tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61773283572930725592024-03-19T00:42:36.829-07:00Flamenco FamilyOur thoughts, our beliefs, our words, and our hearts for this flamenco way of life...Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-12848379846203086052018-11-14T12:56:00.001-07:002018-11-14T13:28:18.685-07:00Students, You Will Change<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuKfZPx0DCGoQ_YXxg4szuY5RAtR-D4sw82aos4cX_N3LvkQGC51hb_XlxtslyHzWzzOWW4hWxnPnSBSmIGHw31c2AqnWAVunmiQYOjmd-ur0zmeEO8CkC3iULWS10HnT_qVUuoIUcC8V/s1600/galvanjoven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuKfZPx0DCGoQ_YXxg4szuY5RAtR-D4sw82aos4cX_N3LvkQGC51hb_XlxtslyHzWzzOWW4hWxnPnSBSmIGHw31c2AqnWAVunmiQYOjmd-ur0zmeEO8CkC3iULWS10HnT_qVUuoIUcC8V/s320/galvanjoven.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I don't believe there is a point in one's flamenco journey when one has "arrived." We have breakthroughs, epiphanies, and growth spurts, but there is no end when it comes to learning. We are all students from the time we discover flamenco and decide to pursue it.<br />
<br />
The idea of being a student is far more complex than we often realize. Being in front of an instructor and doing what they tell us is just one part of something bigger. For example, our beliefs and attitudes inside and outside the classroom greatly affect what we gain from our studies. Adjusting to who is teaching and what is being taught is another skill that ensures we take away something lasting and meaningful from the experience.<br />
<br />
Suppose I find myself in a class with an instructor whose methods and style don't feel comfortable. Should I determine that it's a waste of my time to be there, or should I do my best to understand the instructor and their material? What if I can't see a scenario where I'm using the material they've given me?<br />
<br />
Perhaps the best approach is to assume there is something beneficial in the process that will manifest itself in some form in the not-so-immediate future. A slight difference in the way one does something may produce big changes down the line. Perhaps the change won't be big, but significant nonetheless.<br />
<br />
I get it. We all desire to develop our own "voice" as artists. What we never seem to realize, however, is that this will happen whether or not we consciously pursue it. However we interpret information we're given determines what our voice ends up looking and sounding like. Often times, it is our resistance to change that causes us to stagnate as artists. In the end, maybe our biggest apprehension is that we'll change in some unplanned, unforeseen way, and we don't like the idea that we're not in control.<br />
<br />
As students, it seems our biggest challenge is accepting change because it threatens our own concepts of self identity. If I don't fear change, however, I will inevitably grow in a way that is unique (and unavoidable). While it's important to understand and recognize our voices as they currently are, it's just as important to realize that, like it or not, they will change in some way. Wouldn't it be better to welcome in the change and enjoy it for what it is?<br />
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<br />
<br /></div>
Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-36327132039694061892018-05-10T22:50:00.000-07:002018-05-10T23:04:24.029-07:00Chasing That Which Cannot Remain <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwRCGzhBXCYyDQt3FgcidEwxFHGu4JTsKyjnahdJRpmmuesDKAH-tDKUTgVlLoJ67EVh0tGOANmeqXofbhvbsspAr4KiqFjXT1lzsILnPxpyprgfXcqB4QSajTFsnpmF7Nxsjj_uHbpvq/s1600/fernanda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwRCGzhBXCYyDQt3FgcidEwxFHGu4JTsKyjnahdJRpmmuesDKAH-tDKUTgVlLoJ67EVh0tGOANmeqXofbhvbsspAr4KiqFjXT1lzsILnPxpyprgfXcqB4QSajTFsnpmF7Nxsjj_uHbpvq/s320/fernanda.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The high one gets from putting on a good flamenco show only lasts about a day or two. The Facebook and Instagram followup media helps it linger a bit longer, but life goes on and it's on to the next thing.<br />
Knowing how quickly these moments fade, I often wonder what the point of putting so much blood, sweat and tears into a performance really is. A painter or recording artist has a finished product at the end of the day, but there is something about a shared flamenco moment that isn't meant to live on beyond the memories of those present. Maybe that's why a given performance is special. But we do seem to want to preserve these experiences.<br />
I have to admit, I study videos of performances on YouTube pretty often. The first view is always the most exciting and impactful, but each subsequent view becomes more of a learning experience than a moment of enjoyment. There is something less palpable in a videoed performance, something I can't quite explain. Perhaps it's akin to receiving a gift in the mail rather than face-to-face from a smiling loved one. But its more than that.<br />
The live performance puts you there in the emotional space filled by artists provoking and inspiring each other to reveal their inner secrets and turmoil. To label it "intimacy" is to risk using the cheesiest of cliches, but we lack a better word to describe it, and so it will have to do. Some flamencos reveal their visceral selves from the moment they step in front of an audience, while others take their time observing, processing, and eventually trusting onlookers enough to honestly express themselves. Each style provides a unique type of satisfaction, and sometimes the feeling can be recalled long after the performance is over.<br />
Years after the fact, one may ask an aficionado what it was that made their favorite show so good. One is unlikely to get a clear answer. How can we freeze a moment like a snapshot and do justice in describing what it was that broke our hearts or made them soar? Surely it wasn't a single sound or visual, or combination of the two. It must have been the way we became lost in the moment and did not desire to come back. But we always come back.....and desire to get lost again. <br />
Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0Alvernon Heights, Tucson, AZ 85711, USA32.2033239 -110.904467232.1966059 -110.9145522 32.2100419 -110.8943822tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-18031799037383459152018-01-31T12:04:00.000-07:002018-01-31T12:04:00.133-07:00Retirement, Restructuring, and Return<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiif3ARLGOJg-P0dO-009YafeOZWAHVDjt4CJc5ur70aY7ygPFwBT3fUN6OqLn6tQnrygikYK0upC0GJ2cTtzhb_ube2Q5Rc8NaiXk6uyFA3cYUvbghqbs9SqhSWd6NiRHZUSpibCkTs_IQ/s1600/FatigaMia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="409" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiif3ARLGOJg-P0dO-009YafeOZWAHVDjt4CJc5ur70aY7ygPFwBT3fUN6OqLn6tQnrygikYK0upC0GJ2cTtzhb_ube2Q5Rc8NaiXk6uyFA3cYUvbghqbs9SqhSWd6NiRHZUSpibCkTs_IQ/s320/FatigaMia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
There are times in our lives when our desires and needs do not harmonize, no matter how much time we spend trying. In fact, it may be a mistake to suppose that they would. Sometimes we believe we can organize our lives to the degree that everything works together like a well-oiled machine, but life doesn't seem to have gotten that memo.<br />
<br />
I walked away from performing flamenco almost three years ago. It became clear at that time that in order to provide for my family (including home ownership), I had to focus my time and energy on developing a career that provided steady income. I returned to school and obtained an MA in Communication. All the while, I'd been working a good, steady job at a social services agency.<br />
<br />
As I rode the high of my new accomplishments, I received some unexpected news. My department was undergoing "restructuring" and my position would be discontinued. Suddenly, the security of what I'd been pursuing for several years seemed to have hit a big roadblock.<br />
<br />
One of the only things I could think of to generate a little income in the meantime was, you guessed it, flamenco gigging. With the help of a dear friend and fellow dancer, I have been back in the thick of performing for a few weeks now. It proved to be a case of the proverbial "getting back on a bicycle." Things went fairly smoothly my first performance back. I attribute this to my never having ceased dancing around in my living room when the urge came on.<br />
<br />
My take away from these experiences has been this: we are not what we do at any given time. I never ceased to be a flamenco even as I removed that distinction from all my social media and professional profiles. These identifiers serve merely to communicate with whatever audience happens to be in front of us at the time. As life (and the job market) is uncertain, I cannot be sure how long I will be interacting with this current audience, but I'm enjoying it while it lasts. Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-32848231116776477002014-09-21T15:09:00.001-07:002014-09-21T15:09:05.521-07:00Who Are The Real Flamencos?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUF_pMpL2bwdVt072A6P9t79MFOhJYUs7w8je7QieRhCvHt0N6P0_pid27wqX3zFxEI2we7uQ4rGwIUKUp8pSCRY4aNz-gV6XBiRQqDzWTpRE8FCCw_l7-0tdd4o68bX7vTjwqhyi0Hl9U/s1600/moraito.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUF_pMpL2bwdVt072A6P9t79MFOhJYUs7w8je7QieRhCvHt0N6P0_pid27wqX3zFxEI2we7uQ4rGwIUKUp8pSCRY4aNz-gV6XBiRQqDzWTpRE8FCCw_l7-0tdd4o68bX7vTjwqhyi0Hl9U/s1600/moraito.jpg" height="254" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It's a strange thing to pursue something that lies outside one's cultural experience. If I decided to become a mariachi tomorrow, I'd have access to people that do it, that practice it, and that live it. There's a big scene here in Tucson, and Mexico is about an hour down the highway. I have grown up in a region of the U.S. that familiarizes me with mariachi culture just by virtue of my being here. Even in not knowing a thing about playing the instruments or the being able to recite most of the lyrics of their songs, I am drawn in when I hear a good quality ensemble, and I "get it." I'm comfortable being in the middle of that culture.<br />
When I consider the present, I realize just how much of our lives Mele and me have spent seeking out flamenco and pondering the complexity of embodying it as outsiders. I look around and see people who seem to be pretty convinced they've done just that, and I'm not saying they haven't, but speaking for myself, I'm not sure a journey toward legitimacy, in of itself, is a worthwhile venture, not without the right perspective.<br />
As we often discover in flamenco, there are dualities, contradictions, and sometimes, paradoxes. One such paradox, in my view, is this practice of policing flamenco. At this stage in the game, I'm a bit tired of looking around at the scene in this country and giving my personal opinions to friends and colleagues about who is and isn't flamenco. In fact, I do my best to keep my mouth shut, if for no other reason than to keep the peace. It's especially easy to refrain from judging when I consider how much I used to think I knew, only to discover how little I currently know. So what is one left to do....watch as people come and go, doing with the name "flamenco" as they wish?<br />
This is where I see the paradox. If I refrain from considering the quality and authenticity of that which comes in the name of flamenco, it seems I become guilty of complacency. I see ignorance being sowed and reaped, and I see the exploitation of that ignorance. How can I claim to love the art of flamenco while I do nothing to combat it's misuse? If I do engage in considering the legitimacy of any given artist or performance however, I run the risk of presumption, convincing myself that I am some sort of authority on the matter. <br />
As with most things, maybe we have to honestly reflect on our motivations. It seems to me that we experience within ourselves a duality of motivations. On one hand, we have the desire to be flamenco and to experience all the benefits that come with that distinction. On the other hand, we (presumably) have a genuine affinity and/or love for flamenco. These two motivations can find themselves at odds because we may not be certain which of these is being best served by our actions. People will jealously protect their image and place as legitimate artists, whether or not they are truly flamenco. Some want to be truly flamenco while others want to<em> be seen</em> as being truly flamenco. It may seem an exaggeration to some, but there have been lawsuits over this kind battling and bickering. The quarreling can be pathetic and the results can be ugly. <br />
