By JILL RANDALL

Duniya Dance and Drum Company is a San Francisco Bay Area company that has been creating since 2007. Its social justice-focused work amplifies voices from the South Asian and African diasporas. Led by Joti Singh and Bongo Sidibe, they are artistic partners as well as life partners.

I got to sit down with Joti in February 2024 to reflect together on the company’s incredible work over the past 12 years and hear about the exciting projects for 2024. Duniya is exploring a wide range of topics and partnerships. Teaching is also integral to Joti and Bongo’s artistic life.

Note: This article was first published in Stance on Dance’s spring/summer 2024 print issue. To learn more, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.

Duniya Dance and Drum Company. Photo by Amal Bisharat.

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What was the first project you and Bongo worked on together? What brought you together?

Bongo and I are married. So I guess that was our first project!

Duniya had started before Bongo was in my life, as Duniya Dance Company. When we came together, we changed it to Duniya Dance and Drum Company because he is a drummer. Aside from doing South Asian dance, we incorporated West African dance and music.

I remember our first bigger-length performance at La Peña in Berkeley, California. That space was so accessible. They made it in such a way that we could present a pretty full production. We did a performance called Lanyee. We brought in artists from LA for that. We presented it later again at Dance Mission.

If you had only one or two sentences to describe Duniya Dance and Drum Company, what would you say?

Duniya is a South Asian- and West African-based performing company that centers community and storytelling. The stories we tell serve to put our communities’ histories and present struggles and joys front and center, bringing traditional art forms into the contemporary social justice lens.

What is on your calendar for 2024? And, what are your current artistic curiosities and themes?

We have two major projects. One is the African Arts Festival. This will be the fifth time we have done it. Previously, we had done it every three years. This time, we are doing it after just two years. We are trying to see if we can do it a little more frequently. We present Bay Area-based companies exploring the African diaspora. It is a free outdoor festival, which includes children’s activities, food, and vendors.

The first year we did it in the Mission on the street in front of the Baobab restaurant, co-presented with the African Advocacy Network. Then we did it at McLaren Park. This year we will be partnering with the Yerba Buena Gardens Festival, who we have worked with multiple times in the past. The support from Yerba Buena helps with putting up the stage, paying for the venue, and we don’t have to deal with the city…it is much easier! It will be on Saturday, September 7th.

The other project we have is Raices et Résistance. This is the culmination of a multiyear collaboration with Susana Arenas Pedroso and her company Arenas Dance Company. This project explores the postcolonial relationship with Guinea and Cuba. Guinea’s first president Sékou Touré was aligned very closely with Castro’s government in Cuba, and therefore there was a lot of artistic exchange. Cuban music has actually had a huge influence on contemporary Guinean music. That performance will be in late October. We have a NEFA grant for it. It is exciting to know we have the opportunity to tour it a little bit next year.

In terms of choreographic curiosities, last year I premiered a piece called Ghadar Geet: Blood and Ink. This performance tells the story of my great-grandfather Bhagwan Singh Gyanee and the Ghadar party, which was a group of South Asian radicals based in the Bay Area fighting for India’s independence from the British in the early 1900s. When we did it last year, it was presented by When Eyes Speak, a South Asian choreographers festival, and in conjunction with the South Asian Radical History Walking Tour. Two community historians and activists, Barnali Ghosh and Anirvan Chatterjee, do this radical history walking tour in Berkeley. They curated a walking tour in San Francisco at important Ghadar party sites. They also talk about other histories: queer South Asian histories, post 9/11, even earlier history like the 1700s. Fascinating stories. Folks went on the tour and then ended near Dance Mission Theater and watched our performance.

We put so much into this performance and into this project. I am looking to do it again somewhere! But, at the same time I am struggling with disillusionment with the presenting model and the power dynamics. Presenters have certain things in mind of who their audience is and what their audience wants to see.

I am excited to be working with Eastside Arts Alliance to present some pieces of Ghadar Geet: Blood and Ink this August. In addition, filmmaker Priyanka Suryaneni is making a documentary film about my project and family history.

I also have been writing poetry. Like many, I am asking, “What is the purpose of dance and my work when a genocide is happening?” I wrote a poem for Refaat Alareer, and dancer Priti Ramaprasad performed with the poem at the recent Artists Against Genocide event at CounterPulse.

As Islamophobia rises, it always affects my community. Putting our brown bodies front and center – “Here’s what we do. Here’s how long we have been in this country. Here we are loud and proud.” That is always relevant and important.

We have a ton of Black History Month gigs. I am working on programming at the moment.

Bongo Sidibe. Photo by Amal Bisharat.

Do you still have your school in Guinea?

We don’t. When COVID happened, it transformed into a place where folks could come and get COVID supplies. It was a great learning experience. It served its purpose, and then the community needed something different. The space is still there, currently being used as housing. That is what is needed. Sometimes you feel like you have to keep something going, but this was a moment to listen and to pivot.

But, we are still leading trips to Guinea! We plan on doing one in December. Write to me at joti@duniyadance.com to find out more.

People can come for any amount of time. The trip will last two and a half to three weeks. Bongo will be there for one month. Folks take dance and drum classes every day. There is an island off the coast. We usually take people to the village and see that side of life. One of the greatest things about the trip, and what drew me to Guinea, is it is the opposite of here in the Bay Area. People are the center of everything. There is a lot of need, and as folks living in the west, it is valuable to see. People prioritize people. An unforgettable experience.

Heading into the topic of teaching: What would you say is the intersection of teaching with your artmaking? Or, what does it mean to be a teaching artist?

Teaching is such an integral part of Bongo’s and my identities as artists. Teaching for me is about making what we do accessible. Doing forms that are not a part of the mainstream. It is upon us to teach people about what it is we are doing. Bongo is in at least two schools each day Monday through Friday and teaches adults on Saturdays. As I was growing up in this country, I did not experience learning dances of other cultures.

For me, teaching is how I work to create community. I love to see students of mine who meet in my class and become friends. Some of my closest friends I have met in classes. There is such a community-building aspect of classes. To be the teacher facilitating that and creating an environment that is open and inclusive is really important.

For me now, I am teaching a lot less. I still teach at the Ruth Asawa School of the Arts high school in San Francisco (SOTA). I started the world dance program there and directed it for four years. But I could not direct that and lead my company. I love the kids, so I still get to go and work with the kids. Some of the students have then come and danced with Duniya. At SOTA, they get four years. After four years of training with me, they know a lot about what we are doing. It is pretty cool.

Being a teaching artist means we get to share what we do. To share our perspectives and stories into more places. When I go to a school and see some Punjabi kids and they connect with the music, they have an experience I never had as a kid. That brings me so much joy. I know for Bongo too, when he connects with young Black boys at schools, that has a different weight for him.

I think it is really important to bring up the topics of rest, self-care, and burnout. What that means for you, Bongo, and your collaborators. It can feel relentless: teaching, rehearsing, performing… plus the grant writing, finding venues, and connecting with presenters. What supports you?

