today i am grateful for...
the space literally took my breath away. the studio is nestled in the west village, on the 9th floor overlooking the sprawling manhattan skyline and the hudson river. natural light pours in from massive arched windows, illuminating the room, and the whole space is awash in white.
quirky little details abound. floral molding echoes the lines of the room. exit signs are carved into the walls, preserved next to its modern red, glowing counterparts.
the rawness of the space is complimented by loads of potted house plants. even natural elements like shells, river stones, and feathers are intertwined with brochures and pamphlets on tables around the studio.
the class itself was far more advanced than i expected, but i didn't mind. a man in the corner played an african drum set while the instructor called out positions, and 8-count rhythms. sinewy-limbed ballerinas in leotards and messy buns and bandaged feet. faces always relaxed yet composed. hands just so. and a really natural, poetic energy flowed from the dancers. i couldn't follow all of the steps(or most of them, for that matter) but i was happy to observe. and i would most definitely give it a go, again.
merce was such a gift to the art of dance. he was one of the names we studied in my 20th century art history class. isadora duncan. martha graham. and merce cunningham and the black mountain college.
a glass counter filled with memorabilia and memories of merce. books of his quirky drawings. and a compendium of letters to merce from fellow dancers and admirers. he passed away in july of this summer, having changed avant garde dance forever.
afterwards i wandered into my local bookshop and literally stumbled upon this little book on the $1 cart. and it made me smile.