Some days are a gift. There were so many in 2010 and as I started to write up my "Year in Art" last month, I realised that there have been so many milestones that I would like to write about. So this rather late list will come in instalments, in some sort of reverse chronological order.
1. PainSo it's funny that when I choose to start with November 2010, the first "gift" must start with this. The most frightening part of my 2010 came at the end of October and completely turned my next two months around. When my calf muscles fizzled out it was the first time I had to deal with a severe injury and to accept that part of it was going to be chronic for the rest of my life. I had no idea how unprepared I was - for being unable to walk, run, stretch, roll, jump, dance as I knew how. I wasn't prepared to forgo my exams or for the completely lousy feeling of not dancing. Dancing is when I feel alive, and suddenly I wasn't fully alive. I started to question my plans and the fickle art that I have given up so much for. I asked myself if I could still afford to love dancing this much, and if I could ever dance with the same abandon again if it meant getting hurt.
(the sequel to this story is in 2011, and I hope I shall tell it to you soon)
2. Graey Festival 22-28 NovemberThe Graey festival was the best consolation I could have in the horrible weeks right after school was out for the year. Curated by choreographer Raka Maitra, this festival tends to the experimental and an exposure of the live artistic process - so termed "vivisection" this time around. I am so grateful that Raka invited her students to be volunteers and gave me a reason to not worry about my own dancing and spend every day for a week in the oddball comforts of the Substation, in the company of some amazing Asian artists presenting performances as well as "open rehearsals". The latter turned out to be a series of wonderfully intimate workshops and frank conversations with the artists presenting at the festival. So many vivid moments are still with me. Eko Supriyanto in private dialogue with his mask of Prince Panji - Yvonne Ng's conversational live warm-up for her snarling, earthbound improvisation piece "Headdress" - the stirring austerity of Navtej Johar's first collaboration with Zulkiflie Mahmod in the light of one cold bulb above the catwalk - Tripura Kashyap whipping her chain of bells - Scarlet Yu in a torrent of white dust - Raka and Eko sculpted together as Ravana returning to the womb.
3. T.H.E Contact Festival 11-18 Dec
This is a little company bent on the impossible. After a punishing year on main stages in Singapore and on international tour, Kuik Swee Boon's lean company managed to pull off a full-scale week of performance, workshops and masterclasses by both local and international teachers from Asia and Europe. I spent the week as a festival volunteer - dancing a little, but mostly taking tickets and making announcements. It was a shame that the performances were under-publicised, but overall the programme was very strong and a real treat to be immersed in.
Waterbloom remains my favourite work by Swee Boon. I love its self-contained layers and its world of floating athleticism, though I still don't know what to make of the enigmatic ending between Sylvia Yong's elastic pacing and the skittering little part first created on Lee Ren Xin and this year performed by Jessica Christina. This performance brought me back to the wave of euphoria, also in the University Cultural Centre, the night of its premiere in the programme Variance in (2008). That celebration of a stunning new company that arrived with a stable of home-groomed talent that was this unexpected, visual miracle. The dancers looked even more powerful and fluid this time around, although a little cramped on the Theatre Studio stage. And how I will miss Sylvia Yong, who made this her retirement show. She is simply alight on stage, full of magnetic intensity and whiplike extensions that take my breath away.
There was of course a whole lot more going on than just T.H.E. The festival presented an ambitious menu including a local triple bill of T.H.E, Singapore Dance Theatre and Frontier Danceland, an evening of work by young choreographers of T.H.E's second company, two studio showings of Asian choreoraphers and workshopped pieces, and finally a full evening of T.H.E main company performing work by Swee Boon and Korean guest choreographer Kim Jae Duk. I thoroughly enjoyed the contrast of the frenetic strength in the classes, choreography and performance by Jae Duk. He puts together a rascal's instinct for hip hop, modern dance, tradition and gesture with showy, snappy virtuosity. Sometimes he slides towards primetime slapstick, then swings back with brutality, speed and mesmerizing dynamic shifts. It was another completely different planet again with the suspended economy of solo shown by the young Taiwanese choreographer Chou Shu Yi.
