persistently upending.

Trust. Rest. Dance. Repeat. And Repeat. And Repeat.‏

I just had a talk with a young woman who said,  

“What advice would you give young people about becoming artists?”

And I know this is horrible, but I actually started laughing.

Really hard.

Advice?

Right now?

The day after this awful election when we woke up feeling like we were going to throw up?

My advice was to GET OUT NOW, become a banker, and move to Scandinavia.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

Actually, what I said to her was this:

We need artists now more then ever.

And we need artists who are making work for their own communities.

Yeah, there is no funding.

Yeah, there is not enough space or enough time to make the work.

Yeah, you will be doing the marketing, the producing, the generating, the editing, the costuming, the lighting, the sound, and managing it all, especially at the beginning.

And yeah: You are going to fail over and over and over again

(Well, would you look at that: The Failure Festival just happens to be this weekend! Come on by and let’s celebrate this failure thing together).

And in the end, we still make art because we have to.

Because now more then ever, when our freedoms are being hacked away at, when our resources are dwindling, when the people who we just elected yesterday are just not that nice,

We still make art.

And we do it with persistence.

We do it with intelligence.

We do it with vision.

We do it with thoughtfulness, with wisdom, and with courage.

And we do it with a really good sense of humor.

Then this young artist asked me:

“But how?”

And then I really started to laugh.

The kind of laugh were you slap the table, spill the drinks, and snort so loud the people at the table next to you, get up and move as far away as they can.

(She got a little nervous).

I was laughing because I have NO IDEA how to do it, and I certainly had no idea how she should do it.

When I finally calmed myself down, I looked over at her for a moment and realized she was serious. She wanted me to tell her how to make art.

Oh the sweetness!

The complete trust she had that I would actually know the answer to her question made me pull myself together and pretend to know what I was talking about.

This is what I said to her:

“See a ton of work. Go to museums, concerts, plays, galleries. gardens, dances. Talk about art with your friends, your teachers, your family, the politicians we just elected.

Ask why art matters, and why it matters NOW.

Wonder about this…deeply.

Think about who has the privilege to create, contemplate, and make art.

Think about who doesn’t have the privilege to create, contemplate, make art,

and still does anyway.

Take breaks from making art to see if you miss it

and if you do, then get back to it.

Don’t work so hard that it isn’t any fun, but work hard enough that you are in a creative process that is daunting and awesome.

Get into the studio and just start.

Invite a friend in to see what you have been working on.

Then

come out of the studio a lot and take a look around.

Stay curious.

Trust. Rest. Dance. Trust. Rest. Dance. Trust. Rest. Dance. Trust. Rest. Dance.”

She nodded and smiled and wrote everything I said in her notebook.

I smiled back and took a sip of my tea.

When she left, I sat for a bit by myself and thought:

oh Mark Udall, oh Wendy Davis, oh Michelle Nunn, oh Kay Hagan, what have we done?

And then I thought about the young woman who had just asked me for advice.

Her wide eyed wish to be an artist.

Her tenacity and eagerness to make something that matters.

For her, I thought.

For her hope and for her trust, no matter who is elected,

I am still going to dance.

I hope you do too.

Dance mission for the week:

Next time you are on Facebook or Instagram or Tumblr or Twitter or Pinterest or whatever else is out there:

Just pause.

Stop.

Turn it off.

Put on some music, or don’t put on some music,

and just start dancing.

Post about it here

http://bit.ly/1u1Ytu1

or here

http://on.fb.me/1tndQsd

And you know what:

If you want to post in either of these places and make your comments more public, that’s great.

And if you don’t, that’s great too.

Whatever feels the most comfortable to you.

Either way, I love hearing from you.

And if you like this newsletter, feel free to pass it along to your friends or have them sign up directly through my website: www.joannaandtheagitators.com

With Warmth,

Joanna

of

Joanna and The Agitators

sweetly agitating/persistently upending

natural disasters and the improvising artist: part 1

I have a question for you: How do you think that adversity affects creativity?

I am in the beginning stages of writing a series of newsletters that deal with this question, but before I really get into it, I wanted to hear your thoughts about this.

If you are inspired, write a comment, post a video, or email me directly with your thoughts about adversity and creativity.

You can post here: http://bit.ly/1u1Ytu1 or here: http://on.fb.me/1tndQsd

I have also started interviewing people about this, so if you are interested in being interviewed, I would love to talk with you.

Your dance mission for this week is to break, ruin, destroy, or reconfigure something that mattes to you. See if in the breaking, something else emerges.

With Warmth, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending

the moon

My friend Sharon is here right now and we are in the middle of a dance residency. This includes:

A slow morning of eggs, toast, and a little dark chocolate.

Talking and tea.

More talking. More chocolate.

Dancing.

Talking and tea.

Lunch (which includes chocolate).

Dancing.

Talking and tea.

Dancing.

A little more talking. A little more dancing, A little more chocolate.

A hike in the mountains.

And then more talking - about dancing.

It is slow and spacious and unscheduled.

We are following an internal pull to move, to rest, and to move again.

