life on mars

IMG_0478Processed with VSCO with f2 presetProcessed with VSCO with a6 presetProcessed with VSCO with f2 presetProcessed with VSCO with f2 presetIMG_0520

It’s starting to feel like fall around here! We are into Week 2 at the ballet, and I even when apple-picking with M’s family over the weekend…

After sweating through the sweet early season apple harvest, M took me to a place unlike any in other in Rhode Island. The sky was burning red and it felt like we were looking back at the sun from another planet…our own green rock somewhere in space. A quiet, breathing range to reflect on this new season of dancing and of life.

I’m spending my days in a soft-shoed Plotnikov-Douglass-Yanowksy-Kozadayev shuffle, connecting the dots between slack-legged lifts and angular pirouettes. Winding around Beethoven and plucky piano with the familiar and foreign feeling of palms on my body.

I’m spending my nights counting down the hours before our BIG MOVE. Just 5 minutes down the road, but hurling into a whole new chapter. It’s one I am just itching to write.

here comes the bride

Processed with VSCO with a6 presetProcessed with VSCO with f2 preset

Processed with VSCO with a6 preset

Lace on the ceiling, lace on the floor. My, oh my, I hear wedding bells for sure.

The planning is well underway- venue, florist, caterer, photographer, band, dress, check, check, check, check, check, and check! My Type A personality has even picked out the china, chairs, and napkins. The blank canvas of July 27, 2019 has quickly filled with color running towards every edge. I’ve never so clearly been able to see, taste, hear, feel a single day so far in the future.

And so the countdown begins.

tchaikovsky dreams

IMG_3939

The other night I dreamt I was rehearsing Tchai Pas.

It was very clear: In the Grand Studio on Hope Street, the romantic music of the Adagio softly sang and I skittered across the room on my toes, fingers seeming to sprout from the hand of my attentive partner. I was wearing the blue silk rehearsal skirt that Ruth made for me. The one with the “magic in the fabric,” so she said with a wink.

I woke up with the corners of my mouth curled and Tchaikovsky purring in my ears.

I thought about ending this post on a sweet gushy note, but instead I’ll write about what happened when the clock struck seven and the dream dust cleared from my eyes. I felt anxious. Every day as a professional dancer can bring its own brand of nerves, but the return to a new season (after 4 long months off) is always particularly daunting. What if I can’t pick up the choreography? How do we usually learn contemporary movements? Am I really supposed to do all of that en pointe?

IMG_3952

This year’s preseason jitters have been especially active, bouncing from my belly to my lungs like winged daggers. For a career that requires such immense physical preparation, the mental readiness becomes a quiet killer, lulling you into Balanchine dreams before yanking the wool from over your eyes. It’s a battle between dark and light, this tug-of-war to keep your thoughts as happy ones. But being your own cheerleader can be hard in a world so depreciating. Mental health struggles abound and sometimes it feels really good to just give in.

But instead I’ll choose the light. I’ll bask in the goodness of ballet. I’ll cherish the jitters and enjoy the glow of being a fiancé and soon-to-be-homeowner (eeeep, stay tuned!). I’ll pierce the sky with my winged daggers, cutting through clouds until I reach the sun.

Will you join me?

 

 

photos by Samantha Wong.

itchy feet

Hi. It’s been a minute.

IMG_9011

I’d like to briefly interrupt this parading of European travel pictures to just say…I miss dancing. I know, you’re not surprised. We do this every year, right? August rolls around and my feet start to itch…

For a studio, a routine, a day-in, day-out. Every morning with my best friends, every Friday night exhaustion. Or just one afternoon in sweaty pointe shoes, an evening with my legs up the wall. I want to get a score stuck in my head satin stuck to my toes. I’m craving creativity that connects mind, body, spirit…

Tans and lazy Saturdays are great and all, but now I’m wanting for the work. So I thought I’d check in and ask…are you?

ninety degrees in the eternal city

IMG_7580IMG_7583

IMG_7593

IMG_6127

IMG_6287IMG_5790

IMG_7520IMG_6305

The weather has been…well, sweaty here in Providence, and it’s bringing back sweet, sticky memories of hot, hot Roma. I suppose it’s about time I got down to sharing my Italy photo diary, so here goes Day 1.

Four days in Rome. A claustrophobic climb to the top of St. Paul’s Basilica rewarded us with a stunning terra cotta panoramic of the city, Rome reflecting the sun with its warm, glowing tettos. The Sistine Chapel, The Trevi Fountain, The Spanish Steps…no historic stone unturned, I assure you.

Days of sweaty sight-seeing in Cathedral-appropriate attire spilled into cold showers, apertivo, and cobblestone strolls to this piazza or that. Many a family dinner, with 2 pizzas for the table, vino flowing from one end of the table to the other and back again, children’s choirs spontaneously rising behind us, a lone cellist filling the hour with that warm, sweeping sound.

IMG_7511IMG_7512IMG_7514 2

 

 

last 3 photos by Michael Collins.

the day we got engaged(!!!)

IMG_7206 2

The morning began with a walk to one of our favorite coffee shops, Fragments, with two of our best friends.

Then off to Marchée Bastille to share a crêpe and do some people-watching. You insisted on buying me a bundle of lavender…

Off to discover a new-to-me Parisian path- La Promenade Plantée. Serenity in a french highline, walking eye-to-eye with the most romantic rooftops in the world.

Then on to another new discovery, Village St-Paul, where we snuck through the block, to the inner layer of hidden shops brimming with antiques and the curiosities of yesteryear.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset

A short walk to Le Marais for some famous falafel. A circle around a pop-up artisan market to remind us of Providence. A quick “bonjour!” to our friends at Place des Vosges.

Home for a shower and suspicious phone home.

On to Les Enfants Perdue for “no salades!” dinner.

A walk to the Green Linnet for “no wine!” Gypsy Jazz.

A quick whisk into a slow über to arrive at La Tour Eiffel, exactly at 12:01, minuit.

A “no fruit!” nutella crêpe, a walk to Trocadero, a seat on a bench, a conversation about bunions, babies, some bravery, and…

A question.

A “YES!”

A clock striking the first hour of the new day in the form of a glittering tower.

IMG_7524