I think the best approach is to study and to lead by example. Let's study to minimize our ignorance. Let's lead by being good stewards of that knowledge and information and use it with benevolence and wisdom. We can't stop others from using flamenco for personal gain, but we can shine to such a degree that there is an undeniable difference between the work that is valid and the work that is lacking. A flamenco dancer from Sevilla, Torombo, has often said, "Flamenco es servir." Study, work, serve others, be selfless, and you will be a real flamenco. <br />
Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-82536224979550374252014-06-24T16:05:00.000-07:002014-06-24T16:05:37.487-07:00This is how I can dance<div class="MsoNormal">
by Mele Martinez<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTr7x5xyR7OGaqPo0pokG38Z3mDh3of8ghGwFfBEmiV9S6oU_idYrAC2xJRPnW_hfXgHloeFn5QApQVwuWbWvFamNGIn2uTxMfLGuiQxcvt2L_QXhQ9WVZSu9AxYc50nMCGjYcLBZG-kbS/s1600/c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTr7x5xyR7OGaqPo0pokG38Z3mDh3of8ghGwFfBEmiV9S6oU_idYrAC2xJRPnW_hfXgHloeFn5QApQVwuWbWvFamNGIn2uTxMfLGuiQxcvt2L_QXhQ9WVZSu9AxYc50nMCGjYcLBZG-kbS/s1600/c.jpg" height="320" width="191" /></a>Thinking about, writing about, talking about this body</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
will numb me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will be partially vacant<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and this void will flicker<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tangling intangible me </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with woven corporeal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even before birth</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
my aging instrument I played,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and somehow it is a stranger to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I don’t know why.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Dancing, I can’t say that I really “feel” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
this body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am aware
of it, certainly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet it is non sense</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
at least, it is not how I feel </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the sun, my child, the
waves, desire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This vessel is just that </div>
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a home for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Dancing, it breaks<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I burst through the cracks</div>
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Dancing, I don't command much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know how this works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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I know that it happens.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In this way, my body <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
doesn’t matter too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The fact <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that it exists is pretty important, but the form <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
it takes </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
less so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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I am short, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am round, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am crooked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
these descriptions fade into <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">empty. nothing. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The meat is in the message– not the flesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not the fat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Not the things that might attract or disgust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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This biology of me <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
is the runner, the gone-between me and you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The words.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And this is how<o:p></o:p></div>
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I can dance.<o:p></o:p></div>
Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-55189864763928666792013-12-15T21:35:00.001-07:002013-12-15T21:35:17.405-07:00"Be Still and Know..." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2wvxhOciHd6dcEFevZ8eTHL-KMqpEZkmq4U59MEwoXhL4H6UvoHtlOdychYyDLvZnI3J9waoy1ciaFEzqwttmwJ3xeSs9pZejKHs30-mPLUSEWLYbHpnce1HTHD-dAzSOgBXciPravcb/s1600/ricomeback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2wvxhOciHd6dcEFevZ8eTHL-KMqpEZkmq4U59MEwoXhL4H6UvoHtlOdychYyDLvZnI3J9waoy1ciaFEzqwttmwJ3xeSs9pZejKHs30-mPLUSEWLYbHpnce1HTHD-dAzSOgBXciPravcb/s400/ricomeback.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Flamenco doesn't stop because we do. It goes on and grows and is reborn through generations, both old and young. Though our lives are dotted with events that we consider distractions, or worse yet, tragedies, flamenco is ever-present, waiting like a loyal friend. It doesn't demand anything other than what we demand of ourselves, and what you offer it, it gives back (and then some).<br />
A mistake I've made is to see flamenco like a fruit which will one day over-ripen. It may seem as though there is an ideal time to harvest it and take it into our being, and if we wait too long, that time will pass us by. This goal-oriented thinking however, disregards the more important part of flamenco that truly feeds the soul: the process of being. Who I am today will surely change with each passing moment, and these moments will inform my flamenco experience as much as flamenco, in turn, informs my life. <br />
Mele and I have had life-changing moments this past year in droves. Our baby girl, Gloria, was born in March. Our dear friend and flamenco guitarist, Ricardo Anglada, suffered a stroke at age 29 and despite an initially bleak diagnosis, has come back to do things he was not supposed to be able to do. I've had to put off developing flamenco skills to work a 40 hour week and finish my undergrad degree online at night. These events are packed with lessons and experiences to draw from, and the change in us will cause change in our understanding of flamenco whether or not we are able to be in the studio 8 hours a day. <br />
Our current state has caused growth for Mele and I in many ways. Mele has taken over teaching for a few sessions now, and she is settled back into something she had been away from for quite awhile. It has added a depth to her art and renewed her enthusiasm for the creative process which is a driving force in her journey. I've experienced a surprisingly rewarding mixture of humility and intellectual stimulation which has taken my focus toward developing a deeper love for flamenco. We've both looked to Ricardo's hardships and have recognized them as flamenco in of themselves, living, breathing and struggling while speaking truth. We are inspired by his unshakable climb back into the light, all the while experiencing the very discovery of the light and all it reveals through the eyes of our sweet baby girl. <br />
There are many things which are obvious characteristics of flamenco such as the energy, the sound, and the humanity. What we're seeing today however, are those things which are much more subtle than all that, so much so that they're easy to miss. Flamenco is as much in the hospital room as it is on the stage. Flamenco is as present in the lonely moments of the work day as it is in a juerga with friends and family. Flamenco doesn't stop because we do, and it doesn't cease to be a part of our lives because it can't, though we may seek to distance ourselves from it. Flamenco is the story of the gift of life that God has granted us all. May our ears be opened so that we may listen and comprehend it. May we be still and<br />
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know. (see Psalm 46:10) <br />
Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-71922634610821997812013-02-11T21:36:00.000-07:002013-02-11T21:37:19.279-07:00Those Steps To Come<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
By Mele Martinez<br />
<br />
I’ve seen a phenomenon of fearlessness in many young people,
but I’m pretty sure that I never suffered from that condition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was born scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ask anyone who knew me as a kid, and they
will confirm it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was always scared to
jump in the pool, scared to go down the slide, scared to ride my bike down the
hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I considered being cautious
was actually an unwillingness to “go for it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In essence, I was a big baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it came time for me to stop being the baby and actually
have a baby of my own, things got chaotic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As Jason and I found out that we were going to have our first child,
Lola, the fear that had always lived in me played itself out like a drum
set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had horrible nightmares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had daily anxiety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was terrified of carrying, bearing, and
rearing a kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I’m not alone in experiencing
this phenomenon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even for the most
adventurous woman, becoming a mom is pretty scary stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Likewise, flamenco can be pretty scary for me too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I’ve never been completely disabled by
a fear of dance or being on stage (ironically enough), I face the challenge the
art form presents to each and every artist. Sometimes, choosing to do flamenco
can feel like you’ve dropped yourself into foreign waters without a life
preserver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And though teaming with the
most amazing and beautiful creatures, forces, and experiences, those waters can
look pretty dark from shore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As most of you probably know, Jason and I have drifted from
yet another shore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are about to have
our second child. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact that this one
comes nearly nine years after our first should be testament alone to the kind
of fears I’ve had about being a mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
the way in which we came to have this child is not the same nightmare-riddled encounter
that we had the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things are
different this time, and I want to tell you why.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have something now that I didn’t have much of just years
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have something now that makes
everything unlike before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow and
somewhere through this past decade I have acquired a glorious thing –
faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though I knew Jason and I
weren’t in a financial situation to have another baby, even though I knew I was
getting older and there could be complications, and even though I knew it would
probably turn our day to day lives upside down, I knew we could have another
baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had faith that God would see us
through it – from beginning to end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jason and I made the decision to go out on this shaky limb – not because
we were looking to fall, but because out on a limb is where the fruit is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone was talking to my heart, and wouldn’t
let up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened this time, and
instead of walking away with my tail between my legs, I accepted the proposal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In just a few weeks, we get to see that
proposal in the flesh – in the form of a baby girl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As joyous as this whole thing is, I don’t want to begin to
sugar coat it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I’m very happy to
be expanding our family, I’m not exactly walking on pillowy clouds all
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, walking has literally
become one of my biggest challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
