Women in the Arts: Autumn’s Rhythm &
Tea Sensorium
November 17, 2007, Beltsville, MD
View video of performance here!
Curated by Kym Bennett
Vanessa Curto performs “Wiping Dance”
Choreography: Vanessa Curto
Music: “Los Hermanos” by Mercedes Sosa
Video: Paul Allen Curto
Cultural Notes on “Wiping Dance”
The choreography in “Wiping Dance” pulls from to two different movement
traditions. One of those influences is a dance called “Assyrian Women
Mourners.” We don’t know the dance’s exact origins, but it’s generally
included in the body of work called the Gurdjieff Movements. It is a funeral
rite performed by women. I remember trying to learn this dance in the intense
heat of Santa Fe in July. I would try to put some extra feeling in my facial
expression: some way of trying to do justice to the exquisite sadness of the
dance. My teacher was very disciplined about correcting me. “Less emotion in
your face, Vanessa. This dance is just a job that needs to be done, like
washing the dishes. Do you put on makeup to wash the dishes?” My teacher
presented a different approach to sadness than I’d ever encountered: one that
has helped me find strength and stillness inside myself. I always thought art
was an expression of myself or my feelings. I’d never thought of it as a service
to others, to be performed without any fuss.
The wiping gesture originates from the Min Zin meditations that are part of a
Burmese healing system named Letha Yoga, or ‘slave’ yoga. As I understand,
Letha Yoga was an adaptation of the yoga coming down from the Brahmin
elite. It was a method developed by peasants to counteract the cumulative
effects of starvation, disease and labor. So, what does ‘slave yoga’ have to do
with me? I realized through Letha Yoga that this slaveholder dynamic is
relevant to my life as long as my body is effectively a slave of my mind. It
does whatever I say, at least until it gets sick or too exhausted to follow
orders. I take it completely for granted. My body absorbs every negative
thought or impulse that flickers through my consciousness, and takes the
cumulative damage. I have suffered from insomnia for over fifteen years
because of my inability to control thinking. “Wiping Dance” is part of a
promise that my mind is trying to make to my body. I would like to be less of
a slave driver; I would like to stop taking gifts for granted; I would like to try
to be a better person.
The music is by Mercedes Sosa, an Argentine political activist and folk singer.
Lyrics, loosely translated by Vanessa Curto:
Los Hermanos
Yo tengo tantos hermanos que no los puedo contar,
En el barrio y en la montaña, en la pampa y en el mar.
Cada cual con sus trabajos, con sus sueños cada cual.
Con la esperanza del antes, con los recuerdos detrás.
Yo tengo tantos hermanos que no los puedo contar.
Gente de mano caliente, por eso, de la amistad,
Con un lloro para llorarlo, con un resto para restar.
Con un horizonte abierto que siempre está más allá,
Y esta fuerza para buscarlo con tesón y voluntad.
Cuando parece más cerca es cuando se aleja más.
Yo tengo tantos hermanos que no los puedo contar.
Y así seguimos andando, curtidos de soledad.
Nos perdemos por el mundo, nos volvemos encontrar.
Y así nos reconocemos por el lejano mirar
Por las coplas que cantamos, semillas de inmensidad.
Y seguimos andando curtidos de soledad
Y en nosotros nuestros muertos, para que nadie que de atrás.
Yo tengo tangos hermanos que no los puedo contar
Y una hermana muy hermosa que se llama libertad.
Brothers
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
In the ghettos and the mountains, in the pampas and the sea.
Each one has his work, each one has his dream,
Each one holds on to hopes from the past, and to memories from behind.
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
Those with a hot temper, and because of this, those seeking peace.
Those with a sob left to cry with, those with something left to take.
There is an open horizon that is somehow always farther away,
And this inner force that searches: this stubbornness and this will.
When the horizon seems closest is when it is the farthest away.
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
And this is how we go on, leathered and hard with loneliness.
We lose ourselves in the world, only to find ourselves again.
We recognize ourselves in one other: by a faraway glance,
Or by the verses that we sing: tiny seeds of immensity.
We carry our dead within us so that no one can watch us from behind.
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
I have only one sister—her name is freedom.
“Wiping Dance” and Cultural Notes on “Wiping Dance”, ©2007-2008
Vanessa Curto
The Field Chicago’s 12th Annual Field Trips
May 18, 2007, Links Hall, Chicago, IL
www.thefield.org
Vanessa performs “bird chair dance”
Choreography: Vanessa Curto
Music: “Humanity’s Psalms” by Motapa
Video: 3 card molly
“bird chair dance”
©2007 Vanessa Curto
Tea Sensorium
November 17, 2007, Beltsville, MD
View video of performance here!
