I am often approached by people looking to hire my services for their special event, but not really knowing what they are looking for or what to expect. They are often surprised when they realize they are not just hiring me alone to dance.

When you want a live Flamenco dance performance at your event, at the very least you are hiring two performers: the dancer and a guitarist. This is the number one fact you must keep in mind when creating the budget for your event.

If the budget does not permit for two performers, a dancer with pre-recorded music can be found, but you must understand that this is no longer Flamenco. The beauty of Flamenco is the live conversation between musicians, partly choreographed, but partly improvised. No two performances are ever the same. This is the magic of our art form.

For a truly authentic Flamenco experience, you must also consider the importance of the singer, or Cantaór or Cantaora.  The cante, or song, comes first in Flamenco. The dancer interprets the letra, or lyrics, when she or he dances. For the discerning event planner who wants to create a truly genuine Flamenco show for their guests, the singer must also be accounted for in the budget. Sometimes you can find a guitarist who also sings, but this is not the norm. If you do find this guitarist, you should still expect to pay for his or her additional contribution.

Finally, for the legitimate cuadro, or group, you should consider at least one other dancer who not only adds to the dancing, but to the rhythmic dynamics of palmas, or percussive hand-clapping, and jaleos, shouts of encouragement. On top of this, for a truly rounded out performance, you can consider a cajonero or percussionist. 

The most important thing to note when allotting for these performers in your entertainment budget is that if they are professionals, they are experts in their art. They have years of schooling and training, including time lived in Spain. They spend several hours a week rehearsing by themselves and with each other. They spend time and money researching and studying the new and old of their craft. They also run themselves like businesses, spending hours upon hours writing and negotiating contracts, marketing their services, networking, and producing shows, music, videos, etc. They buy and maintain equipment like sound systems, portable dance floors, costumes, shoes, etc. Many are teachers as well, spending much of their time preparing and teaching classes, workshops, and demonstrations. All of these activities cost time, effort, and money.

So please consider the above when planning to hire Flamenco artists for your event. When you receive a quote, please consider that you are not just hiring a pretty girl or handsome man in a flashy costume to play a CD and dance around to it. You also are not just paying a dancer and a musician to simply play music and dance at your event. You are paying for their expertise, for those years of training, for their hours of work that goes unseen. Those hours of work directly benefit you in that they all come together to create the best possible performance at your event.

Because you are paying good money for a service, you also have every right to be discriminating. Please do your research and make sure you are hiring experts in their field and consummate professionals. Feel free to ask them about their training, their work history and ethic, their relationship to Flamenco. Expect them to be on time, friendly, and just as committed as you are to making sure you get a memorable performance at your special occasion. Just as dedicated artists deserve respect for their craft, you deserve the best your money can buy. Expect it.

In my next installment for this topic, I will explain the different styles of Flamenco shows you may be considering and what is best for your particular event.


If you liked this entry and found it useful, please share it. If you have any questions for me about planning your special event, please feel free to contact me.

"I mean, writing is my craft and my profession, but the real, central journey of my life...has been trying to figure out how to live well. Trying to figure out how to not succumb to darkness. Trying to figure out how to be a better friend to people. Trying to figure out how to find destiny and live it in a way that feels bold and important.

That’s kind of what I’m about. Writing is—I don’t want to diminish writing by saying it’s “just what I do,” but writing is my vocation. But I think I have a higher vocation that I respond to, which is living." --Elizabeth Gilbert, Author of Eat, Pray, Love and The Signature of All Things.

This quote was one of the first things Elizabeth Gilbert said during an interview with Tami Simon on the Insights at the Edge podcast*.  Once I heard it, I was hooked.  I knew I found the beginning of an answer to a years-long meditation.

I've been wrestling with the question of identity--identity as a human being who happens to be an artist.  I love my art.  I love being creative.  I love sharing my creativity and my passion for my chosen form of expression.  What I do not love, however, is the way of living that comes with an over-identification with the label of "Artist". 

