Astute performances from future leaders: Volume of Our Voices puts humanity in the spotlight

On the wall behind my computer hangs a bulletin board that's layered with colorful flotsam and jetsam from the past few decades, including postcards from around the globe, a Scottish pound note, my Japanese I.D. card, a Zippy gem, photos of friends and sundry ticket stubs from concerts by The Who, The Stones, the Pretenders and Nada Surf.

In amongst this visual cacophony are buttons I've collected over the years, with slogans ranging from "ERA Yes" and "Iggy Pop Fan Club" to "Question Authority" and a cow thinking "No Nukes," along with a row of badges from SF AIDS Walks.

At the center of it all is a large, faded button that reads "Feminism Is Humanism."

Of everything tacked to my vertical scrapbook, this particular specimen holds the most meaning for me, perhaps because it's the first political anything I ever acquired, launching a lifetime of buttons, bumper stickers, activism and awareness.

I got it in 1978 when my dear friend Daphne and I went to our first N.O.W. rally, held on the Stanford campus across the street from our high school. I remember the intriguing phrase — "Feminism Is Humanism" — standing out from all the other buttons, T-shirts and signs, knowing that it captured my particular philosophy more accurately than anything else.

As readers here learned last year when I wrote about the Brattleboro Women's Film Festival, I'm not your average feminist. I'm the kind who thinks our collective might becomes far more abundant, effective and lasting when attained through more inclusive means, particularly when those means fit under the aegis of art.

Though it's often felt like swimming upstream, I still believe feminism is humanism and that we serve the greater good by welcoming everyone to the discussion, with no labels, monikers or categories that might risk dissuading potential supporters from becoming involved.

During this, the final weekend of Women's History Month, a group of diverse and multitalented students and faculty members at World Learning's SIT Graduate School in Brattleboro are sharing a stage in precisely that type of event.

On Friday and Saturday night, more than two dozen performers will express their views through song, movement and spoken word, in "Volume of Our Voices," an evening of creative expression on the topics of gender, identity and sexuality, benefiting the Women's Crisis Center in Brattleboro.

Original monologues, poems, dances, music and even martial arts will illustrate stories that are personal, if not intimate, yet universal in relevance to the larger human experience and the common societal messages that can misrepresent, misinform, isolate and stereotype different factions of society.

In speaking with a few of the students participating — all of whom are working toward master's degrees in SIT's renowned international education program — I was impressed by the breadth of their experiences and the unique challenges each will voice in their respective performances.

Jon Woods, an organization management candidate, will be exploring issues of race, belonging and disenfranchisement through poetry, song and the martial art known as Capoeira, a muscular type of competitive dance that originated in Angola and found larger cultural roots in Brazil centuries ago within the slave community.

Naming his piece, "If I Had Wings I Could Fly," after a line from the song "Regulate" by rappers Warren G. and Nate Dogg, Woods takes us on his journey from anguish to understanding with remarkable perspicuity and grace.

"The poem itself goes from despair, hopelessness and rage to being lost and then trying to find guidance as a black man," he explained. "It touches on the issue that in black culture there's a disconnection between parenthood and the next generation, a prevalence of no role models existing and having to look at historical references and not necessarily in your household, whether it's a book or music that you respond to."

Though Woods' personal and intellectual path has been paved by the work of legends such as Malcolm X, Martin Luther King and civil rights activist and scholar, W.E.B. Du Bois, he also absorbed profound life lessons much closer to home.

"I learned a lot from my father and his struggle in the corporate world," reflected Woods. "Being a black manager he had to deal with a lot of conflict, internal mainly, and the struggle to assimilate but also be himself."

"When I wrote my poem, I was having a really bad day," he confided. "I'm the only black man at SIT and that's fine because I'm used to white schools but sometimes I just want to talk to someone I can connect with on that.

"The way that Capoeira is incorporated is a release of energy; if you're angry sometimes the tension just needs to be released. It's a martial art that's powerful but you play it against yourself."

For Cole Kovac, who is working toward a master of art in teaching, an equally formidable frustration with society emerges in his monologue titled, "Pushing Boundaries: One Man's Reality," which challenges the widely accepted pejorative term that often pigeonholes people like him as having a "gender identity disorder."

As a person born female but who identifies male, Kovac investigates his own perspective from several compelling angles.

"The first part of the monologue is about the medical world's view of transgendered people," he explains. "The second half is about my story and feelings and struggles and why I'm on stage."

When I asked him about this latter question, he replied, "At this point I'm the only transgendered person on campus and I felt like my voice needed to be heard, especially since the performance isn't geared only towards women. And SIT is a very supportive community — it's a good place to be."

Conflict transformation major Rachel Unkovic possesses a similar wealth of wisdom, particularly having learned in her studies that peace-building is more productive than conflict management or resolution.

"It's the idea that conflict never goes away and that it can open the door to dialogue and new ideas," she asserted. "It can be changed from violence into something more productive."

In "Magic Mirror," which includes inventive vignettes such as "Sleeping Beau," Unkovic and classmates Scarlett Shaffer and Victoria Der use shadow puppets to retell classic fairy tales. "We explore old stories that we're all told growing up and the impact those messages have on kids. We're looking at the idea of gender roles and roles that you're forced to take."

That the show is a benefit for one of the region's most crucial social service organizations — providing shelter along with emotional, legal and crisis support for survivors of abuse — is all the more reason to come out and support these visionary young people who are working hard to create a future that is informed by expansive, global perspectives and a reverence for the power of the human spirit.

The Women's Crisis Center views these issues through a similarly humanistic lens, as evidenced in their thanks to SIT for donating proceeds from the show to their cause: "It takes a dynamic, unified force to address the war waged on the bodies of women and children every day in this community and all over the world. Women still live with the daily reality of physical and sexual violence, still live with the systems which protect them imperfectly, at best, and sometimes not at all. We both honor and rely on our allies in ending men's violence against women and children."

The unified force behind "Volume of Our Voices" exemplifies this inclusive approach to solving the global scourge of discrimination, disrespect and brutality. As Woods' commanding poem implores, "Let your voice be heard, preach the word, because no matter your gender or race, the struggle always continues."

Or, as Kovac puts it, with equal sagacity, "Our identities are always evolving."

The highs and lows of love: Circus beguiles with the greatest of ease

We've all heard of kids running away from home to join the circus, but whoever heard of anyone running away from a full college scholarship to swing from a trapeze?