that I am pregnant, it seems like every single step counts for so much more
than it used to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each step is either a testament to my strength or an example of my imbalance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> These days, </span>I think twice about every step I
take; I pay so much more attention to it than I ever have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could be dancing right now, I know that
each of those steps would take such careful consideration, I might not be able
to do more than the simplest of movements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But isn’t that the labor of flamenco for everyone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we step out onto the stage or into the studio, we have
already made the decision to go out on that limb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took courage just to take that first
step.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, when we begin to move or
play or sing, we have to make split second decisions about how much we will keep
under our control, and how much we will risk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The balance, when found, is such a sweet and savory thing to
behold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen dancers do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen singers and musicians do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is such a miracle in the making that I
often weep with adoration for the artist who can take care of each step and
still manage to take risks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It proves
their faith, and faith is a wondrous thing to watch in action.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In about a year, when this new daughter of ours starts to take her own, I
hope to teach her to carefully choose her steps and to exercise the wisdom of
a seasoned chess player with each move she makes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I also hope to teach her that sometimes she will need to do more than take steps on solid ground; she will need to realize that fear can literally cripple her, but that afflictions can be relinquished by leaping out boldly in faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her reward, I know, will be sweet. I relish in the promise of those baby steps to come, and the proof that faith is for everyone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CLlCGLpiw_FdPHZSPY13PyT3IymDlQHJNtyQIFJLdZM_rosYro8bTLc0mTt-RPB0RTWvNLKWEwoM-avhJuJpGDHU1QPXncuT1FHUdWdIOsCaZLsx5QSu6g1lP6-jL2sbe4SQl-jpr1dj/s1600/3989613883_a9523ed6d4_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CLlCGLpiw_FdPHZSPY13PyT3IymDlQHJNtyQIFJLdZM_rosYro8bTLc0mTt-RPB0RTWvNLKWEwoM-avhJuJpGDHU1QPXncuT1FHUdWdIOsCaZLsx5QSu6g1lP6-jL2sbe4SQl-jpr1dj/s1600/3989613883_a9523ed6d4_z.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-30926432426133871442012-11-21T13:16:00.000-07:002012-11-21T13:23:27.626-07:00"Enter His Gates With Thanksgiving...."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Jason Martinez</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvcUH6N8NwqJywycSZ5R4wthbzxTRVBWti2R9PlNuU-2HxEo8K7EklMNv4mvMUAy6knwQ2wXFSvD6nv8QslYrQaDTHudHTJhxeZ2vwEg6V6I9Kapvnf6FVk-X00u9anRjeDpprc8V_cbug/s1600/fdvdp_170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvcUH6N8NwqJywycSZ5R4wthbzxTRVBWti2R9PlNuU-2HxEo8K7EklMNv4mvMUAy6knwQ2wXFSvD6nv8QslYrQaDTHudHTJhxeZ2vwEg6V6I9Kapvnf6FVk-X00u9anRjeDpprc8V_cbug/s320/fdvdp_170.jpg" width="212" /></a>Today is the day before Thanksgiving, 2012. I feel elated and joyful upon pondering what the real meaning of this holiday represents, yet I can't escape a sense of humility bordering on sadness, which is even now setting in. I do wish to make it known however, that this sadness is a positive thing, because it springs from a source of everlasting truth; I am blessed beyond all that is reasonable or even fathomable.</div>
<br />
Whatever happens from this moment until the end, I can say with a true sense of amazement that I have found that which has captured my imagination and have been honored, probably even commissioned, to learn it, to live it, and to impart it. Flamenco is something that exists in a different hemisphere; something which comes to our side of the world in its pure form, not easily digested but alluring all the same. Why on earth should I be in Tucson, AZ teaching, studying, and indulging in an art form so far removed from its birthplace? The answer is two-fold: grace and mercy. I say "grace" because I've done nothing to deserve access to such an abundant source of soul sustenance. I say "mercy" because what I have, in fact, earned is a fool's inheritance, a fate I've been spared.<br />
<br />
It's incredibly easy to complain as an artist and as a flamenco. It makes one feel somehow justified and unique, as though we've undertaken some righteous cause that no one understands or appreciates. We can start to feel like unrecognized geniuses, so full of art that our very existence is a work in of itself, colored and textured with irony, pain, and profound complexity. Why no recognition? Why so much work and no compensation? These are things I'm ashamed to say have run through my mind, and I know I'm not alone.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it's to our benefit to take a few steps back, wipe away the tears, and see clearly what we have before us. We have a connection to the rest of the world that no one could have predicted just decades ago. We are able to experience the art and the artists right before our faces in our own hometowns. We have many opportunities to learn from them and to transplant flamenco here, so that it becomes part of our culture and part of us. With love and cultivation, this art takes root in our soil and flourishes. Anything else we gain in addition to these things is the proverbial cherry on the sundae.<br />
<br />
Some of us will develop strong skills in this. Some will gain fame and maybe a little money to go with it, and in rare cases, a career. Some will earn artistic respect and acclaim from their peers. Some will go through their flamenco journeys with very little growth and a good deal of frustration. Each one of them should be full of gratitude. This is my plea to the reader, and a reminder to myself. We can't take joy in this endeavor without a grateful heart and a renewed mind. Recognize your blessings and use this awareness to feed your art, your soul, and each other. Anything outside this is a useless waste of time. Happy Thanksgiving and God bless.Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-36549433775227877942012-07-30T21:37:00.000-07:002012-07-30T21:51:05.249-07:00"Count the Cost"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Jason Martinez</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKnLtGUrEGhM_8qVSLSTIKIvPpZvFbjB5vXXs8eQbnd8DqHdMorG01junhbj4RWSOCl88t8Yn6lxYuMwX6NxQ0maF-__LMPugmT4CKB40NVPytyrOJoxL_aSt6nv6BsgpjDe_lo2NfWVs/s1600/052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" eda="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKnLtGUrEGhM_8qVSLSTIKIvPpZvFbjB5vXXs8eQbnd8DqHdMorG01junhbj4RWSOCl88t8Yn6lxYuMwX6NxQ0maF-__LMPugmT4CKB40NVPytyrOJoxL_aSt6nv6BsgpjDe_lo2NfWVs/s320/052.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">What makes a successful flamenco studio? What makes a successful flamenco artist? No, seriously, I'm asking. To be both is one of our greatest challenges. I have answers in my head that sound right, but I wonder sometimes if they are my answers or someone else's. One thing I feel fairly certain of is that there is an even bigger question to be pondered; one that encapsulates both questions: What does it mean to live a life of integrity?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">What characteristics are necessary to describe the person of integrity? If we can just get to the heart of that question, it seems we may find some clarity. Until then, we have to consider the banter going on around us. Some would have us believe that the ability to be a businessman and a flamenco artist simultaneously is an illusion. One can label oneself as he or she pleases, but ultimately we gravitate toward that which our inner-most desire dictates, though this is likely a subtle, even unconscious shift. We choose money or credibility. We choose popularity or respect. One could argue there are but a handful of people who ever achieve all of these. We are led to believe that sooner a later, a line must be drawn, and we will have to make a choice. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">It seems a compelling argument. Sometimes it's as though we're explorers seeking to prove or disprove the existence of this elusive flamenco ideal that we've heard so many stories about. We've met folks that could be said to be successful both financially and artistically, but because we don't interact with them regularly, I don't trust we know the full story, behind the scenes. Is the person satisfied on both fronts, or do they still feel an internal tug of war going on? I feel that at this point, Mele and I understand enough about flamenco and the American mind to run a successful studio. We know enough about the art of flamenco to be successful as artists. We are on the same page regarding our goals. We have sampled enough of what life has to offer to know what we want and what we don't want. This helps, but until we've explored both the charted and uncharted territories, we'll never know if this fusion of freedom and security is a reality or a myth.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">We are in the midst of a great experiment, which entails great risk, all to find out if this dream could be a reality. We've knocked around ideas and have done our best to be open-minded about the possibilities. We've taken advantage of free business consultations, and indulged the advisers words to us even if they could find no root in our hearts. It has seemed the only rational choice is to refer back to our mission statement to stay grounded. Anything that violates it cannot be considered. It states: "Our mission is to offer students the most authentic flamenco experience possible in the studio, on the stage, and through the culture of flamenco." For anyone who doesn't already know this, it's quite a task to stay true to one's values when you're also concerned with putting food on the table. This can be especially true when considering our culture: the Great Melting Pot. Who of us can say we've experienced genuine culture here without some catering to the masses taking place? It's as though homogenization pervades everything sooner or later. Do we have to trick students into appreciating and listening to cante? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">At the end of the day, it seems living the life of integrity has to be the reward in and of itself. I don't buy the idea that this necessitates a life of struggle, but I do believe most people committed to this will struggle often. But don't we all struggle consistently with something? Perhaps we choose the struggle we dislike the least, and take comfort in the fact that we've counted the costs and made a decision. It could be that our freedom to choose is a luxury we can't underestimate. We don't know if all our business efforts will yield the type of financial success we would need to make our studio a worthwhile venture, but if we consider our studio a worthwhile venture for reasons beyond that which is seen, we're guaranteed success no matter which way the wind blows. No matter what happens, we can be thankful that we are able to do what we love. It's easy to say we should be thankful, but if we understand thankfulness as an action rather than a feeling, much like love, we are rewarded the very moment we act. In this moment, we are granted a perspective which opens our eyes to see things as they are, but it only happens when we trust not in ourselves, but in Him.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><strong> </strong>"For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it-- lest, after he has laid the foundation, and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, 'This man began to build and was not able to finish." Luke 14:28-30</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #999999;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #999999; color: white;"></span>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-44016585021132018162012-07-11T20:58:00.000-07:002012-07-11T21:01:48.553-07:00Callejón Flamenco<style>
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by Mele Martinez<br />
<br />
The last few months have been a flurry of flamenco madness –
workshops, travel, shows, performances, artists, photo shoots, parties,
patadas, flamenco, flamenco, flamenco!