I do not love living in the world of "Who is better?" or specifically in my profession, "Who is more 'Flamenco' or 'Flamenca'?".  I do not love living in the world where this question then leads to constant gossiping about our fellow artists in an attempt to prove that we are the one who is "more".  I do not love living in the world that it so over-identified with the "suffering artist" or "suffering Flamenco" stereotype, that we spend hours abusing alcohol, ourselves, and each other, in order to prove we belong or don't belong--whichever seems truer to our artistry at that given moment.

Now before you think that I am sitting here in judgement of my fellow artists, please know that I am including myself in this honest critique.  I have been just as guilty as anyone.  I too get wrapped up in this, "aren't I amazing and unique and original because I've chosen this niche art form that is so niche it's hard to make money, but that's okay because that just means I'm a truer artist and Flamenca?  Aren't I, aren't I, aren't I?"

They say the teacher teaches what she needs to learn.  I believe this is what is behind my writing.  I am writing about this because it is a struggle of mine.  I have spent the last few years working very hard on figuring out who I really am.  Through meditation, through reflection, through volunteering and even through my dancing and teaching of dance, I have been exploring what my life means if I am not "Flamenca" or not "an Artist" or not "Bohemian" or not "a Gypsy-in-spirit".

What if I were stripped of all these labels and I was just a human who happens to dance?

This is one of the scariest questions in my life.  I overcame so many obstacles in order to become a professional dancer.  I have done years of training.  I study various aspects of Flamenco and the Flamenco culture.  I have done and continue to do the work that gives me some modicum of credibility in my field.  I have dedicated so much of my life to Flamenco and dance itself that it seems crazy not to completely identify with it.

And there is nothing wrong with enjoying the accolades you receive when you have done all that work.  You should be proud of getting to a place that shows you've put in your time.  I have often had the joyful conversation with fellow artists that starts with "Remember when we didn't know anything?  Look how good we've gotten".  Those conversations are worthwhile.  Those conversations celebrate the process, not the labels.  Those conversations celebrate each other.

The problem comes when we lose touch with the process, when we lose touch with the time when we were just a curious dabbler, a beginner.  Do you remember the joy there was in discovering something new that was so amazing to you it piqued your curiosity and all you wanted to do was learn more?  Remember when all you did was enjoy your time learning and dreaming of when you'll be good at it?

In this same interview, Elizabeth Gilbert goes on to say that art is a place to process our pain, but that the process of creation itself shouldn't come from pain, but from joy.  She also says that the process comes from pain when an artist feels they have to suffer in order to create.  When art comes from a pained creative process, you're sharing that energy of pain with the world rather than sharing your love for your art.

In my experience, this is exactly what happens when we get caught up in the labeling and unnecessary competition.  We start to approach our art from a place of fear, resentment, frustration, and anger.  Doing the thing you love suddenly becomes a chore, even an annoyance. 

We often get confused, thinking that Flamenco makes room for the dark emotions.  After all, the mother of all the rhythms is the Solea, or the dance about loneliness, but that is not what I am talking about. 

I am the first to say that I prefer the jondo in Flamenco, the songs about sadness and anger.  However, when I create my solos or when I go to my shows, I always set the intention that I am channeling these feelings in order to tap into something greater.  I hope that I am stepping into some divine stream of consciousness where I can communicate the universality of my feelings with anyone who is watching because I know they feel this way too.  And I hope that together, audience and I, can find some resolution.  However, I'm also aware that this may not happen.  I could come to the most amazing resolution and an audience member can simply arrive at, "well, isn't that pretty?".

I love to remember this because ultimately, I am no more special than the non-dancer audience member who is watching me.  For all I know, they save lives.

So again I come to that question of identity.  There was a time when we weren't the professional artist we have come to be.  Who is that person?  The sister, the brother, the daughter, the son, the friend.  The audience member.  Who is the person beyond even those labels?  Who are you...really?

Yes, these questions are scary, but when you really think about them, there is so much freedom to be found.  There is the freedom to do what you love, simply for the sake of doing what you love.  There is the freedom to choose who you will work with, where you will work, and how you will work--the freedom to create healthy boundaries and relationships.  The freedom to create art from a place that heals you and others.

