Will The Circle Be Unbroken

A glass door swings open. An excited young mother careens into the rink lobby, her eyes never leaving the ice.

"He's next!!" she yells in the general direction of her husband who is sitting at a table correcting school papers while munching on a plate of fried chicken tenders. He nods and goes back to his work. The music begins and the mom comes flying through the door again. "His music is starting!" The husband drops his pen and they both hurry to the glass to watch their eight year old Pre-Pre boy go through his program with the speed and skill of most boys his age.

I was a casual observer as their scene played out. It happened immediately following a session where our skater was working with one of his skating idols who is choreographing a short program for this final competitive year, and a final Olympic bid.

Years ago in Vail, we sat in a seminar given by two wonderful coaches from Denver. They spoke about what it takes to get to the Big Show:
"Every young skater when asked about their dreams says, 'I want to go to the Olympics.' That's a lofty goal, but there are a lot of steps to take along the way," they cautioned the room full of fresh-faced young skaters and skating parents. "You can't skip many steps and expect to reach the top."

Watching the excitement of the young mom, and the total commitment of her Pre-Pre level son to his program, took me back to a time and place I didn't think still existed in the grey matter depths of my psyche. I remember pressing my forehead to the glass in the unforgiving cold of the Aspen Ice Garden all those years ago. I even remember thinking to myself at one point (though I would have never dreamed of saying it out loud to anyone) that my little then 10 year old skater could compete against older guys and actually win. Parents are unrealistic when it comes to our children's actual skill levels. We are dreamers; that's our job. Some of us just have wilder and more grandiose imaginations. 

My eyes scan the room again. I notice another mom tying her daughter's skate and reminding her to listen to her coach and work on her jumps. Another young skater runs into the rink beaming as she shows off her new costume for this weekend's competition. Two very young girls in show costumes are  struggling to balance in their skates while doing off ice choreography with a young coach for an upcoming show. Intermixed are Juvenile, Intermediate and Novice skaters rushing from one rink and one session to another. There are junior and senior skaters; National, World and Olympic competitors are casually walking past. Many are longtime friends and stop to give me a hug. Some sit and talk for awhile. A couple of them joking still call me "Mom."  It suddenly dawns on me that my 24-year life in skating is playing out  around me like my own personal reality TV show.

On the wall in the center of the rink where the young boy is skating, and his parents are watching, is a large banner with five circles; three on top and two below. They are forever intertwined - not only by stitches, but in meaning. We are fortunate to have been in their presence, and hopefully we will be there once again. No matter what happens, they are forever a part of us. I could not be more grateful.

But the the words of those two coaches nearly 20 years ago in Vail keep running through my head as I watch the young skaters and families. There are a lot of steps on the road to the rings and not all roads lead there; some of them lead to performing, to coaching, choreography, judging - and some lead to being incredibly successful in careers outside the sport. It's the shared experiences and the discipline, time and training they represent, that bind us together forever.

I step back into the rink, walk to the glass, press my forehead to it one more time and watch while my skater prepares to go through his new program. As he takes his place, I find myself fighting the urge to careen through the glass doors like that young mother did and yell "He's next! His music is starting!" 

It's funny how things tend to come full circle.

If We Weren't All Crazy We Would Go Insane

In 1977, about 10 years before our skater took his first steps on a frozen surface in the Aspen Ice Garden, former Aspenite Jimmy Buffet scored big with his song “Changes in Latitudes Changes in Attitudes ” It’s been stuck in my head all day as I think about the many things I've learned in the now 24 years we've been involved in this sport. Unlike my “Twelve Days of Skating” holiday adaptation, this one didn't take much changing. It just kind of said it all. So with apologies to Jimmy , here is my slightly edited version:

I took off for a weekend this month

Just to try and recall the whole year

All of the faces and all of the places

Wonderin’ where they all disappeared

I didn't ponder the question too long

I was hungry and went out for a bite

Went out for a drink then looked for a rink

But there just wasn't one within sight

Chorus:

It’s these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same

With all of our running and all of our cunning

If I couldn’t laugh I would just go insane

Reading departure signs in some big airport

Reminds me of the places I’ve been

Visions of good times that brought so much pleasure

Makes me want to go back again

If it suddenly ended tomorrow

I could somehow adjust to the fall

Good luck and hugging and media mugging

I’ve seen more than I can recall

Chorus:

These changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same

I count the arenas and smiling hyenas

So I have to laugh or I'd just go insane

I think about skating when I’m drinking red wine

I wish I could jump on a plane

So many nights I just dream of the ice

God I wish I was freezin’ again

Oh, yesterdays over my shoulder

So I can't look back for too long

There's just too much to see waiting in front of me

And I know that I just can't go wrong

Chorus:

With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same

With all of my running and all of my cunning

If I couldn't laugh I just would go insane

If we couldn't laugh we just would go insane

If weren't all crazy we would go insane

Summing it Up

No, this isn't a blog about IJS and the judging system, though it very well could be. In my estimation, this  one is about what really counts.