It has been so many blessings in such a short amount of time, I can
barely wrap my mind around all that I’ve seen and felt for weeks now. It’s a problem I like to have! The best part
is that it is not over – we have some wonderful things to look forward to just
on the horizon. Though not long ago it
seemed we might actually have to rethink our dreams of a flamenco studio in
Tucson, God has instead taken us in a new (and better) direction. While we make plans, He gets the last word –
just as it should be.</div>
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The biggest flamenco project that Jason and I have worked
towards in the last couple of months was the renovation of our studio. Actually, we can finally now call it a <a href="http://www.tucsonflamenco.com/" target="_blank">studio</a>! Before, in all honesty, it was just an old
garage/storage space with little hope of inspiring the creative expression
flamenco demands. We studied there, we taught
there, and we grew as artists in that old space, true. But it needed serious work. I’m convinced our practice was hindered by
the horribly uneven floor, cluttered pilings of our studio belongs, cracked
mirrors, mix-matched awkward furniture, unruly electrical lines . . . well, you
get the picture. But things have changed. And change can be very good.</div>
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We cleaned the slate of that old garage, and with the help
of some great people, we were able to transform it to a simple and lovely place
to study what we do - flamenco. The
ironic thing is that this pleasing new studio looks so much different now on the
inside even though it is exactly the same on the outside. Right outside the door, absolutely nothing
about the place has ever been impressive, and it still isn’t. Our door opens to an alley that is unkept,
and many of the buildings lining it (along with dumpsters) are covered with
graffiti and littered with broken glass.
Paper trash and alley cats meander down the path. The cratered road of the alley is not
inviting, and many times, neither are the individuals who walk that road late
at night, early in the morning, and even in the heat of the mid-day. Any business-minded person would tell us that
our location is not ideal for attracting anyone – especially women. And yet, it is the location that we have been
given. It was definitely not the kind
of location we had in mind when we planned for a studio, but it has been God’s
answer. And knowing that, I also know
that we are exactly where we are supposed to be.</div>
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I haven’t always felt that way. I’ve gotten very frustrated in the last few
years with the state of our alley. I’ve
called 911 more times than I care to admit.
I can’t stand the look, the sound, or the smell of that alley. And no matter how hard I’ve tried to figure
out how to make it different – how to “beautify it” - I’ve had to take a deep
breath and realize… there are some things you just can’t change. </div>
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I can’t change my face, I can’t change my color, and I can’t
change most of what people see when they look at me. But I can be renewed inside. I can clean the slate, I can get rid of the clutter,
sweep out the dust, and make a new, simple, and satisfied person on the
inside. I can do that. Sometimes we don’t get what we ask for; sometimes
we just get what we get, and what we get can be the beginnings of something
wonderful, something true, and something special just to us.</div>
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Maybe God wants us doing flamenco in a dark alley. Maybe we are supposed to be bringing that
light, that rhythm, that smell of sweat and fresh paint and newly stretched
guitar strings to a place where no one would have ever thought to put
them. Maybe this is what flamenco is all
about - abrasive outside, spirit inside.
</div>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-17428625043243570082012-05-03T14:57:00.005-07:002012-05-03T15:13:18.846-07:00"...With Humility Comes Wisdom"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-pDQLkYvpU7vtVyTiukMkmcsYm8Rnxt2nF8JEwMmBlAxEPjkL1SdE4mjMBGwOc_sNIlrd5lYJshAQh5rF7eU2M9j3fCEmM8PDZSWGd90TJ3p1jaGYx9eyrSV-H1hS25qPbwXylfjeRYk/s1600/1208279941_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-pDQLkYvpU7vtVyTiukMkmcsYm8Rnxt2nF8JEwMmBlAxEPjkL1SdE4mjMBGwOc_sNIlrd5lYJshAQh5rF7eU2M9j3fCEmM8PDZSWGd90TJ3p1jaGYx9eyrSV-H1hS25qPbwXylfjeRYk/s320/1208279941_f.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
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As stated in our last blog, Mele and I took a trip up to Phoenix in April with great excitement. We would be seeing Paco de Lucia with his ensemble that night. First of all, it was to be my first time seeing him live, and second, here in Tucson we rarely have the opportunity to see high level flamenco, direct from the source. We were enthusiastic to put it mildly, and not without reason. As we'd expected, it was a very satisfying show, but this trip was to be more than just a night out.</div>
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It was truly a full day's event due to the fact that Farru, of the famous/infamous Farruco family dynasty, was offering a workshop that Tuesday morning. I must say however, before going on about that, that I admit experiencing some apprehension going into that day. Farru is a young man, with somewhat of a history here in the southwestern United States. He has made an impression on many a person here, in the way that teenage, talented, good-looking boys with fame and money tend to impress people. See Webster's Dictionary for a full and accurate definition of the word "impress".</div>
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I've never met anyone or heard from anyone that has studied with Farru before. I imagined a workshop of his to be fast paced, nuanced, and complex, as I think most people who have seen him dance would likely have been led to believe. Would he be teaching or simply patronizing us? At the end of the day, would I take away a nugget of wisdom, or perhaps some new tool that would inform the rest of my flamenco studies? The good news is that he did indeed impart some valuable information to us, or at least, I can speak for myself in saying that I am already a better flamenco now than I was before his workshop.</div>
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I've been taught before that day that growth in flamenco isn't hoarding material, like a dense falseta, a new step, or some rapid-fire tongue-twister of a letra. It's humbling the self enough to go back to the beginning to see if we really understand what we have assumed we understood. Perhaps it may be the mere layering of a simple concept of which we had some limited grasp. Amusingly, as a side note, this very idea itself qualifies under its own definition, or in other words, I'd understood this idea before listening to Farru's words, and my understanding itself has become layered in the same way one might layer a simple dance step. He spoke words I've heard before, but I came to understand them in new ways.</div>
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I found myself in complete agreement with Farru as he explained how important it is to study cante, and to develop the ability to use basic steps with flavor and understanding. These are things I've tried to impart to my own students, yet here I was hearing it from a young man who, as I came to see, had greatly matured in recent years. He didn't just say it, by the way; he subsequently demonstrated it through a little patada he was given as a child to study. He showed us the steps, ran it a few times at the end of class, and we were done. 90 minutes flew by. </div>
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This all said, I'm fully aware of the fact that Paco's tour has gone to many neighboring cities this Spring, and that Farru has probably given the same exact material to each group he's taught along the way, regardless of the overall level of the dancers. I'm also sure there have been those who have rolled their eyes as they watched the clock, realizing that they wouldn't be leaving the studio that day with a new siguiriya to dance later that week. I bring this up not to make fun of anyone, but to point out that it appears to me that yes, we really do need to hear what he had to say, and he had a genuine reason for saying it. We are paying, consuming, money-making proof of that.</div>
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That night as I watched the show, I smiled a little to myself, looking down from the back of the theater at Farru. He was dressed just like Maestro Paco; a white shirt, black pants, black vest, black shoes. He was out there with all the musicians doing palmas, not like a rock-star, but like a student. Once again, he didn't just say it, but lived it. What a day that was.....one I won't forget.Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-53512248490940236122012-04-27T11:21:00.000-07:002012-04-27T11:22:40.225-07:00Front Row Seats<style>
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By Mele Martinez<br />
<br />
While sitting in the nosebleed section of the Mesa Arts
Center Theater a few nights ago, I had a fantasy. I fantasized that the man who was playing was
not dozens of rows and hundreds of feet away and below on a vast black stage,
but that instead he was sitting right in front of me. He was playing the same song, same notes,
same inflections, but he wasn’t so far away.
He was close. I could see his fingers individually, I could hear his
breath between chords, and I could smell his cologne.</div>
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Tuesday was not a normal day. As far as extraordinary days go, Tuesday was
right up there. It is not often that
Paco de Lucia comes to Arizona. It is not
often that he brings artist the likes of Duquende and Farru with him. It is even less often that someone like Farru
would offer a workshop to a group of just 10 people in a small studio in
Arizona, and that he would take the time in that studio to teach us what he
personally believes flamenco is. Yet,
that is exactly what Tuesday was like for us – that and much more.</div>
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On Tuesday morning, with a green towel draped around his
neck, Farru stood unimpressively in front of a group of students. He premised
the class by declaring that he didn’t consider himself a “Maestro del
Flamenco.” He spoke patiently and calm,
and it was his quietness, along with this startling comment, that captured the
ear of everyone there. His reason was simple:
in his life so far, he didn’t have to do much of anything to become a
flamenco artist – he just had to be born. Farru remembered waking up as a child,
sucking on his pacifier, and walking into the living room to see Paco de Lucia playing
his guitar. From infancy, the
most important flamenco artists in history had come to his home on a regular
basis, and he simply sat by, listened, watched, and suckled. He said in that particular situation, who
wouldn’t become flamenco? </div>
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I often wonder what life would have been for me if I had
grown up in a flamenco family. In a way,
I was wondering that while fantasizing that Paco was playing his guitar - not
in a thousand seat theater, with me in the third to last row - but in my
presence, close. Very often, I feel so
far away from flamenco. Even when I get
to shake hands with someone as admired in the flamenco world as Farru, there is
something left wanting. I so badly want
to communicate, but I don’t have the words.