There is a slow awakening into dancing, and a slow descend into stillness. We have run out of chocolate and tea for now, but we still have the moon.

Your dance mission for the week is this:

Block out two hours that you are going to dedicate solely to dancing.

This doesn’t mean you have to dance for the whole two hours.

It just means that you have two hours to follow what emerges for you in your body.

You may find yourself lying on the ground for a good portion of this time.

You may find yourself building a rock garden.

You may find yourself moaning.

You may find yourself tapping your fingers on the surfaces of things.

You may find yourself climbing up and down the staircase in different rhythmical patterns.

You may find yourself folding into and out of the furniture, the walls, the closets of the space you are in.

Trust the process implicitly.

Even as you question and ponder and doubt and become fearful or numb:

Trust it.

Hints for making these two hours lovely and exquisite:

Have a lot of tea on hand.

Have chocolate and cheeses available, olives and good bread, herring and sausage for protein.

Have your journal and any art supplies you might need.

Have warm clothes, warm socks, and maybe even a hat.

Notice when you are present. Notice when you are looking at the clock.

Notice your breath. Notice where your eyes are.

Notice the sensations in your body at the same time that you are are noticing the larger world right outside of your window.

And if you can:

Do this dance mission with a good and trusted friend who is also interested in dancing, creativity, embodiment, and imagination.

Post about your experience here:

http://bit.ly/1u1Ytu1

or here:

http://on.fb.me/1tndQsd

As always,

With Warmth, Joanna of Joanna and the Agitators. sweetly agitating/persistently upending

ps:

I almost forgot!

1. The Anatomy of Improvisation is FULL.

If you would like to get on the waiting list, email me.

2. Just Girls is FULL.

If you would like to get on the waiting list, email me.

3. There is still room in Creative Movement for Kids.

Email asap if you would like to sign your child up for this class because we start next week!

http://bit.ly/Z9HU1Z

4. Dance Vacations are coming up and there are only two spots left:

Email if you would like to sign up.

http://bit.ly/1vNgbjj

5. Family Dance Days are coming up too.

Email me if you would like to sign up.

http://bit.ly/1qS0neG

and finally…..

The Failure Festival, produced and curated by Laura Ann Samuelson of Hoarded Stuff, is right around the corner.

I am working on a new duet with Emily K. Harrison called Beam Me Up, Scotty.

Check out the Failure Festival Website for more information:

http://bit.ly/1v2wECl

xoxoxoox

did you use your headlamp this week?

I know how important sleep is and how yucky it feels to wake up at 3am. But when an amazing and off the wall image comes to you, take it seriously. In my humble opinion, that is a moment that is more important than sleep. If you are going to pursue an artistic life, when those images come to you, whenever they come to you, wake up and write them down. I have lost SOOOOO many of these early morning down in the dirt holly roller snap shots because I didn’t want to wake up. I am not a religious person. I don’t believe in god. I don’t believe in any type of saviour. I believe that we live in a random, chaotic, and stunning universe. But the way these moments of wild come to us at 3am, the way we collapse them and then collage them together as artists, the way we let the illogical build and build and build until it becomes logical, that is like Ellijah actually showing up for a sip of wine at the passover table.

So if something comes at 3 in the morning, put your head lamp on and write it down. Know you are not alone. If I am lucky enough, I am hopefully doing the same thing. Then go back to sleep. Or don’t. If it is that good you might be up for awhile, so relax. Make some mint tea, have some toast. Yeah, so you’ll be a little tired the next day. That’s the price you pay my friend. That is the price you pay for this kind of magic.

When I dance, when I improvise, when I am in the throes of an artistic process, I feel the curve of the earth beneath me and the expanse of the sky above.

I don’t feel this all of the time.

Not even most of the time.

Maybe it happens once in a blue moon.

I glimpsed it on Saturday at the last summer dance vacation, and I felt it on Sunday at a family dance day. I saw it on Monday when I was watching Chrissy, Johannah, Peg, and Toby in the Racquet Ball Court at The North Boulder Rec Center rehearsing for dirtland.

And that is why I wake up, put my headlamp on, and jot down the meandering, twisty, and unreasonable moments of witchery that come to me when I am not looking.

I am not willing to let these moments slip by me anymore.

And the more I give these moments the time they are asking for at 3am, the more they start to knock on my door at a more reasonable hour. Like today, one came at 1:30pm and then again at 3pm, yesterday at 10am, and the day before that at 5pm. I wrote them all down, and gave them the respect and time they deserved by brining them to rehearsal today.

Most of these moments got thrown out, or put aside for another time. But the one that stuck, the one with the suitcases filled with dirt, I am ready to let that one in and stay awhile.

So little chicken.

Did you set your headlamp on your bedside table?

Is your notebook ready?

Are you ready to get to work and wait for her to knock on your door so you can welcome her in at an unreasonable hour?

Because if you do, she will start showing up more and more often, and at a more convenient time.

The dance mission for this week is to dance before dinner and to dance before bed.

Have your headlamp ready to go and see what happens.

