I feel a real kinship with Anais Nin. I mean, I'd wear a birdcage on my head like that! Wouldn't even think twice...
She died in the 70s. Did you know she died in Los Angeles? Did you know that her archive resides at UCLA? Did you know that she lived here in a mid-century modern home designed by Eric Lloyd Wright, the grandson of Frank Lloyd Wright? Her second (bigamist) husband, Rupert Pole, was his half-brother. Did I say BIGAMIST? I did! (This is NOT a reason I feel kinship with her, ok?)
There's a LOT to her story, and I'm writing a new work about her (and coding a Kinect). I'm about 1/2 done! (Maybe a little less.)
We're back in rehearsal with 6 ridiculously talented dancers. I came home late last night from one such rehearsal.
Dancers are magical beings. My co-creator/director/choreographer Janet Roston put together a complicated dance phrase that they all got within moments. I swear, it would take me a month to internalize all of that. I get to be on stage with them, and sing the pieces I've written about Anais' life and walk around looking like I know what I'm doing. Don't get me wrong -- I love being on stage and moving my body. I'm quite comfortable with that. (Usually.) But they are artists at an incredibly high level. It's inspiring to watch them all at work knowing that they speak a secret language to one another.
Janet looked at me when the trumpet part started in the intro. I had added it since the last mix I'd given her. When she reacted to it I told her that I had been fooling around with some trumpets there. And the dancers found that comment pretty inscrutable. I love this intersection of alien beings into one seamless piece of moving art. Yes.