Javier and Andrea - pure decadence

Javier and Andrea attracted some of the most inspiring dancers in Europe to Birmingham.

The workshops were rigorous, technically challenging, but carefully taught, with the expectation that by the end of the 1 ½ hours we would have mastered enough to take it away and work on it. That expectation was clear. They will return in March and again next October and the curriculum will develop, keep up, or quit. A centre for excellence developing in one of the most unassuming cities in the UK, Birmingham, the land that tango forgot.

It was absorbing, challenging, but as clear and natural as teaching a child to walk, step by step, peeling off unnecessary habits and shaping the body’s ability to move and respond to movement. I felt as if I was rediscovering tango,that my body had been born knowing it, but by living had forgotten. Their teaching took away the complexity and the tension, and left my body relaxed and able to dance.

There were points of fusion where new ideas released me – not need to collect the legs let the free leg be free, use the possibility to drive momentum forwards, excellent for the giro and the other dynamic moves we were given. There were points of tension where the class was called to attention and reprimanded for our shortcomings “eaten too much spaghetti?” was Javier’s quip on the 2pm Sunday milonga class where our energy was clearly down. Andrea demonstrated every kind of embrace, the energy should flow up through our arms fingers not lie limp, or dragging.. We laughed, his energy infectious.

Our etiquette at times clearly offended. That women were left to find a partner, that men did not towel down of change shirts during classes, that women who were over were left on the edge and often left out yet again.. And finally that men were rough by Javier’s standards. Each point was dealt with clearly. Men circulate and find the next partner. Women stay still. Women over sit in the middle, men then select one of the women in the middle first. Finally, he said before I return I wants to see men only classes, where men learn with men and though experiencing the force of a man, refine their lead before they ever dance with a woman. They can also maintain the element of surprise for the woman. This element is essential to Javier, mystery and surprise.

What was unique about Javier and Andrea is that they are so incredibly funny, Javier talks and expresses himself so graphically with his body that you hardly need Andreas translation to understand what he’s saying. A modern day Charlie Chaplin, with a sense for the absurd and the ability to show us the ridiculous. Javier’s occasional use of and English word triggering waves of laughter, his accent seeming so funny. Andrea’s movements were so soft and sensuous, a whisper, a scent, and technically totally flawless.

Their performance was exceptional, words are not enough. If there's a video, I'll post a link.

And yes the milongas buzzed, with a deep energy that drove the dancers till the very last minute Damian playing the crowd perfectly with his repertoire and skill… A maestro not to be over looked

A fetish

is a powerful thing. For shoe fetishists the following are essential reading: (La Dulce, Tango shoe divas, A Polar Bears Tale, To all the Tango Shoes I’ve Loved Before).
I count myself as one of them. Shoes, bags, costume all create the dance. They are love objects, artistry and essential elements of dance. Each one has to be perfect.
Last night I dressed to lead, cotton trousers, linen shirt, leather belt and plain flat shoes. Unexpectedly, there were more men than women, so I was required to dance as a follower. I was totally out of my comfort zone. My belt kept hooking on a men's belt and without the allure of my sparkly, spiky heels I felt naked, and shamefully exposed. After the third time our belts caught, I paused the dance, removed my belt and untucked the shirt from my trousers. We danced, it was magical. We danced all night, except for those times where for decency sake you give each other a rest and dance with someone else. I don't even remember his name.

Viva Valeria!

An absolutely stunning class, deliciously taught, teasing us through every move, breath and intonation. Wow! we were half and hour late due to appauling PMT, an accident and wanton boys, don't ask, but eventually got there.

Yes I was a little tense, and sat out at first, but was quickly brought into the group, rehearsed through the first part and expertly led. I'd already decided to ditch the class as we were late, and would be too far behind, but that wasn't given as an option.

Excellent organisation, superb stage management and the gentlest but most thorough teaching. Valeria is an absolute gift to tango.

