With this dance, may your wishes for wisdom, balance, creativity, loyalty, peace, persistent love, and longevity be granted.

K. Partridge: Movement Director
Luscinda L. Dickey: Dancer
Carrie Leigh Dickey: Costume and Hair, Cinematographer and Video Editor

The Inspiration:

Once there was a young Rabbit. Each night he would stare longingly at the moon—so far above him! But the Rabbit knew he could fly there if only he had the wings. So, the Rabbit went to all the great birds—the clever ravens and jays, the flocking geese, the calling loons, even the majestic eagles—and he asked them: “Will not one of you take me to the moon?” But they all scoffed at the Rabbit. None of them would agree to fly him to the moon no matter how he reasoned and wheedled. 

And then a bird said: “I will take you!” It was the Crane—a dull grey and white bird with short little legs and a thin, tall neck. “Hold onto my legs tightly,” said the Crane as it opened its wings, “It is a long, long way to the moon, and you mustn’t fall off.”

It was a long way to the moon! The Rabbit clung to the Cranes legs with all his might even though gripping so tightly made his paws raw and bloody. The Crane kept flying, even though the Rabbit was a very heavy burden for it to carry—so heavy, in fact, that the Crane’s legs were stretched longer and longer as the moon grew closer and closer… This is why cranes have long, long legs.

Finally, the Crane set the Rabbit down on the white surface of the moon. Overwhelmed by thankfulness, the Rabbit touched the Crane’s head with his bloody paw leaving a stain of red… This is why cranes have heads crowned with scarlet.

Happy to have fulfilled the dreams of another, the now transformed Crane flew back to Earth leaving the Rabbit. To this day, on a clear, bright night, you can still see the Rabbit riding the moon. — Telling of a Cree Legend 

The Music:
Amy Beach’s “Dreaming,” Four Sketches, Op. 15, No. 3; arranged by the composer for piano and cello.

“‘Here it is,’ he said, and waved his hands towards the water below. A soft glow shone from the reflections on the lake bathing them all in light. ‘…a Luminous Stone That Lights the Night.’”—When the Sea Turned to Silver, by Grace Lin

K. Partridge: Movement Director
Luscinda L. Dickey: Dancer
Antonel Neculai: Drone Footage
Carrie Leigh Dickey: Costume and Hair, Cinematographer and Video Editor

The Inspiration:

Are we up or down? Here or there? Then or now? Asleep or awake? Conscious or subconscious? Are we really floating somewhere in between? Surrealism is full of questions. The answers always depend on your perspective.

In Grace Lin’s book When the Sea Turned to Silver, Pinmei, the shy grand-daughter of a story teller, and Yishan, a young boy with immortal wisdom, journey to the bottom of the ocean in search of the tear of a goddess: a “Luminous Stone That Lights the Night.” The Sea King takes them across a bridge—one that “…stretched and stretched only to disappear…”

“‘Are we walking over the sea?’ Pinmei asked faintly.

“‘This is the Heavenly Lake,’ the Sea King told her. ‘The immortals of the sky call it the Celestial River and you mortals call it the Starry River, but here we call it the Heavenly Lake. I suppose to us at Sea Bottom, it seems more the size of a lake than a river.’

“‘But the Starry River is in the sky,’ Pinmei said, shaking her head in confusion. ‘It’s up high. This is below!’

“The Sea King nodded. ‘Our worlds connect here,’ he said. ‘The bottom of the Heavenly Lake is your sky.’

“…After another long pause, the Sea King stopped and brought them to the edge of the bridge.

“‘Here it is,’ he said, and waved his hands towards the water below. A soft glow shone from the reflections on the lake bathing them all in light. ‘…a Luminous Stone That Lights the Night.’

Or, Pinmei thought as she stared downward, the moon.”

The Moon-dancer: Waxing Gibbous was inspired by the works of Surrealist artists Salvador Dali, M. C. Escher, and Dorothea Tanning.

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The Music:
Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie No. 1—Lent et douloureux, as orchestrated by Claude Debussy.

The Composer and the Orchestrater:
After leaving his position at Le Chat Noir, Erik Satie became second pianist at Auberge du Clou. It was there, in 1890, that he first met Claude Debussy. Finding that they shared a passion for experimental composition, the two bohemians struck up a relationship that would last for years. Can you imagine an afternoon at Debussy’s flat—a quirky place, with a balcony only big enough for two or three flower pots, high up in the Paris sky? I can see Debussy perched at his rather out-of-tune old piano and exuberantly playing Satie his newest idea, as the latter leans back in a rickety arm chair while sipping happily on a glass of cheap and slightly dusty wine. It was in 1897 that Debussy, whose popularity was growing as Satie’s was waning, helped put his friend back into the public eye by orchestrating two of the now famous Gymnopédies.

The Tswana people in Africa believe that a lunar eclipse is when a lion blocks the light of the moon with his paw so that he can hunt more successfully.