I have learned over the past two decades to say “no” better and to prioritize certain kinds of performances. Every day, every month, focusing on mission-driven work. To keep coming back to that. Is this feeding our mission? We don’t have to just say yes.

As I get older, my body is drawing some boundaries. I cannot teach every day AND do all the other things, including raising two kids. I have hired a grant writer and managing director. It is great to be in this place with staff, getting help, and not being afraid to spend money on that.

Paring down my teaching schedule helped me feel a little less overwhelmed.

But it is seasonal. Production season is so busy. After productions, I need to make space for care. Building in that time. Finding things that can feed us in a different way.

The older I get, the better I get at drawing boundaries. I cannot afford to not take care of myself.

Joti Singh performing at the Yerba Buena Gardens Festival. Photo by Bruce Ghent.

Last question: What do you look for in a dancer?

I usually say, “50 percent their dance style and how they understand the technique of what we are doing and 50 percent who they are and how they mesh with the other dancers.” I feel blessed that we have been a relatively drama-free group. I think that is because it is not a competitive environment. We don’t look for people trained in both forms, but rather people trained in the relevant form – meaning we have two separate branches of the company: the South Asian and the West African, because they require their own individual training. I am willing to work on people’s training if they are dedicated and lovely to be with. Aligning with the stories. Community mindedness. And, picking up the choreography and hanging in rehearsals. When we are doing auditions, people will answer the question. “How do you align with our mission?” This is dance with a larger purpose. All our work is political because of who we are in this country. We have stories to tell and share.

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Find out more on Duniya’s website, including video links and online classes.

Jill Randall is a San Francisco Bay Area-based dance artist and the Artistic Director of Shawl-Anderson Dance Center.

The post We Have Stories to Tell and Share appeared first on Stance on Dance.

Dancers are, almost by definition, passionate about dance. Have you ever met a dancer who is not? So, it follows that most dancers have strong opinions about the field, and Stance on Dance’s recently published spring/summer 2024 print issue is full of strong opinions! I personally love a good dance polemic. It shows how invested dance artists are in making the field a better place. I am honored and pleased to publish a few critical and heartfelt voices in this issue: Bradford Chin’s cogent argument why higher education needs to make dance training more accessible, Lauren V. Coons compelling case for making academic arts programs truly interdisciplinary in scope, and Dr. Stephanie Potreck’s severe words for company directors who still elevate and subjugate dancers based on weight.

In keeping with Stance on Dance’s mission of covering dance from the perspective of underrepresented voices and access points, I’m pleased to share my interview with Margaret Grenier, director of Indigenous dance company Dancers of Damelahamid, Bonnie Eissner’s profile of Afro Latin jazz dancer and choreographer Sekou McMiller, Jill Randall’s interview with Joti Singh of Duniya Dance and Drum Company, which amplifies voices from the South Asian and African diasporas, and my interview with Helen Mason, artistic director of Propel Dance, a new all-wheelchair dance company.

Finally, dance is such a visceral experience that it often catalyzes other art. In this issue, Erica Wilson’s poetry explores position, weight, and sound, while Rebecca Zeh’s mixed media visual art showcases the exultancy of dancing outdoors. I hope the breadth of stances on dance in this issue inspires your own poem, art, piece of music, or other creative act. I like the idea of dance both being an inspiration and a response.

Whether you feel a dance rant or a poem coming on, I want to hear it! If you have a strong opinion about some aspect of the dance world, or feel drawn to draw when in the studio, do get in touch with me at emmaly@stanceondance.com. We dancers are, by many measures, a passionate people.

GET YOU COPY OF THE SPRING/SUMMER 2024 PRINT ISSUE NOW!

Illustration by Rebecca Zeh

The post The Spring/Summer 2024 Print Issue! appeared first on Stance on Dance.

BY JILL RANDALL

Darrell Jones is an award-winning artist based in Chicago. He is a tenured professor at Columbia College Chicago and a longtime collaborator with Bebe Miller and Ralph Lemon. He has also worked with Min Tanaka, Ronald K. Brown, and Urban Bush Women. Also a choreographer, Darrell has had residencies at MANCC (Maggie Allesee National Center for Choreography) and the Chicago Dancemakers Forum.

Note: This conversation was first published in Stance on Dance’s fall/winter 2023 print issue. To learn more, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.

In July, I reached out to Darrell for an interview for Stance on Dance. Darrell considered the ask, and responded with a request to shift to a conversation versus a Q and A. He noticed that one of my areas of research is on “endurance and longevity” in dance and wondered if we could have a conversation on this topic. Here is our edited dialogue from a Zoom conversation on July 21, 2023.

A bit about this topic for me: I am playing with all the uses of these words in our field.

Endurance: evening length works, long runs of shows, multiyear projects, staying in the dance field overall, the aging body, and touring.

Longevity: career paths, all the aspects of a life in dance which make us whole (teaching, performing, writing, choreographing, etc.), mentoring, burnout, and the role of teaching within many artists’ careers.

Rest: self-care, stepping away, reflection, burnout, shifting interests, morphing interests, non-dance life, saying NO to projects, and care for the teaching body.

Photo by Bill Frederking

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Darrell Jones: I appreciate you being open to the conversation. It feels right.

When I got the request, I did a little snooping. I saw those words endurance and longevity – there is something I connect with. I have a specific instance when that came up. Was there an instance or pathway into that for you?

Jill Randall: I am playing with the words in a variety of ways. I also happen to be married to an endurance athlete. I think a lot about career paths. My website Life as a Modern Dancer is focused on these topics, of longevity in the field.

How do we keep doing this? What keeps us hopeful? As a teacher – burnout is very real. I think a lot about mentors. I honor my mentor Ruth Bossieux, who is in her mid-80s.

I loved what you already riffed off of in our email thread the other day:

My practice with endurance has been mainly in performance practice. How I trained it in myself, how I have trained it in others. Tactics, techniques, and philosophies. The endurance/resistance continuum. Power/Anti-Powerism. The physical philosophy of the Tabata. “Low” practice and endurance with Ralph Lemon. Performing the virtuosity of rest. The Sovereignty of Quiet: Beyond Resistance in Black Culture by Kevin Quashie.

I have been a huge fan of yours for nearly 20 years. This week, I found my notes from 10 years ago, when you performed A History in San Francisco with Bebe Miller in 2013. Marc Bamuthi Joseph facilitated a conversation after the show with you, Angie Hauser, Bebe Miller, and Talvin Wilks.

• Marc asked the group about exhaustion and how it affected the piece. (The dance was only two dancers for the whole piece.)
• Can we all go someplace else?
• Interior places, exterior places
• Transform the space
• “From inside the piece”
• “Interested in BEING us on stage and you watching us BE” – Angie Hauser
• What is it that we do?

Photo by Jose Caldeira

Darrell: You have created a larger arc for me in terms of thinking about these words. I had been thinking about them in terms of practice. I had thought of them in terms of longer practices of things, but I had not thought about the arc of a career. I am now also thinking about generational arcs that are longer than my presence here. It does something different to my body just in thinking about that. It is a time-based thing.

