Outversion: A Review of Inversion:Rewind

April 19, St.-Stephen-in-the-Fields Church, Toronto

I have to admit, when I first heard the concept for Inversion: Rewind show, I was dubious. I thought people would quickly sicken of hearing Beats Antique's "Trinkit" more than a half-dozen times in less than two hours. But then I saw the radically different interpretations, and I was won over. It was an incredible show, filled with stellar performances in a wide array of styles. No two interpretations were even slightly similar. Accents in the song which demanded I place special emphasis on them in my dance were completely ignored by other dancers who found their own key points. I danced with poi. One troupe danced with hats. Another dancer with an umbrella. Another with a puppet and a huge paper hoop skirt. One with a chair and spider-like hand movements. We were all different, and we somehow made the song different. After the show, I heard many people say they hadn't even realized we were using the same music until well into the second act.

And it wasn't just the dancers who were great, and who made this my all-time favourite belly dance gig.

• It was the venue. St.-Stephen-in-the-Fields church is a gorgeous space. Although I am a distinctly irreligious person, the stained glass, impressive pipe organ, and soaring arches provided a warm ambience and intimate venue.
  
• It was the acoustics. The vaulted ceilings and size of the room made the sound resonate in the warmest fashion.
  
• It was the costuming. Great care had been taken with what the dancers were wearing. Outfits were well-matched with performance pieces, and in the instance of Maryfer's crazy hoop skirt, integral to the dance.
  
• It was the audience. In performance, I personally find a form of symbiosis. If either the performer or audience doesn't do their job, the performance loses something. At Inversion: Rewind, both audience and performers did their job beautifully. Even when I was under the blinding spotlights, when I couldn't see the people filling the seats, I knew they were there. I could feel their spellbound attention directed at me, and I soaked it up greedily, pulling it into myself and directing it right back out at them in the form of my dance. And when I stood backstage and watched the other performances, I could see the same thing was happening with the other dancers. The audience was jubilant and exuberant with the joyous performances, and hushed and reverent with the more reflective dances.

And as for my own performance? This is my third time dancing at one of Audra's events, and the previous two times, I felt off. The first time, I was dancing on a badly sprained ankle. The second time, I just wasn't connecting with my music in a way that felt natural to me. This time around, I'm ok with what I did. "Trinkit" is admittedly not my favourite piece to dance to, and after almost two hundred listenings of the song (no exaggeration. My iTunes says I listened to it 178 times, and that's not including the times I listed to it on my iPod), I'll be perfectly fine with never hearing it again for a few years. It's not the most ideal song for me to spin poi to, but the glitchiness of the tune let me hit a few beats to maximum effect (gotta love that double kick change near the end).

In contrast, I only listened to my other song a couple dozen times at most, and it was far less challenging for me, even if the dance I did to it was far more complex. I chose "Orca" by Wintersleep at the eleventh hour, and beyond a bit of visualizing in my chair to the song, didn't practice to the piece at all. But I didn't need to. I've been thinking about this song for over a year. The song speaks to me, tells me to dance to it in a very particular fashion, and does so in no uncertain terms. And so I complied, filling the space around me with what I was feeling internally. The song switches between soft, plaintive singing to harsh crescendos, so I danced it in two corresponding styles. I kept the floorwork soft and slow for the quiet parts of the song, and added a violent sort of martial arts and zaar fusion to the aggressive bits. I rationed out my eye contact with the audience for maximum effect. I floated off the floor, hovering just off the stage with the power of my thighs. I raked my hair across my face. I kicked. I clenched fists. I buried my face in my hands. And when the applause struck me, I was grateful.

It is for moments like these that I dance.

Sew What?

Yesterday I purchased a big bolt of stretchy black fishnet fabric. It's not a plain fishnet, but has a slight wave pattern to it. Now I need to make stuff out of it.

I really need to make some money in a big, big way, so I'm hoping to come up with some easily-made stuff (despite me knowing this is going to be a real bitch to work with) that people will want to buy. I'm thinking arm-warmers, fingerless gloves, overskirts, and the like. Do you have any other ideas I can filch consider? If I can get the stuff together, I'll set myself up with an Etsy account and begin selling like mad.

I'm also planning on using other fabrics, too, but since I have a whole frigging bolt of the black fishnet, this will be the main element of many pieces.

....

Do you remember those poop-pig key chains? You know, those horrid little squishy beasties that when you squeeze 'em, appear to be pooping? Well, I found a truly horrific version of it yesterday. It was a female pudendum, and when I squoze it, a nasty, slimy, white bulge erupted from betwixt the labia. It was the vilest thing I'd seen in quite some time, so of course I splurged the ten cents and gave it to schwartzung. He was suitably revolted. But then James squeezed it and licked it which was just.... Well, words can't describe just what it was, so you'll have to supply your own.

....

I had a brief fighting practice last night. Somehow, I've started using my broadsword as a bastard sword, and that's gotta stop. I also got hit good and hard in the eye. It felt like my eyeball bounced off the back of my skull. I thought I'd have a shiner today, but I think I dodged it. I did end up with what looks like rugburn on my eyelid, though. Good one, schwartzung....

....

Link time.

Life Before Death: Incredibly moving photo exhibit pairing pre- and post-mortem photography and brief bios.

An Exhibit People Are Dying to Get Into: "Gregor Schneider, a German artist, is planning the ultimate in art: a person dying as part of the exhibition."

Death Erection: A short but intriguing article.

The Diesel Tree: Grow Your Own Oil: "Australian farmers in the wet tropical region of North Queensland have bought over 20,000 of these so-called diesel trees. The intention is that in 15 or so years they’ll have their very own oil mine growing on their farmland."

Middle aged father branded 'hoodie' and thrown out of shopping centre for wearing hooded anorak: A baby was once evicted for a similar reason.

Vladimir Demikhov: "Chronicle about experiments of Vladimir Demikhov, a Soviet scientist who made the first transplantation of a dog's heart in 1952. The experiment, aimed at finding ways of replacing portions of the human body lost through injury or disease, was pronounced Russia's "most successful". In 1946 Demikhov replaced the whole heart-lungs complex of a dog without using the apparatus of artificial circulation of blood. In 1954 he conducted a revolutionary experiment, when created a two-headed dog by grafting a puppy's head to a full-grown pooch. Then scientists even observed the process of rejuvenation of the elder dog. Shown are the two dogs before the operation, Demikhov performing operations, the puppy's head lapping up water, demonstration of the dog on a scientists' conference..."

Eedjit

I'm a moron.

It's a gorgeous, hot day today. I went for a run, and more than doubled what I last did. I ran all the way to the park, did a lap of the park, then ran all the way back home without needing to stop. This is a record for me, and also proves to me that I'm not necessarily hopeless, after all.

Then, when I got home, I did scads of housework.

Then I did about an hour of dance practice and crashed. Hard.

My eyes felt like they each weighed about five pounds. My muscles were killing me. I was exhausted. My head hurt. And I had to go teach dance class in half an hour.

Then, about fifteen minutes before I had to leave for class, I realized what was wrong with me.

I hadn't had anything to drink today aside from a cup of tea for breakfast.

Damn, but I'm a twit.

So now I keep a half litre of water on my desk so I don't forget to hydrate. Gah!