Finally, Elizabeth Gilbert quotes Tom Waits as saying that when he starts to take himself too seriously he reminds himself that as a songwriter he is simply making "jewelry for peoples' minds".  Nothing more, nothing less.  It is beautiful, yes, but it is adornment.  We artists make life more interesting and we do fill a necessary role, but we are not above and beyond anyone else.

While doing my hospice work, I always remind myself, "This will be you one day".  One day, I will not be able to dance.  In fact, that could even be tomorrow.  So then, why take my "Artist" self so seriously?

Instead, I would rather do what Gilbert says in the quote at the beginning; I'd rather "figure out how to be a better friend", daughter, sister, wife, aunt, teacher.  Even more than that, I want to figure out this human business.  And while I can, I'll do it all while dancing.

*If you identify with any of what I'm saying, I highly recommend listening to this interview:  http://www.soundstrue.com/weeklywisdom/?source=podcast&p=9535&category=IATE&version=full

Back in August, I wrote an entry called, Our Life's Dance, where I talked about following our life's calling or passion.  I was inspired by this quote by Gabrielle Bernstein: "Don't dance around the perimeter of you want to be; dive in fully."  As promised in that original entry, I want to talk about how this quote is not only a dance metaphor for life, but it can be applied to dance as well. 

Over the years I have learned that it is not enough to memorize steps, have perfect formations, and make sure all your angles are correct.  Although it is of utmost importance to spend years honing your skills and making sure your technique is clean and strong, all the impeccable technique is still not enough if you do not deliver yourself in your performance.  To me, delivering yourself means that you should reach down deep inside, pull out your most raw sorrow, anger, joy, love, gratitude, fear, elation, EMOTION, and channel it.  You must embody that emotion and let the emotion guide you in your dance.  You must engage with it, letting the feeling become a partner.

In Flamenco dance, this is especially important.  Most of the time we are soloists, doing 10 to 15-minute long numbers that tell a story, complete with a trajectory, a climax, and a resolution.  Imagine how lackluster a solo of this length would be, if the dancer danced the entire number only in their head, completely focused only on technical execution and not on any sense of connection.  There should be a decision to connect--with the audience, with the musicians, with our fellow dancers, and with our deepest self.  Once you're onstage, you have to give yourself over to that connection and answer a question:  who are you?  This is point of it all.  This is what the audience wants to know. 

When you let yourself go and "dive fully" into the dance, this question starts to get answered, both for the audience and for yourself.  There is a complete catharsis that comes when you've abandoned your ego, the mind full of planning and "shoulds and you let your true self speak through the dance.  You know when the catharsis has happened.  You know when you're both exhilarated and exhausted at the same time.  There is a deep joy, a sense of knowing.  You often get that catharsis mirrored to you by audience members, through tears, through them relaying to you what they thought your story was.  It may not be what you thought to express before you got started, but once you hear it, you think, "yes".  There is a universal truth that was delivered.

This complete surrender when you dance, is what makes people fall in love with the art form.  I believe this is true for any art form as well as in life.  People are drawn to the universal truths they see reflected in each other.  After the years of necessary study and rehearsal, when it's time to perform, please do the world and your art a favor and just let us see the real you.  You should be center-stage, not on the perimeter, dancing around the ego's idea of what it "should" look like.

Below is one of my favorite videos of  Juana Amaya, "diving in fully".  Enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think.

Before I even really knew what Flamenco was, I knew the name Paco de Lucia.  He is considered one of the greatest Flamenco guitarists (arguably one of the greatest guitarists all around) and many of my generation of guitarists credit him with being the reason they dedicated themselves to Flamenco guitar.


