In the late nineties, Pam and I went to the Galapagos. It was another one of my obsessions, like the horses, like adoption, like every dance I have ever made. I read everything about the islands, and became obsessed with the albatross. To me, it was – and is – a mythic bird, a creature with the largest wingspan of any bird – up to 12 feet. Their flight is soaring, and they are known to cover up to 1000 km per day and may stay out at sea for up to seven months before returning to their natal breeding grounds. They breed for life and the pairs have complex, beautiful dances unique to each pair, developed over years of dancing together. I needed to see them, feel them.
When we arrived at Espanola Island, we saw our first albatrosses. The first bird was so close that I could see every detail of its great soft eye. There is something so deep, old and wise in that eye. I stood and watched them dance, soar, nest – tears running down my cheeks. When we got back home, I began to make a dance inspired in part by the albatross – my bodily impressions of them, – and in part by the wild drawings of raptors and crows by Leonard Baskin.
I called the dance Raving in Wind, a line from the poem Rancor of the Empirical by Ann Lauterbach in And, for Example
Now comes the hard, hopeful part. On Facebook, I found this link. Watch this, feel this, care about this enough to do something. Why hopeful, you ask. Because this is an opportunity to open, to love, to act.
For more information, watch Chris Jordan talk about his experience and his project.
http://youtu.be/pGl62LuQask