There is one particular thing, working with Ralph Lemon. We had been doing this intense improvisation for five minutes. Then he asked us to do it for 20 minutes. That felt ridiculous. So what developed was the process of how to do that. We all took different ways. Gesel Mason had a poetic way – describing the movement and trajectories to involve the body in that way. Okwui Okpokwasili had a sonic way – the way the voice was involved in that. In and out, and in and out over time. I had a similar interest. What are the metrics? It is 20 minutes. What do I need to train in order to do that? A lot was very physically based. Explicit things – oh, run on a treadmill. Do it for 10, then 15. Accumulating the effort. It worked, I think, to a certain extent. My father was a philosopher, a theologian, and a researcher on the mechanisms of oppressions. He saw the work that we did, and he said it reminded him of an essay by Camus called The Myth of Sisyphus.

Camus’ premise was that Sisyphus was happy rolling this rock up the hill because he was alive. So then I was thinking about training to get through it. Sisyphus – particulation in the experience. Happy as shit when he gets it to the top. But he has to keep doing it over and over again. But the particulation of the thing – that is very lifelike. So, my internal attention turned to feel all those moments. And it did. It shifted.

My stamina inside it was very different. There were moments. I could feel things. I could see that. It opened up the experience. I held on to this idea – the idea of endurance – not just getting through the thing. But opening up to the experience of it.

Jill: We push through so much – the tour, the project, the semester. But I am thinking about “savoring.” I am thinking about seeing you in Landing/Place back in 2005. I think about the ending image (the lemons) a lot. You think about the breadth of your career – and to tap into those memories. I appreciate what you said about the presence and savoring the moment. Really being able to celebrate, appreciate, and remember at this point in your career. Of memory and reflection.

Darrell: The first thing coming up for me is cross-training memories. The experience with Bebe Miller and that worldview was very different in some ways than working with Ralph, which was really different from Min Tanaka. They don’t always live in the same room. They value very different things. Rehearsal processes, performances, vocabulary, virtuosity, where it happens. It has been about pluralisms. At one point I was trying to integrate all the things. But it seemed like the postmodern aesthetics were the strongest ingredients. It evened out everything else. Really noticing where that particular vocabulary had a resonance felt really important.

Thinking about these topics, I did not put rest in there too. I think I read what you had written about rest, but in my brain I oriented around endurance and longevity. I am thinking about making it invisible – the rest. I am curious about your take on rest. Is it in relationship to, or something in and of itself?

Darrell Jones in SSII Post Butoh Fest 2015. Photo by IAMKIAM Studios.

Jill: I was coupling it together. I am a huge fan of Tricia Hersey and The Nap Ministry. It was so taboo for so many years for dancers to talk about rest. We did not talk about the tired body or asking for time off. We are go go go. How many things are on your calendar this year? “What are you working on?” we keep asking each other.

How can we shift the culture in dance? I wanted to pair them together in a mental health way. How can we stop grind culture? We are perpetuating it all the time. What does rest look and feel like? Traveling, reading, even having a hobby.

And then, to be able to keep doing it… to be able to keep performing, to keep teaching. Also the topic of the care of the teaching body. All the demonstrating and prepping.

With your academic schedule at Columbia College Chicago, are you having a time of rest this summer?

Darrell: It is curious to me. The rest was something I did after or from the rigor. I paired them in that way. “I do this thing so I can rest.” It was in reference to the rigorous activity. Resting, so then I can do the rigorous activity again. There was a shift, in terms of a practice of rest. It was related to Ralph. Both of us got really curious; what was happening there in the rest period? Physically, what was happening? How much time did that take? What was the pace of that? And that started to become a practice. That was actually harder than the rigorous thing; it felt like nothing was happening. It felt empty.

We started to label it “Low.” The only way I could practice it without feeling I was going to have a breakdown was to do the rigor. Oh, to Sisyphus it…to feel my bones, the breath. To particulate the experience. It has become a thing. It is not necessarily watchable. But, to have a sort of choreographic attention placed towards the understanding of this thing has been a transferable skill in terms of, “Oh, I can practice that while doing the rigor.” Because you practice it in the body. It shifts your tone.

Rest – I was not necessarily thinking about it. I was allowing the body to do what it did, and not paying attention to it. But “Low” shifted my body’s awareness in it. There is a rigor of it, in terms of stamina. There is virtuosity in a different way.

Jill: Can you talk a bit about your teaching life?

Darrell: I have been doing it for almost 18 years now. I am now moving towards an “on and off semester” situation. It feels important that I redistribute that time for my body. It’s not reaching a point of a sharp cutoff, but knowing that that distribution of time needs to shift. There is a mentoring going on, and listening, listening to what that is. Making decisions in accordance to that. It is not the school telling me this, but the situation is mentoring me in a different way. Mentoring can be interpersonal, but also there is a mentoring by situations and environments. It has been very clear to open up to that and listen to that.

Jill: Situation…environment. And deeply listening. It also seems that your heart is really clear, in terms of what needs to shift. Your division of time.

Darrell: Clearer in my heart than head. It’s going into a situation that might not be as stable or consistent. But it feels in my heart – I want to create space for younger energy to come in.

It is not the end of a thing or a career. But there is natural progression in terms of our bodies. If I am really listening, I need to reshape the types of tasks I am doing in terms of the profession.

Photo by Jose Caldeira

Jill: I hear you talking about the students, your own career, but it is bigger than you. What serves them, what serves you. I feel like a lot of colleagues are not up for talking about it.

Darrell: I have good examples. Bebe Miller…she continues to dance. The arc of working with her – the vocabulary shifts in terms of her body. It is a mentoring and such a lesson. Understanding the work. She is continually understanding.

I don’t bemoan it. It feels like a gift to be here. Someone once said to me, “Once an adult, twice a child.” That curiosity. Now returning to that.

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Jill Randall is the artistic director of Shawl-Anderson Dance Center in Berkeley, CA and an adjunct assistant professor at Saint Mary’s College. Jill writes for Life as a Modern Dancer and Dance Teacher. Jillrandalldance.com

The post Endurance, Longevity, and Rest appeared first on Stance on Dance.

I love interviewing dance artists. It allows me to speak with someone I normally wouldn’t and ask them directly about their inspirations, perspectives, and goals. I’ve been doing interviews for more than a decade, and I’ve come to love platforming artists.

When putting together this issue of Stance on Dance, I was tickled when several writers pitched interviews, profiles, and conversations with artists they admire. When I recruit contributors for each issue, I essentially give them carte blanche, asking them to write about their own work, a phenomenon in the field, or another artist they are interested in. While there is immense value in all the above, I like when contributors opt to cover other artists because it gives readers a glimpse into the minds of both the writer and their subject. It’s two for the price of one.

I’m also delighted about the various genres included in this issue: swing, body music, vogue, physical theater, flamenco, bharatanatyam, contemporary, belly dance, ballet, pole, and somatics. I’m proud to see Stance on Dance covering so many facets of the dance ecosystem.

