Pop Up Dances reflections
by Jhoely Triana

Encountering a space, it’s so quiet here and flamenco is so loud.
I’m alone early in the morning before anyone enters the library.  What a treat!

To be alone in such a gigantic space,
to be alone amongst the energy of so many people and so many books. 
To be alone and dancing with no one to watch me, it’s a gift of intimacy. 

Stairs, large wooden stairs, but too small to dance with my long skirt, my bata de cola. 
Choices, my mind comes up with so many ideas, fireworks of possibilities. 
Limitations: safety, skill, space, surfaces, technical. 
Don’t limit just yet, let the ideas flow, focus on the space and what it says to you,
focus on how the space interacts with your piece. 

Light from above, the sun coming in, a beautiful morning. 
Everything so still, including the body. 

Large stairs, the heart races a little with added tension of gravity, of looking down from top. 
I walk around, not really knowing where to situate the piece,
which level, what about the musicians, where do I feel most comfortable, can I turn? 

I put on the music and just move,
without filtering or editing,
just exploring the different steps, handrails,
the vast space in front and above,
the descending movement in relation to the music. 

I’m not allowed to stomp on this wood so I move barefoot
and explore what flamenco is without shoes,
I explore how I want to move when not in a strong hard heel,
when my sounds are silenced.

The upper body takes over, the emotion moves to limbs, torso and head. 

The voice will lead,
the voice always leads,
follow the voice. 

Take your time, no need for sound just yet. 
Lessons from my mentors in my head. 

Hear the voice, the cante, let it into your body, listen to the words,
feel the weight and take time, this too is flamenco.

Let the voice settle,
meet at the bottom,
put on your shoes,
connect with the guitar,
feel the floor and let the sound ring through the giant atrium,
softly at first and then without fear,
fill the space,
push down through all 8 floors reaching through the earth, like roots. 
Reach all the way up through the spine through the glass roof, into the sky, like branches. 

I look up, a drift wood tree sculpture up-above my head, suspended in the air, like a spine, I smile, how fitting. 

My piece is called Arboles (Trees). 
Lift up tall, tell your story and dance.