I sure hadn't, until earlier this week, that is, when I spoke with twin sisters Elsie Smith and Serenity Smith Forchion, but trade academia for the aerial arts they did.

A couple of decades later and they've turned this courageous craft into a fulfilling career with a full-fledged circus school and production company in Brattleboro and plans for a multimedia downtown arts complex under way as well.

Nimble Arts is comprised of Elsie, Serenity and six other top-notch circus performers with resumes that include Cirque de Soleil, Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus and Pilobilus, and for the next three nights — just in time for Valentine's Day — they'll be performing "The Love Show: A Circus & Vaudeville Exploration of Silly & Serious Relationships."

With a title that sounds like a swath of my own romantic blunders, the show is comprised of tantalizing vignettes such as "Harlem Nocturne," "Dos Chicas," "Shake Your Booty" and "Chair Dance," investigating love from all sides through trapeze, juggling and acrobatics, skills that, some would say, are symbolically applicable to relationships as well.

The analogies in "The Love Show" really are wonderfully germane to the rewards and risks of romance, and when I spoke with the sisters, who founded Nimble Arts in 2003, they elaborated.

"We have a through-line with different characters," Elsie explained. "Three gods come down to figure out what this whole love thing is about and their cupid misplaces his arrow. So one of the girls falls in love with one of the gods, she gets stuck on a trapeze, a friend goes to help her and another cupid arrow flies."

"It's not just about new love," she continued, "it's also about people who have weathered long-time relationships and not everyone gets hooked up in the end. We wanted to make it true to love in all of its forms. At one point, a woman stands on her mate's head and that particular scene is poignant because it's about people who have been in love a long time."

When one considers the interdependence in trapeze work — particularly the tacit trust, balance and strength it demands of each participant — its references to human connection are arrestingly eloquent.

One number spotlights the conviction of sisterly allegiances, with Elsie and Serenity on a slowly-revolving trapeze, all the while intersecting, leaning, grasping, supporting, dropping down, swooping up and striking complex, symmetrical poses that emphasize the unique bond between twins.

"Dos Chicas" is like a moving Rorschach, their blended silhouettes stark against a black background as they fluidly shift from one shape to another. Dividing, mirroring, entwining and unraveling again, in feats of impossible daring and flexibility, they induce the prismatic trance of a kaleidoscope. It is mesmerizing, beautiful and terrifying, again, with palpable parallels to love itself.

Amidst sibling loyalty and the abiding commitment of tried and true relationships, "The Love Show" also takes a peek at the flirtatious side of romantic love with decidedly seductive intent.

In "Harlem Nocturne," the sisters are joined by Bronwyn Sims in a charming nod to "Cabaret" and the Kit Kat Club, circa 1930, in which the women's attire is as come-hither as their movements. Dressed in silk chemises, black stockings and garters, they sashay out of darkness into the spotlights, approach an assembly of three trapezes, strike a few sultry poses and then begin an elegant and boldly evocative airborne ballet.

Against a backdrop of saucy saxophone and a primal beat, "Harlem Nocturne" takes the concept of pole dancing to a whole new and far more aesthetically creative level. With upside down splits, kittenish poses and minxy melodrama, it's more steamy than salacious, but lusty, nevertheless. Though billed as family-friendly, this piece skirts the edges of burlesque theater, so parents take note: It'll likely render the average hormone-cocktail shaken and stirred.

Risqué or not, theater it is, for I half expected Joel Grey to shimmy by sprinkling shiny pfennigs on the ground and grinning maniacally at the crowd through his monocle. Each member of Nimble Arts brings a great deal of theatrical prowess into the work, in fact, and it comes through in every number.

Circus performers must display a hefty roster of traditional expertise, including dancing and acting, and while this company boasts one impressive collective resume, many of them learned on the job, as it were. The founders, in fact, discovered circus arts in the most unlikely of settings: a family resort vacation.

Serenity and Elsie grew up on a farm in Massachusetts, with no formal dance, athletic or theatrical training whatsoever, and it was during a seaside holiday that they stumbled upon what became a lifetime occupation.

"When we were 16, our mother had a medical conference at a Club Med and they had a trapeze over a safety net in an outdoor gym camp," Serenity recalled. "We thought it was fun, but didn't think much of it as a career — we were both were high academic achievers with scholarships to go to Amherst College. During the summer, we needed jobs and my sister heard of a teacher-apprentice program at a circus arts school, so we signed up."

"Afterwards," she continued, "I went back to college, but my sister stayed and when I was offered a full-time job with Ringling Brothers, I didn't know what to do. Amherst said they'd hold my scholarship for a year, but eventually the director of Cirque de Soleil was looking for twin trapezists and offered us a four-year contract so, needless to say, I did not go back to school."

Work and life eventually took the sisters out to San Francisco, where they joined the Pickle Family Circus, a wonderfully authentic, high-caliber organization that, like Nimble Arts, has no animals, but only spectacular feats of human daring, flexibility and grace.

Eventually helping establish the San Francisco Circus Center — which includes Clown Conservatory, Mongolian Contortion and Flying Trapeze classes — Serenity also met her husband, Bill Forchion, there.

Forchion came to the circus arts after studying to be a song-and-dance man at the American Musical Dramatic Academy in New York City. Now Nimble Arts is spreading the circus gospel around the globe through everything from performances for the Sheik of Dubai to competing in the China Wuqiao International Circus Festival to conducting safety trainings for Cirque de Soleil.

One of my favorite moments in "The Love Show" is at the end of "Harlem Nocturnes," when, after a stream of spellbinding configurations, the trio alights back down to the floor, gazing at the crowd and triumphantly clasping hands. Slowly, they turn their backs to us, flexing their brawny biceps and sinewy musculature, revealing that, under all that lace and satin, these women truly are pure might.

Online: www.nimblearts.org
Annie: annieguyoncommunications.com

Everyday themes and esoteric artistry: Worlds gracefully collide in unconventional ballet

"A dance is a measured pace, as a verse is a measured speech."   

I was about 5 minutes into watching a sparsely eloquent piece being performed by eight members of Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance when this line by Francis Bacon came to mind.

Two couples in casual clothing moved methodically through a simply lit performance space, intersecting and parting, hoisting, shoving, cradling and spinning each other, sometimes splitting into protective pairs or solemn solitary figures, then merging again to resume what evolved into a mesmerizing physical dialogue.