I will be right there with you, making my tea and toast.

With Warmth,

Joanna

of

Joanna and the Agitators.

someone keeps knocking on my door...at 3 A.M.

It’s her.Knocking away. at 3 AM in the morning.

AGAIN.

Creeping into my bed and whispering:

“You should have stuck with your idea of becoming a middle school gym teacher. Then you could wear a jogging suit everyday. The kind with the stripes and the shiny pants. AND you would get your very own whistle.”

I roll over, trying to get back to sleep, and think of myself as a gymnast, on the uneven bars, winning a gold medal at the Olympics.

As I am drifting off to sleep, just as I dismount, “stick it” on the mat, and get a 10 from the judges, she taps my shoulder again.

This time I am sitting straight up in bed with a headlamp and my notebook.

I am writing down everything she is showing me: Vacuuming grass in red high heeled shoes. Meditating on a large, raw, slab of t-bone steak. Pouring skittles over my head. Duct taping food to a dining room table. Dancing in a room piled high with dirt. Dancing in a river with two red chairs. Dancing on a car in white dresses and silver high heels. Sliding down a plexiglass wall in a prom dress. Running as fast as I can singing “I Feel Pretty.” Wearing a cat costume that is soaking wet.

The next day I am rehearsing for a show.

This entails a lot of lying down, some slow rolling, focused breathing, and thinking about my grocery list.

There is some imagining of what color gym outfit I am going to wear when I quit making dances and am teaching wiffle ball instead.

At some point I find myself colliding these early morning images. This one on top of that one with that one underneath. Over there, that one will rest in the corner and then hurl itself through space RIGHT NOW.

A murky collage starts to form. I make a quick little choreography that sends this image into the next image. I start fiddling with music. I take some notes. I begin to sing. To roll. To crawl. To tiptoe. To jerk my elbows this way and then that way. I bite the air. I hop and fall. Hop and fall. Hop and fall. I jot down some notes and make a choreography that expands the images from my early morning muse, and then shrinks it down to a miniature version of itself.

I lie down again.

I begin to imagine how the dance will begin. And how it will end.

I don’t know why she insists on visiting me at 3am in the morning. I wouldn't mind a visit at say, 1pm, 8pm, or even 10pm.

But 3 A.M????

I guess thats how she rolls. She doesn’t show up for months, even years sometimes and just as I am about to say enough, I have nothing. Nada. Zilch. I am done. No more dancing for me She goes, “Hmmmm…really??? Are you sure? Because I just met this guy who sells meat right off of the cow and you can get it directly from him and I just think you should give it one more shot and then make up your mind. And look, there are 3 dollar prom dresses at Savers right now, so just try it. You’ll like it. I promise. You’ll like it.”

So I put away my jogging suit and whistle. I put away my new sneakers I was going to wear the first day of school. I put away my wiffle ball and my wiffle bat, and instead I get my notebook and my headlamp all set up next to my bed.

I fall asleep, secretly hoping she’ll knock on my door tonight.

Your dance mission for the week is to get your notebook and your headlamp out and to write down what arises that makes you go “WHAAAAAAAAAT?????” I was with a friend yesterday, and by accident, she said “What is your animal” instead of “What is your email.” And I said, “WRITE THAT DOWN. That was weird and strange and beautiful. And it might be the start, or the middle, or the end of your next dance/poem/song/puppet show. It might not be. But it might be. So write it down.” Right after you finish reading this email, I want you to start to make a list of those weird little moments that make you turn your head, catch your breath, and sit up straighter. This might happen when you hear something on the radio, it might happen when you see something in nature, it might happen when you are in a formal or not so formal dance experience, it might happen when you are having a conversation with a friend.

Write it down and make a list of these moments.

These are the moments that can get you started on a very singular and astonishing journey to making a dance, a poem, a song, a puppet show, a diorama.

(I am about to switch to all caps AND bold now because this is important):

I WANT YOU TO SEND ME YOUR LIST ON MONDAY NIGHT. ON WEDNESDAY I AM GOING TO SEND YOU BACK THE NEXT STEP. I CAN’T SEND YOU THE NEXT STEP IF I DON’T GET YOUR LIST. SO SEND ME YOUR LIST. You can send your list directly to this email, or if you want to share what you have written, and see what other people have written, you can post your list on the facebook dance missions page at: http://on.fb.me/1tndQsd I can’t wait to read what you come up with for this Dance Mission.

a weekend in paris

Well, it's not Paris, but it's close. A group of us met up at my house this past Saturday for the 3rd Dance Vacation and it was marvelous. I always get a little nervous before hosting one of these events:

Will the house be clean enough: (probably not). Will the car be clean enough since I am driving everyone back and forth from Boulder:(definitely not). Will the food be good enough: (I hope so). Will the dancing be wonderful enough: (You just never know).

And yet, it seems to work out most of the time.

I see people finding their way through this maze of dancing with a fierce and fervid questing that inspires me to quest more deeply, and more keenly myself. Questions of what it means to be seen came up a lot at this last dance vacation: Who is seeing me and what are they seeing? Does being seen change my dancing? Why is it so scary to be seen? or Why is it not so scary to be seen?