One of the beautiful things about Paco as a person, was that he chose to honor his mother by choosing the stage name, de Lucia.  He was born, Francisco Sanchez Gomez, in 1947.  His mother was Lucia Gomez and his father was Antonio Sanchez, a laborer and a guitarist himself.  If you want a more detailed biography of Paco, please visit his website: www.pacodelucia.com

What can I say about Paco?  He was a virtuoso, but his playing went beyond technique.  It was amazing technique perfectly fused with soul.  This combination, and his willingness to explore new terrain, while staying true to his Flamenco roots, were what enabled him to take Flamenco to the world.  He has given so much to the world of music, though his collaborations with international artists, and he is also credited with bringing the world back to Flamenco.  One of the biggest examples of this is when he and his Brazilian percussionist, Rubem Dantas, brought back and adapted the Peruvian cajon to Flamenco.  This box-like drum is now a fixture in most Flamenco shows, so much so, that newbies are always surprised when they find out how recently it was introduced into our art form.

For me personally, because I love cante so much, some of his greatest collaborations were with the legendary singer, Camaron de la Isla.  Together they brought Flamenco to new heights and to the world, including me.  I am forever grateful. 

Paco passed away from a heart attack last month, on February 26th, 2014.  His heart stopped and the hearts of all other Flamencos broke that day. 

We will miss him greatly, but his music lives on.  Below are some clips for you to enjoy.  Have a beautiful day, surrounded in music.

If you've been following my newsletter and my blog for awhile, you know that I say I've been married to Flamenco for X number of years.  Right now it's 18, but it will be 19 sometime in the Spring.  Unfortunately I don't remember when our exact anniversary is.  I just know Flamenco and I finally found each other in the Spring Quarter at UCLA in 1995.

Like in any marriage, we have had our ups and downs.  The downside?  Impatience, anger, and fear.  Conflicts of the ego, where I was getting ahead of myself, wanting things to be other than they were at the moment, an unwillingness to commit.  I've mainly been the problem.  I can admit that.  Flamenco has always been there for me.  When times were tight, Flamenco bought groceries.  When I was grieving death or heartbreak, Flamenco sang to me and held me up in its rhythmic waves, to the point where I've learned to breathe and float while resisting pain.

Flamenco has also taught me joy in small things.  The satisfaction that comes from the perfect arch of the eyebrow, that slight shoulder bounce on the 10 in Bulerias, that perfect hip roll or head roll.  The fun of shaking a scarf or my hair at the audience.  Flamenco taught me how to flirt and how to own my sensuality.  It didn't teach me to do it in a cheap way either, but in a badass way.  Alluring and defiant at the same time.  As a teacher told me once, "You're saying, 'You can look at me, but if you touch me, I'll cut you' ".

Flamenco taught me patience, hard work, and care for my craft.  I honestly believe I would not have really understood mindfulness meditation or yoga if I hadn't been through the rigors of Flamenco training first.  It literally has been blood, sweat, and tears.  Toenails ripped off, bruises from falling or hitting myself too hard when doing a slapping step, a busted knee that left me on a cane for awhile, cuts on my hands from the palmas or even my castanets, a sprained toe that turned black.  That one also left me on a cane for awhile.  There were hours of staring at myself from every angle in a mirror, hours of going over the same step over and over again to get the counts or the feeling just right, hours and hours and hours of classes.  The expense and experience of selling off your stuff, packing up the rest, and moving to another country for years, just to spend hours every day honing your craft.  So now, understanding that I am a baby at meditation is really easy to accept.  Flamenco was my first practice.

Flamenco has been gifted to me in this lifetime and honestly, I feel we've been together before.  It's the only thing that explains why I've been practicing snapping on multiple fingers ever since I was a little girl.  I've recently been a little out of love with Flamenco.  Again, it's not Flamenco's fault.  I think those of us who are married to Flamenco often abuse its sacredness with getting caught up in unnecessary stuff.  Pettiness, insecurity, avarice, fear, anger.  All of these things get in the way of our contract with Flamenco.  And it is a sacred one.  No one can tell me Flamenco is not sacred.  It is a musical form with roots that go as far back as 900AD.  It came together from a merging of various cultures, led by people who were resisting persecution.  They took their pain and suffering, faced it, and channeled it into beautiful music and dance that gave them a moment's freedom.  To me that is a gift from the divine, the cosmos, the universe, the collective consciousness, however you want to look at it. 