This issue includes Bonnie Eissner’s interview with Caleb Teicher of Sw!ng Out, Ana Vrbaški’s essay on the New Balkan Rhythm Festival in Serbia, my interview with vogue and physical theater artist Willyum LaBeija, Shebana Coelho’s meditation on connecting dance with Urdu poetry, my interview with Leslie Streit and Robin McCain about the historical significance of the Harkness Ballet, Jill Randall’s conversation with Darrell Jones about endurance, longevity, and rest, Nikhita Winkler’s interview with tribal fusion dancer Alhazar, Julianna Massa’s profile of her pole dance teacher Irlanda, and my interview with fat somatic practitioner Jules Pashall. Magical realist illustrations are by Liz Brent-Maldonado.

As always, copies of Stance on Dance’s print publication are donated to college dance programs and other dance learning spaces around the US. To date, Stance on Dance has partnered with faculty at 25 programs to help ignite interest in the possibilities of dance journalism. And even though I’ve been running Stance on Dance for more than a decade, my own understanding of the possibilities of dance journalism is always being augmented too!

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To learn more or get your print copy, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.

Cover art by Liz Brent-Maldonado

The post Expanding the Possibilities of Dance Journalism appeared first on Stance on Dance.

BY EMMALY WIEDERHOLT

SNJV is a Bay Area-based drag performer, dancer, choreographer, and actor, as well as one of the organizers of the Inclusive Performance Festival. Planned collectively through Dandelion Dancetheater and Cal State East Bay by a council of Queer, BIPOC, Autistic, Disabled, Jewish, Neurodivergent, Fat, Young, Elder, Outsider, and uncategorizable artists, the Inclusive Performance Festival is presenting virtual, in-person, and hybrid dance, music, theater, drag, ritual, educational events, participatory performances, discussions, workshops, ceremonies, and more this April/May 2021. SNJV’s events include Drag: The Lecture on April 13th and The Drag Show on April 18th. Here, he shares how his drag is an amalgamation of his cultural experience, how he approaches queering the dance forms of Bhangra, and how he sees drag as a study of society beyond the performance.

To learn more, visit www.dandeliondancetheater.org/inclusive-performance-festival.

Note: Throughout April, Stance on Dance is featuring interviews with some of the organizers of the inaugural Inclusive Performance Festival, a wildly diverse group of artists, activists, free-thinkers, and creative rabble-rousers. Emmaly Wiederholt, editor of Stance on Dance and author of this interview, is one such rabble-rouser, and has enjoyed the opportunity to profile some of the other folks involved.

Photo by Kenny Hoff

Image description: SNJV is pictured performing onstage wearing a sparkly textured tank top and a blue and black skirt. His arms are extended to the sides and he is smiling.

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Can you share a little of your performance history so folks can get a sense of where you’re coming from?

I started dancing very young when I was 3 or 4 years old on the fireplace mantel. My mom is from the Fiji Islands with lineage from India, and my dad is from Punjab, India. They met here in the US. Those cultures have a big expression of art through film and dance, like Bollywood. My parents are movers and shakers, and I was inspired by all of it. That early dancing transitioned to dancing at family parties and functions. I used to invoke the spirit of the popstars like Janet, Madonna, and Prince, but I was doing it in my cultural expression.

That kept going and it started to grow outside of the family. Relatives and friends would say, “Can you come to my party and perform?”  I was performing every weekend at one point. That was my extracurricular activity. As I became a pre-teen, I started performing at Indian festivals. When I was 12 or 13, I performed at the inaugural Fiji Festival, which was held in the Hayward Adult School parking lot. The second year I was asked to perform again, and that was held at the Cal State East Bay athletic field. To come back after 20 years and perform again at Cal State East Bay as part of the Inclusive Performance Festival follows a path that has led me through different cities, countries, and forms of expression.

I have worked with different dance groups, created my own dance groups, worked in the entertainment industry (or at least tried), and ultimately found a home in the Bay Area drag scene. All my identity is a performance of a fiercely divine person who expresses in all forms.

Speaking generally, how would you describe your drag performance work to someone unfamiliar with it?

My drag performance blends my cultural background and my physical expression through dance, fashion, makeup, and my intellect. It is an academic study of gender and the breaking of those binary barriers. It is a study of both American and South Asian popular culture. It’s a live thesis that’s being explored as I move and shake. My drag performance isn’t limited to the minutes I’m onstage; I believe we come from a supreme artist and we’re here on this planet doing drag in this vessel. My drag performance is a polished experience with flair and fun to evoke conversation and appeal to people at different levels of their own awareness. My drag can be shiny, fun, and energetic. But if people look into my work, they’re going to see there are layers. I challenge notions academically, socially, culturally, politically, and at the end of the day, I have fun doing it.

Photo by Christivn Frvncis

Image description: SNJV is pictured from the chest up with his elbows lifted to the sides so that his hands drape in front of his face. He is wearing full makeup, a wig cap, and a black lace-like tank top.

What does your process look like?

Drag in the mainstream is personas and caricatures of ideas, and I honor that. I love doing a character, as I’ve spent a lifetime in theater. But the true essence of my drag performance is first connecting with melody. It doesn’t have to come from songs, though often does, especially Punjabi, folk, and pop songs. It comes from my senses receiving rhythm from the universe. That can mean great songs but also people’s voices or even wind or bluebirds chirping. Immediately the wheels start churning. I keep trusting the melody – a tiny nugget – of that bluebird and follow it to blue eye shadow with a snatched wing, or a blue corset. I trust that divine gifting. It can come instantly or take years. There have been pieces I’ve performed that have been in gestation since I was a child. Or there are songs that come instantly, I put the mix together in less than five minutes, and the choreography falls into my body. As a drag performer, I’m my own venue. We perform in all places – bars, closets, parking lots, wherever we get booked. We often have to be our own spotlight, so I love to think about how to highlight my face with low lighting by something like sequins. I’m process-oriented, but it should just be fun. If I’m thinking too much about it, I breathe and walk away.

Can you also share about your Queering Bhangra dance workshops? What does it mean to queer a cultural dance form?

Queering my cultural form means affirming that kid within who was so scared to live outside the gender binary. In the 90s, when I was mixing my own cassette tracks, I used to only do the male parts, but I secretly wanted to do the girl parts. Doing this deeper voice didn’t feel good in my body. As I was doing more festivals, I started sprinkling in the girl parts and did more movements that felt better. When I was doing the boy parts, I was thinking about the steps because I didn’t want to appear too soft and be called names. I’ve been called every name in the book; I’ve been bullied relentlessly. Hearing both cheers and heckles was part of my performance experience growing up, but it never stopped me. As I started to embrace multiplicity, it became easier to express those female parts. I owned that when I started doing drag in the Bay Area.