And Janet is the hand that rocks

River tango "Debut" sucked

TM was well annoyed.
Fouling up a night with performers such as Aoniken Quiroga & Giovanna Di Vicenzo, Marcelo Varela & Analia Vega and Otros Aires is really not clever. They were stunning, inspirational and cutting edge.

The rave music from the next room and poor acoustics made it a travesty

A dance, a moment in time... a broken wrist???

Ouuch!

Are organisers total liability absolved by announcing the floor is fast and to take care?...

The professionals who danced that evening had the floor sprayed with water just prior to performing, for the rest of the public who danced before and after the floor was like ice. Professionals who are fully trained are aware of the risks and choose to perform that is informed choice but for members of the public who have paid to dance and are advised that the floor is very fast, the extent that that advise is useful is only as far as their knowledge and experience extends.It was too fast for safety, I danced only a little with well known partners.

It was the second year I had watched someone fall at this annual event. The floor this year seemed even faster. This year I think the lady broke her wrist, a totally foreseeable tragedy.

I felt for her. My mum broke her ankle last year and it took ages to heal, it had to be pinned. I'm much more careful who I dance with now and where but realise that for people who haven’t seen someone in such pain (and totally bored, not able to drive, not even to get into the shower unaided) they would probably not even see the risk

"I can't control who comes and who doesn't!"

those immortal words were spoken by TM [tanguera mysteriosa], who withdrew it quickly, saying actually she usually can.

It was a night, not quickly to be forgotten. A local, previously unexplored venue, close, and on a hot June night seemingly the perfect option. Casually dressed and carefully arranged, we set out to sample the local talent.

We were greeted at the door by a door by a brassy blond "just rearranging my knickers" she explained, as we saw her tugging at her arse and wriggling. We paid our £8 and found ourselves a seat. It was evidentally not the usual tango venue.
Twenty minutes past. There was not a look or glance in our direction. TM and I enjoyed the spectacle of the local dancers, gossiped and then I broke and asked to go home. The football was on, I could do some gardening... It was bleak.

The owner of the club sauntered acoss the floor, now empty, greeted us and offered us a gentlemany hand. A smile passed between us, he turned on his heels and left, taking a quick exit through the nearby door.

I raised my eyebrows. TM shook her head "not even the suggestion that we may dance," I commented. I led an exit plan:- we go to the door, ask for a refund, and head for a bar. I've had better evenings painting the shed.

TM remarked if she was on the door she'd refuse refunds, "I can't control who comes and who doesn't". Our laughter shook the room! TM went off to buy a round of drinks, we were here for the night.

The next time I looked up (by now I'd settled into writing this blog), the drinks were here and the brassy blond know nicknamed "the knickerless wonder" was being paraded around the floor by Maestro...

Eventually Maestro sauntered again to our table, I was now emgrossed in my blog, but now he asked for a dance. My writing was causing comment. We had been there 50 minutes, not that I was counting.

We danced a tanda and he explained the music could run all night with out him, he choose it before he went out. I gazed around the floor, there were three couples on it. I said nothing. He then left me to walk myself back to my table.

TM remarked the evening was cheering her up. She'd been feeling a little down about her dancing but looking around she felt her dancing wasnt that bad actually.. We laughed again.

I took solace in writing my log. TM talks to friends who have just arrived, I was alone, with my pen as my closest friend.

Passionately laid back...

was unanticipated and quite remarkable. I was there by chance. Candi had been caught up in world events and was delayed in Portugal, Guy needed a dance dolly, and so it seemed, I fitted the bill.

Coming to a club on its opening night as the female teacher was a complete gift. No time to think, just turn up and work with one of the most gifted teachers in the area.

How could I say no?

Donning stage clothes and make up I arrived at the appointed hour and had a ball...

Giving good dance..

La Dulce has started an interesting dialogue about giving good dance; it's useful, meaningful and good. We should thank her.
We recently were out dancing together at my local venue. I entered the milonga, it was quiet, the door man was totally unknown to me, we paid and went in. There was no welcome. It was as if I was a stranger. You pay your money, you take your seat.