So Flamenco, I am now working on falling in love with you all over again.  As our relationship enters young adulthood, I am looking to mature.  I will be bringing in what I am learning from my mindfulness, loving-kindness, and gratitude practices to infuse our relationship with a renewed love and respect.  I will embrace the divine feminine that you have allowed me to channel more than ever before.  I will remind myself of your grounding force every time I place my nailed feet onto the tablao, acting as a tree, rooted in the earth.  Just like a tree, I will stretch my limbs to the skies, and like the wind that blows through its leaves, I will float across the floor with the aire that breathes me every second of every day. 

Flamenco, I vow to you to honor our sacred contract.  I am grateful to you for these almost 19 years.  I want to extend my gratitude to all lovers of Flamenco.  In the present, and in our future, may we always be mindful of our service to others through this art and that we may be of service to Flamenco itself.  May we all be happy, may we all be at peace, may we all be free.

2013 was a year of major positive change for me, although I have not been very public about it here and in my newsletters. I've kept a lot of what was going on away from these pages because I didn't know how to integrate everything with Flamenco. I thought, if it's not about Flamenco, people aren't going to want to read about it. However, everything that has changed has made a significant impact on my Flamenco and my relationship with Flamenco, so it no longer makes sense to not tie everything together.  Plus I'm really excited about all of the change, so it's been so hard not to share it!  I've decided to go ahead and share because I want to live a whole, integrated life.  I cannot compartmentalize things.  Life is too beautiful, complicated, and messy for neat categories.

The change started exactly a year ago.  In January, I decided to volunteer for hospice. The decision to go into hospice work was very intuitive.  A combination of several recent deaths in our family, reading The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, and a series of dreams (yes, dreams) led me to feeling like I was being called to hospice work.  I am so glad and grateful that I was ready to respond.  I have three patients I see regularly, plus a woman who is no longer a patient (her health improved), but is now my friend. I have learned so much about myself, people, relationships, fear, and love through this work. I now cannot imagine my life without it.  In fact, I am now looking into how I can make it my life's work along with Flamenco.  I'm hoping writing about both regularly will give me some clarity.

People in our Flamenco community often comment on how calm and mellow I can be and ask me how I do it.  I always give them a one-word answer--meditation.  Meditation has helped me become a calmer and more patient person.  I have more compassion for myself and others because of the few minutes a day I spend sitting there, breathing.  However, it takes time and I am no saint.  I have lost my temper a couple of times when I felt that button had been pushed one-too-many times.  I realize I don't necessarily handle my anger in the best way, so I decided books and online courses in meditation were great, but not enough at this point.

I was about to sit regularly with the dying.  I needed to make sure I was doing enough to get my own fears and ego out of the way so that I could be fully present with each patient.  I knew this instinctively so as soon as I signed up for hospice, I decided to find teachers. I had visited a few Buddhist centers around town previously, but hadn't found my niche. Once I started hospice training, I came to realize there was a place in walking distance from my house that I had not yet visited--Against the Stream Buddhist Meditation Society, aka the Dharma Punx (ATS).  I liked the dharma and I liked punk music.  I thought, why not?  I'm glad I decided to try it.  I was at home as soon as I walked in.  I had hesitated going to this place, thinking it was a gimmick.  There is no gimmick. This place is full of loving people practicing actual Buddhism*, following and expanding on existing lineages.  I started going regularly to classes and even doing acts of service sponsored by ATS. In fact, one of the first activities I did with fellow Punx was to spend a day at the LA Food Bank. 

The furthering of my meditation practice and the additional service I do through my meditation center and through my hospice volunteering, have given me even more compassion and more perspective which has benefited me in my Flamenco life immensely. The Flamenco life is not easy.  I'm going to go out on a limb and say it.  There is a lot of fear in our community that causes us to not always be nice to each other.  I am really working with my meditation practice so that I can be more loving, kind, and compassionate in the Flamenco world. 

