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I first saw Aszure Barton’s company at Jacob Pillow where she staged a dance that had one dancer biting another’s tongue for close to ten minutes. Droll. Painfully intimate. Brilliant. I had to meet her. It took a year of stalking Aszure, but finally she agreed to lunch.  She never took off her sunglasses and we became great friends. 


At one of the first rehearsals for Aszure's spring '08 workshop, Aszure asked me if I was ready to direct. I was not, I wanted to be a fly on the wall, but she insisted otherwise - she made me the company photographer.  I felt like I didn't know enough to choreograph the choreographer. To prepare, I spent afternoons at Baryshnikov's space on West 37th St photographing the rehearsals. Some days, I shot everything out of focus, which showed the movement so much better than sharp pictures. One day I only shot hands. Finally, on a day I had a photo studio rented near by, we all met and created this piece. All improv. All fun. I was ready to take charge - if only to release the company to play. It became a game trying to keep Aszure (in the red shirt) from getting to the right hand side of the frame.  I love Aszure. I love all the dancers. I was able to take pictures with them that were dreams - dreams I had in real time - dreams that came true.

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