|
|
|
 |
“We did a group dance called the Bundle Carriers. The idea was that all of us come into life carrying a bundle. Our talents, our intelligence, our soul, and our spirit are wrapped in it. Our whole life is a matter of “what did you do with what was in that bundle?” Barry Lynn’s solo dances tell stories of imaginary characters living in an imaginary time and place. He expresses them through sweeping movements, vibrant costumes and minimalist props. The characters appear loosely autobiographical. There’s the story of Oberon who is given the opportunity to experience the intoxicating state of being in love once but never again by inhaling the scent of the lotus flower; Krishnor who struggles to rise above male stereotypes by learning to show the gold bracelet which he’d kept concealed all of his life; and Shuran who goes to the mountain top to ask the gods why beauty exists alongside ugliness and evil on this earth. Barry dances out of passion. He moves forward in a modern dance continuum pioneered by Ruth St. Denis, Ted Shawn and others. “I danced because it was my life, and I still am dancing, because it’s my life. It’s not a job, it’s my life. Those early people danced because it was their life and they put up with anything they had to put up with and did anything they had to do, just to have the opportunity to walk on a stage and perform. It is a passion, it is a thing they have to do and they find some way to survive,” said Barry. He grew up on a tobacco farm in Roxboro, North Carolina. He remembers loving color, fabric and the bits of lace and trim his aunts gave him when he was a child. He began taking refuge in art. After high school he was a portrait painter and art teacher. He took his first dance class at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and immediately realized dance was it. He hitchhiked around the country during the 1930s taking dance classes and performing. While in New York studying with Hanya Holm, Martha Graham invited him to join her company. He greatly admired her but declined her offer. He knew he didn’t want to be “absorbed” by her domineering personality. Then he was drafted into the World War II air force. Still he found a way to pursue dance. He carried a red Chinese tom-tom and gave dance lessons to his platoon while stationed in Italy. “We’d go out into the pine grove. I had my practice suit with trousers and tie-top with a bare midriff. This particular morning we were doing da-da-da, watch that turn, lift that spine, and this major walks by. He stopped, did a double take and said “Now I know I have seen everything in this goddamn war,” and stormed off. When Barry finished his service, he burned his uniform. “I was no hero but I came out alive.” He took more dance classes under the GI Bill, performed solo in Europe and spent the bulk of his time in Salt Lake City. There he formed his own dance troupe, set up an indoor theater in an old grocery store and organized an outdoor theater in a red and white tent. He toured, taught dance at Westminster College, worked as a figure model and was a full time costume designer for the University of Utah dance department. He juggled all of this for three decades just so he could keep dancing. People in Salt Lake City called him a renegade. Then he officially retired from the University in 1978. The year before he retired, his troupe passed through Wisconsin and Michael Doran auditioned. The course of Barry’s life changed. “All the years I was touring, I avoided Wisconsin because I heard horror stories about how cold it was. I wouldn’t even take a booking because I had this picture that Wisconsin was a 15 minute walk from the north pole. Then suddenly I find myself here.” Barry and Michael formed a partnership which led to ChaliceStream, their rural dance studio. They moved a one room schoolhouse to the 80-acre wooded farmstead Michael inherited from his grandparents. They live in the bell tower, teach dance classes, and stage performances which attract from one to 100 people. Outside there’s a lily pond, stream, flower garden, and a large willow tree under which they serve lemonade. It is a modest paradise. |