Summer 2023 PREVIEW

summer 2023

THE QUEER ISSUE

REFLECTIONS ON BURLESQUE “Radical resistance and righteous self-belief” in the artistry of Les Femmes Fatales

NAVIGATING INTIMACY

Exploring the emergent field of intimacy consultation

TENDING TO OUR SOCIAL FABRIC

Care and healing in the work of Be Heintzman Hope Display until October 5, 2023 / $11.95

contents

Volume 26 Issue 3 summer 2023

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15

DEPARTMENTS

CURRENTS

POSTSCRIPTS

4 Masthead

W HAT’ S O N ?

CH ECK IT OUT

HISTO RICA L MOM E N TS

Regards Hybrides curates a digital space for cinédanse by rachel silver maddock

9 Event Previews

6 Digital Reads 7 Editor’s Letter 8 Contributors

11 Celebrating Canada’s Oldest

Drag Queen

At 91 years old, Michelle DuBarry is a legend of Canadian drag art by clara chemtov T IP S

13 It’s In the Bones!

A physiotherapist weighs in on dance and bone health by geneviève renaud

35 An Exciting New Platform at the

Intersection of Dance and Cinema

REF L ECTIONS

37 Pronoun(ced): Anecdotes of Identity in Dance Spaces An artist and teacher reflects on presentation and belonging by emily losier BODY

40 Dancers as Athletes FEATURES

POETRY

ON THE COVER

F E ATURE P RO F IL E

15 Be Heintzman Hope Is Tending

PHOTO E SSAY

Left to right: Photos by Annie da Silva, Crave Boudoir, and David Wong On the cover: Steff Ivory Conover / Photo by Crave Boudoir

What can sports teach dance about maintaining the body? by dr. joyce fu

to Our Social Fabric

19 Reflections on Burlesque

42 At Pactola Lake with My Boyfriend by ryan bradshaw

What grief and dance has taught them about healing by lucy fandel

Les Femmes Fatales on “radical resistance and righteous self-belief”

F E ATURE

30 Navigating a World of Intimacy

Exploring the emergent field of intimacy consultation by dylan schoenmakers summer 2023

THE QUEER ISSUE

REFLECTIONS ON BURLESQUE “Radical resistance and righteous self-belief” in the artistry of Les Femmes Fatales

NAVIGATING INTIMACY

Exploring the emergent field of intimacy consultation

TENDING TO OUR SOCIAL FABRIC

Care and healing in the work of Be Heintzman Hope

thedancecurrent.com

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feature profile

Be Heintzman Hope Is Tending to Our Social Fabric What grief and dance has taught them about healing by lucy fandel

Photo by Kinga Michalska

Be Heintzman Hope had just taken a nap and migrated into the bath when we spoke

on the phone in early May. Tiny splashing sounds accompanied our conversation, regular reminders that, within Heintzman Hope’s life and work, tending and healing are inextricable from artmaking.

They were near the end of a five-day run of their first full-length choreography, Switch (meditations on crying), with the video dance project Poetics to Activate the Technology of the Body (which, coincidentally, features a bath scene) and installation Nurse Tree. The triad explores grief, fear and healing and was co-produced with Danse-Cité; Montréal, arts interculturels; and Parbleux, with support from Circuit-Est and Centre de Création O Vertigo.

The bath interview might have come across as an eccentric performance, but Heintzman Hope’s unassuming directness about why they make art instead laid bare an assertion enmeshed thedancecurrent.com

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Photo by Dylan Mitro

reflections on burlesque

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the dancecurrent SUMMER 2023

Miranda EJ. Warner (Mx. Quest) When burlesque found me in my 20s, I was curious to discover this creative space where “anything goes.” It wasn’t until many years later, when I saw my first show by Les Femmes Fatales, that I fully understood the limitless possibilities of burlesque and cabaret performance. In my time performing with the troupe, I’ve been tasked with interpreting themes that have allowed me to stretch beyond my (self-imposed) creative limitations and discover new things about myself and my art. It has been a welcoming space to expand my performance skills, not only as a burlesque artist but as a clown and drag king as well. It is the biggest gift of all to find myself surrounded by other Queer people of colour who are passionate about the same things, and unconditionally supportive of each other on and offstage.