Perhaps my expectations are too high, or perhaps it is a childish
desire, but the truth remains that “Los
Maestros” are far away, and they don’t know me.
I have been literally surrounded by them before, and yet I was
invisible. Did I make myself
invisible? And if so, can I make myself
visible instead? In the middle of
flamenco, I’ve known that I was right where I was supposed to be, even while I
knew I didn’t exactly belong. The
feeling has made me wither before. It
has made me feel a unique kind of loneliness – a special kind of isolation. I guess this feeling is true for anyone who
has one foot in one culture, and the other foot in another. Though at times a struggle, it really is a
special place to be.</div>
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Here in the states, it isn’t hard to feel a bit alienated
when it comes to flamenco. Sure we can
visit Spain. Sure we can watch flamenco
YouTube videos for hours on end. But we
Americans simply don’t have the convenience of living in the cradle of
flamenco. There is a vast ocean and (for
some) an even vaster body of land between us.
And yet there is such a strong desire for many of us to be accepted as
legitimate flamenco artists and to share fully in the inheritance of the
culture. But perhaps we don’t fully
appreciate the beauty of watching flamenco from afar. Perhaps, as Farru seemed to suggest, there is
an honor in becoming an artist because one actively seeks out flamenco. Indeed, that is exactly what Jason and I did
when we bought our tickets, took the day, drove one hundred and five miles and
walked into the concert hall with everyone else who sought out flamenco
too. In fact, we were necessary parts of
flamenco that night. Paco wouldn’t have
been in that theater without an audience, so we all had our parts to play.</div>
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And it turned out that we were all so incredibly rewarded in
our roles. Paco and his troupe of
artists (all notable in their own right) made music that could magically
transport us all, even if just momentarily, into a close-knit flamenco
family. When I listened, I was neither
far away nor anonymous. When in my wild
imagination I saw Paco close-up, I wasn’t estranged. How does flamenco do that? Regardless of what
the answer may be, for than one and half hours of time – a time so seemingly
insignificant in commitment - we were all blessed when we listened. Listening
allowed us to take part in the harmony. And
who knows? Maybe even Paco fantasized someone
to be near as he played, someone whose far-away whispered <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ole</i>s he could subtly hear.</div>
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Of course after those moments in concert, the harmony was
replaced with clamoring once again, and as we stepped outside the theater the
air was warm, but the sun was long gone.
Though we didn’t see Paco again, at the restaurant across the street
from the theater a tablao was presented and most of the other musicians from the
troupe came for dinner. The flamenco
that could be presented for those great artists in return was your basic
American fare, but Farru himself, was most gracious. I learned something from him, not just in the
studio, but in real life that night when he humbled himself (artistically
speaking) to play guitar for the least of us.
In that graciousness, he didn’t act foreign and he didn’t treat us as
foreigners. In my guilt, I realized
that I am usually far away from flamenco because I have chosen to be. Most often, it is because I’ve crawled into myself
and have made the focus my own insecurities.
But just maybe if I were to focus on others, to think of serving them
instead of myself, to think of their feelings before my own, then I might find
that flamenco is no further away than the person standing right beside me. I’m grateful for this lesson.</div>
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The rest of that Tuesday night was usual and even unusual in
the usual ways. But we all eventually
went home to quiet rooms separated by very long highways. And some of us would dream of Wednesday
morning, and some of us would dream of sitting in the front row.</div>
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<i>As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace </i>... 1 Peter 4:10</div>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-37843953517321078732012-04-12T13:49:00.015-07:002012-04-12T17:05:32.582-07:00"A Man Who Isolates Himself...."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHlQ7h0gDUBhNCO_tCDR-eWIulMVlry5-COV3sZrH1jOweEL-8mm1W3ystzGO-q9jlNez0EGCtoDQVqI_-HSvDmgKGZHYkNa-5VofaeFn_uHdrwTZ6tHF8CyKfQkPF6_X8RqggFwhP04K/s1600/252.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730649067841220274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHlQ7h0gDUBhNCO_tCDR-eWIulMVlry5-COV3sZrH1jOweEL-8mm1W3ystzGO-q9jlNez0EGCtoDQVqI_-HSvDmgKGZHYkNa-5VofaeFn_uHdrwTZ6tHF8CyKfQkPF6_X8RqggFwhP04K/s320/252.JPG" /></a> There is a struggle within myself which has eased with the passing of time. I like to believe it has become a less strenuous battle because of the wisdom I've picked up along the way, but it could be that with age comes fatigue, and with fatigue comes a lack of desire to struggle and fight. All I know is I'm not too concerned with this internal conflict anymore. <br /><div></div><br /><div>I'm now convinced (for the most part) - there is no "I" in flamenco. With all my preaching about flamenco as a communal art form.....I think I am starting to actually believe it. It only took thousands of hours in an empty studio with a drum machine or ipod to start the thought process. Maybe you really DO need others to do flamenco. Perhaps it does make sense to focus more on fostering growth in others than in myself. It could be that ultimately, it's more to my credit to put out solid dancers and musicians than to throw my name up on a marquee or my face upon a poster. </div><br /><br /><div>This will, no doubt, be our least popular blog entry. I do want to be clear however, I'm not pointing the finger at anyone. I've just come to realize that flamenco can be a very lonely world unto itself if we don't reach outward. We cannot own flamenco, or hide it in a corner, or bury it under the porch. It has to be given freely to those who respectfully seek it out. I believe what singer/dancer Paco Valdepenas quipped in Tao Ruspoli's film, <em>Flamenco: A Personal Journey</em>, "Flamenco is one person singing and one person receiving it.....and the two have understood each other, and there is nothing else..... ." If we take away that which is at the very core of flamenco, expression from one human being to another, we lose it all. </div><br /><br /><div>And now, let me begin the process of alienating my American readers. We, in this country have it backwards, you see. We see the opportunities to gain from flamenco and we start marketing ourselves before we can even put on our shoes, tune our guitar properly, or sing a letra of tangos. I know all this because, while I've never been one to adamantly seek the spotlight, I've always sought personal growth and gave nothing in return. It was a one-way relationship with flamenco. It took walking a far distance along that selfish path to realize there was no prize in sight. It was just an illusion, and this ended up being an unfulfilling journey.</div><br /><br /><div>But there's a different, more narrow path - one that doesn't dangle a picture of fame or money in front of you to keep you moving, but instead, offers a refreshing drink of water, a cool breeze, and the company of genuinely beautiful people. Along this path, you come to the realization that once you take the focus off the self, there are amazing things happening all around you. Suddenly participation in the process of teaching and learning, itself is the reward for one's travels. The ecstasy of being one part of a group that comprises a single flamenco entity is something that cannot be rivaled by an artistic breakthrough or a well-received solo performance. Along this path, as with the selfish one, there is also no end in sight, but I don't mind at all. </div><br /><br /><div>Now I don't want to give the impression that I expect to be commended for coming to these conclusions. In reality, there are people all over the world who grasp this idea during their very first flamenco lesson or their accidental exposure to a spontaneous juerga in some one's backyard. What I'm saying is, if a mule like myself can understand this truth, there is hope for us all. </div><br /><br /><div>Take my advice, for what it's worth. I have plenty more to learn, sure, but I've stumbled upon some great things, much like the senior citizen who hits the lottery. To understand flamenco as an intimate exchange, in its truest form, is freeing, and you'll sleep better at night. I wish success to all those who love flamenco and dedicate themselves to studying and teaching this art form. </div>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-25326768204688423032012-03-25T08:48:00.004-07:002012-03-25T08:59:13.819-07:00The Code<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Arial; panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073711037 9 0 511 0;} @font-face {font-family:"MS 明朝"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;} @font-face {font-family:"MS 明朝"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;} @font-face {font-family:Cambria; 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margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;" >by Mele Martinez</span></em></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;" ><br /></span></em></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-family:";" >“Jason and I are on tour.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >I don’t get to say that phrase very often, but when I do, I always feel a bit strange.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m afraid that some may think I am making myself out to be a lofty artist, deserving of recognition.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m also afraid that people will think being “on tour” means that I am somehow more important than all the artists who are not on tour.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>All during this particular tour, I wanted to avoid saying that phrase (all together) to anyone who might wonder where Jason and I were all this time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But I’ve decided that I will say it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And furthermore, my own worthiness is not the reason for pronouncing that phrase.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >Jason and I are not dancing on this tour.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, maybe a little, but that is not why we are here.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We’ve actually been hired as musicians for the CBJ Flamenco Ensemble; Jason is on cajon, and I am singing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is a nice change for us – a way to flex our “other” flamenco muscles.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is both a blessing and a joy for us to do this kind of work.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We get to travel to different places, we get to hang out with friends, and we get to do flamenco.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s like a dream.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >But as I reflect in this dream world, a little voice inside my head tries to bring me down, as is often the case when dreaming.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some of you know that voice – the one that convinces you that you have no business doing your art form, the voice that tries to convince you to quit, tries to make you feel guilty for trying to be a performing artist.