Showing posts with label creativity. Show all posts

The wreaths






The wreaths


When you held my hand
and we walked
past the wreaths,
I didn't dare to look
nor understand
until I was old enough
to run through fields of poppies
and celebrate the freedom
in the sun
without the loaded planes
the fears and silence
of all the young men
of whom so few returned

Year after year
the stories were told 
gram, you, my uncles,
the teacher at school,
and later 
Aunty Cathy, Ron,
and all those names
on endless rows of graves
that shouted pain and past
through eternal sky

The failure of man
to live in peace.

And now so many voices have gone silent
the uniforms untouched
the medals lost or sold
like they have no meaning anymore
my soul sees
your belongings in your drawer
which are all gone
and so are you.

I am not shy anymore,
none keeps my hand safe, 
nor my heart.
My eyes reach the horizon
and I still don't understand
the silent cries of all the people
all those who lie there and all those
who stayed at their homes and wept

But one by one
I see those wreaths
the poppies oh so red
that surround the messages 
and sometimes just a name

I hear the trumpet
and the weight of the short silence
and greet those
who keep our lives
in their buried hands.




 ©Syl 2018


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It's dark here







It's dark here 


It's dark here, 
like it's evening.
3 in the afternoon
and gloom over the fields
like all space is mourning
over the injustice in this world

People look away
put on their lights
and close their curtains
complain about the weather
and move on

leaving all those
on the streets
walking in the dark
the cold
in the injustice
they can all lift
by looking outside
and take action
to make a better world.



 ©Syl 2018

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You can dance again



You can dance again


Honey
you can dance again,
you can spread your arms as wings
and you can fly again.

you can raise your voice again
and be the inspiration
for all of us
to reach our limits
and go far beyond

you're our structure again,
our frame of dance
our precision
and our grace again

you are our rhythm
and our flow
an now matter what
I'll never throw
you out of my heart
because after all this time
this life
this death
you are near me again.

Honey,
I will dance again
to honor you
our friendship
and our lives again

in me
you can dance again....




 ©Syl

Sad news





Today we received the news that my ballet-sister and the ballet-mom of my children has died. It was a huge shock, especially as we planned to visit her this weekend. 

It's a long time ago we met.
She was teaching ballet at the local art-expertise center, together with her sister.
She taught classical ballet, her sister more modern dancing techniques.
Both from an american dance family.
Two very ballet-experienced ladies.

I attended her classical lessons and choreography group.

Like true sisters we had our things.
Like when we were on tour and she got stuck in traffic. The performance group arrived at the location and found a floor which was shined until it reflected heaven. It was more of an area ready for iceskating than for dancing. Even on bare feet we were sliding away.
So we decided to change the worst part into something we could manage.
Yes, we changed her choreography,  bit, but there was no other option not to fall.
One of the other leaders present agreed.
She arrived when we started performing, so we were happy she made it just in time.
It was a time without mobile phones, so she didn't know anything about the change.

We managed to bring the piece without any sliding or falling and looked to her with pride and relief.
She didn't applaud, she didn't smile.
She walked down the stairs of the theatre without any facial movement, and when she was at our level she burst out in an angry monologue, not giving us any chance to say something.
And it all was directed at me.
Only a year later she told me she was proud about what we did and that she understood why we made those changes.

We've had a lot of fun too.
She was able to give her students self confidence, so they managed to do what they thought they'd never be able to do.

Her sense of perfectionism in combination with her knowledge and experience made her into one of the best teachers of the world.
So when my daughter told me she wanted to go to the dance academy when she'd finished school, I gave her the option to be taught by my ballet-sister and told her she would get a lot of criticism, corrections and some bad moods, but that she would also be in the best hands ever.
So we went to her and asked her if she would give my daughter the honor.... 
She did, through the best times, through the worst times, even when we had no money to pay her.
My daughter is at the dance academy now. Well instructed in classical ballet, or should I say: best instructed?

I remember so many of her corrections myself. Even some of her choreographies.  And the silent laughs in the dressing room when we overheard one of the other teachers, we liked very much, who spoke with a huge accent, while at the same time we had word finding problems ourselves, as we both were english-thinking women.
When she entered the ballet studio, she turned on the heating so high, that some people nearly passed out, and I tried to keep a window open and secretly turned the radiators off, until she found out and had the conclusion ready that those knobs had springs in them to save money.

