Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts

November 19, 2024

Now Once: An Ekphrastic Poem

This past summer, I was selected to participate in a writing workshop that used dance and movement as the prompt for writing poems.

Writing poetry about the arts - paintings, sculpture, photography, music, dance, etc. - is called ekphrasic poetry. It is a vivid, often dramatic, verbal description of a visual work of art, either real or imagined. Famous examples include "The Shield of Achilles" by Homer, "Ode on a Grecian Urn" by John Keats, "The Starry Night" by Anne Sexton and one I have written about, "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus" by William Carlos Williams.

This workshop was sponsored by Arts By The People, a New Jersey nonprofit organization with a mission to establish, operate, promote, and conduct educational programs, opportunities, classes, and sessions in the creative arts for the public. With the support of The Santiago Abut Foundation, this project and all parts of The Writing LAB are free and open to the public.

The participants' writing collected in like waves through flesh represents the work of the 3rd annual Writing LAB Summer Residency. This year's ekphrasis workshop included a unique collaboration between Arts by the People and students from the dance graduate program at The Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance. Photographic stills from, and QR code links to, the dancers’ films are printed in the anthology alongside each writer's final creation.

During the full-day workshop, the participants went through a series of writing exercises as well as movement exercises. The writing portion was led by poet Michelle Ortega. The movement portion of the program was led by dancer Oksana Horban. Paul Rabinowitz is the Founder and Executive Director of ARTS By The People.

Watching the dancer's video that I selected to write about, I initially had a difficult time finding a center. After several attempts, I realized what I was focusing on was the setting - a stone ground and wall that looked like a desert. Because the dancers were from Jerusalem, I decided to research what kind of stone it would be. It turns out that "Jerusalem stone" is what it is called and it was used for many buildings in the city being that it could be quarried from the surrounding land.

Realizing that the stone was once a sea floor, I became fascinated by the idea that this modern man was moving upon this ancient sea floor that had become a desert, but that life was still embedded in that stone.

The best thing about writing workshops and writing prompts is often that they get you to go in directions that you would not have tried on your own. My poem is quite different from most of my poetry which tends to be narrative and more personal. "Now Once" is more focused on language and place.


NOW ONCE
Once a sea, then a lake, now
evaporated to limestone, dolomite, broken into blocks
to make a road, or a wall
one allowing movement, one to prevent it
once coral, mollusks, a swan, a ship,

a lone shadowless figure moving on what
was once deep water, animated and overflowing,
now sedimentary, fossilized, unable to move
waiting to be resurrected by winglike movements
that lift million-year-old memories from the stone.

Can you see it? Look closely with
ancient eyes, this wall of Jerusalem stone,
life preserved below, life renewed upon it,
the figure unfolds, like an oyster or
a swan – but no, a man, hearing

a carnival of animals from deep within.
Can you hear it? The voices begin,
andantino grazioso, slow and graceful, the vibrations
sound like waves through flesh and time
what is now and what was once.


To view the video that inspired the poem,
scan the QR code below.



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June 9, 2018

Prompt: The Dance



I am, like Emily Dickinson, not a dancer. We certainly are not like the trained ballet dancers in the Impressionist paintings of Degas or Matisse's dancers.

As Emily wrote:

I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge—
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
Or lay a Prima, mad...

Perhaps, Emily and I are more like the dancer in "Danse Russe" by William Carlos Williams. who waits until his household is asleep

and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,-
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself

I can't quite imagine Emily dancing naked around her room, though I hope she did sometimes, but even non-dancers sometimes get lost in "the dance."

Was Williams thinking about the Ballets Russes, an avante-garde dance company of the time and its principal dancer, Vaslav Nijinsky? Nijinsky did not follow traditional ballet technique and often danced half-naked. In his Faun costume for the dance he created to Debussy's Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune he was known to make gestures of orgasm to a scarf and it was a scandal on several continents.

The poem is, for me, a simple dance of freedom and joy that one can have in the privacy of one's own place. (That doesn't mean the poem hasn't been interpreted quite differently by others - check out this post.)

Pierre-Auguste Renoir's Dance at Bougival
But "the dance" does not even have to be about dancing.

We use the verb dance to mean "to leap or skip in excitement or joy." We sometimes describe animals or even objects as dancing, as with the mating dances of birds or a toy sailboats dancing on the water.

Figuratively, when we put off or don't address something directly, it might be said that we  "dance around an issue." To use another dance term, it might be said that in that situation we "sidestep" an issue.

The noun "dance" is an important part of many rituals and ceremonies from proms to weddings.

The American NCAA Division I Men's Basketball Tournament is called "The Big Dance."

The Dance of the Planets is a phrase used sometimes in this late spring season when Jupiter, Venus, and Mercury all appear to be right next to each other in the evening sky. Over a period of time, they seem to rotate and change positions, like dancers, with each other.

In "The Dance by Wendell Berry, I think the poet combines the literal and figurative dances.

He begins with the literal:

I would have each couple turn,
join and unjoin, be lost
in the greater turning
of other couples, woven
in the circle of a dance,
the song of long time flowing

but then turns figuratively to asking

What is fidelity? To what
does it hold? The point
of departure, or the turning road
that is departure and absence
and the way home? What we are
and what we were once




Our writing prompt this month is simply "the dance" in any of its literal or figurative or verb or noun forms.

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Submission Deadline: June 30, 2018