With its glimpses of human connectivity and emotive heft woven into swaths of abstruse exploration, the dance, entitled "Snapshots," had the cadence of a postmodern poem, though the phrase "poetry in motion" seems too glib, and perhaps overused, to sufficiently explicate the depth and impact of Lavagnino's dynamic choreography.

Nevertheless, the measured pace in her work is, like good poetry, evocative and riveting.

And while the lines, energy and aesthetics may appear to fit under the aegis of modern dance sensibilities, it soon becomes evident that the foundation of every leap, crouch, angle and extension is, in fact, ballet at its rigorous best. Then there's the fact that in nearly each case the women — whether attired in tailored tops with ruffled collars or denim hot pants, rhinestone belts and T-shirts — are on pointe. What they do with those pointes challenges everything we know about ballet, not simply pushing the envelope but shredding it, with intrepid grace and unapologetic verve.

It's an incongruous but arresting dichotomy that serves to propel Lavagnino's visionary reconstruction of a dance form that's been around for more than half a millennium, in all its meticulous, romantic, tulle-tutued glory.

Lavagnino brings her reverent revisions of ballet to the Horowitz Performing Hall in Saxtons River on Friday at 8 p.m., with an evening of strenuously salient movement that is certain to have audience members enrapt, and probably debating gestural meaning long after the show's over.

This is my kind of ballet. Not that I don't venerate the classics and appreciate the immeasurable gifts that this core discipline has given to so many other forms of creative movement. Every chassé, jeté and grand plié I ever did made me a far better tap dancer than I would have been otherwise but, having felt like a caged lion whenever I donned pointe shoes, I find Lavagnino's defiant dedication to and exploration of ballet's illustrious footwear to be yet more compelling.

In a lush and lyrical full ensemble piece called "Suite," men and women clad in wispy silk shifts, shorts and trousers surge around the stage in groupings that disperse, dart and gather, amoeba-like, into varying formations. Trios divide into duos, then the entire group gathers en masse, only to split again into three kinetic tableaux. All the while, the women thwart the limits of function — and to some, no doubt, decorum — that one usually associates with toe shoes.

While still relying on recognizable balletic vocabulary, with delicate pirouettes, arabesques and relevés regularly peppering her choreography, Lavagnino invents a fresh glossary of positions, footwork and moves, investing her dancers with license to thump, slap, slide, angle and maneuver their feet in virtually blasphemous ways. Because the interior box encasing each woman's toes is made of hardened linen, the pointe shoes inadvertently, and marvelously, become percussive elements as well, whether accompanied by vociferous violin or a rock anthem by Queen.

The dancers bound, collapse, lean, sway, swagger, kneel and mince, all on pointe, sometimes sustaining an impossibly wide stance or odd ankle twist for lengthy durations that render viewers uncomfortable yet transfixed. Toe shoes are mystifying enough to the average dance-lover but in this brash, pioneering context they become enthralling devices that effectively help illustrate everything from fury and elation to rejection and fear.

Lavagnino not only shifts the paradigm when it comes to the historical lexicon of ballet but she also tweaks the roles that have been traditionally assigned to each gender. In "Snapshots," men blithely carry each other then fold down gently to the floor together, women display athleticism and bravado on fully extended toes and both partners support, lift, spin and guide. The great divide between the sexes exquisitely blurs with poignant and powerful results.

August choreographer George Balanchine once said, "In my ballets, woman is first. Men are consorts," but Lavagnino — an erudite and ebullient woman whose life has been steeped in dance since she was 6 years old — has been respectfully reexamining and discarding that tenet since founding Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance in 2000.

Having been with Pennsylvania Ballet in the late '70s when it was one of the top three companies in the country and the first to perform Balanchine's repertoire, Lavagnino honors his legendary genius while venturing forth into a strikingly inventive landscape all her own. That impulse to question the typical provinces of each gender was a central theme when we spoke last week.

"I look at the dancer as an individual," she explained. "It's about relationships and people, not making the woman look ethereal, as if she's about to ascend to heaven."

This daring sensibility grew out of Lavagnino's experience in graduate school at NYU's Tisch School of Dance, where she studied with distinguished ballet master Lawrence Rhodes after an extensive career that also included performances with the San Diego Ballet, Arizona Ballet Theatre and Ballet Teatro del Espacio in Mexico City.

"Rhodes' way of approaching ballet was very healthy to the body — a more honest, simple way of dancing so that the individual was seen, instead of a more idealized picture of ballet."

"We're grounded," she added. "Some of it is aggressive, some tender, some sad. There is a modern influence because of weight, rhythm and ease in the body."

As to the distinct contemporary aesthetic of her work — which involves unobtrusive yet potent costuming and minimalist lighting — her perspective is an expansive and holistic one, in which all elements come into play. "It's also about visual beauty. I consciously paint the space, so composition is always present … how is the stage being shaped, where is the energy, what is the design?"

Working closely with the Mosaic String Quartet as well, whose original compositions are scored specifically for dancers, Lavagnino's inclusive, multimedia methodology reveals the origins of her artistry. It all began with the learned influence of her mother, herself a student of major dance icons such as Martha Graham. Now in her eighties, Lavagnino's mom still drives herself to class through Southern Cal traffic, with decided admiration and gratitude from her daughter.

"My mother wanted me to be well informed and not just an isolated dancer," Lavagnino reflects. "She would pick me up after school and we'd drive 30-45 minutes. My first formative teacher was Carmelita Morachi, who had her students study an instrument so I played flute for three years. Music is at the core of my choreography, it springs from that and I work repeatedly with Bartók, Beethoven and Stravinski."

"Then Stanley Holden from Royal Ballet opened a company at Dorothy Chandler pavilion in L.A.," she enthused, "and he invited me to join. He was an inspiring man, whose classes and choreography were about musicality and movement."

Though that veneration for classical roots informs her visual principles, Lavagnino leverages her training into an exploration of both narrative and physical possibilities that venture far outside the norm. "I use pointe work not just to elevate the woman and make her look weightless but to create something gritty, fragile and tentative."

This juxtaposition of tradition and innovation, economy and complexity, adds dimensions to Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance within both partner work and individual expression, all of which are anchored by a deep well of creative wisdom and the courage to boldly go beyond the parameters of conventional ballet.