4. A retreat to the hills
I took a little trip after Christmas to Thailand and Laos. Two pieces of natural art that I am keeping with me: climbing inside the white limestone waterfall outside Chiang Mai, and the dramatic green creases in the hills of Northern Laos as seen from the window of a turboprop plane.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Friday, 28 January 2011
Thursday, 18 November 2010
I love pain
I haven't taken such a long break since I came to NAFA and started dancing full time in 2008. It is much harder than I imagined to simply stop moving, as I'm supposed to do in this enforced time-out.
I confessed ashamedly to my physio. "I've been a good girl. I only did yoga on Saturday, very gently. Then I walked all over Orchard Road on Sunday." (It was supposed to be a book reading, not strenuous for the legs. Except that I was hopelessly lost.)
Did it hurt? Of course it did! Should I have stopped? Probably. But sitting at home drives me nuts. Lack of endorphins, sweat, rhythm, stretch, fresh air, pain...
I am beginning to see that while dancing all this time, I have developed a pretty perverted relationship to pain. I had gotten so used to it, day in day out. Pain, and fatigue. I wore it as a good girl guide's badge. I figured it was supposed to happen when you pushed hard so you could grow. Good dancing hurts. Every day. I often said that I was planning to print a T-shirt for class: I LOVE PAIN. The pain mecca was the triple row of koyok creams and plasters at Mustafa.
Now I keep thinking of that day four weeks ago. By the time Mr A bellowed "how am I supposed to know that you are injured? If you don't tell me I will still throw daggers at you as usual!", it was too late.
Was it supposed to count as 'injury'? It was just another regular day of pain waiting to be delivered only by the momentary exhilaration of dancing, which in turn would cause more pain? I suppose I should have noticed when my left knee gave way, but if I recovered I could only dance on! If my muscles began to twinge and cramp, I needed only to hold on for another five minutes and get an ice pack later...
I asked too much. My body showed me its limits. Decided to educate me that the little calf muscles are absolutely essential for balance, walking, turning, jumping. Decided to teach me that fearlessness is supposed to have bounds.
I need a new relationship to pain.
I confessed ashamedly to my physio. "I've been a good girl. I only did yoga on Saturday, very gently. Then I walked all over Orchard Road on Sunday." (It was supposed to be a book reading, not strenuous for the legs. Except that I was hopelessly lost.)
Did it hurt? Of course it did! Should I have stopped? Probably. But sitting at home drives me nuts. Lack of endorphins, sweat, rhythm, stretch, fresh air, pain...
I am beginning to see that while dancing all this time, I have developed a pretty perverted relationship to pain. I had gotten so used to it, day in day out. Pain, and fatigue. I wore it as a good girl guide's badge. I figured it was supposed to happen when you pushed hard so you could grow. Good dancing hurts. Every day. I often said that I was planning to print a T-shirt for class: I LOVE PAIN. The pain mecca was the triple row of koyok creams and plasters at Mustafa.
Now I keep thinking of that day four weeks ago. By the time Mr A bellowed "how am I supposed to know that you are injured? If you don't tell me I will still throw daggers at you as usual!", it was too late.
Was it supposed to count as 'injury'? It was just another regular day of pain waiting to be delivered only by the momentary exhilaration of dancing, which in turn would cause more pain? I suppose I should have noticed when my left knee gave way, but if I recovered I could only dance on! If my muscles began to twinge and cramp, I needed only to hold on for another five minutes and get an ice pack later...
I asked too much. My body showed me its limits. Decided to educate me that the little calf muscles are absolutely essential for balance, walking, turning, jumping. Decided to teach me that fearlessness is supposed to have bounds.
I need a new relationship to pain.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
facets
I have never known so much about my body. The apparition of bones and muscles heretofore unseen: the sternum, the sacral ala. Facets of the vertebrae, tibialis anterior. The plantar fascia and levator scapula. I wake in the night wondering about the deep clack from the acetabulum, the balance of tensions at the cervical. For only aesthetic purposes, I would like to to teach an anatomy lesson from the sculpted contours of a dancer's back.