Finally, the last major change, is that my husband Tarik started a job working in Africa.  He is now gone most of the time and the schedule is likely to be two-thirds of the year away and one-third at home.  The work is exciting and environmentally progressive in nature. People have been asking me if it's hard or if I'm afraid of what will happen to us.  Although I miss my husband greatly, my practices in meditation, hospice, and Flamenco have taught me that great things come from the consistent embracing of challenge.  My husband seems very happy and fulfilled.  He is doing really well and that makes me happy.  I don't think it's a coincidence that I, who have never really lived alone, am now learning to live alone right as my meditation practice and hospice work are developing. I look forward to the insights I will gain during this time spent on my own.

So that's it.  That's everything I have been up to in the last year.  My intention in getting this all out there is to start integrating everything.  I think my both my dancing and my role in our Flamenco community have been greatly impacted by these changes. I am happier and I am finding a lot more peace in my life and work.  I want to continue exploring this integration in the hopes that I can be of greater service.  This blog will continue to be mostly focused on Flamenco itself, but it will start to carry elements of what I have been learning elsewhere in my life.  I am also looking to launch another blog that combines everything in a much more holistic fashion. I will keep you posted on that.  I hope you'll continue to join me on this ride and I hope what I share helps you with yours.  May you be happy, may you be at peace.

*By the way, my intention in writing about Buddhism here is simply because my meditation practice is based in Buddhism.  I never intend, and will never intend, to prosthelytize.  All paths are valid, from Atheist to Christian, as long as your core belief is to practice loving-kindness. If dogma gets in the way from you being kind and accepting, then you've gone astray as a human being.

I attend a weekly meditation class and we've been doing a gratitude practice. There is a lot that is going on with me lately, that I will be writing about soon, but I'm not quite ready yet to reveal all of it.  In the meantime, I think this practice of gratitude is a good one to set the stage for my future writings and announcements.  Also, it's Thanksgiving season so the gratitude practice is very timely.

Our class' practice has consisted of writing daily lists of things for which we are grateful. I figure I will do the same here, but keep it within the scope of Flamenco and dance.

I am grateful for:

-the training and study of music and dance that I had as a child. Without it, Flamenco would have taken even more effort than the massive effort it has already taken.

-Intro to Flamenco being the only class that fit my schedule that Spring quarter at UCLA back in 1995.

-my teachers throughout the years, primarily the most influential:  Raquel, Marta, and Nelson, my piano teachers with whom I spent the first half of my life; Ms. Brown, my high school dance teacher who planted the seed in my mind that I could be a professional dancer; Liliana de Leon-Torsiello for being the teacher who introduced me to Flamenco and started me on the path; Gabriela Garza for continuing me on the path and for giving me my baptism by fire in the tablao; Inmaculada Ortega for introducing me to the world of study in Spain; Manuel Reyes Maya for giving me the professional level skills that gave me the confidence to dance at a tablao in Spain and to return home to pursue my career, and finally Linda Andrade, for spending a year coaching me on the details that have made me the dancer I am today. 

-my husband because he is an adventurous spirit who dropped everything and went on the Spain adventure with me.

-our four years in Spain and all the growth we experienced there.

-all the friends and family who have supported my Flamenco life.

-the studios and studio owners that gave me a chance to teach.

-the students who have attended my classes.  I have learned as much from them as they have learned from me and they are the ones who have made me the teacher I am today.

-all the audiences throughout the years.

-all of the venues, the venue owners, and the producers of the shows of which I have been a part.

-all of my fellow Flamencos and Flamencas. No matter what ups and downs we have had in our community and with each other, no one else in this world fully understands the love we have for this art form that we do. We are a family.

-all of those who have come before us for preserving the art and passing on their knowledge.

Ole a todos.

Dancers are athletes.  Simple as that.  I say it because I often have to remind myself and I know many dancers who feel they often have to remind themselves as well.

We tend to forget because what we are doing is art.  Particularly in Flamenco, we mainly perform at night, in restaurants and bars where the lighting is dark and the liquor is flowing.  We female dancers are bedecked with jewelry and flowers in our hair, we've got the smokey eyes going, and we're wearing the long, flowing skirt.  Maybe there are ruffles, maybe there's some fringe, maybe there are some polka-dots, sometimes all three are together.  The male dancer might have the nice button-down shirt, vest, and slacks, and we all have our top-of-the-line shoes.  The Flamenco dancer looks like a work of art before she or he even starts dancing.