Verse in motion … that's it.

Online: www.cherylynlavagnino-dance.com
Annie:  www.annieguyoncommunications.com

Hali to the hall: Piano virtuoso brings eclectic sound to new performing arts center

In the last couple of years, three beautiful performing arts venues have helped make Windham County a veritable epicenter of live theater, all the result of ample community vision, including the Bellows Falls Opera House's massive restoration, the New England Youth Theatre's new digs in Brattleboro and the gleaming Horowitz Performing Arts Hall, built from the ground up on the Vermont Academy campus in Saxtons River.

Since opening its doors just about a year ago, the Horowitz — and, more specifically, the 350-seat Nita Choukas Theater within — has been grabbing my attention on a regular basis with an ever-compelling roster of events that range from lectures by first-time authors and rising stars to presentations by seasoned actors and sage politicians. Though ensconced up on a hill amidst VA's handsome grounds, the theater opens all its events to the public and I can attest that the experience of seeing a performance or speaker there is a delightful one.

Horowitz Hall, a 14,000-square-foot modern space designed by Michael Rosenfeld, Inc., has a light-filled lobby that also serves as a gallery space for visual arts exhibits and the building will eventually boast art studios as well when the second phase of the project is completed.

The centerpiece of the building is the bright and inviting Choukas Theater, which is big enough to accommodate full theatrical productions but small enough to make every event an intimate experience. The somewhat steep slope of the house affords excellent sightlines from any vantage point, which is something I greatly appreciate about so many small theaters being built these days, as that pronounced rake makes the entire experience more inclusive regardless of seat location.

Actors are able to access aisles as well, allowing players to venture closer to the audience at key points in the show, a decidedly "Sensurround" device that brings the storyline to life yet further. When I caught a rousing production of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" last fall, singers and dancers moved between seating sections, rendering their ebullience — and the already phenomenal acoustics —that much more vivid.

The last time I'd experienced that kind of blurring between stage and audience was when I saw Isabella Rossellini and Richard Thomas in a production of "The Stendhal Syndrome" at Primary Stages in New York City a couple of years ago. At the end of the second act, Thomas, in the role of a blustery conductor whose marriage is crumbling, stood at his podium and "conducted" us, the audience, as if we were his orchestra. All the while, Rossellini perched over the scene in a small balcony, observing him along with the rest of us as he ranted to himself about her. As in "Joseph," it was a marvelous example of how intimate theatrical spaces can afford a level of versatility that larger ones cannot and I look forward to future productions at the Choukas that will further explore such spatial innovation.

Another core value of the Nita Choukas Theater is its location and attendant role in the nurturing and edification of future generations. While the remarkably varied calendar of events is a superb cultural resource for the public at large, appearances by consummate performers, writers and other notables also offer a rare educational opportunity for students from VA and elsewhere.

Scanning the spring schedule, it becomes clear that many of the speaker events are specifically geared toward young people because they're slated for daytime appearances and are integrated into the curriculum. Regardless of time, these events are also open to the public and pertinent to anyone and everyone who seeks to learn more about the world through the expert insights of people who have experienced challenges and triumphs first hand.

Next month, for instance, Lourdes Moran, a member of the New Orleans School Board, will speak about rebuilding after Hurricane Katrina and, in March, Joseph Sebarenzi, a former speaker in the Rwandan Parliament, will talk about the genocide against his Tutsi brethren, his work in restorative justice and the power of forgiveness. April brings Kris Holloway, a former member of the Peace Corps who wrote an exquisite book about her experience observing and assisting a midwife in Mali.

Along with speakers, there are masterful theatrical entertainers bestowing their prowess upon this thriving community of culture-vultures as well, including NEYT members in an unusual production of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night," the Windham Orchestra and the Lawrence High School Girls' Ensemble, whose repertoire is comprised of compositions by women.

Friday night a remarkable musician will be taking the Nita Choukas Theater stage and — whether you're a kid who takes piano lessons, an accomplished adult musician or simply a jazz fan — it's an evening not to be missed.

Ben Stepner, a 19-year-old pianist and composer from Newton, Mass., has been playing since he was 6 years old and, now studying jazz at the New England Conservatory and appearing regularly throughout Boston, he has performed in numerous distinguished venues, including the Berklee Performance Center, The Museum of Fine Arts, Zeitgeist Gallery, Regattabar and Ryles.

Upon hearing Stepner's new CD, "19 Pieces For Piano," from his label Pure Potentiality Records, I was instantly struck by the emotive lines, complex melodies and depths of tone emanating from such a young person. His compositions resonate with a sublime certitude, sagacity and grace, no doubt the product of having been raised by professional musicians during a childhood steeped in studies with eminent jazz artists such as Fred Hersch, Danilo Perez and Phil Grenadier.

There is a wry erudition in Stepner's aesthetic, which comes through in both his music and its monikers, with song titles that put the listener in deep thought before one note has been played.

Names such as "Emulsion", "Perceptions", "The Nature of Sound" and "Egotism vs. Altruism" already had me thinking of my favorite French composer, Erik Satie, whose works include "Chilled Pieces," "Automatic Descriptions," "Vexations" and "Interruption." Listening to Stepner's enigmatic "Universe Stopped" — a sparse, meditative piece filled with negative spaces, a slow, glowing pulse and inquisitive key-changes — I felt sure Satie must be a fond favorite.

"I learned Satie's 'Gymnopédies #1' last year at Oberlin," Stepner said when we spoke recently, "but I actually wrote 'Universe Stopped' before that."

No surprise. He inhabits his own musical universe, writing masterful compositions in a number of genres that reveal a rare acumen and creative fearlessness. The result is a remarkable command of everything from Blue Note jazz and vintage Motown to bold, agile hip-hop, revealing influences that cover a broad swath of music history.

"Some of my favorites growing up were The Beatles, Thelonious Monk and Radiohead," he attests, "and in the last few years, I discovered Ornette Coleman, Prince and Morton Feldman. But if you really want to know, this year has been a huge hip-hop phase for me. I'm obsessed with Lil' Wayne, whose music has led me to a deeper appreciation of rap in general."

Playing his own pieces, along with standards by legends such as Monk, Billy Strayhorn, Stevie Wonder and Sam Rivers — with bass accompaniment by VA instructor Steve Cady — Stepner's performance Friday night is going to have plenty of something for everyone. Kids, especially, will be inspired to see the conviction, courage and brilliance of this down-to-earth yet clearly irrepressible young man.