Will a part of me die if I am seen?

And these are questions that I can't answer, because I don't know.

All I know is that dancing with "no one" seeing me and dancing with "some one" seeing me are different. One is not better then the other. They are just different.

When I am dancing alone, either in my house or in the woods

(for some reason if I am in an actual dance studio dancing by myself, I usually end up taking a nap...go and know),

I am just feeling my body, feeling my connection to the larger world, and also feeling my connection to the tiny world beneath my feet. When I am being seen, I am feeling all of those things too,

(full disclosure: Sometimes I actually don't feel any of that. Sometimes I feel spaced out, unsure, preoccupied, scared, twisted up, perplexed, empty. It is just the nature of the practice I think.

That divine moment, when all things are aligned, when the dancing is coming from inside of you and also outside of you, when you are just following that blessed current of creative inquiry, when you are whirling without realizing you are whirling, but also so attuned to the whirling that you can actually feel every cell in your body connected to every single cell in all of the bodies...

that doesn't happen all the time.

At least for me.

It just happens some of the time. And because it happens some of the time, I am willing, very willing, to put up with the times it doesn't happen because then something entirely different emerges)

AND I am aware that there are eyes on me. In some inexplicable way that changes my decisions, my actions, my emotional arc in the dance. Sometimes it changes it slightly, and it is barely noticeable. Sometimes it changes it drastically and then I feel utterly alive. Or I feel like I have died a little bit. I just never know how it will play out.

So I keep breathing. I notice when I inhale. I notice when I exhale. I notice the gaps in between my breath. I notice the sensations in my body. I feel my feet on the ground. Then I stop noticing,

and

I am just dancing. Your dance mission for the week is to let yourself be seen in your dancing and to notice how that feels to you.

That might mean signing up for a dance class. That might mean going out to a club and dancing in the front of the house rather then the back of the house. That might mean having a dance party with your family. That might mean dancing by yourself and having someone take photos. That might mean dancing by yourself and having a friend watch you. Then maybe the friend dances, and you watch them. That might mean dancing in a public space.

And that might mean that there is no way in hell you are doing any of these things, so you do what you did last week (and if you didn't do it, here is your chance to do it again):

Tonight, when you lie down to go to bed, imagine yourself dancing. You alone will watch yourself dancing.

Post about your experience here:

http://on.fb.me/1lWV46w

And....

So much fun stuff coming up in the next couple of months! (I think that deserves at least ONE exclamation point):

1. dirtland: oh yes oh yes, it is getting close...

Created by: Joanna Rotkin Performed by: Johannah Franke, Toby Hankin, Chrissy Nelson, Peg Posnick, and Joanna Rotkin

At The North Boulder Recreation Center as part of the 2014 Boulder International Fringe Festival on Saturday, September 20 at 6pm Sunday, September 21 at 4pm Friday, September 26 at 6pm Saturday, September 27 at 4pm

All performances are FREE and Family Friendly

dirtland is funded in part by a major grant from the Boulder Arts Commission.

2. Class, Class, Class:

Dance Classes for Adults: “Joanna is the Richard Freeman of the dance world.” – Marcie Goldman, Founder and owner of Mojo Mastery

Click here for more info http://on.fb.me/1ovuR62

Dance Class for Girls, Ages 10-13: “I am incredibly awed by seeing my daughter so freely participate in an activity that she previously never would have dared to do. We are grateful she had the opportunity to explore new parts of herself. She also made a good friend.” – A happy parent

Click here for more info http://on.fb.me/1kChOid

Dance Class for Children, Ages 6-9: "I thought I was going to learn ballet. But this is WAAAAY better then ballet....this is rock and roll." -- Giovanna, Age 6, after dancing to Hava Nagila.

Click here for more info http://on.fb.me/1pOu5zc

Dance Class for the Whole Family: "We are dancing so much more as a family after taking this workshop. When is the next one? We are in." -- a family of 5

Click here for more info http://on.fb.me/1ra6AUW

and so many projects that are just getting under way now: A new duet with Leeny Sack. A new duet with Emily K. Harrison for The Failure Festival, curated by Laura Ann Samuelson. Working with Carolina Tabares Mendoza on developing The Great Green and bringing it back to Mexico. Residency with Sharon Mansur. Continuing to figure out how to run an itty bitty dance business with Marcie Goldman. And walking the dogs, hanging with my favorite niece, and taking long summer naps.

With Warmth, Joanna of Joanna and the Agitators

I use too many exclamation points!

My niece read over my copy for the new Joanna and the Agitators website.

She told me I use too many exclamation points.  

I got a little defensive with her because I just get really really really excited when I talk about dancing.

She also told me I use too many superlatives.

I am working on not getting defensive about that comment as well.

Putting all of that aside, I have been thinking about what gets me all aflutter about dancing these days 

(I originally had a superlative in that sentence.  I heard my niece’s voice, so I ripped that superlative out with my teeth)

and I think the thrill comes from finding some acceptance and contentment in my dancing.