K. Partridge: Movement Director
Luscinda L. Dickey: Dancer
Carrie Leigh Dickey: Costume and Hair, Cinematographer and Video Editor

The Inspiration:

“I find that unexpected color juxtapositions create a kind of emotional drama—at times harmonious, at others contentious,” writes Mr. Frank Campion, an abstract artist based just outside of Winston-Salem, NC.

This dance was created in response to Mr. Campion’s work. Choreographed with a combination of Afro-Cuban dance—inspired his art’s raw, gritty marks and poured paint, and Fosse influenced jazz—inspired by his art’s bold color and crisp angles, it is meant to embody “…the tension that can exist between logical, deliberate, geometric forms and irrational, accidental painterly incident.”

The Music: 

Erik Satie’s Gnossiennes No. 1

The Composer:

Imagine you could time-travel back to Paris in the late 1800s. It is a late, chilly, fall evening in Montmartre. You are strolling along the Boulevard towards the glowing windows of Le Chat Noir cabaret. You slip in the door through a crowd of Club des Hydropathes members, squeeze behind a corner table, and order your favorite drink.

Many voices talk at once over the piano music—about poetry, painting, the theatre, bohemian society. No one pays much attention to the pianist, but you hang onto every chord he plays. This eccentric looking young man in a black frock coat is Erik Satie: a composer who broke the boundaries of music as it was known and went on to help inspire a new generation of composers.

Satie sways softly to the repetitive beat of his tune. He doesn’t look down at his hands, but straight in-front of himself as if seeing the dream-scape of sound he creates—measuring each note. When the piece is finished, you jump up and make your way to the piano. “Monsieur Satie, what a beautiful piece of music!” you cry in your very best French, “What is it called?” Satie turns towards you adjusting his spectacles. “A Gnossiennes,” he says. “And what exactly is a Gnossiennes?” you ask breathlessly. Satie pauses. You catch a slight twinkle in his eye. “A Gnossiennes,” he says very slowly, “is what I just played.” And turning back to the piano, he begins to play once more.

What is “The Moon-dancer”?

The Moon-dancer is an ongoing series of dances and dance short films inspired by the phases, symbolisms, and moods of Earth’s moon which seeks to bring art, music, and written word to life through movement.

Since its conception in 2021, when I first danced to Claude Debussy’s “Clair de lune,” I have had the delight to share The Moon-dancer at studio recitals and community gatherings around my home state of North Carolina. These dances juxtapose unique styles—from ballet-inspired interpretive dance to tap and jazz—against unexpected works of music from the late 19th through mid-20th centuries. This series is a visual and audial scrapbook of my discoveries, musings, and fascinations; and it serves as a filmed documentation of my technical and artistic development.

A Note on the Music:

The late 19th through mid-20th centuries were times of artistic revolution—and times I find to be particularly fascinating! Visual art broke from photorealism; written word and theatre ventured into new realms of expression; and music followed suite as composers rebelled against classical “perfection” and reinvented what “classical” meant.

These composers explored varying levels of dissonance, atonalism, minimalism, wandering melodies, and vicious repetition. Scott Joplin introduced speedy, passionate ragtime to classical structure; George Gershwin brought the rollicking fire of jazz to the concert hall. Claude Debussy mastered luminous, rule defying Impressionism; Arnold Schonberg crafted new rules for his spiky 12-tone system.

We too are in time of revolution. Today, the “new” rules and standards have become the old ones to be broken, challenged, and explored anew. I believe it is easy to forget how relevant and thrilling the music of the late 19th through mid-20th centuries really is—to merely see it as part of our “Relaxing Classics” playlist, or of our strange, out-of-reach concert repertoire. My goal is to present a selection of these works in new, surprising, and inspiring ways through The Moon-dancer.

Our Look:

Every dance is filmed in a specific, thoughtfully picked place. So far, we have visited locations as diverse as fine art galleries and beaches. Dances such as “The Moon-dancer: First Quarter” include intricate layering of separately filmed b-roll. In “The Moon-dancer: Solar Eclipse” I even have the chance to dance with myself! We are always trying to push our skills and vision just a little farther! The Moon-dancer’s costume, hair, and make-up was created by artist Carrie Leigh Dickey (who also happens to be my wonderful mom!). She also serves as chief editor and postproduction guru (AKA, the incredible woman who listens to my and my dance instructor’s wild ideas and does not think we are too insane!).

People Who Make the Magic:

The Moon-dancer would never be possible without the guidance of my dance instructor, K. Partridge of Juxtaposition Fine Arts. Ms. K. is my mentor, co-choreographer, and conspirator! She along with my mother—Carrie—and Luke Dickey—my awesome dad!—plus several of our amazing, daring friends are the forces responsible for capturing these dances on camera. Together, we have flown drones over Shell Island (and rescued that sound speaker from Impending Doom by Wave), fastened innumerable origami cranes to a tree in a Spring windstorm (not to mention the backdrop that almost blew away), and jimmy-rigged a portable spotlight with tape—praying it wouldn’t slowly sink down the wall into oblivion. I believe the results of these collaborative endeavors are truly touched by magic!