The ambience of the evening was poor. There were harsh electric lamps on the tables, the floor was large and good to dance on, but it was bereft of dancers. I enjoy space, and the thought of people being able to observe me doesn't inhibit me
I was waved at by one of my friends and I went and joined them. Shoes and coats were slung on the backs of the chairs and there was water and glasses on the tables. No nibbles or juice, there was a cafe a flight of stairs away.

The DJ was on a stage, the teachers were to the right of the entrance door, separated from the public by an expanse of floor and the desk where you paid your fee.

The music was good, but I felt that at times the dancers inhibited by the space. There was little mingling between the tables so the opportunity to catch someone for a dance had to be marked by crossing the floor rather than a chance conversation leading to a dance. The visiting teachers gave a performance. I felt annoyed that there was so little stage management. No raising of the lights so we could clearly see the awesome performance. They were remarkable dancers and a real pleasure to watch. I felt that if the organisers themselves felt inspired by the ambience they had created, I would be truly amazed.

I danced with two people all evening. They were good friends and a pleasure to dance with. But one of whom I had come with so I could have saved a tenner, the petrol money and the driving time and danced with him at home. I had some stimulating conversations too, but I felt let down, as thought the night had been not been carefully put together or cared for. For dancers who had travelled there was little welcome, and I felt sorry for them that they had exerted the time and trouble. I stayed until 1am then left after greeting the organisers on my way out and saying goodbye.

The following evening we went to Cambridge where for £2 more I was welcomed with a room to change, a fine buffet and a decorated room with people who greeted me and invited me to dance. I was enchanted. I left at 4am

Deep, dark magic

Shrewsbury Milonga came and went. The magic of the night carried us away and Eduardo and I had no time to do the interview (A glimpse of his cellar) . We decided to catch up by phone. Eduardo promised to wear his best shirt. Assured, I waited by the phone at the allotted time. True to his word he called. I started at the beginning ofcourse..

Liz: Eduardo, when do you remember first hearing tango?

Ed: As a kid, it was in the air you know, from when I was small it was the music of the city. We breathed, the air was full of music. Tango is a celebration.

Liz: and the celebration, what is it that you do?…

Ed: I call them to dance. Sometimes it’s the beat, sometimes the melody,the violin, the piano.You can just be taken by the atmosphere of the track…I start with a playlist but I get possessed and it becomes very fluid. I assess the dance floor, it intrigues me, like reading a novel entering the spirit of the night. I use that to create a dialectic between the dancers and myself. It’s an arrangement. You have to dance a narrative through the whole night. I don’t like the rigidity of a concept I don’t use a structured way

Liz: So you don’t play cortinas? (giggle)

Ed: No I don’t do cortinas. Often when I dance I pay no attention to the tandas.When something comes on that grabs my attention I want to dance. I don’t listen to whether its number one of a tanda or number three. It's irrelevant.

Liz: So what inspires you?..

Ed: When people enjoy themselves, letting themselves go, not caring about what other people think... I like the natural..

Liz:...and what music sets your skin tingling and your feet swimming?

Ed: Ah that is the essence of my craft. To delight, to excite, and entertain I keep a night of total surprise. When people come and want to know what a track is or have my playlist its like a child trying to pull apart a spider to see how it works. What makes the spider has gone already and nothing is left of the spider.To have that moment when you hear a strain of music and it intrigues you is my craft, to give it away, is to spoil the anticipation and the pleasure. Like a magician sharing the secret of conjuring. I wear no suit no hat, my way is unconventional. Some people curse me.

Tease, moi??

The subtle and powerful art of playing an invitation to dance, is becoming an art in a small but select group of coquettish dancers that frequent Elenis’ classes. It's becoming an interesting from of foreplay... Broadening it out, I'm collecting strong lines from around the UK. The best and worst will go up on this page, a hall of fame and a line of shame.
Send me your offerings, the entertainment is endless....

Here are starter for ten of the most wanton teases, the blunt refusals and the hilarious retorts from those who are just up their own arse.

