Sunday, May 23, 2010

Dress A Day, Day 18: Defiance



Sunday, May 23

Oh this one. I do believe I've had it since my Berkeley days (mid 90's), got it at one of the second hand shops on Telegraph Ave right around the time I started dancing seriously. I've worn it a lot or hardly at all at various points, almost always with jeans underneath. It's watched me shift shapes countless times - physically, geographically and metaphysically - and has managed to defy the closet pogroms that tend to accompany said shifts. If I saw it on a store rack today I don't know that I'd take a second look, but on my body it is a secret talisman, a reminder of my own defiance that has kept me dancing all these years.

Dress A Day, Day 17: Prayer



Saturday, May 22

Another French dress given to me by Julie Criniere before her move to Israel. As soon as I put it on in the waning light of this Saturday evening, I knew I had to paint my eyes with eyeshadow and sprinkle the floor with petals. It is so delicate, with a sheer floral top that floats over the fitted satin slip: as innocent and sexual as a flower in full bloom... me too, please. It's the kind of dress I would think to wear to a ceremony such as a wedding or a holiday, and that is what this dance is. Or rather, it is a prayer.

Dress A Day, Day 16: Resisting the Corner



Friday, May 21

A recent acquisition, sold to me as a "tunic". It's dress status can be debated, I admit, as I wouldn't dare to wear it without leggings, not even for the video. I bought it new, rather late in the evening, after a particularly trying day on my recent trip to Israel. Its purchase was an act of resistance against the role I was being cornered into playing that day. The pattern reminded me of my childhood dresses but the cut revealed my adult figure - perfect for the alchemical transformation I was in search of.

Dress A Day, Day 15: Revealing Me



Thursday, May 20

This dress is a little bit of everything, and somehow more me than I ever expected. It is a French dress, given to me by my student Julie Criniere - a beautiful French woman who was born in the Middle East and grew up in South America - upon her move to Israel with her husband and two beautiful boys (have I mentioned how much I love Brooklyn?!).

When I first put it on, I wasn't convinced - something about the cut was so... classic. But the fabric is so delicious, a soft tricot with just enough stretch to give what could otherwise be a rigid pattern some serious swing. And it felt so good on my body that I started to wear it almost immediately.

In fact, this is perhaps the first dance in which it is me wearing the dress and not the dress wearing me. Or maybe what I mean is that dancing in this particular dress I am somehow, finally, revealed: if last night I was barely veiled, tonight I naked for a moment, pleated dress and all.

Dress A Day, Day 14: Barely Veiled



Wednesday, May 19

I've never worn this one before, maybe I never will again. I found it at the giveaway box at Earthdance last Fall, during my Artward Bound residency. I loved the print and the feel of the fabric, and it actually came with that pretty pink tie, which must either be for the hair or the neck because it sure don't fit 'round the waist. I do believe it is a nightgown, sheer and sexy, but who wears such things to sleep?

I chose to wear it on this night because in truth I felt naked, just barely veiled. I even thought to try to wear it to bed, but it was already making its way off at the end of the dance, which was perhaps the point: I was ready to unveil, if only just a little bit at a time.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Dress A Day, Day 13: Transformation



Tuesday, May 18

Of all my dresses, this is the one I have owned the longest. In fact, it's been in the family for over four decades. I claimed it as my own out of my mother's closet in high school, but I never dared wear it until college - it was so short and the fabric was so delicate! For years I wasn't really sure I could live up to it, and so it only ventured into the world on a very rare occasion. The fact that it sits on me so comfortably today is a testament to my transformation through dance, and this is a dance about transformation.

Dress A Day, Day 12: Wave Patterns



Monday, May 17

At the jam again, with a dress I love to get sweaty in. This is, I believe, the first dress in this project that I can say I bought new at a store. It happened like this: on a stormy Thursday night in early June of 2006, lightning hit Brooklyn and my hard drive was fried through the electrical outlet. This being the day before the last Ask the Robot that I produced, a multimedia performance/installation/video/art event on the Frying Pan on the Chelsea Piers, I was in a bit of jam. The next day I trekked to the Apple store in SoHo, and was met by a line which was followed by a wait and I was short on time and patience which was only making the situation more stressful. So I got myself out of the store and on to Broadway, where I went on a bit of a shopping spree. I only bought sexy clothes that part of me thought I would never wear, short shorts and tight dresses - I refused to buy anything practical.

That night on the Frying Pan, an early 20th century lighthouse boat docked on the Hudson River, I felt for the first time in a long time that the world outside was mirroring the one inside. There I was, in the belly of a rusted boat, surrounded by sounds and visions at once foreign and strange and yet familiar, for they were there by my invitation. We were all of us in constant motion, rocking to and fro as the waves of the river crashed into the boat over and over and over again.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Dress A Day, Day 11: Grass Fed



Sunday, May 16

Earlier in the day I was accused of matching my dress to my toe nail polish, but clearly it was to this later scene at Prospect Park that my intuition must have tuned into when I pulled it out of my closet on Sunday morning. We are just South of the drum circle, where our contact improvising ways were deemed unwelcome. That's AJ Block of the Didge Project on didgeridoo, and it was to his circle that we migrated when asked to stop our dancing ways at the larger circle.