At the Queering Dance Festival in 2019, that caught the attention of Jill Randall, artistic director at Shawl-Anderson Dance Center. She asked if I could teach a workshop, but I said I actually wanted to teach Bhangra, this strong energetic folk dance from Punjab, and I want to teach the queer version. Historically in Bhangra, the men dance the strong parts and women do the softer sassy parts. There’s a lot of misogyny and patriarchy expressed through that. Jill was like, “Great, here are the dates, come and do it.” It was so powerful to teach beyond the binary. It caught the attention of other communities around the world who said thank you for doing this.

Bhangra as a dance form exists a lot in competitions where the gender binary is constantly reinforced. There would be times in high school when I’d go and perform at competitions and do my style, and I would get the cheers, but backstage I’d get comments from other dancers that I was ruining the form. I would have to take that with grace. That experience empowered me to teach these workshops that explore cultural and gender expression. I think about all those beautiful trans, non-binary, and others who live outside the gender construct. I grew up with all this singing and dancing but knew there was never a place for me. These workshops are for those kids and adults who never fit the mold. I know it’s pretty radical, but I’m going to push that envelope and be the provocateur.

Photo courtesy SNJV

Image description: SNJV is pictured performing at an event as a child. He is intently focused mid-step with his arms near his torso. He is wearing black pants and snearkers, a white shirt, and a white band is tied around his forehead. A table with a blue tablecloth and balloons with people around it are in the background.

Can you share what your involvement with the Inclusive Performance Festival has been?

Thanks to Eric Kupers and the Department of Theatre and Dance at Cal State East Bay, I was asked to be a part of it in some capacity. I didn’t really have a plan before joining. Our first couple of meetings were fun, and I thought I’d do drag somehow, but I wanted to have a conversation too. The Bay Area drag scene is among the fiercest in the world because of our authenticity. I lived a long time in Los Angeles after grad school, and I was never booked. They’d tell me, “Shave your beard, get a wig, get some padding.” Basically, they told me to do female illusion. In Hollywood, I didn’t fit the mold. The Inclusive Performance Festival allows me to bring all that trauma to a place with love and understanding where I can give a space to other people who have previously not been given access or been overlooked.

In 2020, I got to work closely with Eric Kupers and some of the members of Dandelion Dancetheater for a music video I shot. We did it safely outside and included dancers of all different forms and expressions. The music video came out so fierce because of those dancers. So when I was asked to be a part of the Inclusive Performance Festival, I wanted to replicate that experience. For The Drag Show, I am bringing in drag performers who redefine drag. Drag isn’t just a gender performance; it’s a commentary on society. It’s not just entertainment, but a smart and brilliant art form.

I’m also honored to be presenting Drag: The Lecture, which is where the duality of my professional worlds come together. A large part of my adult life has been in higher education teaching courses on identity and working in administration to help diversify and retain students from different populations. This is where I’m able to bring drag into the classroom and talk about what drag is and how to invoke the drag performer in your everyday life. Throughout the day, we all do drag. I want to invoke a place for people to realize they are incredible performers who flawlessly switch in between drag and fiercely execute performance. Both The Drag Show and Drag: The Lecture celebrate the divine diva who lives within all of us.

Why are spaces like the Inclusive Performance Festival important for people whose work falls outside of mainstream aesthetics or identities?

Spaces like the Inclusive Performance Festival are so important for people who haven’t been or felt included. When we aren’t included, our humanity is hurt, and it shifts our perspective toward a negative place. With the Inclusive Performance Festival, your humanity is affirmed in all aspects. You are beautiful, you are talented, you are booked. People who have been rejected are able to be celebrated.

I think of all those times when I pounded the pavement through Hollywood. I had a blue vintage bag with a fog machine, my music, and a notebook in lieu of business cards that I would carry up and down Santa Monica Blvd going into every gay bar and club, and I would get laughed out. I remember doing this audition for Disney for the role of Aladdin. I went in and nailed the first audition. I got a call back and the only other people in the second audition were white men. In the hope that I was going to get booked, I quit my job, and of course I didn’t get booked.

The Inclusive Performance Festival is a place to celebrate who we are in all capacities and all speeds. We now know there’s a space for us, so hopefully we can also start to be better advocates for ourselves. I build my confidence one performance at a time. Every time I’ve been onstage, I never take it for granted. With that confidence and self-esteem, I have transformed into this person who I am now. I kept feeding myself through performance until I got to a place where my belly was full so now I can nourish others.

Photo by Audrey Garces

Image description: SNJV is wearing gold pants with a red sari wrapped around his torso and draped over his head. He is standing with one foot in front of the other and smelling a bouquet of flowers with closed eyes. A speaker is in the background.

What’s next for you in terms of your own work?

I’m grateful that the Inclusive Performance Festival is a place where I’m going to be launching The Drag Show. It’s been a long dream of mine. I hope to build it throughout the years.

I’m working on a film that will showcase a deep struggle within the Indian community. I have big plans but I’m being patient and waiting for the world to be a healthy space again and, until then, my projects are filmmaking and continuing to rehearse every day of my life.

Any other thoughts?

I feel truly grateful to be performing and sharing my art. It used to be locked away within my spirit because the way my body and mind made me different. My intention for existing on this planet is to be a messenger of love and kindness, to acknowledge and heal the hurt I’ve been through, and keep moving forward. I am truly fulfilled by this path and hope to ignite that in everyone who comes across everything I do, through the Inclusive Performance Festival, through all the art I create, this is what I’m committed to, this is the performance.

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To learn more about SNJV’s work, visit www.snjv.co.

To learn more about the Inclusive Performance Festival, visit www.dandeliondancetheater.org/inclusive-performance-festival.

The post Drag as an Inclusive Space appeared first on Stance on Dance.

When Mira danced, it was as though she had invited me into a secret world. It was a bit like following Alice in Wonderland down a rabbit hole, but Mira’s dance pulled me down a gentle grassy slope instead. There was nothing hurried or excessive; she moved like a whisper that knows it doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

This interview is from the book “Beauty is Experience: Dancing 50 and Beyond.” Click here to learn more about the book, or click here to order your own limited edition copy!

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When did you start dancing and what have been some highlights along your journey?

I didn’t start dancing until I was 18. At a friend’s suggestion, I went and took a dance class. I was immediately in love with being able to communicate through movement and not being required to talk. It was a huge relief to me; speaking was not my thing.

Early on, I was introduced to Lucas Hoving, who had been a principal with the Limón Company. When I met him, he was in his late 70s, but he was teaching technique, choreography and improvisation. He started a performance group which I was part of for a while. It was magical to be working with someone who was such a master and yet so available.

The experience dancing for Lucas was in part what inspired me to get a degree in dance. I did things backward; I had a child before I went to college. I had never wanted to go to college until I realized you could actually study dance as a subject.

I went to Mills College to study dance. I didn’t end up getting the degree because I had a small child and thought I had to be practical. But I never stopped dancing, and have performed with many choreographers in the Bay Area over the years. Since 2010, I’ve been a member of SoCo Dance Theater, an intergenerational company with people ranging in age from the 20s to the 60s. Dance is where we all connect, and when we dance, it doesn’t matter how old we are. It’s a treasure to work with a group like that.