The wanton tease
Leader to follower: 
Q: Would you like to dance?
                A: This is one of my favourites, no pressure, but if you blow it you'll be following
                A: Yes, in close embrace,.. Very close embrace...
                A:  Perhaps if you were blond
            
Follower to leader..
Q: Would you like to dance?
                A: I'm not in my heels! (yes, this is the GUY responding)


Blunt put down
Q: Would you like to dance?            
                A:Sorry, I'm just not feeling inspired...
                A: I'm waiting for a drink

Up my own arse
Q: Would you like to dance?
               A: I've lost my mojo" ....yes really
               A: I'm not in the mood tonight. Lets dance at xxxx?" Fish-on-a-line refusal It never happens...
               A: How long have you been dancing? - Come back in two years" (yes he's still waiting, love               him, and he will so get his revenge)

Watch this space...

Tango into darkness...

till 3am precisely, with two immensely talented tango teachers Andrea Reyero and Sebastian Misse.

Sandra and Loyd have persuaded Birmingham to embrace the dark art of tango and lay on the most exotic and lush music that Damian Boggio can smuggle past customs...

Last year we were drunk with the music and a level of excitment totally unsurpassed. Sandra had successfully courted the most talented tango dancers in the country to one spot, and for one night Birmingham had it all..

One year on they are set to run again. Later nights and a heady coctail of classes...

Birmingham is no more, the land that Tango forgot

I have a pubi..

It's Official.


Thanks for getting in touch. Now I know I have a reader I'll do a spell check before things go up and keep the pictures clean


Thanks, silent girlie. It's me and you until Another makes themselves known.

Please send me your links and funny stories cas sometimes I'm a litttle pushed and my Mum writes a bit to help out.

Ta very much

Lizzy Xxx

Bramshaw, Episode II Jenny and Ricardo

Clear teaching, humour, warmth and wit are Jenny and Ricardo's key assets. Ricardo's watch phase "come closer" draws the circle together until he is happy that we are receptive to their words.
They built from simple figures (ocho) to more complex dynamics (boleo), and encourage confidence in our bodies and empathy with our partners. Jenny advise "pretend to be mesmerised by them, follow wherever they go" brought giggles to the room, but yes of course to follow with such intention is both flattering and effective.

After we lunched we practiced. Jenny came over and worked with Livy and myself as we struggled to perfect the now elusive ocho, her presence is a gentle calm one. She could teach a bolting horse to knit, her skill is unconscious and very natural.

Jenny and Ricardo ended the weekend with applause from a standing group of elated dancers, they charmed, taught, guided encouraged and finally took us by the hand and led us through each figure.

An encore?

Of course, they must return.

Bramshaw Revisited

Friday night, a late entry to the milonga, the music was in full flow and the floor was moving with cadences that were almost orchestrated.

I stood just inside the doorway, taking in the moment, exploring faces for people I knew and taking in the ambience of the night. Subtle lighting, a kitchen but no bar, tables dotted around the edge and a pleasant array of dancers, weaving their patterns through the floor.

It was something I'd have liked to capture on video. Then compare it with the floor craft on other floors.The Negracha, in particular, has the atmosphere at times of a night in the jungle, you travel in convoys to avoid hostile natives.  London has left an impression that I now felt relieved to be leaving.

What  stood out so clearly was the gentle awareness of the dancers of each other, it was like arriving in civilisation after a period in the wilderness. Evidently, the three hour drive on busy motorways had also left it mark.

We changed our shoes and took to the floor, I was immediately enveloped in warmth, the dance flowed,  the music drifted developed and evolved and I felt the welcome of friends and the invitations to dance by strangers.

I had arrived at my first tango tangk

Command-line cabecao

Scenario
Milonga, mid-evening. The dance floor is flowing. Three women are sitting,  in deep conversation in the far corner of the room. A man is approaches, they fail to spot him. He walks right up to them. The conversation continues. No-one looks up. Bemused he stands a  foot away, looking down at them. Relunctantly two look up, but he indicates that  it's the third women he is wanting to dance with...She's nudged, and glances are exchanged between the women, reluctantly she looks up, accepts the "invitation," and moves on to the dance floor.

