Untitled, ver. 2 I was in a chat-room playing cards the other night and someone called "lady.grae" was trying to tell me about Schrödinger's Cat and the interpretation of Quantum Mechanics. She totally missed the point that it's really about the "nature of the observed is changed simply because it's being observed." She got all tangential about some radioactive crap. Sigh. Then she bragged her IQ was 128. Naturally I asked her when she tested and she said last year. So, I asked, "was it a vanity test?" and she said, yes. So .. enough about her. We all know Uncle DK just ain't that smart. However, there is one tangent that does tantalize me and that is: is the intent of art-making part of the equation in making a work of art? Some of my Lofty Idealist Faculty got off on exactly this tangent today at a lunch. I am sad to say that Uncle DK only had comments to make about "craft" with not much to add to intent itself. Yet, the question is valid -- in it's simplest terms: Should an artist even name the work? Does a dance or theater work need program notes? Will a title of a poem give too much direction? While the intention of a writer/dancer/director/painter/whatever might be one thing; the observer might get something else entirely and; shouldn't this be a good thing? One person mentioned that Hemmingway said that he didn't even know what his novels were about until sometimes ten years later - that while his novel may have been about 'this', he was actually grappling with something in his personal life. Have you ever pondered why an artist might name the work, "untitled, ver. 12"? I think we might struggle with this issue a lot. It seems to me that in generating the abstract that we allow interpretation of our work on the personal level of the viewer. Unless the work is entirely narrative, the observer doesn't have to be told what to expect. In fact, ideally there may be some level of shock to make that viewer even more receptive. So, our intention - that which drives the current work - may be on a personal or even global/political level; the reception may be entirely different. I'll allow that that may be the satisfaction in creating work, almost as if we are asking a question rather than providing an answer. This may be the crux of what you and I do: we offer up a challenge of choices with little hint at a solution. I think that we are mostly interested in the struggle that lies underneath a topic rather than the topical elements in any piece.

Tripping the Light Fantastic Many years ago I came across the phrase, "once a junkie, always a junkie." It meant that even though you may have cleaned up, on some level you are still addicted to heroin. There is an element of truth in it and I'd like to apply it to being a dancer, artist, writer, poet, musician. Because I think some things in your life change the way you see the world. As a student once told me, "I've got The Eye." I don't know if that deserves caps, but like a mystic taking the path into deeper and darker realms the shadings that you develop in observing the world can not be dropped and left behind. It's in your system or DNA or neural pathways; whatever you want to call it. Once you begin exploring a level of art-making, especially if you are creating a type of art-making you begin to shape a "belief system" (I need a better word, gestalt?) that you weigh and judge other attempts at the craft. When you first begin you create a standard at which you set a mark, then as you become more deeply entrenched you realize that there are broader definitions of the areas you work in. And yet, once you've begun: you can't walk away. Let's say you are a visual artist, perhaps photography. You learn about composition, framing, color rendering, lighting and all the other bits and pieces of the craft. Then, let's say, you drop it! You decide to have babies, gain 40 pounds, you are surrounded by laundry and dirty dishes and yesterday's lunch boxes. Ten years go by. You still have The Eye. You've been tainted, scarred, tattooed, branded - use any term you like, you can't shake those prior experiences. You - are - still - an - artist. Once a dancer, always a dancer. 50 years old, flat feet, graying hair and a grandmother - you watch a movie like Dreamgirls or Chicago and you still mentally critique the level of technique, question if it's successful, does it "work." You can walk away but you can't leave it behind. You may not be writing poetry or acting on the stage or playing the piano any more -- you are still what you are: an artist at heart. Happy Valentine's Day to all my lovely artists ... I still believe in you.

Legacy We've all studied Dance History when we were in college, right? It was bunched up with our Theater and Film History classes and .. that dreaded Dance and World Cultures class. Since Modern Dance is only 100 years old, it's common for the teacher to present a "dance history tree." Like a family tree chart, Isadora Duncan taught Martha Graham taught Paul Taylor taught Merce Cunningham (I know those aren't right, it's just an example). I thought I'd present my own tree because, while I may not have understood at the time -- my teachers were pretty awesome. My guess is that your eyes will glaze over unless you are steeped in the culture. Read on and tell me what you think. My first lighting teacher was Georg Schrieber, no it's not a typo. He was my boss for seven years. He was a Yale graduate and designed for the Santa Fe Opera for 12 seasons. He taught me the meaning of gestalt in making theater. He also taught me noblesse oblige, which means essentially "nobility demands" or that if I'm a boss I have to work tonight! After a mere two years as a stagehand he promoted me to Stage Crew Chief and then to Asst. Technical Director. During the time I was ATD he was building a Dinner Theater leaving me in charge of a 2000 seat road house, I was only 26 years old. I'll never forget my first big shows; three semis, a 40 man Union crew, our house crew and the roadies -- eventually I learned to supervise, fast! I got my master's degree (MFA) in theater, my mentor and prime teacher was Doc Ballard. He was the first black lighting designer I'd ever met. (I guess it's February!) He was my boss, mentor, teacher and advisor. He'd done the NYC scene and knew the big names in New York. He was a great guy. Soon after I graduated, I got a call from the Dance School - they wanted to hire me! My boss was Cristyne Lawson. Since it's Black History month, I'll say she was a woman and black. Those issues were not issues with me, I worked for her for 15 years! She was a great boss and a good friend. Her background was that she danced for Ruth St. Denis, Martha Graham and was in the inaugural company of Alvin Ailey, she's even mentioned in his autobiography! Cristyne represents every generation of modern dance. I designed lights and sets for Cristyne for 15 years. She taught me so much about dance, I think the thing that stuck with me over all was her saying, "If it's not fun, why do it?" Of course, we were in a nightmare show at the time, lol. I have to mention Larry A. Attaway. He was the composer for Bella Lewitzky. He taught me a lot about art-making. I designed probably six of his works, the main thing he taught me was the art of critique. Brilliant man. Tina Yuan has been a major influence on my design. She was on our faculty for many years and I designed for her for many many years. Her pedigree can be found in the link, of note is that she was a principal dancer for Alvin Ailey. Let me toot my horn, my school CalArts was founded by Walt Disney as an interdisciplinary experimental art school. We are in our 35th year, 17 years for me. We are a private art college that is accredited by WASC and NASD, we've the credentials. Tuition is 30 grand just for one year! It's obscene, I know. Yet our faculty is top-notch, working artists who have actually succeeded in the art world. That I am in the mix amazes me, yet somehow I am a valued member (remember that They called Me to work here), it's a vibrant education on so many levels. If you do the math ... our first graduates (assuming 20 years old) are now 55 years old. Finally our alum's are stepping into positions of power. We are such a young school. We have Pulitzer prize winners on our faculty. I can read names I know in history books. Trust me, I'll not be in any history books -- but my pedigree is awesome. I've been taught by the best. And I pass it on to my students, we will change the world. My legacy? Well, here's the link. Fifteen years of design with some of the most interesting choreographers, musicians, composers, dancers, designers in the world today. Feel free to pull up a cup of coffee and check out the shows. Oh yeah ... I am DK in the program! And, yeah, I made the web-page too.