Dog Dance improvised dance solo that comes from a place inside of me that I have always tried to hide because it's quiet and it's slow and it takes it's time.

I am excavating this dance that is Dog Dance -- now as we speak -- in order to remember a body unfolding:

Your body, my own body, and the body of the beast making her way to higher ground.

As the noise quiets and the remembering of a body unfolds -- slowly, extremely slowly, and with breath --gravity, and your own relationship to it, may or may not become weighty.

The cellular structure of your own body may or may not begin to re-imagine itself.

The internal investigation of the deepest parts of the body may or may not stir a longing in you to investigate your own unraveling.

When I perform Dog Dance, I find a world in my body that is underneath the mud, but that is also flying.

I invite you into this world with me, in hopes that you too will get a chance to burrow in, and then hover and float, just above the earth.

Another Rehearsal of Dog Dance.  Photo by Glen Kalen, 2017.JPG

“Dog Dance is the kind of performance where the act of simply witnessing changes something in my cells. It serves as a kind of mirror. A return to wholeness. An opportunity to let in what stretches just beyond the frame. a reminder of what I have carried with me all along.” — Laura Ann Samuelson

“It’s nothing and it’s everything.” — Alexis Miles

“It’s a different pace of living we are encountering…as audience members we are slowing down so that we can meet ourselves.” — Helen Turner

"Dog Dance is like the sky. It's such a loving thing." -- Nancy Ruff