What a wondrous instrument the body is. How unique. In each achievent and each injury, it is my enemy, my teacher and my friend.
How long can a body last?
What a wondrous instrument the body is. How unique. In each achievent and each injury, it is my enemy, my teacher and my friend.
How long can a body last?
Sunday, 1 February 2009
For the love of pain II
I just read a post about how many Singaporeans look down on male dancers as being "gay". Aside from the stupid homophobia that makes an equation of gay = perverted + weak, I was so cross that I wanted to belt out my blog tagline. Even though the irony would probably be lost on most readers.
So many people think that dancing is frivolous and easy. We dancers are to some extent a victim of our own successes, because the whole objective of most dance forms is to make the impossible look effortless. So the ordinary person won't blink when they see 32 fouettes, a 64 count Cunningham developpe, suspended jumps, a gorgeous lift.
Would it be as good if everybody knew how much pain and technique it took? If audiences not only realised the artistic intent but also appreciated how dance stretches the limits of human possibility?
Jock Soto and Wendy Whelan. Easy, right?
Anyway, while I'm building up my own little encyclopedia on pain, I thought I'd share it here for other dancers and anybody else who wants to know:
NYU Harkness Centre: Common Dance Injuries
On ankle sprains
On rolling in, arch pain, bunions
So many people think that dancing is frivolous and easy. We dancers are to some extent a victim of our own successes, because the whole objective of most dance forms is to make the impossible look effortless. So the ordinary person won't blink when they see 32 fouettes, a 64 count Cunningham developpe, suspended jumps, a gorgeous lift.
Would it be as good if everybody knew how much pain and technique it took? If audiences not only realised the artistic intent but also appreciated how dance stretches the limits of human possibility?
Jock Soto and Wendy Whelan. Easy, right?Anyway, while I'm building up my own little encyclopedia on pain, I thought I'd share it here for other dancers and anybody else who wants to know:
NYU Harkness Centre: Common Dance Injuries
On ankle sprains
On rolling in, arch pain, bunions
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Cinderella had it easy.
My friend Jackie assured me sweetly that teachers tend to like dancers who fall in class. They are the ones going for it and not holding back.
So I should feel good that I tripped over my own jazz sneakers while doing some simple jazz progressions last week, and took a very contemporary hip-elbow slide across the studio. In the first row. My jazz shoes must be cursed. My last pair served me faithfully till I happily dusted off for my first hip hop class in years - only to have to retrieve them with a broom and dust pan after the rubber disintegrated in the middle of warm-up.
I've been told that a bad dancer blames the floor, while a good dancer blames him/herself. I am blaming myself for stubbornly sticking with some oversized shoes.
Shoes! It seems like a ridiculous predicament for a modern dancer. After all, blisters can be painful but calluses always fit.
But shoes have plagued me since the first pair of ballet slippers I bought for myself ten years ago. Having heard that a good shoe should fit like a glove, I bought the most snug pair I could squeeze my fat old feet into. They turned out to be so tight that I spent my first year of ballet rolling my feet to the big toe side (eversion) because it hurt too much to put weight on the outside of my feet. So how relieved I was when I discovered Sansha prolite extra wide shoes! I wore holes into a couple of pairs - until I got humiliated during an audition when I was told to take them off because my slippers were so loose that the panel couldn't see my feet. I've had RAD character shoes that wouldn't click because they were too loose and my feet slipped around and couldn't control the heels. Socks that sent me skiing across studio floors when all I wanted was to come to a stop.
It's when my toes are furthest from my head that I worry about them the most. I have long given up toddler ballerina dreams - as soon as I could write I wanted to be a novelist instead - but there remains something irresistible in the luminous line of a satin pointe shoe, and the precise elegance of pointe ballet. Never mind the perfect pair, I just wanted something that didn't hurt for some unusually broad, stubby-toed and low-arched feet. It doesn't help that in Singapore, the models available from two major brands can be counted on one hand, and there's no such thing as a professional fitting.