I had an interesting string of direct messages this week on Facebook. The conversation took place because of a post  from the Los Angeles Times I privately shared with some professional singer, dancer, musician and actor friends of mine. 

What ensued was a conversation about giving your all - your life, talent, and your total dedication - to your craft.  

David Ackert could just as easily have been talking about skaters.

"With every note they stretch themselves, emotionally and physically, risking criticism and judgement. With every passing year, many of them watch as other people their age achieve the predictable milestones of normal life-the car, the family, the house, the nest egg. Why? Because musicians and singers are willing to give their entier lives to a moment-to that melody, that lyric, that chord, or that interpretation that will stir the audience's soul." 

All performers are like that, really. For the most part, they are insecure risk takers. It is a dichotomy that is more than the dictionary definition; it is one that for artists truly defies explanation. It is the ultimate yin and yang.  

Perhaps that secure insecurity is ultimately what makes them great. Deep inside, the really successful ones are never satisfied, and are forever a bit scared. They crave approval. They don't simply accept their talents or rest on their laurels. They are always looking for the next challenge, and another way to reach their audience with the God-given gift they know they possess but are too humble to admit. They take their best; they take the thrill they gave their audiences and the souls they reached with their performances, and forever unsatisfied, they look to stretch themselves to the next level. As Ackert says, "And in their own hearts, they know that to dedicate oneself to that moment is worth a thousand lifetimes." 

Yes, as several friends pointed out, the article itself is a bit over dramatic. However, performing - no matter what the discipline - is about reaching out and touching the back row, isn't it? 

So, here's to the artists with HEART. Dramatic. Melodramatic. Stirring. Inspirational. Life changing. Here's to the artists who work in so many mediums to bring us experiences that are far beyond our understanding as mere "civilians." They bring us the complete spectrum, and in doing so they not only enrich their craft, they enlighten our lives.

Bravo.

Brava.

Ticket to Ride (or here we go again..)

It’s been nearly four years since I began “Life on the Edge of Skating.” If anyone would have told me I’d still be blogging all these months later, I would have said they were crazy. Now, I wonder if I’m a candidate for a white coat with long sleeves and stylish straps that buckle in the back. But somewhere along the line, this little diary of a mad skating mother turned into something cathartic. It became a way of sharing some very personal but very universal truths about all sides of our sport.

Now, we’re about to turn in our last ticket and jump on this rollercoaster ride of rises and falls, tunnels and blindsides one more time. We’ll shriek and scream and hold our hands in the air, and when it’s all over we’ll look at one another and say we’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

So, here we go. I have Erma and Anthony at my side. Let’s get this party started. We can rest in 2015.

The Heart of the Matter: Part Two-The Evolution of a Revolution

Music is to skating what Paris is to art. It is the mentor and the muse. It is the wellspring of creativity. 

However, neither comes to life and light without those visionaries who interpret their ebbs and flows, highs and lows; their pitch and form - their  movement. These people are a rare and talented lot. They see the brushes, paints and palates. They overflow with occasionally mad genius. They are the choreographers. 

I've talked before about the choreographic process being my favorite part of the season. I miss going to the rink and watching an idea take shape. I miss seeing the collaboration, the concentration and the innovation that goes with capturing a story on ice. Now, I am relegated to viewing its premiere along with the rest of the public. I'm never in the studio when the canvas is clean, the paint is pristine and the ideas are fresh and flowing. These days, I stand at the door, ticket in hand, waiting with great anticipation for the grand unveiling. 

I am an observer and admirer. I am not an artist, so to me the most unfathomable thing about those who freely and fearlessly create in this  crystalline medium is what drives them to do so. Certainly, with only a few notable exceptions, skating choreographers go unheralded. The great ones we know by name. Their signatures are forever found in the footnote of the programs they helped bring to light. They are the Maestros of Ice. Their disciples hang on their every turn, every move, with the hope of following in their tracings. That's how we all learn.

Today, what's most exciting is those who are using their fledgling skills to make their own mark. They are the New School of design. They are what I call "The Impressionists."  
These are the skaters-turned-choreographers who have competed under the ever-shifting weight of the IJS. They have first-hand knowledge of the challenges it presents and they realize that in order to create within it, everything must be deconstructed and re-imagined in the contest of their creative design. 

The system is math, but so is the art of choreography. Dancers count, "Five, Six, Seven, Eight.."; they waltz to, "One, Two Three...Four, Five, Six.." Dancers move to the rhythms of math. 

Innately, The Impressionists understand. They hear the music and they count. They take what they've learned from the past 10+ years of being schooled in the New System and they create. Their challenge is finding the proper subject who can breathe life into their design. Sometimes it is landscape; occasionally  it is an introspective self-portrait. Always, it is a partnership of the mind, body and soul.

http://youngartistsshowcase.net/

Enter Young Artists Showcase, the Left Bank of choreography where innovation is developed and displayed like street artists sketching multiple landscapes and countless pastel portraits, honing their skills with the hope of being discovered. 

