by Nancy Van Ness
- USA -

Their hats adorned with artificial flowers identify them at many of the protests in which I participate. The Grannies also show up on New York City's Union Square to sing their signature anti-war lyrics to well known tunes.

I hold in mind a vivid image of some of them who were arrested for trying to stop military recruitment, onstage in Philadelphia, outside Constitution Hall the Saturday after the 2006 elections. Behind them stood young Iraq Veterans Against the War - two of the bravest groups of patriots in the United States, standing together, opposing US aggression.

by Nancy Van Ness
- USA -

I knew it was bad, but I didn't know just how bad. Colonel Ann Wright, retired US Army, grabbed the audience’s attention at a panel called Women in the Military, hosted last month by Women Center Stage in New York City, when she said that one in three women in the military is sexually abused by her male colleagues. Ann wants to see huge signs displaying this statistic in every recruiting office, to let young women know what to expect if they sign up.

by Nancy Van Ness
- USA -

In a heap on the studio floor as though they had collapsed under some disaster, fallen birds present a scene of despair. I am drawn toward them. They are a very powerful artistic reinterpretation of the Japanese tradition of the thousand cranes that people traditionally make from beautiful origami paper as signs of hope (most recently that would be hope for peace).

A closer look reveals that the defeated origami cranes are made from newspaper accounts of war, violence, cruelty; indeed these birds have succumbed under the weight of the torment and anguish of needless human suffering all over the world. I found them when I visited another studio at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts in Nebraska City, Nebraska, where I was briefly in residence.

by Nancy Van Ness
- USA -

I cross 42nd Street and walk up Times Square. It is a cold, windy, rainy day but I had promised to come. I continue past the army recruiting center and the police headquarters; police are out in force. I notice the New York Times building on the east side of the Square at 43rd. The huge Clear Channel signs, some of the most prominent of those that are bright day and night cast a glow that makes the square seem like daytime 24 hours a day while flashing images. Across the way are the Disney buildings and Reuters. I walk over to the Broadway side of the Square, go up to 44th and then to Shubert Alley and over to 45th, giving high fives and thumbs up to striking stage hands as they parade up and down between police barriers in front of the theaters.

• In the city that never sleeps, Time Square glows brightly just steps away from Broadway's theaters and striking stagehands. Photograph by
Nancy Van Ness. •

I head to a theater where, ironically, the show is about RCA’s theft of the rights to the invention of television from its inventor. It is never comfortable or convenient to man the picket lines and today is really nasty, but I had told the stage hands there I would be back today, so here I am.

I have come to see if I can get a true picture of what is going on. The endless media reports about the family from Seattle or somewhere else who had come to see The Grinch and how disappointed the children were because the stage hands had shut the show down had become intolerable to me.

by Nancy Van Ness
USA

Forty Years Ago - I was flying. The other dancers and I, in lines, executed jumps across the studio, immediately turning and coming back - jumping over and over again - propelled by music from a pianist skilled at marking the rhythm for dancers. Though one of my feet touched the floor briefly at regular intervals, my consciousness was only of my soaring body. The physical work was very vigorous, but in that moment, it seemed effortless.

• Van Ness (right) performing. Photograph courtesy of American Creative Dance. •

•

That was exactly four decades ago, but that exhilarating experience and moment of encouragement from my teacher have sustained me many times in my life as an artist. When the money runs out, when I don't know where the next opportunity or the next gig is coming from, when I am looking for support for the company I founded and don't know what will happen, when life seems tenuous and precarious, I will suddenly find myself back in that light filled studio with the piano pounding - defying gravity - easily, joyously flying. Remembering that time, I know that no matter what, I must keep going. I also know that the art I make is good and that it is the most important thing in my life.

by Nancy Van Ness
USA

As director of a performing ensemble, one of the joys of my life is to support other artists and witness their work. There is nothing more satisfying than watching my young colleague Lena Gilbert unravel the knots of a creative problem.

• Anne Folke Wells and Lena Gilbert. Photograph courtesy of American Creative Dance. •

In sharp contrast, it breaks my heart to see talented people who could be artists fail to do their work because they aren’t confident enough of their own ability to create. Perhaps they have been taught to be too self-critical, as can happen, especially in academic circles. An emphasis on critical thinking can kill the drive to create freely. Sometimes I think the prevalence of university degrees in the arts hinders rather than helps in this matter! (However, I certainly don’t discount that aspiring artists without degrees also suffer inhibitions that hold them back.)

by Nancy Van Ness
USA

• Van Ness in the film Tango Passion. Photo by Dick Brooks. •

Some people have said I don’t have the “perfect” body for a dancer. But others like the way I look. Either way, I don’t worry what people think of my body. In fact, I take issue with directors of dance companies and dance critics who discuss dancers’ bodies instead of their art. Even the highly respected Arlene Croce wrote unkindly about Gelsey Kirkland’s body. To me, that is not only a travesty, but it is what contributes to the eating disorders and self loathing so many dancers live with.