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It can persuade you to believe that you are inferior, that you are inadequate, and it preys on your every insecurity.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This voice is something I battle, and sometimes it is a voice coming not just from inside of me, but from outside too.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >Many flamencos believe that only certain individuals should be “allowed” to perform professionally (which usually means for money).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I get it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I even speak in agreement.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Flamencos want to live by a special code; the code makes it clear that you have to “pay your dues” before you can be respected as a professional.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ironically, most flamencos I know believe they personally are on the right side of this rule, while other artists require more payment of dues.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >I agree with the code, but I also understand that this man-made code is not always in line with a higher code that I try to live by – God’s.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In God’s plan,</span></em><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-family:";" > “… the last will be first, and the first will be last” (</span></em><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >Matthew 20:16).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Our personal standards of WHO deserves WHAT don’t always apply.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For me, the final word is God.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For me, He is the One who blesses us based on His grace – not based on what we might think we have or haven’t earned.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >That being said, I know many flamencos would probably put me in a category that is completely undeserving of touring as a flamenco singer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I haven’t earned those dues – especially in the most respected aspect of the art form: cante. And yet, here I am, on a plane to a big city where people who fill a 1000 seat theater will hear me sing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In this case, I sort of agree with all those who think I am undeserving of this.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I do not call myself a cantaora.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I probably never will.</span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >But just because others may believe that, and just because I will probably never call my self a FLAMENCO SINGER, doesn’t mean that I don’t belong here, in this crowded plane, floating my way thousands of feet in the air to that gig.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I may not be a flamenco singer, but I certainly will be singing flamenco.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I know it is part of all that things in my life that I am meant to do, so I will do it.</span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" >And so too, I quiet that voice that aims to discourage me, I shield myself from my own inner-dialogue, and I even squelch the sound of those who would dissuade me with words and looks that aim to dishearten.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>On the nights of this tour, I will sing, out loud, to drown out the opposition.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";" > </span></em></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="font-family:Arial;mso-fareast-Times New Roman";font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italicfont-family:";color:#333333;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And if anyone should ask you, friends, “What makes you think you can sing flamenco? What makes you think you can dance?</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">What makes you think you can be on any stage?”</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Just tell them that not one of us is really worthy. Tell them that being on stage is ALWAYS a privilege, never a right.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Tell them too, that our job is to do our job, and not to compare our selves to others. As I believe, ultimately, it is simply our duty to perform for an audience of One.</span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></em></p>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-74204026809989537452012-03-06T12:04:00.027-07:002012-03-06T22:21:34.757-07:00No Longer Strangers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2UIcDQCaYasgYqOXEPNHR6OqkYvccFiT0tWonRb4GmIB8kblCOMWNcNgYKfdAf2n9PHOjem2xlB6XCWIZZH5h8-4cj67L2x1cDFrcnVjMJlMWUIM70KoLnLApSubEwvrEgmUGgGmzSPU/s1600/2012-03-06+21.32.41_edit0_edit0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2UIcDQCaYasgYqOXEPNHR6OqkYvccFiT0tWonRb4GmIB8kblCOMWNcNgYKfdAf2n9PHOjem2xlB6XCWIZZH5h8-4cj67L2x1cDFrcnVjMJlMWUIM70KoLnLApSubEwvrEgmUGgGmzSPU/s320/2012-03-06+21.32.41_edit0_edit0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717011933092363874" border="0" /></a><br />by Jason Martinez<br /><div><div></div><div>For the second time, I return home to Tucson with my wife, our hearts full and overwhelmed with all we've experienced this past weekend, in what proved to be a dream realized. Or perhaps it can be better described as a vision, and one shared by many, at that. I change my mind, it was both a dream AND a vision.</div><br /><div></div><div>Fabian and Katrina Sisneros are dear friends of ours, and like us, are a flamenco family. They graciously included us in the third performance/community event of <a> <span style="font-family:Times;mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝";mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></a><span style="font-size:small;"><a href="http://www.thepena.org/home.cfm">The Peña of Nuevo México</a>, </span>an organization in Albuquerque founded to encourage flamenco as a way of life, organically grown, and proliferated through the generations. Through their efforts, and with the support of their extended family and friends, it appears that a treasure has been unearthed, revealed more clearly, layer by layer, every time another event takes place. What we experienced at the event Saturday was all at once exciting and humbling.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqOWC68iWQG44CzWY7UBpzf9Sp1cqZHjBYwd0KQ5vMjS14Zz3GJ5f_GCorYNfkaEL71mLwQRBJiuWjFsM7bhV6mQVFQOIqyx-JFrszlonsUKKj4RiYWq-ETbsEYJ2WQQGOOUcNdZc_ZOc/s1600/2012-03-03+13.14.00_edit0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqOWC68iWQG44CzWY7UBpzf9Sp1cqZHjBYwd0KQ5vMjS14Zz3GJ5f_GCorYNfkaEL71mLwQRBJiuWjFsM7bhV6mQVFQOIqyx-JFrszlonsUKKj4RiYWq-ETbsEYJ2WQQGOOUcNdZc_ZOc/s320/2012-03-03+13.14.00_edit0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717011341244576914" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><div>The day began with a caravan excursion to Abo: an ancient ruin, national park, and the Sisneros family ranch all in one (it's all very complex). The previous days, and right up to that very moment, had been spent in preparation for the two shows we had ahead of us that day, but never mind that.....we were whisked into the 250-year-old home of Fabian's grandparents, where two types of red chile (with pork or ground beef) sat beside a pot of beans in a room of mixing aromas that immediately settled our pre-show nerves. The community dance hall down the road, in Mountainaire, would just have to wait; we were busy piling shredded cheese into our bowls of warm chile and stacking homemade sopapillas next to our meal wherever we could find room on the table. 2-3 bowls later, we walked the grounds of this sacred place and let the blowing wind speak, reminding us to breathe and accept what is.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_k3SbpkixNhzwFHrgQmf42xHv3vEbmWYQD4zbqf3zAaSz69yB29b-cYDgzqumcOtka4ww3iSO2_iIBlTuT5AygwqL9Ge120YgpdUd6LzQjkUJcvQxYPy5aCgpHGP1Fj_D_mzXSOmuFsp/s1600/2012-03-03+13.01.43_edit0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_k3SbpkixNhzwFHrgQmf42xHv3vEbmWYQD4zbqf3zAaSz69yB29b-cYDgzqumcOtka4ww3iSO2_iIBlTuT5AygwqL9Ge120YgpdUd6LzQjkUJcvQxYPy5aCgpHGP1Fj_D_mzXSOmuFsp/s320/2012-03-03+13.01.43_edit0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717011642230484770" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div></div><div>Next stop: the performance in Mountainaire. The Sisneros, the Montoyas (Katrina's family), and we, the Tucson crew, rushed into the community hall with the sound equipment, garment bags and a mixture of adrenaline and exhaustion I imagine any performer is somewhat familiar with. Before I knew it, I was cramped into a tiny room off to the side of the stage with my fellow artists, all of us practicing our steps and trying not to accidentally smack each other in the process. We then took the stage, sitting on old, well-crafted wooden benches that had clearly been sitting there for quite a while. Perfection. Smiles abounded, both from the performers and the old folks in the audience, as we watched Katrina's niece, Fabian's sister, and a student of his perform a Fandango de Huelva. Katrina, the veteran, later joined them for a buleria, leading this next generation of artists in the choreography. They, themselves will surely be doing the same with the following generation in the years to come. </div><br /><div></div><div>After our trip back to the city, we stopped for about 30 minutes to catch our breath at Fabian's parents' house in the South Valley, and then on to Por Vida Tattoo, where the event was to take place that evening (it's all very complex). This was Round 2. We practiced the same frenetic ritual, but with extra hands helping out. Sound check, good; chairs in place, good; last minute rehearsal with a pianist, violinist, and whole new group of musicians, good. </div><br /><div></div><div>The sun had gone down. We all said our own private prayers, knowing full well where we've been and what we've been through. "Just do what you do," I thought to myself. People poured into the seats gradually, steadily, and in good numbers (before, during, and after the performances as it turned out). It was show time. We were all in the moment. Performers fed on the collective support of an audience that seemed to understand this was an opportunity provided to anyone who chose to accept it, as a gift freely given. There was cohesion and excitement. Risks were taken. Students and teachers performed side by side. There was beautiful music and baile. Two sets of good flamenco artistry passed us by, as quickly as we had boarded the vehicles that morning.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>The show ended, but the flamenco (and more chile) went on well into the early morning. A group of younger kids with wide, hungry eyes stuck around. The <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.nifnm.org">National Institute of Flamenco</a>, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.tierraadentronm.org">Tierra Adentro charter school</a>, and the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.paparts.org">Public Academy for Performing Arts </a>had obviously been doing their jobs! These were kids with voices, talent, and wisdom which far exceeded any I might have had at their ages. They observed and learned, and their enthusiasm was contagious. </div><br /><div></div><div>I was blessed to meet these kids and many new people, to see old friends, and to share something with them that isn't always available at the snap of the fingers. I'm ever grateful to my God, and to my friends, Fabian and Katrina Sisneros, for bringing us all together. We were no longer strangers, but soldiers fighting toward one goal: the cultivation of flamenco in the community. What was it Fabian always said? "Art should be in the day to day activities of life." We are seeing this manifest before our very eyes. What could be better than that? It really was a dream realized.