Imogen Quest (they/them) is a genderqueer, mixed-race Indo-Guyanese clown, activist and artist of many disciplines. They are the driving force behind the Queer clown collective #ClownsKillEmpires and the current reigning Mx. Georgeous McSilly

Top to bottom: Photos by Kidd Gloves and Sly Feiticeira

Pants (St. John’s Circus Fest).

Sommaire Un poing vigoureux se lève contre la trace pêche d’un baiser – des emblèmes de beauté et de puissance conjugués en une image. C’est un des logos des Femmes Fatales, la première troupe burlesque pour les femmes queer, racisées et leurs allié·es au Canada, fondée en 2010 par Dainty Smith. Le symbole communique une féminité féroce qui répond à l’éthos du groupe : « le changement radical par la résistance et le rouge à lèvres ». Cet essai photographique collaboratif explore cela avec l’esprit et l’art du collectif de longue date. Voici les images et les mots de six artistes des Femmes Fatales qui nous parlent de l’art du burlesque.

thedancecurrent.com

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feature

Navigating a World of Intimacy A look into the emergent field of intimacy consultation

Photo by Noah Asanias

by dylan schoenmakers

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the dancecurrent SUMMER 2023

navigating a world of intimacy

capabilities with appropriate support.

Because it’s a relatively new profession, some might not be convinced of the necessity for intimacy direction. Tejpar mentions those who might say it impedes the creative process with belaboured conversation or misunderstand that intimacy work is about “policing,” when really it is about acknowledging and naming the real interactions that are taking place. It is about 34

the dancecurrent SUMMER 2023

a shared understanding, she says, within a communal undertaking – which requires conversation and agreement.

Evans has encountered similar sentiments about why, beyond overt depictions of sexual relationships or acts like kissing, intimacy support isn’t overly vital. Dance, the argument seems to go, has been doing it this way forever. “I think that’s a naivety,” Evans responds. “The work is going to grow; the work is going to excel; the work is going to become more wholesome if everyone in the room feels respected, feels heard, feels like they have a voice, feels like they have agency, feels like they can make offers.”

“I also just question the disposability of dancers in our industry,” they continue. “I think that intimacy professionals have a skill set that can really show and ground us in the fact that artists have so much to offer. Give them voice, give them space to express and to build something with you, from a foundation that feels supported and cared for.”

Sommaire Bien que la pratique soit relativement établie au cinéma et au théâtre, la coordination d’intimité est une discipline émergente en danse. Les professionnel·les d’intimité soutiennent la direction artistique et les interprètes pour qu’iels vivent bien la matière chorégraphique intime et sensible, qui comprend la sexualité, mais ne s’y limite pas. Par ce travail, les coordonnateur·rices d’intimité aident à créer des environnements sécuritaires dans les processus de création.

Le rédacteur Dylan Schoenmakers explore ce jeune champ de travail en dialogue avec Medhi Walerski et Michael Garcia de Ballet BC, ainsi que deux professionnelles qui œuvrent en coordination d’intimité, Anisa Tejpar et Aria Evans.

Dylan Schoenmakers is a Toronto-based freelance writer and editor.

Photo by Sasha Onyshchenko

Consent has to be both ways, but it also has to be reversible or else it’s not valid, says Tejpar. Then it’s just duress.

poetry

At Pactola Lake with My Boyfriend by ryan bradshaw Inspired by “Holding Hands,” a dance piece choreographed by Newton Moraes and performed by Mitchell Larsen, with text written by both artists. Originally published by Free Flow Dance and republished with permission. Content warning: homophobic slur.

Pactola Lake was a magical spot, surrounded by gorgeous tree-covered hills.

We walked the lakeshore. We found some neat rocks.

The water was welcoming, clear and still.

We shared the beach with a father and child, and I heard the father call us “faggots”.

I carried on. I took photos. I smiled.

But I just felt sick and couldn’t shake it.

And I thought about that innocent kid.

Who will this kid become? What if they’re Queer?

Or grow up to do what their father did?

They’re at risk of feeling, or causing, fear.

The water was welcoming, clear and still.

Ryan Bradshaw is a Queer poet and burlesque artist based in Saskatoon.

Photo by Casey Horner

But I just felt sick and couldn’t shake it.