I have just finished my first year in an MFA program in dance at St. Mary’s College of California. It’s kind of crazy, as I also have an MA and PhD in language and literacy education. I wrote to the director of the program and asked if she was open to diversity in terms of age, and she said, “Absolutely.” There’s actually a couple of us in our mid-50s.

What does your current dance practice look like?

Right now, I take dance class on average three days a week. I also do Pilates, yoga, go to the gym and walk a lot. I find I need that variety. Although I would love to dance every day, I have to find other ways to be in my body now.

How has your motivation to dance evolved over time?

For me, dance is about expression, connection and community. It’s always been about those things, but I didn’t always know it.

I love creating art and working to accomplish a vision. I love the vulnerability of the dance environment. When we’re all taking class or rehearsing, everything is visible; there’s no hiding. I really appreciate that. I feel there’s an intrinsic honesty to dance that I really value.

The first couple of days I was in the MFA program, I had this experience of looking around the room and feeling like I had come home. Here were all these other people who had quirky habits like needing to stretch and sprawl about on the floor. It was a revelatory moment of realizing I was with kindred spirits.

What does the idea of success mean to you? Do you feel you’ve achieved some measure of it?

If success is about connection and having an artistic voice, then I feel like I am continuing to work toward success. If it’s about virtuosity in terms of what the body can do, then I’m totally over the hill.

However, in an MFA show this spring I deliberately chose to choreograph on two dancers over 50, and we received unexpectedly positive feedback. The piece was about loss, and I have thought to myself since then how it would have been a really different piece had I chosen to work with two dancers in their 20s instead. I love the embodied wisdom I see in older dancers. The notion of success all depends on what you want, what your purpose is, and who your audience is.

As far as my own sense of being a performer, it’s important to me to feel like I can be true to what I am actually capable of and feel good about it as opposed to trying to do what I did 20 years ago. Can I still dance with integrity and share what I think I have to bring? It’s a tough question. I know many older dancers who stop performing or even going to class because it makes them so sad they can’t do what they used to.

Do you have a sense of your legacy?

If my legacy exists, it’s one I’m still in the process of creating, and it has to do with writing about dance. I have spent my whole career as an academic, both teaching and writing about education. Over the last several years, I have shifted my focus to bringing my knowledge as an education researcher to this thing I know from the inside out; increasingly, I’m writing about dance, and it gives me great joy. It gives me permission to release myself from a more formal academic voice and write about my experience, the power of the arts, and the powerful role the arts can play in education.

Is there a circumstance that would cause you to stop dancing?

I don’t ever want to stop dancing, but I do feel increasingly self-conscious about being the oldest person in the room. Sometimes I think younger dancers wonder why people my age are even there. And yet I’m not even close to giving it up. I am moving more toward yoga, Pilates, authentic movement, choreography and writing. Those are new avenues I’m hoping I can go to in lieu of, or at least alongside, class.

What advice would you give to a younger generation of dance artists?

Pay attention. Don’t take things you can do for granted. And don’t underestimate your gifts. Find what is unique about the way you move, and value what you bring.

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Mira-Lisa Katz has been dancing in the Bay Area since 1977. She has performed with Lucas Hoving, Mary Reid, Jill Randall, Dana Lawton, Randee Paufve, Gay White, Ruth Botchan, Virginia Matthews, Nancy Lyons and Mercy Sidbury. She is currently pursuing an MFA in dance/creative practice at St. Mary’s College of California. In addition to dancing, Mira holds a PhD from UC Berkeley, and has been a professor of English at Sonoma State University, where she teaches teachers, since 2002. Her book, Moving Ideas: Multimodality and Embodied Learning in Communities and Schools can be found on Amazon.

This interview is from the book “Beauty is Experience: Dancing 50 and Beyond.” Click here to learn more about the book, or click here to order your own limited edition copy!

The post Connection and Community: An Interview with Mira-Lisa Katz appeared first on Stance on Dance.

What did you think of dance before you met Jill versus after?

Before being with Jill, dance happened in a world that was very foreign to me. I didn’t know anyone who danced, and if you’d asked me then, I might have said something about ballet or art schools and possibly even reference the TV show Fame. After knowing Jill, I came to realize dance happens everywhere and at many levels. It’s an accessible art form that happens locally, nationally and globally. I also have greater recognition and respect for the role that dance and the arts play in education.

From your perspective, what are some of the hardest aspects of pursuing dance?

The most challenging aspects of being a dancer are juggling busy life schedules and also limited opportunities to perform. We have two kids and both work, plus I’m active as well, so time to dance is at a premium. Plus, dance classes are held at fixed times. If you can’t make a class there’s no easy way to make it up. While Jill has always wanted to perform, opportunities don’t abound. Dancers want to work with their preferred choreographers; however there aren’t that many and they too are busy enough that they aren’t producing work constantly.

What is something you’ve come to enjoy about dance you maybe wouldn’t if not for Jill’s involvement?

As an athlete, I appreciate the mental and physical commitment to the art. Both sides of the pursuit require constant attention if one wants to truly succeed.

 Jill and Chris

The post The Hubby’s Perspective appeared first on Stance on Dance.

“I know for sure that there is no such thing as ‘having made it,’ past tense, and resting now on a luxurious platform of achieved success. I don’t care if you’re freelancing, choreographing, enjoying a life-long contract with cushy benefits. Whatever your vision of ‘making it’ is, the only two stages of achievement are ‘trying to make it’ and ‘making it happen,’ both present tense.”

–Andrea Thompson, dancer at Hubbard Street 2 in Chicago

“The main problem with the notion of ‘making it’ is that it hinges on an external framework of approval and acceptance and depends a great deal on luck. True talent, heart, and commitment exist on their own, independent of a paycheck or the elusive and fickle attention of others.”

–Kelvin Vu, dancer with Batsheva Ensemble in Tel Aviv, Israel

“I don’t want to ever be told that I have made it. Only that I accomplished that particular solo or pas de deux. I think we arrive at certain pit stops, if you will, which may be a stop for ten years accomplishing part of your life in one company or as a certain rank of dancer but then we have to move on, somehow – you still haven’t finished making it.”

– Sebastian Goffin, dancer at the Norwegian National Ballet

“Is there a way to find a formula to ‘make it’? Not one I have found. But here’s a thought: if you go out of your environment to seek – even if you’re not sure exactly what it is – the ‘what’ becomes clearer as you go.”

– Wiebke Schuster, Los Angeles-based arts journalist

“The moment I think of ‘making it’ as a desire for success, I stop looking at the beauty in the mundane and start seeing the mundane in beauty.”

–Elana Jacobs, Seattle-based choreographer and artistic director of Cabin Fever

“Accomplishment is a moving target, but ‘making it’ is something that happens when you find yourself and your comrades and go out to make good art.”

–Megan Kurashige, San Francisco-based dancer and co-founder of Sharp and Fine

“Have I ‘made it?’ Have I had a life full of dance and all of its manifestations? Absolutely! Have I contributed to communities and made dance more accessible to young people? Yes! At the end of each week, do I feel good about how I have spent my days? Yes!”