Online: www.benstepner.com
www.vermontacademy.org/speakersandperformances
Annie: www.annieguyoncommunications.com

Syncopated hero worship: Tap dance royalty appear in rare panel discussion

He's weightless. The man must be  weightless.

That's what I remember thinking when I saw legendary tap dancer Jimmy Slyde years ago, swooping, skating and skimming charismatically across the floor while sprinkling it abundantly with a complex filigree of spellbinding percussion. His carriage and ebullience was so marvelously light, it was as if he was suspended an inch off the ground and I'd never seen anything like it.

After three decades as both tap dancer and devotee, witnessing Jimmy Slyde in person felt tantamount to a physicist watching Einstein scribble formulas on a chalkboard or a pianist hearing Rachmaninoff compose on the keyboard. That's why next Thursday, Jan. 17 at 4:30 p.m. — when Slyde joins a distinguished panel of fellow tappers at Dartmouth's Hopkins Center For the Arts, in what is sure to be a fascinating excavation into the very archaeology of tap — I'll be there, riveted.

When I saw Slyde in performance it was during a star-studded concert tour in 2000 called Footnotes, in which he appeared with Savion Glover and the esteemed, singularly sophisticated tapper, Dianne Walker, fondly known as "Lady Di." The show was a sublime convergence of eras, an eloquent timeline of tap with past, present and future represented, anchoring what has become a moving and majestic renaissance for this historically rich medium.

Or, put another way, it was pure tap nirvana. I'm one of the legion of tap dancers — and you know who you are — who lean forward on the edges of our velvet theater seats, analyzing every brush, heel, syncopation and slap until we nearly tumble onto the floor in holy rollerish rapture. We tap-freaks soak this kind of thing up like a hard sponge in a rainstorm, whether we're watching brazen newcomers defy all logic with shiny shoes blurred beneath a low center of gravity or old clips showing nimble demi-gods of yore eliciting impossibly tight cannonades with blithe grace and aplomb.

Slyde's remarkable versatility is a bit of both wrapped up in a breathtaking lesson on the history of dance itself. His sprightly lunges and smooth backward drifts clearly sewed the seeds of break dancing and hip hop moves and yet he also fills every stage with a vintage, golden era élan and engaging charm. He is a consummate fountain of creative movement who has bridged the evolution of the form between venerable icons who are no longer with us, such as Honi Coles, Gregory Hines and Sammy Davis Jr., and younger tappers like Walker and Glover.

Thanks to the innovative posse of performing arts connoisseurs over at the Hop, we tap disciples can hear not only Slyde talk about his fascinating experiences but Walker as well, along with superlative dance writer Sali Ann Kriegsman and Marshall Davis Jr., one of Glover's stellar contemporaries who is performing with him, along with Maurice Chestnut, in two shows (which sold out faster than a speeding time-step) also at the Hop. Remarkably, the discussion — moderated by Glover — is free of charge.

When I studied with Brenda Bufalino, Lynn Dally, Sam Weber and the late, great Tony Wing, I was always just as inspired by the wisdom in their words as the wow in their wing steps, so the notion that tap titans like Slyde and Walker are graciously welcoming us into a conversation about their work is thrilling.

Walker's achievements alone could fill a syllabus on tap dancing, for she has worked alongside legends her entire life and has been the recipient of some of the most distinguished accolades in the business. In 2004, she was given the Hoofers Award by Tap City NYC and The Humanitarian Award from the Debbie Allen Dance Academy. In 2003, she received the Flo-Bert Award for Lifetime Achievement presented by the New York Committee To Celebrate National Tap Dance Day and in 1998 she became the first woman and youngest dancer to receive the Living Treasure in American Dance Award from Oklahoma City University.

Having seen her in performance, I can attest that she is one of the dance world's most artistically and technically proficient performers, with a presence and mastery that has recalibrated not only the world of women tappers but tap dance itself.

Walker's style is expressive, bright, delightfully spirited and positively jaw-dropping. With a calm, cool countenance and flowing, effervescent movements, she showers the floor with clean, sparkling combinations that have you shaking your head in disbelief. She seems to exude rhythms and aesthetics from around the globe, evoking the captivating poise of a Spanish flamenco dancer one moment and the meticulous technique of a New Orleans jazz percussionist the next. The clarity and intention behind her every buoyant sashay and rapid-fire flourish are unparalleled.

Though the tap world is full of well-known, phenomenal women tappers — from elders Ruby Keeler, Eleanor Powell and Ann Miller to present-day performers such as Bufalino, Dally and Anita Feldman — historically, widely celebrated female hoofers have been Caucasian and, regardless of color, women tappers in general been eclipsed by men.

When we think of the originators of tap — an art form borne of hardship when slaves were forbidden from drumming and used their feet to sustain the beats that rooted them to their heritage — we think of names like Bill Robinson, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly and Sandman Sims.

What most of the world doesn't know is that there was an entire generation of African-American women tap dancers who helped propel the art form along in less-publicized but equally vital ways as the men who received far more widespread exposure.

A long list of black women tappers paved the way for their white peers and yet never enjoyed the embrace of Hollywood the way Keeler, Miller and Powell did. The Whitman Sisters, and Alice Whitman in particular, helped put tap on the map in Chicago in the early 1900s, while Cora LaRedd tapped at the Cotton Club in New York City and Louise Madison became known for her 5-sound Wing in Philadelphia. Then there were Mae Barnes, Katie Carter, Lavinia Meck, Muriel Ringold and Maud Mills, nicknamed Hardfoot Maud because of her ferocious ability to coax noise from her taps.

All of these women infiltrated this male-dominated art form in profoundly lasting ways for, though our culture has not celebrated their accomplishments as it should, every shuffle and pull-back they executed helped make tap dancing what it is today, for everyone.

During my 20s I was in a tap troupe in San Francisco, led by local dance hero Rosie Radiator (aka Bess Bair), whose pluck, volume and innovative methodologies always made me wonder if she was channeling women like Mills, for I've never heard a woman tap as loudly before or since.

Tap dancers are everywhere, though you might not know it. Soon after moving here, I signed on at an arts center to teach, though I wondered if there were any tappers in these here hills. I was pleasantly surprised when a small but dedicated group of students — all women of solid intermediate/ advanced skill level — signed up. They studied with me for several years until life took over and I had to stop teaching, though I hope to resume at some point soon.