Then we dance.  The dance IS the work of art itself.  Every rhythm brings its own mood to interpret.  It's the dancer's job to tell a story and if they are a good story-teller, the audience feels it viscerally and there is the art, manifested.

But to get to this place, there is a lot of work.  There are years of training to acquire the right skill level of course, but what we can't forget is that the work is physical and strenuous at times.  A standard Flamenco tablao* show is about 45 minutes long.  A typical Flamenco solo averages around 10 minutes, definitely longer if you're in a theater setting.  Besides the solo, the dancer is required to participate in two or three lighter group numbers and does the palmas (percussive clapping) whenever it is not their actual turn to dance.

On top of that there are classes, practice, and rehearsals.

This requires a lot of stamina.  This is why I have to remind myself that dancers are athletes.  Therefore, we absolutely must take care of ourselves as athletes.  I

First, you need to eat.  When I first started taking daily classes in Spain, I lost a ton of weight because I didn't think about the fact that I had increased the amount I was dancing.  I also didn't figure in how much I was walking all over town since I didn't drive in Madrid.  One day, I learned the hard way that I was not eating enough.  It was winter and I was wearing a heavy wool coat.  I was carrying an army green messenger bag, full of English textbooks because I taught English in order to make a living.  I was leaving a class and walking down the stairs that led to the underground Metro.  I felt exhausted and suddenly my books and coat felt really heavy and then the next thing I knew, the bag of books pulled me down the stairs.  I landed at the bottom, surrounded by old ladies in fur coats making sure I was alive.  My immediate first thought was, "I need to eat more".

Second, and probably more important than anything, you need to sleep.  I've been thinking a lot about this one lately.  I'm recovering from a summer of doing too much.  I was subbing for my friend at a bookkeeping job, doing my volunteer work (I volunteer in hospice and visit four patients on a regular basis), teaching my classes, and performing.  I was getting home late from my Flamenco life and getting up early to go to the job.  Since I was working during the week and dancing on the weekends, I probably only had about three days off all summer long.  Due to the lack of time, and my tendency to be a bit disorganized, I was eating out too much, which meant eating things that weren't optimal (more on that in another post).  Eventually I got sick in the weirdest ways: an eye infection, a lymph node infection, and finally I was just plain sick.  When this happened, I had to cancel class and a couple of gigs because I hadn't taken care of myself to the point where you could just fight through it.  I had reached a point of fatigue.  I didn't leave my house for a week.

This brings me to the final point, one I have not been good about because I had forgotten that I'm an athlete.  You need to cross-train!  The best shape I've ever been in during my professional dance life was when my brother was my personal trainer, making me lift heavy things and doing that horribly named, "burpee" over and over again.  During that time, I was able to do weekends full of gigs and recover pretty quickly.  Of course, I was also eating well and getting a lot of sleep.  You can't do one without the others.  Otherwise, you end up fatigued!

Since I'm getting over the fatigue now (the extra job is over) and catching up on sleep, I'll transition back to cross-training gently through yoga, my favorite form of exercise besides dance because it is meditative.  The key is doing something that balances you out.  The yoga stretches help with the constant slamming of my feet into the ground and the arching of my back.

If you love your art, you have to take care of the tools that help you in your craft.  As a dancer, the number one tool is your body.  Treat it right, and you'll be able to create for many years.  Thanks to Flamenco and its respect for life experience, that could be much longer than you may have dreamed.  Don't sell yourself short.  Don't forget that you are both an artist and an athlete.  Treat your body accordingly.


* tablao--traditional Flamenco show held in a Flamenco bar or restaurant

Back in 1995, I picked a dance class out of the UCLA schedule simply because it was the only class that fit my schedule.  The class was Introduction to Flamenco, taught by Liliana De Leon-Torsiello. 