–Jill Randall, Bay Area-based dancer, teacher and blogger

“I still want more. Life isn’t over.  We can talk about whether or not I ‘made it’ when I’m lying in my coffin.”

–Luke Willis, former dancer at San Francisco Ballet and film student at University of Southern CA

“Making it is not an end point. It’s a pat on the back. It’s the nudge that I’m where I’m meant to be – for this moment. It’s also a reminder that the second I feel I’ve made it, ‘making it’ then shifts; it lets me know that it’s transient and ever changing in its definition. Because if all ‘making it’ is, is my deciding so – then hell yeah. I made it. I make it every damn day.”

–Emily Sferra, Seattle-based dancer

“Sometimes I worry that I’m not dancing enough or not performing enough; I am not enough. Sometimes I have to say ‘no’ to a dance project I think I would enjoy because of my schedule. But working on an ambulance is not merely a means to support my dancing. Providing emergency medical care to my neighbors is a deeply fulfilling honor. When I have an incredible shift where I get to be the hero, I am as high on humanity as I am when I’m on the stage.”

–Kaitlin Parks, San Francisco-based dancer and paramedic

“When you live by someone else’s standard of success you also have to live by their standard of defeat. I don’t want to think of myself in terms of such an extreme spectrum of success vs. failure anymore. I don’t think life operates so simply. The good mixes with the bad. Things unfold and reveal themselves. Laziness accompanies motivation. Breakdowns and breakthroughs often coincide. Sometimes a linear path turns circular and you end up where you started with less than you budgeted.”

– Katie Gaydos, San Francisco-based dancer

“I have an exponentially growing laundry list of dance related experiments, experiences, and aspirations I’d like to have. And in the shadow of that list with the lack of security I feel, it’s hard for me to say that I’ve made. That said, I rarely think about it. I prefer to commit myself to the work and my interests.”

–Shane Scopatz, dancer with Batsheva Ensemble in Tel Aviv, Israel

“The moment the curtain closes, and you don’t know who it was, but you know you’ve just stopped and started someone’s heart and they are more alive because of what you shared… that’s when I know: I’ve made it.”

–Stephanie Salts, dancer with Lustig Dance Theatre in New Jersey

“As I rapidly approach 40, I assume that I will change and that my priorities will also change. So, too, will my aesthetic, my directorial style, my pedagogical stance, my finances, my health, my body, and my creative desire. I have doubts all the time, but I am still most interested in the way dance enables me to experience and engage with the world. At any moment, I could make another choice, but, for now, this is the work that most delights and perplexes me. Incremental and surprising as it is, this dance is still being made.”

–Katie Faulkner, Bay Area-based teacher and artistic director of Little Seismic Dance Company

The post Morsels of Wisdom on “Making it” appeared first on Stance on Dance.

BY JILL RANDALL

I am 38 years old. I am a performer, teacher, writer, mentor, arts administrator and dance dreamer. I have lived the life of a dance-teaching artist since age 21. I pretty much have made all of my income by teaching or arts administration. All of these years, including during pregnancies and with infants at home, I have performed several times a year.

To me, it has all counted as “dance” and “professional work” in my mind – teaching in public schools, running Shawl-Anderson Dance Center, co-directing the Dance IS Festival, creating my Life as a Modern Dancer Blog. And at the heart of all of it was my performing work. I have performed for 14 years with Nina Haft & Company, on and off with Paufve Dance for ten years, and several years with choreographers Dana Lawton and Martt Lawrence.

I have a strong personal mission to shift this picture of “making it” in modern dance in the United States beyond the image of having the full-time gig in a company like Bill T. Jones or Trisha Brown. This was one of the main reasons I began the Life as a Modern Dancer Blog two years ago. Making it can mean so much more than that narrow definition.

Have I “made it?” Have I had a life full of dance and all of its manifestations? Absolutely! Have I contributed to communities and made dance more accessible to young people? Yes! At the end of each week, do I feel good about how I have spent my days? Yes!

In recent years, to my surprise, my writing work has been a great interest to me and satisfies a lot of my creative needs. I run three blogs, write articles about dance and arts education, and have a book coming out in winter 2014 on teaching dance to middle school age students. My Life as a Modern Dancer Blog, which is geared towards college students, is being used in dance departments around the country as a “living textbook” and had 10,000 readers this past academic year. I was really proud to reach that milestone and to share weekly artist profiles on this very topic – the many ways to make it and have rich lives as dancers.

“In this world I am as rich as I need to be.” That line is from the poem “Winter” by Mary Oliver. I feel so rich. My dance life includes an incredible group of friends and colleagues who continue to support each other in many ways. As a performer, I still love sinking my teeth into a new and unknown dance project. I have my health, which keeps me in classes twice a week and teaching about 20 classes a week.

Classes serve multiple purposes in my life – staying connected within the dance community, gathering teaching ideas, being seen by choreographers looking for dancers, and training for performance. I regularly take classes from Randee Paufve and Mo Miner – two stellar teachers. I have taken Randee’s class, more or less, every week for about 12 years. I continue to learn and be challenged each week. Randee challenges me to select from my palette of skills to be efficient and thoughtful with technique and performance qualities. It is about fluid/fixed, stable/mobile, more/less. With Mo Miner’s class, she has taught me to move bigger, to easily and quickly move in and out of the floor, and to be more playful while moving. Mo’s and Randee’s curiosity inspires my curiosity, which relates to my own dancing as well as inspiration for my teaching. Their classes are some of the highlights of my week – keeping my dancing brain and body challenged and inspired even at age 38. (Whenever possible, I also love taking Nina Haft’s and Elizebeth Randall’s classes as well. There are so many incredible teachers in the Bay Area.)

Does “making it” mean that your income is through dance work? I am blessed with a full-time, benefited dance job at an incredible school in San Francisco, The Hamlin School. All of the students in grades 6-8 dance at Hamlin. The students are amazing – curious, risk takers, imaginative, and eager for real-time, face-to-face interactions in a dance class. The head of Hamlin is a strong believer in the power of dance in education. I feel like I have made it with this job – spending my days in a supportive environment dancing and being paid to do it.

On the home front, I am married to an athlete and have learned so much as we have chased our dreams over the years – mine in dance and Chris’s with triathlon, cycling, and now ultra running. Chris raced as a pro triathlete in his 20s, and now at age 43 just completed his first 100-mile running race. We are two motivated, determined, movement-loving people. One of the main take-aways that I want to share from my years of being married to an athlete is – there are days when Chris gets first place in a race, other days when he hopes for the top 10 or 20, and some days when he has to DNF (did not finish) in a race even after months of preparation and training. The potential is always there for the first place, and also the possibility of the DNF. This information has helped me on days when I didn’t get an email to participate in a particular project….I still have faith that the invitations and job offers will come. And other days are the “first place” days. Some projects I get the main solo, and some projects I don’t even make it in the door.