Curated by Kym Bennett
Vanessa Curto performs “Wiping Dance”
Choreography: Vanessa Curto
Music: “Los Hermanos” by Mercedes Sosa
Video: Paul Allen Curto
Cultural Notes on “Wiping Dance”
The choreography in “Wiping Dance” pulls from to two different movement
traditions. One of those influences is a dance called “Assyrian Women
Mourners.” We don’t know the dance’s exact origins, but it’s generally
included in the body of work called the Gurdjieff Movements. It is a funeral
rite performed by women. I remember trying to learn this dance in the intense
heat of Santa Fe in July. I would try to put some extra feeling in my facial
expression: some way of trying to do justice to the exquisite sadness of the
dance. My teacher was very disciplined about correcting me. “Less emotion in
your face, Vanessa. This dance is just a job that needs to be done, like
washing the dishes. Do you put on makeup to wash the dishes?” My teacher
presented a different approach to sadness than I’d ever encountered: one that
has helped me find strength and stillness inside myself. I always thought art
was an expression of myself or my feelings. I’d never thought of it as a service
to others, to be performed without any fuss.
The wiping gesture originates from the Min Zin meditations that are part of a
Burmese healing system named Letha Yoga, or ‘slave’ yoga. As I understand,
Letha Yoga was an adaptation of the yoga coming down from the Brahmin
elite. It was a method developed by peasants to counteract the cumulative
effects of starvation, disease and labor. So, what does ‘slave yoga’ have to do
with me? I realized through Letha Yoga that this slaveholder dynamic is
relevant to my life as long as my body is effectively a slave of my mind. It
does whatever I say, at least until it gets sick or too exhausted to follow
orders. I take it completely for granted. My body absorbs every negative
thought or impulse that flickers through my consciousness, and takes the
cumulative damage. I have suffered from insomnia for over fifteen years
because of my inability to control thinking. “Wiping Dance” is part of a
promise that my mind is trying to make to my body. I would like to be less of
a slave driver; I would like to stop taking gifts for granted; I would like to try
to be a better person.
The music is by Mercedes Sosa, an Argentine political activist and folk singer.
Lyrics, loosely translated by Vanessa Curto:
Los Hermanos
Yo tengo tantos hermanos que no los puedo contar,
En el barrio y en la montaña, en la pampa y en el mar.
Cada cual con sus trabajos, con sus sueños cada cual.
Con la esperanza del antes, con los recuerdos detrás.
Yo tengo tantos hermanos que no los puedo contar.
Gente de mano caliente, por eso, de la amistad,
Con un lloro para llorarlo, con un resto para restar.
Con un horizonte abierto que siempre está más allá,
Y esta fuerza para buscarlo con tesón y voluntad.
Cuando parece más cerca es cuando se aleja más.
Yo tengo tantos hermanos que no los puedo contar.
Y así seguimos andando, curtidos de soledad.
Nos perdemos por el mundo, nos volvemos encontrar.
Y así nos reconocemos por el lejano mirar
Por las coplas que cantamos, semillas de inmensidad.
Y seguimos andando curtidos de soledad
Y en nosotros nuestros muertos, para que nadie que de atrás.
Yo tengo tangos hermanos que no los puedo contar
Y una hermana muy hermosa que se llama libertad.
Brothers
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
In the ghettos and the mountains, in the pampas and the sea.
Each one has his work, each one has his dream,
Each one holds on to hopes from the past, and to memories from behind.
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
Those with a hot temper, and because of this, those seeking peace.
Those with a sob left to cry with, those with something left to take.
There is an open horizon that is somehow always farther away,
And this inner force that searches: this stubbornness and this will.
When the horizon seems closest is when it is the farthest away.
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
And this is how we go on, leathered and hard with loneliness.
We lose ourselves in the world, only to find ourselves again.
We recognize ourselves in one other: by a faraway glance,
Or by the verses that we sing: tiny seeds of immensity.
We carry our dead within us so that no one can watch us from behind.
I have too many brothers to speak of, too many brothers to count.
I have only one sister—her name is freedom.
“Wiping Dance” and Cultural Notes on “Wiping Dance”, ©2007-2008
Vanessa Curto
The Field Chicago’s 12th Annual Field Trips
May 18, 2007, Links Hall, Chicago, IL
www.thefield.org
Vanessa performs “bird chair dance”
Choreography: Vanessa Curto
Music: “Humanity’s Psalms” by Motapa
Video: 3 card molly
“bird chair dance”
©2007 Vanessa Curto
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