</div></div>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-68493265289446181302012-02-21T16:48:00.014-07:002012-03-29T22:28:27.720-07:00Tongues of Angels<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkm9hxTkFtkcaJWYc128wasX_Sfc5M1wH13b4eJLytn0nxA1b71e_9ABfcJoxRoOe9mlt1oY8aDeL3X5iEA7SIDt4P3npbr-IiQhfJLjcgC36KZBln-GHKvqBv5WpN6bxzUdZDKAHCr0u/s1600/534796_10150641125871158_578716157_9322912_2055571911_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkm9hxTkFtkcaJWYc128wasX_Sfc5M1wH13b4eJLytn0nxA1b71e_9ABfcJoxRoOe9mlt1oY8aDeL3X5iEA7SIDt4P3npbr-IiQhfJLjcgC36KZBln-GHKvqBv5WpN6bxzUdZDKAHCr0u/s320/534796_10150641125871158_578716157_9322912_2055571911_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725557752430737186" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEymD_YyemlljVAYLlJ6dPJPwQvW0eINgfaWdfqAEP_2Z-cKWsSZWsOZWfG3L9ELyjl8aiRcEDe92rrwWc7KvgntxZsyD2mAfl03hk_7gip-93qrjsd5R552xID2bnWzY4RT0RJK-kcpy/s1600/2012-02-14+11.00.00_edit0-1.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEymD_YyemlljVAYLlJ6dPJPwQvW0eINgfaWdfqAEP_2Z-cKWsSZWsOZWfG3L9ELyjl8aiRcEDe92rrwWc7KvgntxZsyD2mAfl03hk_7gip-93qrjsd5R552xID2bnWzY4RT0RJK-kcpy/s320/2012-02-14+11.00.00_edit0-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711819817311116194" border="0" /></a><br />By Melani Martinez<br /><br /><br /><br />My grandmother, Juanita Peyron, was born on December 21, 1917 in El Paso<span class="st">, but today she lives in a Northwest Tucson "home" with several other ladies who also suffer from Alzheimer's Disease. My nana (as I call her) recognizes who I am, but sadly, she never calls me by my name anymore. I can sit and talk with her, and she can know that I am part of her family, but most everything else is a historical blur for her, and sometimes for me too.<br /><br />The last time I visited with her, she spoke (in Spanish only, even though she knows both English and Spanish) of random ideas and memories that didn't make much sense - at least not to me. "The plant next to the fireplace is beautiful," she said, though there was no plant or fireplace anywhere near us. "The baby in the cart was putting all the special food from the market in my basket," she explained. I smiled at her. Then, to my further confusion, she verbally pointed out objects outside her window, in the desert, that I couldn't see. I'm not sure if they were there or not, but out of respect, I tried to acknowledge what she saw. I asked her questions, and sometimes she answered with complete alertness. Still, she responded to some questions by just staring at my face for long seconds, struggling to find the words, or the idea, or the memory. I remember seeing that same look of struggle on her face just ten years ago, when she was only 84 years old, when she lived in her own home with her own husband and could manage to take care of herself well enough. That same look is still there on her face - a kind of wrinkled brow, shifting eyes, mouth somewhat agape. That look makes me hurt. If I think about it for too long, that look on her face can make my whole body hurt. I do my best not to think about it.<br /><br />These painful images are some of the thoughts, though repressed in my everyday waking life, that start to rise to the surface when I step onto the stage, in my costume, and the music starts. I imagine that that is true for most of us who practice flamenco - the stuff that we face each day gets pushed down inside, burying itself until the time comes when we can dance, or sing, or play, and then the stuff comes up and out. Like my nana, sometimes I get stuck with blankness. I struggle to find the words I know I need to say to the people looking at me, staring at me, sometimes with the same blank face that my nana adorns so often these days.<br /><br />The good thing is, because of flamenco, I clearly understand that some things cannot be said with words. I'm reminded that my attempted conversations with my nana are never going to fully satisfy either of us. I love that flamenco provides this gift of understanding. I'm so privileged, especially as a student and teacher of writing, to have learned that words cannot always suffice, and perhaps that is the way it is meant to be. I know that even if I could speak perfect English, or perfect Spanish, or even speak with the tongues of angels, I still couldn't masterfully say what I really mean. As wonderful as spoken language is, as much as I appreciate it, it doesn't completely satisfy.<br /><br />The absolute best flamenco performances I have seen or been a part of were not really about words, but I honestly remember exactly what was "said." When I sat in the back row of a packed Rodey Theater and watched Antonio Canales perform for the first time in my life, I remember what was said to me. When I stood behind the curtain of that same theater some fifteen years later, I remember exactly what I was going to say to the audience as soon as I got out there. I may not remember the songs I heard, or the steps, the tempo, the lighting, the costumes, or even the palos, but I can recall performances by the specific feeling I had in those moments. My whole life, I always had a sense of inferiority when it came to speaking Spanish and English, but with flamenco, I was given a voice. All I had to do was open up and speak. What an extraordinary gift this was for a muted life.<br /><br />Though I may not have any idea what my nana means when she talks to me now about those random fire thoughts that go through her brain, as she stares at me blankly, I do know she is in there somewhere, and I can hear her love. I can still hear the accents, the syllables, the whispers in my ear, whether she is speaking to me, or not. I was blessed with every single time she recounted the tale of being the only person to see my first steps as a baby, a story that she repeated to me constantly before Alzheimer's took grip of her mind. Because she said it so often, I can hear her say my name. "Melani," she says, when her eyes meet mine. The sound of her voice and the inflections of her stories ring clear as day in my ears. And when I see her, lost in her own body, in a clean, cold nursing house that is about four times bigger than the little cozy home she left behind, she tells me so many wonderful stories - even if she doesn't use the right words anymore.<br /><br />When I remember her sounds, her expressions, I have hope that through flamenco I can express myself as beautifully as she has to me.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-35740585855324730972012-02-03T08:56:00.006-07:002012-02-03T16:43:40.069-07:00Video Killed the Flamenco Radio StarBy Mele Martinez<br /><br />The word is out... Madonna is seeking a flamenco dancer for her new tour.<br /><br />There were several things on my mind today, and several things that I was hoping to blog about, but when Madonna makes such news known, it is hard to talk about anything else. So, I will indulge her, to a point.<br /><br />Several flamencos have been discussing (on social networking sites) the <a href="http://www.deltaworld.org/gossip/Madonna-looks-for-a-flamenco-dancer-that-Mediterranean-look-for-their-new-tour/">news of Madonna's employment ad</a>, and though some seem enthusiastic about the opportunity and even have dancers in mind, most seem to be either angry or laughing. I want to put aside, for the time being, the arguments that she would or wouldn't present flamenco with integrity, that she will be "watering down" or commercializing the art form, or that this kind of public exposure to flamenco has its good and bad points. Instead, I'd like to focus on one detail - made prominent in the advertisement: the desire that the flamenco dancer have a "Mediterranean look."<br /><br />To really talk about this, I need to know exactly what that means... what is the "Mediterranean" look? Obviously, I am not the first person to ask this question, and if fact, there is an <a href="http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080109141626AASKVt0"><span style="font-style: italic;">answers.yahoo.com</span></a> page already gleaming with answers. They range in description: dark hair and eyes, curly long dark hair, olive skin, Caucasian with a tan, Italian, Greek, exotic and "islandy." I find the answers limited. After all, isn't the Mediterranean teaming with populations of every color of complexion? Dozens of countries circle the Mediterranean Sea, including countries of Africa, Europe, and the Middle East. Certainly, this definition of a Mediterranean look doesn't cover the diversity of the peoples of all those cultures and backgrounds.<br /><br />But let's get to my real questions...<br />Is it tougher for people without the "look" in flamenco, to be appreciated as artists? Or does it just make it tougher to get paid?<br /><br />Those of you who know what I look like, know that these questions hit home for me. Physically, I do not have a "flamenco look." Not even close. I am about as opposite from the physical characteristics of Gypsy as I can be, and to compound the matter, I don't even look like a dancer. I am not long, slender, or carved.<br /><br />That said, I know that there are many other flamencos out there - with talents and skills towering over my own - who probably wouldn't get the Madonna job either, even if they wanted it. Let's name a just a few: <b>Concha Jareño, Rocio Molina, Juana Amaya, Pastora Galvan, Belen Maya, Christina Hoyos, La Tati, etc. </b>And that is just a small list - not even considering the male dancers. None of these artists necessarily fit the description of "Mediterranean" in appearance, yet they all excel in an art form that strangely conjures ideas of a dark "islandy" goddesses in the minds of much of the American public.<br /><br />Perhaps Madonna and her marketing entourage have their reasons for needing a flamenco dancer who looks Mediterranean. They might even be very good reasons. But I doubt there is any reason that could convince me that audiences need to see flamenco - an art that is so distinctively unique - performed by only those who conform to "look" the part. It saddens me, and I would guess that it also saddens a Creator who made us all with our own distinct "look."Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-26383826034482402852012-01-27T09:42:00.010-07:002012-01-27T16:03:09.287-07:00To The Flamencos Out There<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYv30K3ZXf7-sN_2uDDvCHvnEtZ-kJxU6mVCWkiEUL-gV5l5B6SASt0HwystN0-nde40cFUhldsQn4V2rGNdslQjivdREUDUbxTRDo9yEDfhy5j_8tambG00Gml-52j2dRsvRZDrXcfZRf/s1600/4142.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702448193632629138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYv30K3ZXf7-sN_2uDDvCHvnEtZ-kJxU6mVCWkiEUL-gV5l5B6SASt0HwystN0-nde40cFUhldsQn4V2rGNdslQjivdREUDUbxTRDo9yEDfhy5j_8tambG00Gml-52j2dRsvRZDrXcfZRf/s320/4142.