I was raised in ballet without the habit of drinking during lessons.
She liked that very much, but adjusted to the trend to drink a lot.
She taught me to drink during the lessons, like she was my mom, thought loud about movements directing me to give an example. And we had long talks, about all sorts of subjects, because we shared some things in our past. Ballet, performing, being a sensitive and sensible person in the harsh world of dancers, the loneliness, the pains, the strong inner feeling of movement and grace, always, always.

Then she didn't agree with something I said on a friday afternoon, drinking coffee and eating soup.
She didn't agree. Not just like that, but with all her passion an with so much anger, that the schoolleader came out of her office to ask what was happening.
She walked away, terribly angry, so I worried about her and the schoolleader said: 'It's like she's not herself. The people who witnessed it said to me that it was not my mistake, but the whole experience has stayed with me.

What a pity we didn't know more about dementia at that time.

A hip replacement operation made matters worse.
When we visited her she was very happy and kept on hugging us. It was such a happy event.
It was two days after surgery, but she could walk again, even though she was not allowed to do so.
She hoped to be able to dance again.
We had a long talk about how we were feeling with our physical problems, and the strong need to express ourselves in dance.

Then my heart gave up, and we saw each other far less than we wanted. I had so many set backs. so many plans that didn't work out.
She was diagnosed with dementia and suddenly everything we experienced fell in place.
Her angry moods had always been a way to keep a grasp on her reality. She got angry when we changed her security.
We didn't see it.
Would it have made a difference if we had seen it?

Her mind and her body drifted away, far from the stage of ballet, and later the stage of life.
Life was not about performing anymore, but about being.
It was not about teaching anymore, but about being guided.
Slowly she drifted away from the person she was...
and now she is completely gone.

But since the day she died I feel her arm around my shoulder again,
when she said: 'you're my ballet-sister, we're ballet-sisters.'
How I wish to hug her once again,
hold her,
smile to her,
and see her smile.
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40. Be a cliniclown



Not many people know, but I would love to be a cliniclown.

A cliniclown is a lovely, funny, cheerfully dressed person who visits ill children and sometimes grown ups in hospital or old people's home.

I know it isn't easy, but I've always thought I could do it.

The first time I experienced a cliniclown myself was when a few of them visited the children's ward when I was there.
My son was in surgery and I was waiting for him.The surgery lasted far longer than expected.

Suddenly they were there, paying attention to the children, making them laugh, making them sing.
Then one of them turned to me. I never had expected I would be part of it all too. My mind was with my son, even though I was moved by the way one of the female clowns was dealing with a toddler.

All the children received a bear and then I got one too. I have to say, they gave me one for my son and one for me. To care for my heart, the clown gestured.
I vaguely recognized him, but it's 20 years ago and I still don't know who that clown was.
But importance of the feeling of being cared for, of getting some undivided attention during such a stressful time, has never left me. (Nor has the bear. :) )

It would be a privilege to visit wards with the team cliniclowns.
Or create my own team.

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35. I want a job at the dance academy



The past years it's regularly been a topic of discussion: teaching at the ballet academy.

So many lines of my life converge there, over so many years, and I've come up with so many ideas for improvement and changes...

In the past I've had the opportunity to realize some of them, working together with the boss of the academy. And it was fun to see they were still used when I entered the building with one of my other children.

During the years I've learned a lot, done a lot, and I think I'm ready to work there.

There are a few aspects missing in dance education.
They have to do with inspiration, understanding the public and ethics.

I also think there needs to be some new blood in the hall.
Too much routine is not good in such a creative environment. And there are so many teachers that are very experienced and good, but who can offer the students more. I'm sure that with the right discussions and ideas they will even be better.

Other subjects that have grown on me the past years have been dance as a way of cardiac revalidation, and dance for the elderly.
I started dance for the older age group in my country (I was the first in my country to teach them.), and it will be interesting to research the subject with dance academy students, meaning that research won't be a small subject on the side table, but a main subject at the academy.
With my experience in teaching research at the university, my knowledge of dance and my personal experience with an aging body, It would be a beautiful end of my working and dancing life.

It's such a pity that many only look at age, not at enthusiasm and motivational qualities.
I know I'll fit in, both with the team and the students.

So yes... this is something for my bucketlist.
This is something that is a part of me... a precious part, that I want to share, and I hope someone will take this serious enough to make it work, to give me this job.

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And we saw daughter 2, finally.



After a hectic day we dressed up and went to the ballet performances. Far too early, because we expected problems on the road.

Celine Dion was about to give a concert that evening in a huge venue, and we had to drive on the road leading to the venue to reach the bridge near the academy.