I am not comparing myself to anyone else.

I am not worrying about what other people think.

I an not feeling the need to explain myself.

My ambition is low.

This low ambition opens up a new found freedom in my dancing life.

When you watch little kids dance, they just do it.  No thought about what they look like, or the emotional landscape they are trying to create with their movement.

They are just dancing.  

As free spirits. As bodies in motion. As living beings in the world.

I am crawling, and sometimes clawing, my way back to the nitty gritty of dancing because I lose the juice from time to time due to the codification of movement.

And it’s good…the codification is all good.

No, I take that back.

It isn’t all good. Some of it is good Some of it is really fucked up (shoot, those damn superlatives).

I imagine that you have probably experienced this yourself in some form or another:

Standing in your underwear in front of the dance teacher your first year of college. Turning around slowly with your arms held out like wings as she writes down       everything that is wrong with your body.

Getting your dance scholarship taken away because you gained 5 pounds over winter break.

Having a serious conversation with the dance faculty about getting a breast       reduction and a tummy tuck.

Being told in no uncertain terms: never sit; only hover.  This will prevent the rapid development of cellulite and fat thighs.

Being told to go into dance criticism rather then dance performance because your writing is pretty good (ahem…not a peep about my overuse of exclamation points or superlatives) and your dancing is okay, but that body…no one wants to look at that body on stage.

Having a meeting with all of the dancers in the cafeteria to go over the nutritional plan for the semester to keep everyone on track with their weight program.  As everyone is nibbling at their teaspoon full of cottage cheese wrapped in a wilted leaf of you lettuce, you, being who you are, get up and fill your tray with a dozen donuts.  You come back to the table and eat them one by one,

 smacking your lips and saying 

 yum yum yum.

Then you drop out.

And you stay away from dancing for a long time.

Until you find a magnificent teacher at an itty bitty college in the desert 

(thank you Delisa.  You changed everything.  You opened up doors I didn’t know existed, and started me on this loopy little jaunt of becoming an artist).

There is only one dance class offered at this college in the desert.

It is called Movement Improvisation.

You take it over and over and over again.

And no one says a word about what your body looks like because everyone is focused on making these wild and crazy shows that happen in the dark with only one lamp lighting up the stage.  The whole cast is wearing trash cans on their heads, standing in glass bowls filled with skittles.  Someone spins, and because she can’t see since there is a trash can on her head, she crashes into the wall and then falls.  She gets up and does it again and again and again.

Sundays are spent improvising with live musicians from 10am-10pm at night.  The focus is on the dancing and the play and the spirit and the ensemble and the grit of staying in and then stepping out. 

Both of these experiences shaped me profoundly.  I learned as much about who I don’t want to be as a movement educator and performer as I learned about who I do want to be as a movement educator and performer.  

If I ever get to be President (you never know, you never know) I am going to add an amendment to the world constitution stating that everyone has the right to dance.  I am going to add a time to dance at all meetings, hearings, bill signings, policy making sessions, debates, and discussions on Capitol Hill.

When I am President, dancing will be become part of our everyday life experience here on this planet earth.  

Small dances with a hand might happen for some, and big dances that swoop through the land will happen for others. 

From sea to shining sea, there will be dancing.

And now onto the dance mission for this week.

I have been getting feedback that people are reading the dance missions, but not doing them.

So let me make it easier.

I got this idea from a friend:

When you lie in bed at night, imagine yourself dancing.

(When I lie in bed I always imagine myself as a gymnast in the Olympics on the uneven bars.  I am in a blue leotard with a green star on the front, and I jump onto the bars and spin and flip and twirl and then I fall asleep).

Okay, staying on task:  so tonight, when you lie down to go to sleep, imagine yourself dancing.

Post about this experience on the facebook page. I would love to hear about what you are imagining:

http://on.fb.me/1lWV46w

And lastly, 

this is what Joanna and the Agitators is up to this fall:

Update about Dance Vacations: This Saturday is the 3rd Dance Vacation and it is full.

However, the last Dance Vacation is on Saturday, September 6th and a spot just opened up.

If you want to join me for the last Dance Vacation of the summer, email me asap so I can save that spot for you.

Family Dance Days: Email me if you are interested in joining me on Sunday, August 31st for the next Family Dance Day.

dirtland: I will be presenting my current project, dirtland, at The North Boulder Recreation Center as part of the 2014 Boulder International Fringe Festival.  I have had the privilege of working with some amazing dancers for this show: Johannah Franke, Toby Hankin, Chrissy Nelson, and Peg Posnick.

We will be performing on Saturday, September 20 at 6pm Sunday, September 21 at 4pm Friday, September 26 at 6pm Saturday, September 27 at 4pm

All performances are FREE and Family Friendly

dirtland is funded in part by a major grant from the Boulder Arts Commission.

Dance Classes this fall: JUST GIRLS:  Dance Class for girls ages 10-13

JUST GIRLS will meet on Thursdays from 4-6pm at the Boulder Circus Center from October 16-December 11th.  NO CLASS on November 27.   The fee for JUST GIRLS is $300. 