Not that fitters are always helpful. The confusion of the team of amateurs in a Capezio new york shop who gave me a pair of Tendu II so roomy that I could wear my toe-rings and dance, to my teachers' consternation. The disdainful horror of that Paris fitter when I slipped off my sneakers. "Vous avez des pieds tres larges", she said, wrinkling her nose. I ended up with a pair of 50 euro pietragallas which made me feel like my metatarsals were cracking each time I rolled through pointe. The exchange rate was over SGD 2 to the euro at the time, so I grit my teeth and danced on those shoes for an awfully long time. It's been a long journey, and isn't finished yet. I went for several unsuccessful fittings in New York, hunted down the dance enclaves of Bangkok and Beijing, and swapped with friends for models and makes from Japan to Russia and Brazil. For the record I'm currently in favour of the Grishko Maya and experimenting with the China-market Sansha Infanta.
Apart from the bruises to my anatomy and wallet, though, I'm grateful for all that my shoes have been teaching me about my relationship to the ground. It's where our lives start: when we push up into a crawl and then precariously onto two feet.
Some shoe fitting tips and links for anybody else on this journey too:
Soft shoes including ballet slippers, jazz shoes, jazz sneakers, ballet character shoes etc should fit LIKE A GLOVE but not a vice!
Capezio Guide for fitting ballet slippers
Unfortunately there is no easy equivalent rule for pointe shoes. Teachers, fitter,s trial, error, and hopefully some good luck.
Freed Guide for fitting pointe shoes
Gaynor Minden on Foot Types
So I should feel good that I tripped over my own jazz sneakers while doing some simple jazz progressions last week, and took a very contemporary hip-elbow slide across the studio. In the first row. My jazz shoes must be cursed. My last pair served me faithfully till I happily dusted off for my first hip hop class in years - only to have to retrieve them with a broom and dust pan after the rubber disintegrated in the middle of warm-up.
I've been told that a bad dancer blames the floor, while a good dancer blames him/herself. I am blaming myself for stubbornly sticking with some oversized shoes.
Shoes! It seems like a ridiculous predicament for a modern dancer. After all, blisters can be painful but calluses always fit.
But shoes have plagued me since the first pair of ballet slippers I bought for myself ten years ago. Having heard that a good shoe should fit like a glove, I bought the most snug pair I could squeeze my fat old feet into. They turned out to be so tight that I spent my first year of ballet rolling my feet to the big toe side (eversion) because it hurt too much to put weight on the outside of my feet. So how relieved I was when I discovered Sansha prolite extra wide shoes! I wore holes into a couple of pairs - until I got humiliated during an audition when I was told to take them off because my slippers were so loose that the panel couldn't see my feet. I've had RAD character shoes that wouldn't click because they were too loose and my feet slipped around and couldn't control the heels. Socks that sent me skiing across studio floors when all I wanted was to come to a stop.
It's when my toes are furthest from my head that I worry about them the most. I have long given up toddler ballerina dreams - as soon as I could write I wanted to be a novelist instead - but there remains something irresistible in the luminous line of a satin pointe shoe, and the precise elegance of pointe ballet. Never mind the perfect pair, I just wanted something that didn't hurt for some unusually broad, stubby-toed and low-arched feet. It doesn't help that in Singapore, the models available from two major brands can be counted on one hand, and there's no such thing as a professional fitting.
Not that fitters are always helpful. The confusion of the team of amateurs in a Capezio new york shop who gave me a pair of Tendu II so roomy that I could wear my toe-rings and dance, to my teachers' consternation. The disdainful horror of that Paris fitter when I slipped off my sneakers. "Vous avez des pieds tres larges", she said, wrinkling her nose. I ended up with a pair of 50 euro pietragallas which made me feel like my metatarsals were cracking each time I rolled through pointe. The exchange rate was over SGD 2 to the euro at the time, so I grit my teeth and danced on those shoes for an awfully long time. It's been a long journey, and isn't finished yet. I went for several unsuccessful fittings in New York, hunted down the dance enclaves of Bangkok and Beijing, and swapped with friends for models and makes from Japan to Russia and Brazil. For the record I'm currently in favour of the Grishko Maya and experimenting with the China-market Sansha Infanta.
