Skip to main content

Swing in San Sebastian 2017/10/15

One of the things I love about swing is the way it brings a room or a town square to life. It's ephemeral yet timeless, summoning up a visual feast of vintage style and conviviality. Grand ballrooms magically recall their heyday with big bands and swirling dancers. Sweet music and dancers animate the sun-dappled town squares, to the delight of the locals. At Donosti Belle, we danced in the Miramar summer palace and the Town Hall, both overlooking the sea. The spectacle of our Boulevard dance was enjoyed by a large crowd of all ages. 



This swing festival in Basque Spain offered many more beautiful moments that I don't want to forget: walking up Mount Guell with Manuel from Zurich, a swim in gorgeous la Concha bay. Pinxtos (tapas) and txacoli (local white wine) with Celia, Donghoon and other dancers. Cheap pizza and Aperols with Diego. Stories of the very charming and worldly Camino pilgrim, Lisa, 300km into her journey. The warm hospitality of our gracious American-Spanish hosts, Elizabeth and her sister. Four visiting dancers were welcomed into their beautiful, old world apartment: Lisa from Germany, Donghoon from South Korea, Celia from Zaragoza and myself. The dance venues were breathtaking, the weather a total blessing and city is a gem. Thank you Donosti Belle!


Photography: Oscar Larzabal / Donosti Belle Swing Festival
There's also a video in the Media Gallery section, captured by Gabriella.

Untitled

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Physical poetry – Contact Improv in Madrid

On my first visit to Madrid, I wrote about exploring Lavapies Tabacalera by day – sophisticated art installations in warehouse galleries. On this second visit to Madrid, I discovered the Tabacalera studios by night – a living, breathing art community. Cuban flautist and poet Liz stayed in touch after our chance meeting in Lisbon, and joined me for this contact improvisation adventure. Tabacaleras are former tobacco factories, given over to the arts by many Spanish municipalities. Passing through the unmarked portal into this furnace of creativity, I quickly felt relaxed and at home. Liz said she had never seen anything like it it. To get the dance studio, we traversed a cavernous room of giant murals into a corridor of spectacular street art, past booming reggae and African DJ dens, out into the yard. A few oil drum fires burned, and people gathered around to keep warm, under the gaze of Albert Einstein. If only he could see his two-metre high portrait, spray painted on old wo

From seaweed to bananas – Contact Improv in Dublin

The dancers were sitting in a circle when I arrived. A stranger, I was greeted with words of welcome and invited to join the end of a class by Yaeli. We danced as seaweed buffeted by waves, brushed by fish... first anchored on rocks, then taking flight into the water. This seaweed dance was one of my best trio experiences, taking turns with David and Fergus in the roles of weed or wave or fish. A friendly jam followed, including dances with Isabel and Jacob.  When the jam was over, we said goodbye with hugs. I felt great... welcomed to the community, emotionally and physically invigorated. I walked to my bus stop with a smile on my face. Though bus rides are usually tedious and smelly in the damp Dublin winter, I smiled the whole way. I got off and walked the few hundred metres home in the freezing rain. Soon I was home with hot tea, a hot bath, and downy bed – a happy body, drifting into dreams. Going bananas at the Lab The offer to share dance skills came at a dance

Poetry meets music and dance 2017/11/12 Lisbon

After a few days of catching up on chores, I took a stroll and lost myself in the laneways south of Graca. I emerged at the Mirador of Portos do Sol about 12 noon. It's a large, public, paved area, with views over the city to the ocean-blue estuary. There was a crowd: a TV crew shooting a talking head segment, buskers, a few African hawkers selling jewellery to tourists. The buskers were a 3-piece band … drums, strings and vocals, playing reggae in the sunshine. I started grooving and danced solo for a few tunes – the sea breeze and the distant, sparkling waves danced with me.   I noticed a woman quietly appreciating the music and enquired if she was also a visitor in Lisbon. I learned that Liz was from Cuba, today exploring Lisbon for the first time. She had flown to Lisbon from Angola one day before, on her way to start a new life in Madrid. It was easy for us to chat because she is fluent in Spanish as well as Portuguese, so I invited her to join me for lunch.  The band we