This fee includes a Chipotle/Noodles & Company/Lark Burger sort of dinner at each class session.   (NOTE: this class is almost full already.  If your daughter is interested in taking this class, email me soon).

Creative Movement for kids:  Dance Class for children ages 6-9 Creative Movement for kids will meet on Tuesdays from 4-5:15pm at the Boulder Circus Center from October 14-December 9th.  NO CLASS on November 25th.The fee for Creative Movement is $160. This fee includes a snack that will be provided for the students at each class session.

The Anatomy of Improvisation:  Dance Class for Adults The Anatomy of Improvisation will meet on Tuesday and Thursdays from 11-12:30pm at The Boulder Circus Center from October 14-December 11th, 2014.  NO CLASS on November 25 or November 27.  The fee for Anatomy of Improvisation is $320 if you sign up for both days and $184 if you sign up for one day.

*Sign-up by September 15th to receive your free body work session with Avery Oatman.   Once you have signed up, you will receive Avery’s contact info so you can schedule an appointment for craniosacral work or a full body massage.  

That’s it for now.

Hope you have a lovely Wednesday evening and I am looking forward to hearing about where your imagination takes you tonight.

With Warmth,

Joanna of  Joanna and the Agitators

be careful or your face might just freeze like this

Do you think I should use this photograph on my website??? My friend Jun took it of The Great Green and I kinda love it in a strange and loopy sort of way. It reminds me of what happened this Sunday for the first Family Dance Day of the summer.

Everyone was open and willing to try anything. The crazy little dances that each family made were distinctive and unique to that particular family. Everyone was making faces and giggling, not caring about what they looked like or if they were doing it right. It was just about being together - dancing side by side.

Which, in my mind, is what the essence of dancing is all about.

When we let go of caring about what we look like, something magical opens up and we are able do more then we ever imagined.

When we let go of “Am I doing it right?”, the beauty in the dancing is elevated.

When we let go of trying to understand how it all fits together, a freedom begins to emerge in the body that is generous and spacious.

Serendipity and synchronicity start to become a daily occurrence.

So try this right now:

Get up from the computer, wherever you are, and just move for 10 seconds. It doesn’t matter how you move, it doesn’t matter what kind of movement it is, there is no right and there is no wrong. Just move and count to the number 10 and then sit back down. As you move for these 10 seconds notice your breathing. When do you inhale? When do you exhale? What happens during the gaps between? Feel your feet on the earth and see what is around you as your moving. If you are in a public space, like a cafe, you can move super small so no one sees you moving (I just did it myself and no one noticed me). If you are home, you can do it bigger if you like.

Do this two more times throughout the day. Stop whatever it is you are doing and move for 10 seconds. And NOTICE. Just notice what you are feeling. It doesn’t matter WHAT you are feeling, just notice what it is. Are you glad that the 10 seconds is over or do wish you could keep dancing?

If you are feeling courageous try to do your 10 seconds of movement on the ground so you change your body position in a more drastic way.

If you are feeling stuck, unmotivated, lethargic, confused, or bewildered in the next few days, change your position. Then change it again. Change it once more, and then dance for as long as you want to your favorite music. Or in silence. Or while humming.

I would love to hear how this goes for you, so post about your experience here:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/285584598283231/

Hope you are having a wonderful week!!!!

Warmly,

Joanna of Joanna and the Agitators

i'm in the dog house

I literally was in the dog house the other night. I poked my head in to see how the pups were doing and all of a sudden I found myself almost all the way in, snuggled up with Shiloh and Hershey. Then I thought, hmmmm….I think this is my next solo. Place a dog house on the stage, and slowly crawl out, or have half of my body in and half of my body out while talking to imaginary dogs.

Then I thought, hmmmm…..what about that suitcase idea? Walk on the stage with a suitcase filled with dirt (dirt is a reoccurring theme, as is food, as is astro turf, as is sod), set the suitcase down and stand in the dirt that is inside of the suitcase?

Then I thought, hmmm….what about filling the racquet ball court at the North Boulder Rec Center with dirt (see, I told you). I ran it by Jayson, who very sweetly stood outside of the racquet ball court with me for a good 10 minutes hemming and hawing about how amazing that would be, and then said “No fucking way is that happening”.

Then I thought, hmmm…no dirt in the racquet ball court at the North Boulder Rec Center, but I could fill it with astro turf (thank you Simone), plant fake flowers, and Chrissy and I could have a raucous, wild, and dissonant duet while the other dancers are standing in their suitcases filled with dirt.

Then I thought, wait a minute. This is a family show. For families with kids. Is that okay? Can kids handle dirt, and astro turf, and fake flowers, and suitcases. I think so. Yes. I think they can.

Then I thought, the parts I love aren’t so much about the dancing. The parts I love are about stillness rather then motion. The parts I love are about discordant and opposing images. The parts I love are about the people on stage just being the people.

The part I love most is when it becomes something I never could have imagined.