Apart from the bruises to my anatomy and wallet, though, I'm grateful for all that my shoes have been teaching me about my relationship to the ground. It's where our lives start: when we push up into a crawl and then precariously onto two feet.
Some shoe fitting tips and links for anybody else on this journey too:
Soft shoes including ballet slippers, jazz shoes, jazz sneakers, ballet character shoes etc should fit LIKE A GLOVE but not a vice!
Capezio Guide for fitting ballet slippers
Unfortunately there is no easy equivalent rule for pointe shoes. Teachers, fitter,s trial, error, and hopefully some good luck.
Freed Guide for fitting pointe shoes
Gaynor Minden on Foot Types
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
For the love of pain and nutrition
School's back in season! While we're giggling at each other as we limp back into the studio after a brutal jumpstart to the season (crazy placement audition and daily repertory), I have to keep reminding myself that there's nothing else I'd rather be doing, even if my creaky old body doesn't quite agree.
While arming myself with bandages, tape, pain spray, deep heat rub, cold packs and hot packs, my new year resolution is to ingest as many of these as I can hold down:
While arming myself with bandages, tape, pain spray, deep heat rub, cold packs and hot packs, my new year resolution is to ingest as many of these as I can hold down:
- water
- bananas (for potassium to relieve muscle aches)
- salmon (protein, calcium and anti-inflammatory omega 3)
- papayas and oranges (Vitamin C anti oxidants to help healing of muscle tears and formation of collagen for my squeaky knees)
- spinach & carrots (beta carotene makes vitamin A for tissue repair)
- nuts and whole grains (vitamin E anti-oxidant and protein, slow release complex carbs)
- glucosamine tabs (anti-inflammatory)
Monday, 29 December 2008
your toes are bad
I love it when pedicurists work on my feet. The first time, a pale wraith of a boy in Shenzhen grimaced delicately as he chipped and shaved the fat calluses on from my balls and heels. Two days ago, the pedicurist in Beijing worked with an air of focused resignation as he examined my soles and my toes. Then he solemnly unrolled a green picture-sheet of various toenails, chipped, bruised, detached. Homemade herbal remedy. He could save my little black toes, before they unfolded in similar contagion across my other eight.
The catch. 200 yuan a toenail.
I said No.
Well, nobody ever died of black toe, did they? That's what dancers' toes look like, whether it's pointe shoes or floorwork. Corns, calluses, bruised nails and plenty of studio-seasoned dirt. The least gorgeous and most essential part of the performing body, the more seasoned the better. I figured as soon as I go back to school in 2 weeks' time they'd revert to whatever damaged state they were already in.
But all the same, it shook me up enough to make me do a bit of my own web research for a professional opinion on black nails. I wasn't anxious to end up like my friend Lu Yi who took her RAD exam with a fungal infection and a fat dose of painkillers. This is from the doctors who write for Dance Magazine, "Foot care for barefoot dancers" and "Foot care for pointe shoes".
Maybe I'll take better care of my feet next year.
The catch. 200 yuan a toenail.
I said No.
Well, nobody ever died of black toe, did they? That's what dancers' toes look like, whether it's pointe shoes or floorwork. Corns, calluses, bruised nails and plenty of studio-seasoned dirt. The least gorgeous and most essential part of the performing body, the more seasoned the better. I figured as soon as I go back to school in 2 weeks' time they'd revert to whatever damaged state they were already in.
But all the same, it shook me up enough to make me do a bit of my own web research for a professional opinion on black nails. I wasn't anxious to end up like my friend Lu Yi who took her RAD exam with a fungal infection and a fat dose of painkillers. This is from the doctors who write for Dance Magazine, "Foot care for barefoot dancers" and "Foot care for pointe shoes".
Maybe I'll take better care of my feet next year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)