Ame's Dance of Dedication
Huntress Ame danced at the Gorean Campus in January 2015, the same day as her friend passed. The power of her art is a fitting dedication.
Direct link if needed: http://player.vimeo.com/video/119024639
This dance is dedicated to my first Companion (and RL longest friend) Randolf Juran/Jon who passed over this morning. Kwa heri yangu mpendwa
Intro - The procession did not chant, nor sing, for this was not a time for such things, nor did it carry boughs of Ka-la-na, nor were the sounds of the sista or tambor heard in the sunlight that morning. At such a time as this Goreans do not sing nor speak. They are silent, for at such a time words mean nothing, and would demean or insult; in such a time there can be for Goreans only silence, memory and fire. "No matter how insignificant or tiny one is, in the Gorean belief, one is an ineradicable part of history. That can never be taken from anyone." Assassin of Gor p. 2 - 3 and Dancer of Gor, p.426
Ame rolls from the sleeping mat with a groan, rubbing tear swollen eyes, stretching svelte body to greet the rising of Lar-Torvis, the past night seeming too short for sleep and far too long for remembering, leaves the small hut built of jungle grass, bends to add another log to the fire, gazing for an Ehn, his face in the flickering flames, still not quite believing it's real, rises and moves on.
/me plunges deeper into the jungle like a knife through flesh, mind wandering in the land of somnolence, gasps for air as if drowning reflecting on the news from a fellow merchant the day before...he was taken suddenly in defense of his home, fighting until his final inhalation. Stopping before the bittersweet plant, gently runs a strong, delicate hand over the petals, lungs reap the intoxicating scent, falling deeper into the maelstrom of introspection.
Ame curls in grief, the buckling weight of retrospection drives the otherwise unyielding frame toward the ground. Sparkling tears freely stream down flushed face recalling the first day they met, so strong and protective in his garb of scarlet, towering over her with the smile that took her breath away, the expressive eyes of verdigris peering into her very soul and laying it bare before him.
Ame's wiry arms thrash as if to push the recollections away, limbs struggling, writhing of their own accord, biting into the dirt with her feet, wounding the forest as she sprints, propelling her deeper into the anamneses...the courtship, the Companioning, the gradual demise of their relationship ending in defeat, the pain as they said in parting, "Be well".
Ame's taut frame explodes with abandonment as years of emotion boil to the surface, long legs pistoning against the spongy rain forest floor, stamping out the flames of heartache, Arms flexing and stretching in the natural form of the predator waging war against the demons within, wielding the spear of regret and things left unsaid, toned body dodging and weaving, determined to win the battle against the foe of guilt.
Ame releases a howl of agony bending and swaying under the assault, buffeted by the winds of whirling thoughts, obsidian braid whipping about head and shoulders as if in self flagellation for all the wasted time. Heart hammers within a moisture slicked breast driving the nails of pride and passion, resentment and unforgiveness out of their crumbling residence in her soul.
Ame slows; tightly drawn muscles begin to tremble in exhaustion, the pent feelings drifting into the zephyrs of release, bronzed form stretches as the tenor of movement changes, embracing the joy of their time together, remembering there was infinitely more good, agitation lessens, long fingers reaching for the aether as if to soar with the herlit.
Ame whirls with abandonment, throwing arms open wide, tossing the vestiges of grief away, tumbling like a leaf on the breeze, basking in all they had been, the laughter and the tears, wrapping herself in the warmth of her reminiscence, one last embrace in the strength of his arms, hearing his whispered words, "You are free.".
Ame dips falling languidly to the ground in weariness, the final torrent of sobs wash away the remaining despair leaving only bittersweet memories behind.
Thank you for inviting me to dance and remember the next time you think it will wait until tomorrow, it won't.
Direct link if needed: http://player.vimeo.com/video/119024639
Text of the Dance
(Music used at GC: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZanAPlLQA68)This dance is dedicated to my first Companion (and RL longest friend) Randolf Juran/Jon who passed over this morning. Kwa heri yangu mpendwa
Intro - The procession did not chant, nor sing, for this was not a time for such things, nor did it carry boughs of Ka-la-na, nor were the sounds of the sista or tambor heard in the sunlight that morning. At such a time as this Goreans do not sing nor speak. They are silent, for at such a time words mean nothing, and would demean or insult; in such a time there can be for Goreans only silence, memory and fire. "No matter how insignificant or tiny one is, in the Gorean belief, one is an ineradicable part of history. That can never be taken from anyone." Assassin of Gor p. 2 - 3 and Dancer of Gor, p.426
Ame rolls from the sleeping mat with a groan, rubbing tear swollen eyes, stretching svelte body to greet the rising of Lar-Torvis, the past night seeming too short for sleep and far too long for remembering, leaves the small hut built of jungle grass, bends to add another log to the fire, gazing for an Ehn, his face in the flickering flames, still not quite believing it's real, rises and moves on.