If you haven't seen any of The Impressionists, take time to look at their work. I have. I've watched nearly all of them over the past three seasons. From pieces choreographed by and for themselves to ones done for other skaters, The Impressionists are creating a new way of speaking to their audience; a new way of exploring and exhibiting their craft. Here is a sample from YAS3 "Tribute to the Masters." It's just a small glimpse that offers so much promise. It is the prologue to what I passionately hope will be the future.

A Historic Foundation for Artistic Revolution:
In the late 19th century, a group of rebel artists in Paris bucked the traditional system. Their independent exhibitions brought them to prominence, in spite of the harsh opposition of of the conventional art community in France. The Impressionists arranged their compositions so that the main subject commanded the viewer's attention, relaxing the boundary between subject and background so that the effect of their painting often resembled a snapshot, a part of a larger reality captured as if by chance. Photography inspired The Impressionists to represent momentary action, not only in the fleeting lights of a landscape, but in the day-to-day lives of people.

The development of Impressionism can be considered partly as a reaction by artists to the challenge presented by photography, which seemed to devalue the artist's skill in reproducing reality. In spite of this, photography actually inspired artists to pursue other means of artistic expression, and rather than compete with photography to emulate reality - further developing it into an art form, producing the very subjectivity that photography eliminated. (annotated source: Wikipedia)

(photo by Dee Eggert-Icedance.com)

And so it goes. The Impressionists now are creating art filled with color while working in the confines of a black and white system more often than not infused with varying shades of gray. The Impressionists are not allowing themselves to be devalued by the harsh and at times constricting realities of IJS. Instead, they are using it as a platform to find new and exciting forms of expression. To that I stand, applaud and say...

BRAVO! 

The Heart of the Matter: Valentines Part One

I find myself thinking a lot about what we've gained from skating - as well as what we've lost. I'm not sure "lost" is truly the correct word; it is what's been buried under the tremendous weight of expectation placed on skaters now. 

Don't misunderstand. I am not opposed to IJS; even if I were, it wouldn't do any good. After all, skating is a sport and the "new" system - now a decade old - is here to stay. It is what it is. But it takes some special talent to figure out how to work within it in order to bring the art back. Yes, jumps are important because that's what the sport is about. But when it is the only focus, the art of skating - and the interest of the people who support skating - is lost. In my humble opinion, something needs to be done to bring balance back - figuratively, as well as literally.

With all that said, there are so many men who are breaking barriers in the art and sport now, showing audiences you can work within the system to deliver both athleticism and artistry. I call it HE-ART.

Legendary coach Audrey Weisiger, along with a group of friends including the irrepressible Doug Mattis, started one of the most important movements in skating, as far as I am concerned. It's called Young Artists' Showcase and 2013 will mark its fourth year. Some incredible choreography - and skating - has come from this program, including personal favorites by Kate McSwain, Sean Rabbitt, Mark Hanretty, Garrett Kling and Tommy Steenberg, to name only a few of the many great performances presented over the past three seasons of YAS. These skaters/choreographers - and all the ones putting their skills and talents to the test in this amazingly creative process - are keeping the light on for the rest of us who occasionally feel like we are peering into the abyss of TES.

Recently, Audrey said this to me about what the program means to young skaters and aspiring choreographers:

I created YAS for those that love a performance from the heart and soul of the artist. People that simply love the feeling skating can bring to them and the lucky audience that gets to share the joyful experience.

So, here's the first of my Valentine Cards dedicated to some of the men who, over the years, have made me love skating through programs with style, grace and athleticism, showing us that skating can be a Man's World, too. 

You've got to have HE-ART

Next up: The Choreographers

Top Ten Things I Learned at Nationals

1. The fabric of our lives is apparently rhinestone-studded Lycra. 

2. It is always darkest slightly after midnight when you're trying to find something to eat after spending dawn to dusk in an arena with overpriced and over-fried food.

3. The only true event heroes are the arena ushers who don't hassle you when you're seat-jumping because you don't have a ticket, just a credential that gets you in the door - and to the bathroom.

4. At a certain point, there is no place to hide in the arena except inside your mind because someone will inevitably find you - even in the bathroom.

5. On this "road less traveled," not even AAA can help. There's no accurate Triptik marking the potholes and pitfalls. You're on your own.

6. Occasionally the light at the end of the tunnel is the train; all you can hope for is an adequate siding and the hope that this, too, shall pass.


7. When the ship gets temporarily grounded, skating fans are the only effective life preserver by continually buoying the spirit.

8. It's much sadder than expected to witness the Lost Boys leaving Neverland because it means they are growing up - and you are growing old.

9. There is an eventual end to each chapter of this story; all one can hope for is a last line that reads, "And they lived happily ever after. "

10. Skating is a just a sport. Family is everything. 

...Actually, family is the only thing...