We thought traffic would come to a standstill, but it didn't. We had some slow traffic with people changing lanes without signalling it, but it was at the place where they were guiding all cars for the concert to the right, away from the main traffic.
Very clever.

They even had signalposts saying that the parking place near the bridge was full, and there were lots of guards and police, so people even didn't dare to go there, so there were no lines at all.
We arrived at the academy and had a parking spot straight in front of the entrance.
It's always a terrible affair to find a parking space there,, so we were lucky.

We had time to talk with one of the girls and joke in the restaurant where we wanted to buy something to eat, but it was closed.
The guy had us pay by pin for our drinks, then went to the other side of the restaurant to fetch a coin of 50 cents so I could get coffee from the machine. I had the money in my purse!!
We had a good laugh, joked some more, got the coffee and went outside to sit in the sun.

When the performance started I took my camera. Last time we were told there was an official photographer and we were not allowed to take photos or film, but we saw no one. And some of the dancers know I take photos and wont publish them without their permission, but they will get them themselves, and some parents know me, so I got some smiles, a few grateful looks, and started what I do best at a moment like that. And because I'd seen that part of the performance just two days before I could take the best moments.

The same happened when they danced in the break.

I walked around like I belonged there, as I didn't see any photographer at all, and took some memories for them all.

It was fun.

Ofcourse there were photographers. Two. In the back of the theater. So all the photos will be from high up.
Such a pity.

Earlier this week we sat in the front at the left, now we sat in the middle front, and the whole performance seemed to be different. And even more interesting.

And ofcourse we saw the performance of our daughter.
I didn't like all the parts, but that's not surprising, knowing who the choreographer was. But my girl did well, and that's most important.
Her choreography got the most compliments along with the choreography of an international guest choreographer.

So a very proud mom stepped outside in the warm humid evening, passing the concert of Celine Dion on her way home.

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Art & architecture



Quite some years ago my second son was a student at the dance academy.

Often people could find me there participating in activities to improve either his school and the academy.
It was a time of money and plans. and because I had some architecture courses at the university I was invited in the building commission, first of the school and soon after of the new to build academy.

I enjoyed working for the school. The architect was an old man, with lots of knowledge and a good insight in what the school needed. We had to use the old building, but we had lots of ground for extensions, an interesting landscape, as it was in a valley, and none had problems with replacing walls with huge glass panels. My courses had provided me with knowledge an insights that fitted in the team, and none had ego's to prevent changes. So the end-result was a merge of all ideas, options and a lot of suggestions.
It didn't only look good, the school was a good place to use for both students, teachers and other personnel.

Planning and building the academy was a complete different experience.
It had to be a new building, with a large part build under ground-level.
It needed to be a building one of its kind, prize-winning and not too expensive.

The former academy had a seperate theater, very nice, with a great atmosphere.

The new building needed a theater incoorporated in the building, accessible at all times without opening the rest of the building.

I worried about ventilation. Dancing is a very intensive sport and good ventilation is crucial for the performance and the health of the dancers. The buildings with multiple layers of cellars I know have no proper ventilation and with a limited budget I worried.

The team of architects had some good ideas, but the costs were too high, so we were spending part of the meetings discussing materials and adjustments, tiptoeing around vulnerable ego's, stubbornness and lack of insight.
In the meantime time passed, the ground was prepared, the bills were piling up, and nothing was approved.

There were some parts I didn't agree with.
On the photo you can see the red bench at a lower level than the walking corridor. There is nothing to prevent people from falling. Not even a colour difference. And there would be no elevator, so the building would not be accessible for people in a wheelchair. Not for theater, not for injured dancers who should be able to view the lessons. And not for people with equipment.

I also thought there should be a good size theater, not a small one, and one with movable rows of chairs that could be fixed flat to the wall. One large theater would mean a seperate entrance at the level of the theater, so no elevator would be needed. Heating in the weekend and evening would only be for that part of the building, so the exploitation would be cheaper.

The whole team started to grow apart. We wanted more colour, they wanted grey, so it would safe costs. The whole feel of enthusiasm changed into a kind of contest. And I don't like ego games.

My participation ended at my own free decision.

When the whole thing was finished I was and wasn't surprised.

At the last moment elevators were fitted in.
Instead of going with one, people who wanted to use it needed to go from one to another,, with very small turning space. The main entrance wasn't accessible for wheelchairs, due to stairs, and the other side was not accessible because of stairs in front of and behind the door!!!!

Ventilation isn't always good enough. Some rooms, even at the top levels, can't host more than a certain amount of students.

People have tripped and fallen from the main corridor.

