Impact: dance fever

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

dance fever

I used to dance a lot. I used to teach b-girl basics. I lost interest in pretty dance and became intrigued with uncomfortable movements. I moved to Nicaragua. Now I'm in Spain, where I've been watching amazing videos by yak films and their Oakland-based dance form, Turfin. The dance is beautiful, strong and graceful, and the film-making is refreshingly artistic and non-commercial.

They made me want to dance again.

I wanted to show the funny conglomeration of the different movement languages that combine in my moving body: b-girl, hip hop, modern, and my own special brand of deliberate awkwardness. Having technical problems related to the music I laid over the movement, so here's a low-fi version just to give you a giggle:

Outside the US you can still see a better-quality version from YouTube (I hope):

3 comments:

JeremyNovember 17, 2010 at 7:48 PM
Drat! I can't view the video because of an error. It says it is blocked in my country due to copyright stuff. yuck!
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Jessica Hirst / Palmer FishmanNovember 17, 2010 at 10:05 PM
I'm sorry. I wanted to use some fun music from Tijuana, but apparently iTunes is blocking it in the US. I posted a lower-quality version that gives a blurry, low-res hint of my spastic joy.
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AnonymousNovember 20, 2010 at 9:47 AM
I love this. I love that you are dancing, that you recorded it and that you posted it here. I love it. And me made me want to dance. And I love that too. You are fantastic. Fantastic!!
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About IMPACT

I started this blog to help myself process an unimaginable tragedy: At a few minutes after 8AM on February 3, 2009, my Nissan Pathfinder hit two pedestrians, sisters, and killed them. My memory starts with the airbags slamming into me.

I am shaking and nauseous writing this.

I was living in Nicaragua, where the roads are filled simultaneously with pedestrians, bicycles, horse-carts, moto-cabs, dogs, all manner of freight trucks from rickety pick-ups to 18-wheelers, ancient US school buses, and mini-buses and taxis determined to economize fuel by never stopping. Under Nicaraguan law drivers in accidents where someone is hurt badly are all jailed for at least 24 hours.

No one knows what caused my accident, although my brother discovered that Nissan had issued a Technical Advisory to mechanics' shops on my year and model because the airbags were detonating spontaneously. As my car was one of the very few with airbags in the country, no one, not even the Nissan dealer repair shop, had ever mentioned anything. I will never know if fault lies with the faulty airbags, and the not knowing is terrifying.

All traumas are unique. Our human reactions to trauma have traits in common. Though everyone will have their own path toward healing, I am certain we can help one another by sharing, witnessing, and affirming.

I have also been diagnosed with bipolar disorder type II, which means I miss the fun (ha!) of full-blown mania. I have suffered from severe recurrent depression and anxiety since I was a teenager.