This dress is coming apart at the seems from so much wear, and it lost its last remaining and often replaced button during my dancing revelries this past Sunday. It's just so comfortable and yet never fails to get a smile or a nod, maybe because of its brilliant colors. I got it from my sister who got it from her friend Jessica Hawk back when my sister still wore short sleeved dresses: seven or eight years ago, that is.

Dress A Day, Day 10: International Rhythm



Saturday, May 15

Oh, this lovely lovely dress: I've tried to rid myself of it so many times and am so glad for my failure. It's been across the globe with me, in my closet and in my suitcases for at least 14 years now. But it's much older than that. I think my mother gave it to me, after carrying it around herself for years and years. It's a French cut dress made of Japanese silk print fabric on an Israeli woman dancing to Haitian rhythms in Brooklyn.

It was a lovely occasion to wear it to, the Remembering Haiti fundraiser at the Cee Flat in Greenpoint. You don't see them in the frame, but Jasmine Burems and Mandi Gor are inspiring my dance, and of course the band is pumping it with life. That's Monvelyno Alexis on guitar and voice, Chico Boyer on bass, Michael Vitali on drums and Nataliya Zaytseva on keyboard.

Dress A Day, Day 9: Mercy Martha



Friday, May 14

On this particular Friday night I came back from rolling on a tarp covered pile of gravel in Greenpoint with my partner in sublime, Erin Ellen Kelly, and was called to this dress, which reminded me at the moment of my Martha Graham past. I giggled at the thought of following my dumpster yard gyrations with a dress that my orthodox sister would approve of and some movement that an academic would have a category for. But when I put it on and started moving it was Dominque Mercy, my favorite Pina Bausch dancer that called to me from within. We all danced together: Ophra, Dominique, Martha, the dress.

I got this one at my first ever clothing swap, in early 2004, soon after arriving in NYC. Actually, I missed the clothing swap but ended up at Rae's house a couple of days after the event and dug through the gynormous pile of rejected clothing, in total awe of the very possibility of so many clothes being thrown out. I found enough clothes to create a new wardrobe for myself for the next two years, and for a moment was so grateful for the local culture of excess, which made the shoestring I was living on that much prettier.

Dress A Day, Day 8: Beyond



Thursday, May 13

So much to say about this dress, so little of it in words. It is from Afghanistan, and comes to my closet via the amazing costume sale that happened in NY in 2004. We lined around the block and waited for hours to fill a paper bag purchased for $20 with whatever pleased our fancy. It is the dress I wear for my solo, Beyond, which has been both the wind and the wings that have carried my work the past couple of years. I love it. Methinks it loves me too.

Catherine Hoffmann (see Dress #2) wrote in suggesting I might try letting my dresses stand on their own a bit more and not cover them in curtains and the like, and so inspired this first wide shot.

Dress A Day, Day 7: Purple Fire



Wednesday, May 12

A sweater dress, purchased this past Fall at the Goodwill on Fulton St. I was thrilled to find out it was a fire that has recently shut my beloved Goodwill down and not gentrification. This dress is full of desire, fiery desire, bought at a time when my desire was returning to me after a blind stroll through the wrong relationship and the heartbreak that ensued. It was necessary and gratifying to wear it without leggings underneath for the first and probably the last time.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Dress A Day, Day 6: Exorcism



Tuesday, May 11

It's cold out. Too cold for this far into May. But a chance to wear this woolen dress, which I found on the street: Dean St., just across from my side of Bedford. I wore it for my flight to Israel in January, and when my luggage was inevitably lost I found myself roaming the streets of Tel Aviv in it for three days. But tonight's dance was from the dress's time before me, I'm sure of it - no amount of laundering can wash certain things out, but maybe a dance can.

Dress A Day, Day 5: Jammin'



Monday, May 10

This is only the second time I've worn this dress: once to the nude beach on Fire Island with Laura, where I promptly took it and everything else off; and this second time to the Monday night movement jam, where I am a regular, if such a word can be used for anything to do with this gathering. I wore the hat as a declaration: I Am in Costume. And because it matched nicely and kept me warm. The dance is more about being in a dress at the jam on a cold May night than about the dress per se, but in my mind the dress is a plain one, to be worn at home and to sweaty places like the beach and dance jams. Like tofu, a dress like tofu, that can take on whatever flavors in stews in. It was deposited in my bag during my recent visit to Israel by one of my suppliers, aka an aunt or mother or sister.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Dress A Day, Day 4: Veiled



Sunday, May 9

Wild winds call me to the window. Someone is watching as I veil and unveil. This dress of Indian make, bought in the holy city of Tzfat in Israel, takes me to places where self-righteousness has no home.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Dress A Day, Day 3: Stories to Tell



Saturday, May 8

This is one of those dresses that has traveled with me across three continents and back. It was given to me by one of my aunts and I assume it is Moroccan, perhaps even a family heirloom, vintage no doubt, maybe even antique. Good for a good story, if nothing else.