So I’m in the dog house.

Napping with the dogs.

Figuring out how this family friendly, accessible and free for all show is going to evolve and grow into something I can’t even imagine yet.

I have rehearsal tonight and I am bringing astro turf, fake flowers, suitcases filled with dirt, and a chocolate cake.

I think this will help move me toward a deeper understanding of what the hell this dance is about.

What do you think?

**********************************************************************************************

Dance Mission for the next two weeks:

(So, honestly, how are these dance missions going for you? I am not so good with the whole social media thing yet, so if you can give me feedback about how dance missions could be more helpful, fruitful, inspiring to you, I would love to know. ESPECIALLY those of you that are tech savvy/social media savvy/ totally know what you are doing on the computer kinda savvy, I would love to know how it is going and what I can do to make it better).

1.

Dance with your family.

Whoever your family is.

Take a few minutes and dance together.

Record it.

Document it.

Post about it here: http://on.fb.me/1tndQsd

2.

Let’s take a few steps back and start dancing every day again for just 10 minutes.

For two weeks.

Tell me how it goes.

Did you do it?

Did you want to do it but just couldn’t do it?

Did you do it once and then never thought about it again??

Record it.

Document it.

Post about it here: http://on.fb.me/1tndQsd

With Warmth, Joanna of Joanna and the Agitators

somethin' is a brewin' here

"I thought I was going to learn ballet. But this is WAAAAY better then ballet....this is rock and roll."-- Giovanna, Age 6.

And that is how my day started, with some good old fashioned Rock and Roll with a group of 5 and 6 year olds (note: we were dancing to Hava Nagila).

And so, it begins. This epic journey we are on of finding our way back into the giant world of the body.

But how?

By agitating complacency. By letting ourselves loose our minds a bit. By setting aside rational thought, to-do lists, productivity, and ambition. By seeing magic everywhere.

For those of you in Colorado, do you remember the flood? How everything shut down? stopped? got quiet? then loud? then super quiet again?

And we were scared and unsure and frantic. But also AMAZED at the awesomeness of the water rushing through our towns. We couldn't control it. And so at a certain point, a magical quiet descended, as we were trapped inside our homes, peering out the windows at the water. And there was nothing to do but wait, and see, and breath, and hold on, and then let go.

And I don't really know what I am trying to say here, except that there was a kindness, a generosity, an outpouring of love that moved through the towns. Neighbors helped neighbors who had never really spoken before. Families took in other families who had to leave their homes in the middle of the night. We helped each other carry pets, and babies, and kids, and grandmas across the raging river to get everyone safely into the helicopters.

So I think What I am trying to say is that to find our way back into the body, it means being kind. To ourselves and to each other. And it means watching the wild and unpredictable and scary and AMAZING rush of this life with curiosity and limitless wonder.

So that is your DANCE MISSION for the next two weeks: Be kind. Hold someone's hand who hasn't had their hand held in a long time. Offer someone food. Put on the music that your grandmother wants to hear. Say hello to someone you don't know. Ask someone to dance.

And then make a dance. A dance that is about seeing the world. A dance that is about being kind.

Or don't.

Ether way, let me know how it goes, what choice you made, and why.

Let's start to agitate complacency.

I want to hear from you so please post your comments, videos, photos, songs, dances, poems, thoughts, fears, ideas, on the facebook group, Dance Missions from Joanna at TinHOUSE dance:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/285584598283231/

or (for those of you who don't use facebook) go to my website and join in on the conversation there

http://tinhouse.weebly.com/dance-mission.html

And SAVE THE DATES!!!!

Tuesday, May 27 from 4-5:30pm at the Boulder Circus Center. Come and see what has been brewing in the TinHOUSE dance classes! There is a suggested donation of $10. This money will go toward the first "TinHOUSE scholarship fund", enabling more students to take class with TinHOUSE who are unable to pay the full class fee. Any other donations to this fund are always greatly appreciated.

Saturday, May 31: Free workshop from 3-5pm at the Boulder Circus Center. 3-4pm is for kids. 4-5pm is for adults. Come experience what TinHOUSE has to offer you this summer!! I will be offering 3 new workshops this summer and it would be great great great if you joined in. Email me ASAP if you are planning on coming.

Workshop #1: DANCE VACATION: Come Vacation with me up in Jamestown this summer! Cool off. Stay connected. Keep the pulse going with your dancing.

Saturdays from 10-2pm on June 7, July 12, August 9, and September 6.

Workshop #2: FAMILY DANCE DAYS: Bring the whole family in for dancing, laughing, and unexpected fun.

Sundays from 11-1pm on June 29, July 27, August 31, and September 14 (location TBA).

Workshop #3: JUST GIRLS This is a chance for girls ages 9-13 to move and dance and laugh and talk and sing and write together.

Thursdays from 5-7pm on June 12, June 26, July 10, July 24, August 14, August 28, September 11, September 25 (location TBA).

Lastly, sending a huge thank you out to Marcie Goldman of Mojo Mastery for her fantastic ideas in growing and evolving TinHOUSE.