He thinks 
Mission accomplished. A damn fine cabaceo, dance successsfully negotiated, women performed well, an excellent outcome!

She thinks
To demand a dance when one isn't offered is a strange thing to do. I'll stand, and walk away in future.

Steve Morrall's Musical Encounter with Chocolate

Steve's a prettty cool guy, and his music's great. 

He asked for a few words of inspiration and numbers.

I gave his composites of my children's birthdates and the word "chocolate": 

What he came up with is divine. 

Follow the link..   

http://apps.facebook.com/reverbnation_fb/artist/onemanbando

Eduardo maestro, Talk to me!

Morganstown Milonga, Eduardo is sitting momentarily apart in the first few moments of the milonga. Teasingly I approach him, not for a dance, but for an interview. He smiles a smile that knocks out every brain-cell, but I’m armed and prepared, so drawing out my notebook, and returning his smile, I sit down.

“Place of first kiss?” is the first question on my lips, but chastening the impropriety of my thoughts, I gather myself to find out a little more about the man behind the music and art that is tango…

LL: “I’m wondering, Eduardo, what’s your favourite colour?”
Ed: “Red”, he responds looking inwardly. “Fading black into furious red… You know, when I was a kid I was fascinated with hidden places. The places that are kept away from you as a child. The attics, the mills in the countryside at night... . And of course, that places in the cities where people share their adult fantasies: the theatre and the night clubs. Maybe that's why I'm a actor and a tango dancer, people transform like in vampire stories; sometimes into heroes, sometimes in seedy characters of a film noir movie.
So the night fades into lipstick or blood rush"...

LL: “…and your favourite sound?”
Ed: “the violin, or the sound of feet walking and brushing through autumn leaves. It is something about the pulse, the heart beat, like in a Di Sarli piece, the way he stokes the piano... he has the sensitivity of a cat walking through the roof of black and white tails of a piano".

Hmmm, I think, time find out a little more about this man. Eduardo, I ask him quietly, “What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you on the dance floor?” The ground is knocked from under both of us.

He looks at me, his eyes are laughing, “I can’t answer that” he jokingly explains. He moves on to a powerful account of a dance lasted an entire evening. The connection was intense, they moved to a space that was timeless, both eternity and a moment. Ten years later they met, by chance again, in Vietnam. I almost forget to take notes. He talks, I listen. Once more they danced, and the connection was as it was the first time.
Eduardo moves on to describe "It doesn't matter where you are from, who your partner is. There's a willingness to dance. That's what it counts and how much intention or craft you have invest into that thing call tango dance. There's a passion for the tango that we, milongueros, carry through the salons of the world, like possessed specie. And you perfect that technique in the instrument of your body and that connection with other dancers all through your life. And then, one day, ten years later let's say, you meet again with that ideal dancer that fit into your embrace like a glove..."

“Finally Eduardo” I ask, “what are your hopes for the future?”

He talks, describing people who seem to have forgotten about happiness. His mind wanders, and we discuss the importance of time. Time costs nothing, but is priceless. Within dance, he explains, people are given back that time, they step out of their lives, connect on a different level, perhaps something new happens.

Finally, our discussion returns back to the question, “Your hopes for the future?”
He looks at me once more, “Just dance,” quietly he says.

Morganstown, a lesser-known jewel in the crown

Morganstown seems an unlikely place to travel to. But with Morganstown comes some of the most gentle, warm and welcoming people I have had the opportunity to embrace. They welcome me like a child returning home, and their 10th anniversary party, on no account could be missed.

I was not disappointed. Welcomed at the door, I was fed like a queen on their banquet of goodies. That should have in itself been enough, but they had persuaded their friend and good neighbour Eduardo fresh from BA to teach workshops, entertain us with stories and play to us some of the finer selections from his musical library. Not once was I refused a dance, and I was invited many times despite sporting the reddest nose this side of Lapland.