And the theaters don't work well enough (but the ventilation there is rather OK.). And the whole school needs to be opened up to host the visitors.

I've learned a lot from being part of such different architecture teams.
To get an insight in the needs of the users and to translate them into a building that gives a happy feeling and enhances creativity is a challenge and it always should be balanced by a healthy attitude towards the funds available.

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We only saw one of them!



The dance academy offers lots of opportunities for students to be creative, but there isn't enough tuition about the influence of their actions on the public.

Most of the time it's about messy performances, chaos on the floor and completely not artistic issues.

This time the decision was made to have a couple of performances at the same time and the public was supposed to walk between them.
We got a very large leaflet, with lots of test, two schedules, one with a lot of text, and the message when we arrived half an hour early: it's starting within two minutes outside.

So we went outside, in the bright sun, sat on the stairs and had no time at all to read anything.
We just followed what happened, walked with the rest, and assumed that the performances in hall 2 and hall 3 had to be followed both, regardless of which one was viewed first.
There was also something in hall 4: reality check. So we assumed it was for the dancers to check things they needed to know, and in hall 5 movies were planned. Well we didn't come for movies.

We had a good time.
A good friend and one of what we call ballet-mothers of the twins joined us. Which is always a joy, because we both have the same ways of criticism,
She saw the performances of daughter 1 (who was a guestdancer, she's not studying there), saw the choreography of daughter 2, and left before the last part, because she thought she'd seen enough.

After the whole event we realized we'd missed the performance of daughter 2.

Right at that moment one of the teachers asked me for my opinion about the event.
I'm always a bit hesitant to give my honest opinion, for several reasons.
I've worked in the organisation of the academy 10 years ago, was part of the auditioning committee, and been a ballet reviewer.
One of the things I've learned is that ballet teachers there have huge ego's, expressing in extravagant clothing, pouted mouths and straight backs. None is even allowed to touch the ego, it should be slowly and softly caressed, with a nice smile. No matter when it's mean, as long as it's a smile.

I turned around, like stung by a wasp.
'I can't give my opinion, I haven''t seen it all.... I haven't seen my daughter dance!!'
If I'd wondered if her eyes could have opened under the heavy load of make-up I now got the answer:
they opened.
'Then you'll have to come back tomorrow'.
'I would, if I could afford it', was my rather straightforward answer, referring to the high cost of the evening.
'Then it's on me...' and to my daughter: 'contact me for free tickets for your mom and brother. Or do you need more tickets?'

She left on her high heels like she wanted to take off for a flight high to the roof... She'd done her good deed of the day.
She didn't even bother to say something nice about the twins dancing....



Photo made by me.
Copyrighted.

24. Make hats



Most little girls love hats.
I was lucky to grow up in a time that older women had to wear hats. So there was always one laying on a hall table, hanging from the corner of a bed or a chair, or given to me.
I was not going for the look, but for the feeling.
It made me feel rich and nice.

Then one day my aunt or gram gave me a basket.
I used it as a lady's bag, until I suddenly popped it on my head. I remember my aunt laughing.

I was allowed to keep the basket. And I started to pin things on it, like flowers and nice buttons, a little piece of lace and ribbons.
It was the first hat I made, and it wouldn't be the last.

A few years later I got a black french beret. I was very happy with it and soon I was wearing it all day and the years to come people didn't know me anymore without a beret. I had all colours, and when people didn't know my name I was called: the singing girl with the beret.
By that time I had learned to crochet hats, and friends and unknown people asked me to make crochet hats for them.

The past years I've made a few felt hats, and I enjoyed it so much, that I bought a few berets,
A couple of large summer hats, and in the sales two fedoras (one summer and one winter hat).
Of course after a few times wearing the hats plain, I started to decorate them.

I would love to be able to decorate hats in a more professional way. It's an art of using materials  to create a feeling of flow and beauty.

I see more women wear a hat, women of all ages.
So who knows... maybe in the future they'll wear a hat made by me.

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4. Turning pots

Turning pots has been on my list for a long long time.

As a child I could look at the turning wheel for ages, fascinated not by the wheel, but by the fragility and strength of the clay.
That it's possible to make a vase that holds water and flowers, or a bowl that can last for a lifetime, and yet when the potter does something wrong the clay will suddenly be fragile and the whole lot will bend like cloth or collapse after the slightest instability.

I've been looking in town to take pottery classes a couple of years ago, when one of my dear friends was still alive and we planned to go together. She decided for sculpting classes though, and I couldn't afford the fee of a complete course.

I wonder how I'll feel at the wheel.
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