Warmly,

Joanna

ps just a reminder: "quickies" are posted everyday on the facebook group and on my website. These are "quick" missions that should take 5 minutes or less. "dance missions" are posted every other wednesday on the facebook group and my website. These are more involved and will take some planning and time to complete.

You do what feels right to you. Change it, modify it, make it your own. And tell me how it goes.

this animal body

¡Que Tal Gallinas! I just returned from Performática in San Andrés Cholula, México and oh my oh my.

I am in love.

In love with this world where it is possible to gather as a community for one week in a small mountain town in central Mexico to dance & talk & breath & sing & mourn & laugh & cry & then laugh some more.

To share meals with one another.

To consider and discuss the loss of a spouse, the illness of a family member, the evacuation from a home, the occupation of a land, the culture we all share as human beings on this planet.

To consider and discuss, and then to dance and dance and dance.

As a self-proclaimed homebody who loves her own bed and idiosyncratic ways, this journey to Mexico, and specifically to Performática, left me hungry for another expedition into the larger world to understand the dancing body and its place in our planet’s history.

In San Andrés Cholula we traversed our own skin to know the skin of another.

I invite us all to do this as we begin our next DANCE MISSION today.

And the DANCE MISSION is:

Find a place in the city, town, village, hamlet, in which you live but have never spent time in before.

Spend time there, and dance.

With So Much Warmth and Excitement,

Joanna Rotkin

some people call me a witch

I have decided to suspend all rational thought and embark instead on building a business in the field of post-modern/experimental/post-post-modern//next wave/call it what you will/ DANCE. This process has been in the works for the past 10 years when I began TinHOUSE with Nathan Montgomery in what was then a recently burned down cabin in the woods. At our first rehearsal, Nathan and I were sitting in the ashes trying to come up with a name for our dance company. Because of recent events, the word "HOUSE" was essential, and due to the rickety foundation from which we were starting, the element of TIN seemed fitting.

The name has stuck, though I continue to be called "Tin Cup Dance", which makes me laugh and seriously consider changing the name. Since that first rehearsal, Nathan has moved to Ouray, Colorado to continue his studies in Butoh. When Breanna Rogers moved to Boulder shortly after Nathan left, she became a long-time collaborator, colleague, and friend.

And then Breanna left too. She moved to Arizona where she is doing amazing dance work at a residential school for girls.

After a few years of thinking my dancing days were over, I became set on becoming a middle school gym teacher.

Then I had the luck and privilege of meeting Laura Ann Samuelson of Hoarded Stuff Performance. Everything I thought I knew and understood exploded into a new found curiosity and longing to begin dancing again.

For the past three years I have found myself diving headlong into the deconstruction, research, implementation, and practice of performance, movement, and dance (with many middle schoolers breathing a huge sigh of relief that I am not the one teaching them to play softball, whiffle ball, soccer, basketball, etc.). This dive has been tremendously joyful, though totally irrational considering everything that is happening in our world today.

And yet.....

It is the only thing that makes sense to me.

It is the only thing I understand.

It is the only frame from which I am able to see the world and to understand my place in it.

This email is an invitation to be part of a community of movers who delight in the soft, vibrant, shattering, discombobulating, and invigorating experience of being in a body. If you wish to be on this list, I will be sending you emails every other Wednesday where we will explore creativity, imagination, art making, and embodiment together. These email exchanges will guide you toward a deeper understanding of the generosity inherent in creative expression and the connection and community that can emerge from dancing together.

If this is something you are interested in, please keep reading. If not, this is a good time to stop reading and unsubscribe from this email list. I would like to be very respectful of your time, so if reading an email from TinHOUSE does not spark your interest, let me know by either emailing me directly or just hitting the unsubscribe button at the bottom of the page.

Okay!

For those of you who chose to continue to read:

Every other Wednesday you will get a TinHOUSE email from me. At the bottom of each page I will include a DANCE MISSION so you can launch into your dancing with freedom and release, leading you on an intimate journey with your dance practice. If you don’t already have a dance practice, this is a great time to start. If you do, these ideas are here to enhance, excavate, and distill what you already know.

Here is your DANCE MISSION for the next two weeks:

A. Dance for 10 minutes a day, every day, for two weeks. Do it at the same time every day. Pick music you love or don't love, or sing, or do it silently, or have some one play music for you, or recite your grocery list over and over again during the 10 minutes you are dancing.

B. Dance at least twice in the next two weeks in an unexpected place at an unexpected time. Do it once where no one else can see you. Do it a second time where at least 3 people can see you.

Take a moment now and schedule this mission for the next two weeks.

At the end of the two weeks (or at the beginning, or anywhere in the middle), email me and tell me all about it. I would love to hear what happened for you. How did it feel? Was there resistance? Did it get easier or harder? Did you like it? Did this experience intrigue you enough to keep going or did it shut you down?

I want to hear from you! Let me know your thoughts, ideas, questions. This will make our conversation more vibrant, accessible, and relevant to you.

As always -

With so much warmth, Joanna