Dress A Day, Day 2: The Blues



Friday, May 7

Got the blues today, wore a dress given to me two summers ago by my fiery sister in spirit, Catherine Hoffman (of Molly and Me, molly-and-me.com).

Dress A Day, Day 1: Flower Power



Thursday, May 6

The first day and first dress in the Dress-a-Day project, not to mention the first time I wore this particular dress, which was given to me by my aunt on my recent visit to Israel this past January. Later this same night I wore the dress to Vox Pop where my new friend Romell was sure that the floral print had seeped into my very soul and that I looked like a flower myself.

Practical Guide to a Dress A Day

I will film a short dance in a different dress of mine every day of this warm season. I started on Thursday, May 6th, and I can't be bothered to count all my dresses, so I don't know when I'll finish.

The dances are short, two minutes or less, and are filmed in one take. Any editing involves setting an in and out point, mainly for the sake of not wasting your time watching me turn the camera on and off.

Whenever possible, I will include some information about the dress and how it ended up in my closet.

This is an art project and an exercise and a research project all in one. I am curious to see the different me's that live through these dresses, and I am eager to learn to let myself live. I don't plan which dress to wear, or what time of day to wear it or what or how to dance in it. A moment arrives, something comes to mind - in the good moments it comes directly to my senses - and I follow it.

Your comments are welcome, you who are out there.

Prelude to a Dress A Day

My Studio is my palace. Measuring less than 350 square feet, it is classroom and bedroom and treatment room and living room and most of all a laboratory for my spirit. The antique Emerson cabinet grand stands where a bed might have rested up against the wall, and for a year now (we celebrate the anniversary of our independence in less than three weeks) I have spoken of ridding myself of it by any means necessary. Oh, I have tried! It is as heavy and awkward as the relationship that brought it into my life. I know not how to play it and it is merely a mediocre surface for my drifting papers and artifacts, yet it is a beautiful instrument and who am I to destroy a source of music for the sake of a mattress? I am not, not one of those.

Then love and a lover came into my life, filled it with music so sweet and a desire to sing and play. In a moment I knew the piano had to stay, and with the help of my love and my lover I would learn to play it, would love to play at learning it. The mattress could continue living in the closet, why not, but now that the imagination was not working so hard at erasing the presence of the piano, the need for proper shelves could no longer be denied. I need some good shelves, I announced to myself and a few dear ones. Days later Elizabeth arrived in the evening to borrow a costume and mentioned a bookshelf standing on the corner of my very own block. Shoes on and a short march and we two are in front of a beautiful sight to behold: a gorgeous wooden bookshelf measuring exactly the right size to fit in the left-most window alcove. Exactly is perhaps an understatement, this fit is a marvel best enjoyed with the naked eye.

And so began the second round of Spring cleaning for the season. Bookshelf organizing led to the creation of a jewelry display case, refrigerator scrubbing, dust bunny collecting, bathroom shelf mounting, and of course, closet cleaning. It is always a good idea to clean and clear my closet out, considering that half of it is occupied by said mattress. Just over a month ago I celebrated my closet clearing with a clothing swap, and this more recent sweep took with it a few more items. But not a single dress was thrown out. It is a marvel how many dresses I keep, and how I keep them all in the tiny space of my closet is a miracle, but as with the piano, I could not be convinced to throw a single one out.

Why? Whatfor? The practical one, the one who loves to throw shit out, spoke up: when will you wear all these dresses, Ophra? you would have to wear a dress a day for the entire season to get through them all. The wily one, increasingly adept at negotiating between the heart and the mind, smiled. Then that's what we'll do, darling, we'll wear a dress a day! And the lover chimed in: oh yes, but we'll not only wear them, we'll dance them! The practical one, recently softened by frequent smiles and multiple orgasms, agreed. But not without setting a few terms: let them be short dances, recorded on the flip camera and so easily uploaded, and better get the whiny one on board, because this is going to require some keyboard greasing and eye frying on the bright screen if we're going to share our pleasure with the world.

My keyboard is greasy now (I blame the popcorn), and my eyes are fried. The whiny one, relatively calm tonight after having had her fitful spotlight for the past two days, reminds us that we are all tired. Time to upload the videos.

Enjoy.

Fast Forward


Dear Blog,

I have neglected you, forsaken you even. But I did not forget you, and here I am, over a year later with a lifetime's worth of transformation to account for my cocooning. The threads of my life are silky - strong and warm and beautiful, at once practical and decadent. And I, I am a butterfly in flight, in love again after heartbreak and mindbreak and gutbreak, revealing the fabric of space as I ride the gusts, showing off my colors and landing only to commune with that which is in bloom.

And there is continuity after all: the last post, that fateful bus ride to Chiang Mai, was the start of the unfolding of the rest of my life. No time to retrace the steps, the winds will carry the scents and memories of these past months far into the future, and they will weave their way into the stories to come.

Now there is a project to launch, a dance to fall into, a love and laughter of life to embrace us and bring us together again.

Yours,
Ophra