A life in dance is not a solo life. Dance is literally a lifelong pursuit, and we cannot underestimate the value and importance of those who are integral to making our dance careers develop and last.

-I am eternally grateful to my parents, for their continuous support throughout my childhood and adulthood to study dance, drive me to hundreds of dance classes, major in dance in college, and support every crazy dance dream that developed.

-As previously mentioned, a supportive spouse/partner is invaluable. My husband supports these dance dreams and the tons of logistics to get me to work and to rehearsals, and to support my dance career as well as raising our two sons.

-Build a strong community of dance friends and colleagues. I am one of many who consider Shawl-Anderson Dance Center in Berkeley my “dance home.” It is where I take class, rehearse, where I used to work, and it is the meeting place for so many people in my life whom I consider very close friends and colleagues. These amazing people are my network – and I am theirs. We are friends, fellow dancers, mentors, cheerleaders, references for jobs, and much more.

Do I wish that I had a stint with Trisha Brown? Absolutely! It just won’t be in this life. But, at age 38, I still have dreams. I still hold onto performing at Jacob’s Pillow (or at least them selling my books at their store), publishing several books on dance, and leading the way with more intersections of dance and technology (stay tuned). I feel that I have a few more performing years in me too.

I also have just embarked on a two year journey towards earning my MFA through the new Saint Mary’s College low-residency program. My brain and spirit have needed this for a while.

Have I “made it?” The statement is more like, “I am making it (present tense).” How lucky am I – how lucky are we  – to spend our days dancing, making dances, in a studio, creating with young people, writing blog posts read by hundreds of young dancers each week….I love it.

Last, I want to mention that part of “making it” to me is also being a resource for others here in the community – as a mentor or as a resource for information. I am lovingly called the “dance kiosk” by some of my friends. And this is truly one of my favorite things to do in life – help others find a job, bounce around an idea, and be someone’s biggest fan as she tries to get into a company.

I love all of my dance life. I love performing and sharing with an audience. I love teaching teenagers. I love responding to an email about a lesson plan idea with someone I am mentoring. I love dreaming up my next book project and internet idea.

“Making it” needs to focus on that one word, MAKING. Am I making dances, and making things happen? Indeed. Every week.

Jill Homan Randall grew up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. She received her BFA in Modern Dance in 1997 from the University of Utah and is currently working on her MFA at Saint Mary’s College of California. She has performed in the Bay Area for 16 years with Nina Haft & Company, Paufve Dance, Dana Lawton, and Martt Lawrence. Jill co-directed the multigenerational festival, the Dance IS Festival, for 7 years. She currently teaches full-time at The Hamlin School in San Francisco. In 2013, Jill was awarded the Herbst Foundation Award for Teaching Excellence. Jill maintains three blogs on dance: Life as a Modern Dancer, Dancers Using Technology and Dancing Words Blog. Her book, Middle Dance, is scheduled to go to print in late 2014 (www.middledance.com).

Photo courtesy of Paufve Dance; Image by Pak Han

The post A Life Full of Making Dance Happen appeared first on Stance on Dance.

Meet our director and editor:

Emmaly Wiederholt is a dance artist and arts journalist based in Albuquerque, NM. She founded Stance on Dance in 2012. Emmaly earned her MA in Arts Journalism from the University of Southern California and her BFA in Ballet and BS in Political Science from the University of Utah. She further trained at the San Francisco Conservatory of Dance and performed extensively around the Bay Area. Her first book, Beauty is Experience: Dancing 50 and Beyond, was published in 2017, and her second book, Breadth of Bodies: Discussing Disability in Dance, was published in 2022. Emmaly is also a master DanceAbility instructor and facilitates movement groups at the UNM Hospital adult psychiatric ward, as well as is a founding member of the dance advocacy nonprofit ABQ Dance Connect. She continues to perform throughout the Southwest.

Photo by Allen Winston

Our contributors have included:

Snowflake Arizmendi-Calvert, a performance artist and organizer in the Bay Area.

Gregory Bartning, a photographer in Portland, OR.

Liz Duran Boubion, the director of the Festival of Latin American Contemporary Choreographers in the Bay Area.

Liz Brent-Maldonado, an artist, writer, educator, and producer in San Francisco, CA.

Michelle Chaviano, a ballet dancer with Ballet North Texas.

Bradford Chin, a disabled dance artist and accessibility consultant in Chicago, IL, and San Francisco, CA.

Shebana Coelho, a writer and performer currently studying flamenco in Spain.

breana connor, an interdisciplinary artist, facilitator + healer in Albuquerque, NM.

Lauren Coons, an interdisciplinary artist, performer, healer and educator in Albuquerque, NM.

Julia Cost, a painter, textile designer, sewist, and dancer in Maui, HI.

Sophia Diehl, a dancer in New York City.

Bonnie Eissner, a writer in New York City.

Katie Flashner, a.k.a. The Girl with the Tree Tattoo, a World Champion ballroom dancer and author in ME.

Micaela Gardner, a dancer and choreographer in Baja, Mexico.

Sarah Groth, an interdisciplinary artist from Albuquerque, NM.

Cherie Hill, a dance educator and choreographer based in the Bay Area.

Lorie House, a dancer, choreographer, and lawyer in NM.

Silva Laukkanen, a dance educator and disability advocate in Austin, TX.

Mary Elizabeth Lenahan, the director of Dance Express in Fort Collins, CO.

Shannon Leypoldt, a dance artist, teacher, and sports massage therapist in Berlin.

Erin Malley, a dance artist and tango teacher based in West Michigan.

Julianna Massa, a dance artist in Albuquerque, NM.

Aiano Nakagawa, a dance artist, educator, facilitator, writer, and event producer in the Bay Area.

Jessie Nowak, a dance artist and filmmaker in Portland, OR.

Kevin O’Connor, a multidisciplinary artist in London, Ontario, and the San Francisco Bay Area.

Bhumi B Patel, an artist/activist based in the Bay Area.

Stephanie Potreck, a sports nutritionist and health advocate who currently resides in Germany.

Jill Randall, artistic director of Shawl-Anderson Dance Center in Berkeley, CA.

Kathryn Roszak, a choreographer, filmmaker, educator, and activist in the Bay Area.

Donna Schoenherr, director of Ballet4Life and Move into Wellbeing in London, UK.

Maggie Stack, a dancer and teacher in Reno, NV.

Camille Taft, a CO front range-based mover and visual artist.

Mary Trunk, a filmmaker, choreographer, and multimedia artist in Altadena, CA.

Diana Turner-Forte, a teaching artist, healing arts coach, and writer in NC.

Ana Vrbaski, a body music practitioner in Serbia.

Nikhita Winkler, a dancer, choreographer, and teacher from Namibia who currently resides in Spain.

Erica Pisarchuk Wilson, a dance artist, visual artist and poet in Albuquerque, NM.

Rebecca Zeh, an interdisciplinary artist in Sarasota Springs, NY.

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Our board:

Snowflake Arizmendi-Calvert

Cathy Intemann

Alana Isiguen

Courtney King

Malinda LaVelle

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