As soon as I stepped into the class, I was hooked.  Liliana was funny, charismatic, and exuded a confidence I wanted to emulate.  I still have this image of her standing straight, shoulders back, long curly auburn hair flowing while she told us all about the ancient history of this dance form we were about to learn.  There was such a mystique around it all, especially to my young 19-year-old mind.

Sometime during that first quarter, she introduced us to Carlos Saura's short film, Sevillanas.  Sevillanas is a folk dance from Sevilla.  As teachers often explain, it is not necessarily Flamenco, but every Flamenco must know it because we perform it in most traditional shows.

Well, we were watching the film because of course, we were about to learn the Sevillanas.  I loved every moment of it.  Like I said, I was already hooked.  However, I didn't know what was about to hit me.

The singer in the video is José Monje Cruz, better known as Camarón de la Isla.  Now, Sevillanas, because they are a folk dance you learn as a beginner, are often taken for granted by those of us who have been doing them for a really long time.  In terms of cante, or singing, they are not necessarily the thing you gravitate toward when you're looking for real, deep Flamenco. 

However, here, Camarón reminds us not to take anything for granted.  I was immediately wrapped up in him, wanting to know who this pained man was and what was the cause of his pain.  Little did I know at the time (I didn't yet know his name nor realized that he was a Flamenco legend) that he filmed this shortly before he died of cancer.  In fact, he died the same year the film was released.  This also meant, he was already dead when I first laid eyes and ears on him.

The dancer, Manuela Carrasco, another Flamenco legend, also captivated me with the fierceness of her gaze and movement.  Her Sevillanas didn't look like anybody else's Sevillanas in that film.  Not only did she change them up and make them her own, she was expressing his pain.

This scene, which I played over and over once I had my own copy of the film, is what finally did it.  From that moment on, Flamenco was my life. 

Sometimes I want to slap myself when I take Sevillanas for granted.

There are highlights to all of this in my more recent years.  During my time in Madrid, I got to see Tomatito, the lead guitarist in this video, play live.  It was gorgeous and he was gorgeous.  A little over a year after I returned to the States, I got to tell Manuela in person about how this scene made me choose to be a Flamenca.  That was 2010.

Some progress, eh?  From seeing her on video to taking her master class was a span of 15 years.  It took incredible patience, but it was totally worth it.

Hope the video calls to you to.

Love,

Mercedes

I know I have not written in a long time.  There's a big part of me that has been very resistant to writing this blog.

You see, years ago I had an anonymous blog that I wrote during a time when I was very self-destructive and frankly, self-absorbed.  In fact, the self-important side of me likes to tell people I had a blog before blogging was a trend.

So although I do look back on that blog and accept it for representing who I was at the time, and I can acknowledge that I like some of the writing, it has left me with a sort of distaste for blogging.  I've been working very hard the last few years to be more positive and to be more of service to others, so I didn't want to fall into something that made me get caught up in my ego at that level again.

However, I've been told that people have enjoyed the little I have written here and are wondering when I will write some more.  Those new to Flamenco, say they see it as useful, that I've helped them understand a little more about what we Flamencos do and why we're so into it.  Some have told me I have also helped them to understand what they're looking at when they're watching a performance.  So o.k., you nudge, I move.

Here and now I set my blogging intentions.  I will write regularly and from the heart.  It will mainly be about Flamenco:  things I've learned along the way, tips, my process, artists I like, my take on the art form, etc.  It will also include other things in my life because Flamenco informs much of my life, just like much of my life informs my Flamenco.

In fact, Flamenco is what saved me from that former self.

Don't get me wrong, my Flamenco experience has not been all rosas y lirios*.  I'll probably write about that too.  What I am saying is that the transcendental nature of Flamenco, which has survived from ancient roots, helped me to transcend and grow as well.

I am a happier and more positive person thanks to the art of Flamenco--even if I do like to perform the sad and angry stuff.  I hope that by sharing the joy that Flamenco brings to me, I can help bring a little joy into the lives of my students, colleagues, friends, family, audiences, and to you dear reader.

Much love,

Mercedes

*Roses and Irises--Reference to a traditional Alegrias lyric that, loosely translated says, "When you walk...roses and irises spill in your path".