For now, having this chance to hear Dianne Walker and Jimmy Slyde speak about their craft is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for both tappers and fans alike. Shim sham over to the Hop next week and be prepared for a fun and informative peek into this remarkable art form. Before you go, check them out on YouTube and you'll know you're in the presence of tap dance nobility.

Online: www.hop.dartmouth.edu

Annie: annieguyoncommunications.com

Break out the bubbly: First Anniversary of Sover Scene

According to tradition, the proper first-anniversary gift is paper, which is apt, as today heralds (pun unavoidable) a full year of reporting all the Southern Vermont arts that'll fit into 30 or so weekly columnar inches of this fine paper.

Before I started the Sover Scene, I knew Vermont had a thriving cultural infrastructure, with its numerous galleries, museums, bookshops, theaters, concert venues and festivals. Still, I assumed I'd need to do at least a tiny bit of digging each week in order to find truly exceptional events upon which to expound.

The delicious reality, however, is that I'm more often than not hard-pressed to decide what not to write about. Sounds like an ill-conceived BBC series, but, honestly, come Friday each week I already have a vat of ideas for next week's column percolating in my head and not because of any shrewd investigative effort on my part. Outstanding visual, literary, musical and theatrical art happenings are simply ubiquitous around here, like moss on boulders and weathervanes on barns.

And since I'm one of those people who'd rather go deep into one topic than skim the surface of many, the end of each week usually has my brow furled as I attempt to settle on one theme. Hmmm … the lecture on Steinbeck in East Dover or the Tibetan documentary screening in Saxtons River? The exhibit in Jamaica of photos from Kyoto or the Nigerian dance performance in Bellows Falls? The Winslow Homer sketches in Bennington or the Britpop band in Brattleboro?

Without question, Southern Vermont is a voluminous feast for us culture vultures and, unless every Vermont resident who loves or creates art is suddenly abducted by aliens, I will never run out of ideas.

It's a terribly nice problem to have, though sometimes it really is a tough call. Case in point, there are two compelling events taking place on June 7, both of which I'd love to cover in depth next week but, alas, I must resist. My editors already have a hard enough time reigning in my verbosity on one topic without having to crack the whip on two.

For lack of a better term, the "first runner-up" is a talk on Gertrude Stein during which Barbara Will, associate professor of English at Dartmouth, will be discussing the Mother of Modernism's illustrious Left Bank salon, which included 20th-century heavyweights such as Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Manet, Picasso and Cezanne.

Anyone who's read more than a couple of these columns can attest that I could easily write thousands of words on this kind of event. Not only does my academic background in art history make me giddy at the thought of all those Titans of the painting world milling around the Stein-Toklas' Parisian parlor, but such a pivotal time in literary history is like a smorgasbord to those of us with stalagmites of books cluttering our floors. So, despite my urge to spotlight this absorbing event as well — 7 p.m., June 7, Brooks Memorial Library in Brattleboro — I just can't.

The topic that elbowed out Gertrude and her posse is a worthy opponent, as you'll see in the first of Sover Scene's second year, next week!

And to think that when I moved here six years ago, some of the friends I was leaving behind in San Francisco were concerned that I'd have constant culture cravings and that my intellectual life would be drastically narrowed to things like maple candy competitions and lectures on the art of sheep shearing.

Well, for one thing, I love maple candy and very much appreciate that all things aggie embody a crucial slice of Vermont's incredibly rich cultural history. But the truth of the matter is — and this is what got this flatlander here in the first place — Vermont has more artistic mojo per capita than most places on the planet and writing this column reaffirms that, every week.

As a matter of fact, it was art that got me here. In early 2000, my former husband and I were considering moving to New England from the Bay Area and had just come back from a reconnaissance road trip around Maine, where I'd spent a lot of time as a kid with relatives. A few friends and acquaintances that heard about our trip made a point of advising us to check out Vermont before we made any decision, attesting that it's an incomparable place with a rare appreciation for creativity and independent thought.

Like every self-respecting business-owner and mother considering moving with her family across the country, I Googled the words crucial to any well-researched, prudent relocation venture: "art," "literature" and "Vermont." The first listing was RAMP, the Rockingham Arts and Museum Project in Bellows Falls. I think my husband must have thought I'd spiked my tea because I came squealing out of our office as if I'd found Nirvana — not the band, we already had that CD.

I was thrilled to have discovered such a thriving arts organization in the middle of New England and guessed, correctly, that it was a testament to the vibrancy and pluck of the community in general. A year later, we'd bought a house just outside Bellows Falls and knew it was the best move we ever made, particularly for our children. I'm quite sure they're exposed to far more kultchah here than they would have been in San Francisco because most art events and venues there are prohibitive and, almost more to the point, there's never any bloody parking, which dissuades even the most committed of us "museum-moms" from teaching little Johnny about things like post-modernism or the Fauvists.

By now RAMP's founder, Robert McBride, has heard my moving — in every sense of the word — tale so many times he can recite it verbatim, but if it weren't for Robert and the Internet — thank you, Al Gore — I wouldn't have found this extraordinary corner of the world, much less this outstanding publication.

The experience of learning more and more about the bustling southern Vermont art world by writing the Sover Scene each week has been extraordinarily positive, as has the response. E-mails from readers who connect with something they see herein or who offer informative tidbits about favorite topics are frosting on an already delectable cake.

Add to it that the editors with whom I work are as astute, congenial, respectful and intrepid as any I have ever encountered in my two decades of writing, and this first year of working with a family-owned, conglomerate-eschewing paper of such admirable integrity has been a true joy.

As the cards say, here's to many more!

Contact Annie Guyon at [email protected].

