from the apogee

since sunday, and for the next month, i am alison chase's personal assistant. a co-founder of pilobolus, she recently started her own company, apogee arts, and has been working on a site-specific piece each summer in a quarry in stonington, maine. it's a big community endeavor, with professional dancers offset by kids and old ladies and a steel drum band. in addition to assisting alison (writing press releases, making to-do lists and keeping her on task, lining up schedules, sending emails and doing odd jobs), i'm training with the company and acting as chief of the community players (fielding questions and dancing with them).

i'm installed in the attic room at the chase's gorgeous home in tiny brooksville. lots of wood and warm colors and interesting accents. our families would appreciate the style. there's a fantastic drawing above my head -- a gothic house with a flapping laundry line that her architect husband drew. we (the chases, the dancers) had one of the best dinners ever on our first night: chicken, rice, salad (all with amazing dressings) and blueberry pie courtesy of alison's nephew's wife (she used a whole key lime, little sugar, and low-growing maine blueberries). 

we're in the middle of nowhere. i honestly couldn't tell you the direction i came or the streets we took -- seems there were lefts and rights at random, all leading us to a very densely wooded road opening up to this great house.

everybody's been incredibly welcoming. the chase family owns this whole end of the island, a point running out to the water. joining us tonight at dinner were the nephew, wife, and kids, along with alison's daughter frances, who went to bates. i like her. she's an environmental science major, just graduated, at the moment splitting living here and in a cabin down the street, along with trip to visit "her honey," ben, at the summer camp where he's counseling. i think/hope we'll be friends.

there are 3 dogs running around the property, as well as a terrifying grey house cat who was once mangled, then resuscitated, and now is kind of wonky in the head. i've been warned that she scratches. 

alison also warned me that she "does not serve breakfast." what that means is just that i have to make my own from the ingredients she bought me. i'm being plied with interesting things. this morning i picked highbush blueberries to add to my gluten-free granola. we stopped at a farmer's market and bought spelt sourdough and veggies, and supplemented them with fresh raspberries and strawberries from a roadside stand.

there will be 10 corps dancers, once matt and the frenchman who'll do the central role, a heron, join us. most are in their 20s, but there are a couple in their 30s, a woman in her forties, and of course, felix the french, who's 69 (with what a record! including, most interesting to me, a couple of productions with john turturro). half/half women/men. plus a stage manager, myself, mia (pronounced mie-uh, co-director/puppet choreographer), nigel (alison's nephew, composer/steel drum band conductor), the puppeteers and community members.

one of the dancers, tawanda, just got his masters in dance, but is most interested in dance theater/grotowski/suzuki/lecoq. he's also living with a williams alum, to whom i'm s'posed to be introduced. cool, no?

all of the dancers, despite their impossibly beautiful, strong and flexy bodies, have been sweet. i spent monday training/improv-ing with the dancers, who graciously supported my participation. i'll be learning so much!

last night, we had dinner with franny, alison's daughter, in her cabin down the street. we 3 had a beautiful meal (complete with prosecco, white whine, or for alison, rum&oj) and franny picked up her laundry from the house and headed back down, with the promise of an invitation to a party later this week at the cabin.

alison shares lots of fun and good advice, and i'm looking forward to becoming better friends with all parts of this little community. in the morning we linger over coffee on a screen porch, grey wood. the view is of a garden, rocks, forest, the coast in the distance. already, i feel at home. imagining a life in community like this, with days creating, nights reading and writing, big meals with friends and early morning walks.