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>I love flamenco. No seriously, I love it. I wish there were more specific words to describe my "love" for it. I don't want to mislead anyone by giving the impression that I put it on par with my family or my God; by no means do I mean to suggest that it even compares. I wouldn't even say that flamenco is my friend. I just mean to say that it has become the way in which I communicate with the world. </div><br /><div>As a teacher of flamenco baile, it fascinates me to ponder what others see and hear when taking class or watching a show. What does flamenco mean to them? Is it a temporary love affair or are they hooked? Some people wear their reasons on their sleeve while others keep it guarded under a thinly veiled surface. I see lost people alongside extroverts. I see myself in all of them. </div><br /><div>It's for this reason I believe it's important to quietly observe. We can learn a lot about ourselves by watching others. It's not an easy thing to do when we're so engaged in the moment, yielding to the senses in order to learn from or to savor the experience at hand. It's easy to forget that there are others next to you when we've been lulled into a sense of intimacy that flamenco can create. I recommend peeling the eyes away for brief moments, just to see the expressions on the faces next to you. One may be surprised by what they see.</div><br /><div>I've seen flamencos doing this before; at times observing and at others outright staring, not at the performance, but at other observers. They rest their heads back a bit, squinting the eyes or raising an eyebrow with a not-so-subtle hint of skepticism, as if to say, "Do they really get it?" It gives one the feeling of being sized-up, and for good reason. This is not necessarily the type of observation I'm speaking of, though it has its place too. </div><br /><div>An opposite approach exists, and can also be useful; we can gain a lot from observing flamencos in the crowd. If there are high-level artists in the audience for example, I can't help but pay attention to how they react to what's on stage. It's as though I'm in class, learning from my teacher. It can be inspiring to see someone you revere become inspired themselves. It can be equally dangerous however, because we can fall into the trap of not judging for ourselves what we like and dislike. </div><br /><div>I'm not so bothered by judging, by the way. We all do it. There's no escaping it. We can control how we choose to treat other people, but we all have emotional attachments to flamenco. We experience love, jealousy, envy, sorrow, joy....the entire gamut of the spectrum, and these feelings do a lot to shape our perspectives about both the art and the artist. After all, aren't we tricked into thinking we know more than we actually do about the person by what we see of them on the stage or in the classroom? At any rate, as is true with many things, our views change as we mature, both as people and as artists. This maturity is what eventually enables us to know honestly what we enjoy (or not) in flamenco. </div><br /><div>It may seem like I've made things more complicated than they need to be, and maybe I have. There are those out there who can just walk into the studio or the theater and be in the moment, without giving much attention to anything outside the simplicity of the event; I, myself, can be that person. It just seems to me that if someone loves what they do, they pay homage to their art by giving it thoughtful consideration. This has been my homage to art and the artist.</div><br /><div>by <em>Jason Martinez</em></div>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-4583822170715452512012-01-17T18:12:00.006-07:002012-01-17T23:26:59.305-07:00According to this promise...Since we moved from Albuquerque to Tucson, Jason and I have had a particular conversation that pops up every six months or so, like a recurring dream... one with some of the same characters, sometimes the same setting, always recognizable. Inevitably we sit down and talk, and talk, and talk. Inevitably, we end the conversation knowing that the end of it is never really over. We wonder when it might come up again next; will it be three months this time? Or will it be just three weeks? Sometimes we get angry. Sometimes we even sob quietly to ourselves. Sometimes it seems like the topic is too unimportant "in the big scheme of things" for us to be discussing again. Mostly, I think, we get tired of the repetition. We get tired of reaffirming what we thought we had already confirmed before. Yet, the question always rolls itself back over to us... should we quit flamenco?<br /> <br /> When I say "quit," I don't mean QUIT. I don't mean that we mull over whether or not we should say goodbye to flamenco forever, though often it feels like that. What I mean is that we wonder if we should continue to try (and try again) to make flamenco our career. If we were making a living - even a modest living - on flamenco, then I guess it wouldn't be in question, but that has never been the case. And I'm guessing that that has never been the case for a whole lot of flamencos, flamenco families, and artists in general.<br /> <br /> I usually wonder if we have set out aims too high. After all, most of our parents were not working successfully at something they were passionate about. They simply graduated from high school, got a job, then didn't quit that job until they got a better job, and so forth. Passion had little to do with it. But that same generation told us we could believe in dreaming. I don't remember much from school, but I know the idea of turning what you love into a career was definitely in there somewhere. That wasn't just a fluke idea I made up on my own. "Whatever you put your mind to," they quipped. All the way back to kindergarten we were practically singing the mantra of the American Dream. So, when it doesn't happen right away - which we were also warned about - we are told to hang in there and stick to our guns. But sadly, Jason and I often feel like we've run out of ammunition. We try this, and we try that. We roam around in the artists' world looking for our niche, hoping that we can somehow use what we love to do to pay the bills. In the process, we attempt to not "sell out." We attempt to keep whatever integrity we can. But integrity and money don't always make a good pair.<br /> <br /> So then comes the doubt - either for one or both of us. Suspicion slowly creeps in. We ask ourselves again, do we need to wake up from the impractical dreams we've manufactured for ourselves? Then comes another round of talking. And year after year we realize that we haven't "woken up" from much. At the cost of financial instability for ourselves and for our family, we find ourselves swimming in dreamland, and it is only in those moments of near paralyzed consciousness that we wonder if we should go ahead and take that alluring (and probably irreversible) red pill.<br /> <br /> As frustrating as this process can be, I have solace in something that not everyone has - I am not alone in it. Jason and I have to go through this grind, but at least we get to go through it together. That is what makes us a family. That is what marriage is. It complicates things, yes. It doesn't always make it easier, no. But when it comes to flamenco, his strengths can cover my weaknesses, and vice versa. And that can be a powerful thing.<br /><br /> I can't say that I was smart enough at the beginning of our relationship to know this would be the case for us, and that we would have the same "stupid" conversation so many times over. But after nearly ten years of marriage, you could say that I'm acquainted with the concept now. Years ago, I half believed that when you made a big commitment in your life, you were forever bound to that decision simply because you made it in the first place. Almost like magic. Even at our wedding, I half believed that saying "I do" meant "I will." But just like committing to a marriage, committing to a dream doesn't really work like that. You don't say "I do" just once - not in a successful commitment, anyway. You end up having to say it over and over. You constantly decide to be committed. You say "I do" every single day, and on some days, every single hour. Repetition, I'm learning, can be a wonderful thing. Recommitting to dreams can be like falling in love again and again. <br /><br /> On the other hand, love and passion aren't exactly the same. Of those of you who know me, probably none of you have ever heard me say, "I love flamenco," and to be honest, I don't. (What a shock, right?) But I'm sure you've heard me say it about Jason. I'm glad I can reserve that word for people in my life. No matter how passionate we are about our dreams, they will never totally fulfill us. And I can almost guarantee that they didn't teach your THAT in school.<br /> <br /> Luckily for me, if Jason and I someday divorce ourselves from flamenco dreams, we get to stay together. Actually, its not luck at all; its a gracious blessing.Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177328357293072559.post-76766081170773499272012-01-06T09:27:00.004-07:002012-01-06T11:06:33.984-07:00"Out of The Mouths of Babes...."<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbWygz8S9yrLiDGxutfvELOWUvl2gjAfVA8p8CjcsTo1sCIBgL9v6ZmJG4ESNYGzzuS1-lX5ennKjQlUzbA5czWHtf-OVNal31b3g2qsC4rAtBwAMLWruQ2nh4uHoNZcnfixCpnbxkFh1/s1600/PrettyPurpleVUEW.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694581934031453106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbWygz8S9yrLiDGxutfvELOWUvl2gjAfVA8p8CjcsTo1sCIBgL9v6ZmJG4ESNYGzzuS1-lX5ennKjQlUzbA5czWHtf-OVNal31b3g2qsC4rAtBwAMLWruQ2nh4uHoNZcnfixCpnbxkFh1/s320/PrettyPurpleVUEW.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>For those who don't know me, my name is Jason. My wife, Mele, and I are both professional flamenco dancers. We met when she uprooted her life in Tucson, AZ to come to Burque (Albuq., NM) to become a member of a flamenco dance company there in its infant stages. We fell in love (ahh yeah), got married (ahhh yeah), and had a wonderful baby girl named Lola (ahhhh yeah!). We have since taken this ancient wisdom that is flamenco back to Tucson where we now teach and perform; in fact, it's part livelihood, part labor of love for us.<br /><br />We find ourselves in an interesting position. You see, for years we've exposed Lola to flamenco. She was in the studio everyday for the first 2 years of her life. She's joined us on stage....sometimes willingly, most times begrudgingly. We have always thought it best to keep her exposed to it and to leave the door open should she decide this is something she would like to do. We know the benefits to the soul and the financial struggles as well, so we wrestle with the prospect that she might one day consider this way of life when pondering career possibilities. Ironically, Lola has, in her innocence, given us the perspective we were hoping to give her.<br /><br />We're about a week away from beginning kids' flamenco classes in our studio, which Lola eagerly awaits, but not for the reasons we had originally hoped. She has a friend from school who will be joining her, and she has always loved playing with other children. It's clear that Lola is much more interested in socializing than structured dancing. At first, we wished her motivation for participation would be her love for flamenco as music and as art. Mele and I shared an epiphany however, and realized it was we who needed to learn from her.<br /><br />We've always preached that flamenco begins in the home and in the community. We've always been aware that we, as Americans (USA) come at flamenco backwards, that is to say, we take the discipline of our choice (mostly guitar and dance) and approach flamenco from a soloist's point of view. We realize that flamenco, in its purest form, is people communicating things to each other that they can't fully express through simple conversation, and with no concern about who might be watching.<br /><br />In reminding us of these things, Lola has proven to be more flamenco than either of us. We can easily get caught up in art and forget the life and community the art is supposed to be reflecting! Flamenco is best done in innocence and with honesty, just as child does it. Ole tu Lola.</div>Jason and Mele Martinezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15131220701925313982noreply@blogger.com1