I was enchanted. The room at times was awash with emotion as the hosts for this fine weekend worked tirelessly. It’s a weekend that quiet valley will not quickly forget.

I also had the opportunity to discover a little more about the man who is known as Eduardo. We collaborated on a short interview, resistance was futile.

The fortunes of 33

The mystery surrounding the overnight closure of 33 Portland place was quickly overtaken by the welcome news that 33 had moved, migrated and found a residence of majesty, splendour and candlelight to entertain the fairer folk of London!
They are now appearing at Porchester Hall, where they offer Tango by candlelight with free nibbles and wine, in a delightful, friendly atmosphere. Thank God!
The fate of their former host, seems as yet still uncertain. Having enjoyed the hospitality of his residence, at 33 which gave these excellent people the setting for the most exquisite tango I have experienced, I bid him a fond farewell.

The cat crept into The Crypt...

... and was entertained all evening.

Unfortunately, her host the following night was indisposed, so the delights of 33 were placed on hold pending her Majesty's pleasure.

This is all we know.

I really should get out more

After weeks of being secluded by the snow, I found the darker depths of London a welcome relief.

I had a night of waiting, watching and some exquisite tandas at the Negracha club and the pleasure of being able to dance till 3am

My friends howled with laughter at the title of my blog "Lizzy's Lashes". "Sounds like an S&M site" one commented.

Ooops. I've added a by-line hoping to clarify the nature of the content, but with regret may have to rename it, so that "it does what it says on the tin"

To hell and back

The arctic weather has sent me crazy. After a week of slush, sleet and freezing conditions I’m broken. My mind, body and soul are in desperate need of some serious tango attention. I need to get out like a drunk needs drink, so I’m heading to London, to dance until my feet kill me and beg to go home, and the thought of being frozen in with no way out is a damned relief.
It’s a daunting cocktail I’ve arranged. The newly “re-decorated” Negracha Club with appalling toilets and even worse floor craft, the lovely Crypt followed by the exquisite wonders of 33. This weekend is going to be one long milonga. If I can squeeze in Mariposa on Sunday afternoon I’ll be seriously impressed.

Connection 2: Seaweed

 

Seaweed
Standing, eyes closed,
I feel your breath.
perfectly calm, a breeze, a flutter, the quick swirl of movement.

I touch your hand.
It rizes slowly, the enchantement is deep.

Slowly, in perfect silence,
I move your body.
Your senses waiting for every gesture.
Quietly, I lay you to rest,

Still

Poem 2004: Image 2010

The importance of connection

I saw these trees today, they reminded me of some moments in dance that are stunningly different. These poems were written when working with a contemporary dance group in Coventry. Together, they capture the best and the worst moments of dance. Beautiful enchantment, and an entangled mess.

Synchronicity

We stand in tension,
United and yet quite apart.
I watch you move,
then follow slowly, deviating quietly,
creating my own patterns within your tanglements. 

LL Poem Oct 2004; Image January 2010

The cold light of dawn

It’s morning, and the cold light of dawn strikes me between the eyes, I’m musing.

Shall I write a potted history of my journey so far, or live hard and tell the tale, letting the history unfold as the year unravels?

Plan B I think. Live hard and tell the tale. Restricted use of images and dialogue. I’ll cut a new path in tango as sharp as a blade on ice. LizzyLashes, every step leaving it's mark.

A dress and a beginning

It was snowing hard, and I was deep into action on Ebay, bidding furiously for that little Coast number. It was fucking freezing. The text chat popped up, desperately trying to kill it off, I agreed to "what ever" in the last few frenzied minutes of bidding. It was a cool little number, and believe me the Bramshaw set are hard to penetrate. It would take a few well put together outfits and some exquisite heels, before the alpha males in that room would even glance in my direction. And, it just so happened, I was a tanguera on a mission.
It was later when I found a link to a blog that it twigged what I’d agreed to. Write a blog and tell the world was I was doing? Not a chance! Yet, the idea of anonymity beguiled me. Only he and I would know, and let’s be honest it will knock the pants off the Diary of Ann Frank.


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