Shuffle off to Brattleboro

 

He was known as the Chinese Fred Astaire, so I was a little nervous to finally take private lessons with him. Fellow tappers had said Tony Wing was wonderfully kind, but he worked his students to the bone. They weren't kidding, on either count. As I approached his studio, however, I was perplexed because it appeared to be anything but the epicenter of podiatric percussion I'd been hearing about. An unassuming, pale peach stucco home in one of San Francisco's post-war, pre-fab, faux-suburban neighborhoods, its manicured patch of lawn out front said "Ozzie and Harriet" more than "Forbidden City," as in the renowned documentary spotlighting Chinatown's glamorous 1930s nightclub that first put Tony on the musical theater map. With the distinct absence of any glitzy signage out front or frenetic piano music emanating from within or swarms of leg-warmered, cigarette-flicking, über-mascaraed tappers buzzing around the doorway to confirm my arrival at the studio of one of tap dancing's legends, I was compelled to recheck the address I'd scribbled down. I was used to dimly lit studios in funky art-district warehouses or bustling downtown dance academies that looked out over the city from expansive skyscraper windows. This was just too quiet, clean and modest to be where the great Tony Wing taught his highly coveted lessons. As I tentatively reached for the brass knocker, the door swung open and inside stood a smiling, diminutive man in a white turtleneck, gray v-neck sweater and slacks, who cheerfully exclaimed, 'Hi, I'm Tony, come on in. Is it Annie or Anne? So, you've been dancing in Rosie's troupe, huh? She's great, isn't she? You can put your things over on the bench - let's get started." Little did I know that his small living room turned studio - furnished with nothing more than a long wall of mirrors, a chair, a bench and a stereo - was where I would be duly taught, tested, tried and transformed into a more capable tapper than I ever thought I could become. Mr. Wing got complex combinations out of me more nimbly than a nitrous-happy, tooth-extracting dentist. Always gracious, ever kind, he was a benevolent taskmaster who somehow managed to make me feel as if I were simultaneously channeling Ginger Rogers, Ruby Keeler and Ann Miller and that I was in the presence of a guru. He also taught me that for all the flamboyance of tap culture, all I really needed in order to improve were my feet and my focus. Here in Southern Vermont there are a great many dance teachers and organizations eagerly awaiting your feet and focus, too, offering classes in every type of creative movement, including tap. One of the region's most celebrated institutions is the Brattleboro School of Dance, where a recent move to a gorgeous 4,000-square-foot space, boasting three spacious studios, is the most recent chapter in a 30-year story of vision, hard work and the same skill-drills-with-a-smile philosophy that Mr. Wing so graciously engendered. Kathi Keller, the school's vibrant founder and director, established this well-loved conservatory in 1976, with a wealth of expertise gained through studies at the New York School of Ballet and Alvin Ailey's American Dance Center, as well as the illustrious tutelage of Twyla Tharp and Elizabeth Serbon, one of Martha Graham's former dancers. Though the art of dance is the core impetus behind her enthusiasm, Keller speaks of her staff and students the way anyone else might describe a large but close-knit family. With students ranging in age from 3 to 73, Keller has touched many lives in the area through more than just plies and time-steps. "One of the things that I love about this work is I get to interact with people of all ages, some of whom have been with us for 25 years," she said recently over the phone while greeting students in the background, happily returning for the new semester. "It's a big family that's always been important to me." Keller's joie de danse is further informed by her expansive sensibilities regarding community and inclusion. "Teens hang here after school as well. To me, it's important for everyone to feel valued and express themselves." Backing up that credo are Keller's generous scholarships and work-study program, which make the Brattleboro School of Dance accessible to folks who would otherwise be unable to attend. It goes deeper than that, however. When the school moved into its new studio, she asked local dance teacher Griffin Goehring if she would like to bring her innovative arts for all/creative dance class to the school. Goehring created the course for people who have cognitive or developmental disabilities using the philosophy that dance is a universal language. She integrates creative problem solving through movement with the use of drums, rhythm instruments, voices, hands and feet. The Brattleboro School of Dance boasts 12 consummate instructors in all, offering ballet, tap, modern, jazz, hip-hop, Pilates and an inspired amalgam of disciplines called Stretch, Strength & Fitness that incorporates the power and flexibility of yoga with the core conditioning of Pilates. Having had students go on to join eminent companies including Momix, Pilobilus, Feld Ballet NY and New Mexico Ballet, the Brattleboro School of Dance is for people with personal aims and professional aspirations alike and their new session starts on Jan. 19, so sign up soon. In the midst of this tepid winter, there will also be some serious sizzling going on in Saxtons River, for those of you who've been keeping a lid on your Latin. Tango classes are on the menu at Main Street Arts, as well as Gretchen Abendschein's vibrant and carefree Breakthrough Dance, which is always full of imaginative movement, eclectic music and unadulterated fun. See more options below for opportunities to dance away your mild-winter blues and bulges. Note: Next week I'll be in D.C. attending a bat mitzvah and getting a Smithsonian fix, so the Sover Scene will be back in two weeks - see you then. Info Brattleboro School of Dance 254-6884 Main Street Arts 869-2960 Dance Express, Brattleboro 258-6475 Putney Community Center 387-8551 Dance Factory, Springfield  263-9519 Manchester Ballet Center 362-0759 Miss Olivia Dance, Bennington 362-0759 Berkshire Dance Theater, Bennington 447-8855 Contact Anne Lawrence Guyon at [email protected].

Get your mojo dancing

Just prior to moving here five years ago, I was asked by a friend if there was anything I knew I'd be giving up by moving to Vermont and, more specifically, what I would miss the most and what I'd miss the least. My response was instant: African dance classes and earthquakes, respectively. Having studied African-Haitian dance fairly seriously during my 15 years in San Francisco, I considered it an integral part of my general joie de vivre.

Of course, when I tell friends I think we're all African inside, they generally laugh at me with my pale Scottish complexion and default British reserve, though I'm completely serious.

But since all the Vermont tourism publications I'd consulted expounded upon dairy cows far more than diverse cultural enrichment - not to mention a statistic I'd seen that cited Vermont as the second whitest state in the nation - I'd subconsciously and sadly resigned myself to the probability that moving here would very likely herald an end to African dance classes for me.

On the other side of the relocation equation, having ridden out all too many Bay Area quakes, I was ecstatic to be moving to a place that's known more for syrup than seismic activity - a decidedly solid geographic region that would never have me bolting out of bed in the wee hours while bookcases marched across the floor and joists roared like a galleon at sea.

Boy, was I wrong - on both counts.

On day 10 after arriving in Vermont, there I was holding my 2-year-old in a doorway at 4 a.m. while the house did a kind of lunging shimmy and about a week later I found myself doing a similar move across a local dance studio floor, once again tapping into that vital, joyous, inner primal place during -that's right - an African dance class.

