Can I Call This…: A response by Joanna Furnans

a response to class with Darrell Jones @ the JIM

June 26 & 28, 2017 Hamlin Park Field House, Chicago

image by Joanna Furnans

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His words: Can I call this “technique?”

My words: I normally don’t like to gather around guru-types. I am reluctant to give them power and suspicious of their assumption that they have it.

(Power that is.)

And sitting in a circle with dancers who are “in their bodies” makes me want to rebel. And some of the postures in the room make me think of amethysts and I’m not really into that.

But I’m into him. In fact, I am enraptured.

A deep, intoxicating crush

/dance/

love is forming…

His words: Darrell, tell me what to do?

My words: He is singing. He is chanting, spoken-wording, riffing with the drum beats, giving us our next instructions.

His words: What do you have a taste for? What wets your palate?

My words: (smiling) Excuse me?

What do I have a taste for? What wets my palate?

Someone says they have a taste for spine (and bends her body). Someone else says they have a taste for head (and dives her head to the floor). Someone else says they have a taste for fingers…

(I smile again)

His words, or someone else’s words that he is reading:

“Get your pussies on the floor.”

My words: Done. I’m here. I am with you. I’m trying to risk and to train and to break up this spine and to throw myself off balance and to cut my timing from 16 to 13 to 10 to 9 to 4. I find my edge at 6 and a half.

He comes to dance with me and (glory!) we move well together. Until we bump and stumble and step on each other’s timing.

I think we laugh.

His words: What are your tactics?

Open your eyes and watch this form.

My words: We are moving. We are doing a form and we are being stirred.

Yet I can still travel off. I can still skirt the edge.

I can resist the suggestion.

His words: Resistance as recuperation…?

My words: His smile is so bright.

How is it that his spirit is so frank?

How is it that his spirit is so joyous?

His words: I love you. And I want you to know how to battle.

My words: Twice my eyes well with tears. (and I rarely cry.)

His words: I told you I was going to curse.

My words: I don’t really know how to battle. My battles look like protection?

His words: If you push too hard you are going to take it down.

Battle with grace.

My words: This is power. This is generosity.

His words: Can I call this “adagio?”