Our Story

Some may call it ballsy, others may call it nave.

I call it having no regrets.

Most dancers do not even begin to start thinking about choreographing, or forming a dance company for that matter, until their careers as performers are coming to an end.  As a (soon to be) 22-year old, May 2010 graduate of New York University's Tisch School of the Arts, I am not what you would call a seasoned veteran in the arts administrative or choreographic fields.  So why do this right now?

Here's why.

I have grown up with two incredibly strong female figures in my life.  My mother, Linda, and her mother, my maternal grandmother, Selma.  When I told them I wanted to dance, they were the ones that paid for school tuitions, leotards, pointe shoes, drove me to-and-from auditions, and dragged me to class because they knew that, in the end, I would be happy that I went.  Both involved in the arts (my mother a singer and actress, my grandmother a painter and sculptor), I was told I could do whatever I wanted to do, and be whoever I wanted to be, and they were willing to sacrafice anything and everything in order for me to do that.

Late last September, my grandmother had a near-death scare that sent her into the ICU for a week.  It was a shock to my system to think that my lively, energetic, go-getting, tough chick grandma was vulnerable.  Terrified that I would never be able to speak to her again, I spent many sleepless nights trying to imagine my life without her in it.  She recovered, but they told us it would take a lot of time and rehabilitation in order for her to recover.

When she was finally back at home, I remember her asking me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.  I thought about it for a minute, and answered with this: I want to fall in love with the world I choose to create.  She smiled, nodded her head in agreement, and told me of a dream she had had a few weeks prior in which I had started my own dance company.  She said she couldn't wait to see that happen, and would be in the front row of the premiere.

I had come home for a spur of the moment visit on Saturday, November 20th on a instinct that I just "needed to do it."  I tucked her into bed that night, kissed her hand and told her how beautiful she looked and that I loved her with all of my heart.  She smiled and said she was excited to talk to me about all of my "boy problems" in the morning.  Unfortunately, that was never going to happen.  She passed away in our home on the morning on November 21, 2010.

To be incredibly clear, I do not want your sympathy or your pity.  Everyone on the planet, at some point, will lose someone who is incredibly close to them, who shapes them, who loves them unconditionally, and who lived life so loudly it's hard to believe that their even gone -- which is the point I am trying to make here.

What happens after a tragic loss?  Where does the love and energy a loved one gives you go when they go?  Can we plan the inevitable?  Should we?  Bodies are vessels, but spirits have a life of their own that live on with the people they've touched.  We all have felt it.  If we have not felt it yet, we will.

There are two things in life we cannot escape: death, and taxes.  We might as well enjoy it while we're here, with no regrets.  Might as well dance until we drop, go for the unthinkable, the "ballsy" or have the courage to be a bit "nave".  I am doing this to celebrate not only my grandmother's life, but life in general.  The awkward, often unfair, beauty of life that makes it so sacred.  The good with the bad, the happy with the sad, and sometimes, the absolutely incredible with the downright terrible!

Thanks in part to my grandmother, I have been able to use some of the money she left me for rehearsal space, which, as you know, can be expensive in a place like New York City.  I am not only on this site to gain awareness for my project, but to also raise some money to get me off of my feet so that I can have a good rehearsal space, be able to pay my incredibly talented dancers, and provide application fees for festivals in order to gain exposure.