Needless to say, I'd hoped the class - a 9.7 on my Richter scale - was not a fluke and the earthquake was. As it turned out, neither was a one-off. African dance is actually taught in a few places and fault-lines span New England like craqulatura on old pottery, with fractured tectonic plates about as common as Colonial ones, apparently.

The African class I discovered was at Main Street Arts in Saxtons River, itself an epicenter of creative activity and cultural enlightenment offering all kinds of movement and art classes for their enthusiastic kid, teen and adult students. When life allows, I also teach tap dance there - yes, I think there's a tapper in all of us, too - and am always impressed to find an avid group of novice and advanced students ready and willing to shuffle-off-to-Buffalo with me.

Starting Tuesday, Sept. 12, MSA is offering a more intuitive, less formal type of movement class which is just as expressive, but perhaps not quite so intimidating, for those folks who have yet to discover their inner Astaire or African. And they're both in there somewhere.

"Breakthrough Dance" is taught by consummate dancer/performer/choreographer/teacher Gretchen Abendschein who, like the ebullient, vigorous, revitalizing African class she taught when I first arrived, is a goldmine that we small-town Vermonters are mighty lucky to have in our midst.

With extensive training under the tutelage of dance-world royalty such as Judith Jamison of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, Abendschein is an inspiring, innovative and challenging yet supportive instructor who makes dancing the re-energizing, meaningful and cathartic experience it should be. Her classes always involve remarkably motivating music from all over the globe as well as a refreshing absence of pressure or competition. Breakthrough Dance is all about demystifying dance and destressifying life and, having taken it myself, I can attest that it is both those things, not to mention an entirely enjoyable cardio workout.

"I decided to call it Breakthrough Dance because it's a way to break through the build-up of stress and mental static that accumulates in the body each day," Abendschein said. "I also wanted to offer a class that is more about the sensual pleasure of dancing than about whether or not the steps are being done correctly. The movement is expressive and fun for total beginners or experienced dancers and there's room for some personal improvisation within the dance sequences as well."

There are dozens upon dozens of other dance classes, for tots to seniors, being offered all around Southern Vermont; some are ongoing but most start Monday, Sept. 11, so call soon to reserve a spot. Schools below offer everything from jazz, tap and ballet to modern, hip-hop and, yes, even African -Senegalese, to be precise, in Putney, with live drumming. As W.H. Auden put it, "Dance, dance, dance 'til you drop."

Contact Info

Main Street Arts, 869-2960

Brattleboro School of Dance, 254-6884

Dance Express, Brattleboro, 258-6475

Putney Community Center, 387-8551

Dance Factory, Springfield,  263-9519

Manchester Ballet Center, 362-0759

Miss Olivia Dance, Bennington, 362-0759

Berkshire Dance Theater, Bennington, 447-8855

and don't forget local community bulletin boards.

Southern Vermont bursting with stimulating activities

It's only June 1 and summer in Southern Vermont is already bursting at the seams with thought-provoking plays, eclectic exhibits and some wonderfully wild workshops that will expand your mind and stimulate your senses. And while bigger towns have full rosters of all things artistic, our vibrant villages are equally engaging and make meandering through the Green Mountains yet more meaningful.

If you're after a dose of full-immersion art therapy, The Garden Gallery in Londonderry is the place to go, with walls as densely populated by paintings as the average Russian novel is with colorful characters. The collection here covers nearly every genre, from bold, oversized canvasses of rocky river gorges to exquisite portrait etchings.

Gretchen Abendschein's miniature, "Fallen Blossom," poignantly captures an amber hibiscus bloom as it inexorably spirals into the first phase of decay, its viscous oil pigmentation glowing against a mottled background masterfully built up by painterly layers of subtly-hued whites. In "Mist Ring" by Virginia Webb, a muted palette of ocher, mauve, grey and chartreuse balances lush minimalism with realist elements, a brushy bank of fog encroaching toward vague gables that jut out from behind. "Old Orchard," a large, vivid and vigorous oil by Jerry Pfohl, celebrates the chaotic beauty of mother nature, evoking an almost sculptural weight of hefty branches strewn across a grassy hillside after a windstorm, turning organic forms into poetic abstraction. Likewise, the geometric complexity of his wooden roller coaster in "Promises of Pleasure" has a distinctly Bauhausian dynamic of form and light.

A couple of hills away is the ever-enticing Weston Playhouse, which launches the season with "Cookin' at the Cookery," running from June 20-July 8. A lively tribute to consummate blues artist, Alberta Hunter, it includes beloved classics such as "Sweet Georgia Brown," gospel traditional "When the Saints Go Marching In" and Eubie Blake's "My Handy Man." Other upcoming productions include the Tony-winning satire "Urinetown," as well as the remarkable two-actor/15-role "Stones In His Pockets" about a couple of small-town Irish celebrity-wannabees.

Adults aren't having all the fun in Southern Vermont, though - not by a long slingshot. With all the amazing kids' activities and events I've been discovering, I can attest that children are not only our future, they are our extraordinarily creative present as well.

Through June 10 at The Vault in Springfield, there's an eclectic exhibit of fine photography in which several unusual techniques were employed, such as pinhole and solarization, as well as collaged "Legacy Tiles," all made by 11- to 18-year-old members of the RightFoot Club.

Serving as both parental panacea and rugrat recreation, there are also some fantastic summer art camps offering everything from printmaking, poetry and clay to jewelry, journaling and theater. Organizations to contact (ASAP, as they can fill up fast) are: The River Gallery Art School in Brattleboro, the Frog Hollow Crafts Center in Manchester, Winged Arts Studio in Londonderry, Great River Arts Institute in Bellows Falls and Main Street Arts in Saxtons River.

For imaginative adults, Main Street Arts is also offering a sapling sculpture workshop Saturday at the Saxtons River Recreation Area. Mark Ragonese will show students how to fashion useful items such as fences, trellises and tables from beautiful, sinewy branches.

On the music front, be sure to catch at least some, if not all, of the 7th Annual Roots On the River Fred Eaglesmith Weekend, June 8-11 in Bellows Falls. Fred and his band, the Flying Squirrels, will be joined by the illustrious likes of Willie P. Bennett, the Corb Lund Band, James McMurtry & the Heartless Bastards, Roger Marin, Syd Straw and Ingrid's Ruse. Produced by Flying Under the Radar. www.galleryatthevault.com