/me plunges deeper into the jungle like a knife through flesh, mind wandering in the land of somnolence, gasps for air as if drowning reflecting on the news from a fellow merchant the day before...he was taken suddenly in defense of his home, fighting until his final inhalation. Stopping before the bittersweet plant, gently runs a strong, delicate hand over the petals, lungs reap the intoxicating scent, falling deeper into the maelstrom of introspection.
Ame curls in grief, the buckling weight of retrospection drives the otherwise unyielding frame toward the ground. Sparkling tears freely stream down flushed face recalling the first day they met, so strong and protective in his garb of scarlet, towering over her with the smile that took her breath away, the expressive eyes of verdigris peering into her very soul and laying it bare before him.
Ame's wiry arms thrash as if to push the recollections away, limbs struggling, writhing of their own accord, biting into the dirt with her feet, wounding the forest as she sprints, propelling her deeper into the anamneses...the courtship, the Companioning, the gradual demise of their relationship ending in defeat, the pain as they said in parting, "Be well".
Ame's taut frame explodes with abandonment as years of emotion boil to the surface, long legs pistoning against the spongy rain forest floor, stamping out the flames of heartache, Arms flexing and stretching in the natural form of the predator waging war against the demons within, wielding the spear of regret and things left unsaid, toned body dodging and weaving, determined to win the battle against the foe of guilt.
Ame releases a howl of agony bending and swaying under the assault, buffeted by the winds of whirling thoughts, obsidian braid whipping about head and shoulders as if in self flagellation for all the wasted time. Heart hammers within a moisture slicked breast driving the nails of pride and passion, resentment and unforgiveness out of their crumbling residence in her soul.
Ame slows; tightly drawn muscles begin to tremble in exhaustion, the pent feelings drifting into the zephyrs of release, bronzed form stretches as the tenor of movement changes, embracing the joy of their time together, remembering there was infinitely more good, agitation lessens, long fingers reaching for the aether as if to soar with the herlit.
Ame whirls with abandonment, throwing arms open wide, tossing the vestiges of grief away, tumbling like a leaf on the breeze, basking in all they had been, the laughter and the tears, wrapping herself in the warmth of her reminiscence, one last embrace in the strength of his arms, hearing his whispered words, "You are free.".
Ame dips falling languidly to the ground in weariness, the final torrent of sobs wash away the remaining despair leaving only bittersweet memories behind.
Thank you for inviting me to dance and remember the next time you think it will wait until tomorrow, it won't.
Photographer's Notes
- See my Course on Moving Sketches for more notes on who to create such movies.
- Picked a different Windlight setting
- Adjusted camera depth of field and camera angle
- Set graphics to medium high (for better performance), but increased number of Avatars to render
- 3dMouse was on vacation, so I panned and zoomed with my normal mouse.
- Bought royalty free music on pond5.com.
- Filmed on Windows w/ Fraps (16 Gig Ram, ATI graphics card)
- Edited with Camtasia from TechSmith - took about 10 hours to produce.
- I store videos on Vimeo instead of YouTube so I have slightly more control over what related videos are shown. I don't want something to scan 'huntress' and annoy you with a lot of bass fishing videos.
"I had forgotten I had changed the focal length settings, but it worked well at this event by giving me a wide view, and accenting the dancer's movements when they approached. I did spend a fair bit of time choosing a windlight setting. I was pleased to see some cool shadow effects from it, and an artful but not distracting sky. The fires around the dance pit actually added some useful variation to the lighting. I often overdue the panning and have to cut more, but it all came together as if by magic for this performance.
Ame's posts were excellent, but a bit long, so I split some into several screens. I experimented with the amount of time I used for each and ended up at 15 seconds. I was careful to have a readable font so you can enjoy her amazing writing while her animation is running. Similarly, I kept the transitions muted and simple, which seemed appropriate for this somber topic."
"Normally I drag my feet editing for 6 months, but this performance was so inspiring I completed it within a week. Skilled mentors, organizers, and teachers of both art and Gorean dance have created a community like no other. One cannot give enough thanks."
~ Koardan of Port Haifa, and part time School of Gorean Dance photographer.