Columbus, Ohio USA
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Flamenco del Corazon sparks a Sunday afternoon
by Christine Hayes
August 2008
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Christine Hayes Life Essays
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Bulerias performed by the "Big Teacher" Cynthia Stamps (Arana) front center with her students at left Carolina Kowalski (Guara) and Chinami Kudo (Agua), right: Carol Stumpf (Sirena), Carolina Lopez-Ruiz (Chana), and Julia Hawkins (Fiera), far right. Flamenco del Corazon is an aptly named group. They put their heart, soul, time, timing, and sense of grace into their work. And work it is – ensemble and precision are their hallmarks.
At the Columbus Performing Arts Center on Franklin one Sunday afternoon, the lights dimmed and came up on a set of dancers in simulated rehearsal. From the get-go the attention was grabbed by the costumes in jewel-like colors against black. Red, orange, royal blue, purple, and yellow gleamed all the way to the back row. My next-door neighbor Mike Shurig got me interested in this group, of which he is part. I was sitting with his family in the back (we like to watch the feet). What feet! The resonance of the patterns drummed into the floor accented by the palmeros (hand-clappers who have elevated this to an art) provided intense excitement.
Mike is El Bandana, the one wearing the scarf on his head. All of the 23 dancers have Spanish names which give them endearing personas. But back to the simulated rehearsal, or “Warm-Up.” The maestra (teacher) later emerged from the wings and clapped the dancers into their places. Varied costumes and multiple groupings provided visual stimulation of kaleidoscopic turnings. The crisp hand movements were rising and falling like happy, controlled birds. Hand-held skirts whirled and snapped back. The women outnumbered the men, but the men were like dark roosters in the elegant henhouse.
After this initial flourish, the Big Teacher came out, who is a deceptively petite Cynthia Stamps, La Arana, to explain the heart and dedication of her students, and the custom of audience participation in yelling ole! at the pasadas. The pasada, or pass, two dancers moving by one another, was then demonstrated. The musical director and lead guitarist, Peter Cary, El Pimenton, then provided an explanation of each dance before it was performed (and provided pleasant fill-in when costumes needed to be changed). Simple yet effective costume changes were accomplished to provide eye candy as well as to emphasize the variations in the rapid tattoo of the flamenco.
Both Peter and Cynthia, who are husband and wife, in their first speeches to the audience, invoked the names of their teachers as a sort of blessing on the occasion. Peter introduced his “right hand man” guitarist, Tom Hawkins, El Manito, and also got up from his playing chair toward the end of the program and danced a short but sweet flamenco solo. The sense of family and all-inclusiveness permeated the company.
The afternoon flowed by seemingly effortlessly, with Sevillanas, Colombianas, Bulerias. I enjoyed Peter’s explanations of the Farruca, named for a famous flamenco dancer, and the Rumba, which is attributed to gypsies and is not favored by flamenco purists. My friend Mike danced the Garrotin with two women, all wearing wide-brimmed black hats and using them to full advantage in movement and accent.
As an itinerant hippie in Spain in 1969, I happened upon the Feria in Sevilla, a flamenco festival where tradition and fashion dazzled my eye. Families gathered in special booths built for the festival, their female dancers sparkling in costumes of brightly colored dots against a contrasting color, or also some costumes were black-and-white. The flounces at the hems swished and swayed. The men were in tightly tailored pants, shirts, and vests. Elegant horses ridden by stunning liveried young people with hauteur sailed by my admiring gaze. Horse-drawn carriages, probably of a design from another century, also rumbled by to my wonderment, carrying the families and dancers back and forth from the dancing pavilion. A plaza next to a moat with boats had dancers practicing their turns and crosses, from every province of Spain.
The Stamps-Cary entourage brought back this memory, but made the experience down-to-earth rather than the elevated spectacle of Sevilla. The gypsies danced flamenco in the caves near Sevilla, but alas I did not go. It was not until a troupe in San Francisco performed, years later, that I saw the flamenco of the gypsies. I felt like I was swept away in a gypsy caravan after the show in Columbus, as when one emerged from the audience, an all-encompassing gamut of persons bearing flowers engulfed you. The performers and families and friends were all in the process of being reunited. It was all about Ohio comfort rather than Spanish haughtiness.
Dorothy Gill Barnes, my friend who is an artist of natural materials, was outside in the sun. She told me she “had to go across town to get some black walnut bark. I’ve got to change my clothes.” She explained that her children had grown up with Peter Cary. More family connections in evidence!
After that, I went over to the nearby Deaf School Park to view the progress of La Grande Jatte topiary. The figures were the exact opposite of the lithe dancers – stolid, silent shrubbery of citizens and their pets. I was pleased to see many people out enjoying the park and the day – reading, strolling, napping. Little did they know the intense activity a short distance prior.
To learn more about this jewel in Columbus’s dance community, go to flamencodelcorazon.com
email hayesmoon@core.com
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