Sound Space Performing Arts

Part _____

me, my people, and my spaces, 2016-2022

It’s not a coincidence to me that I made major space decisions about Sound Space Performing Arts when I was at my mentor’s house in upstate New York. I had been traveling there most summers between 2011 - 2019 to get my spirit re-charged and my mind set straight. People would travel from all over the world just to be at Heather’s studio and experience the support of being around like-minded artists. If I really think about it, Heather’s kitchen and home studio were the templates for the vibe I cultivated at Sound Space Performing Arts. The story of 3.0 starts there, with the beginning of 2.0.

August 2016: Valley Cottage:

I received my first letter of intent for the front space at 2511 W. Girard and literally choked while reading: 1) the monthly rent and 2) the length of the lease (5 years). At the time, I had a 10 year old, a 7 year old and a 2 year old. I was still in the trenches of having young kids. Five years seemed then like an eternity, like I was signing my life away. I replied almost immediately to the leasing agents, declining the offer. As the universe tends to operate, what was meant for me did not go away, and the leasing agents wrote me back at least twice more to help me understand that this was a good deal - and it was my deal. 

August 2019: Valley Cottage:

I found myself at Heather’s house again for my yearly meeting with the guru :-), and an email came through from my landlord with an updated agreement for taking on the whole first floor of 2511 W. Girard. Again, I relived the same feelings I had three years earlier. I choked on the increase in rent, wrote myself off, said there’s no way I can manage it , and then, as I walked around Heather’s backyard, surrounded by people who believed in me, reminding myself that I had made it this far, I decided to suck it up and figure it out.

I had no idea - nobody had any idea - that the pandemic was coming, just 7 months later. By the time I had somewhat of a process in place for running the two spaces, we had to go on lockdown and move our existing programs online. My initial strategies for utilizing the back space, (ie. rentals, outside workshops and new adult classes), all were not going to work. 

March 2020: Virtual:

Looking back, there is no one answer for how I made it through 2020-now with the increase in rent, the decline in revenue, and my children moving into my dining room for virtual school for 18 months. (This also means my working periods became that much more challenging). I just got up every day and rallied my ass off. And the people around me rallied just as hard. We didn’t have a choice.

Other blessings in my favor —

 - I applied for every loan and grant I possibly could and got maybe 5% of them;

 - And while I lost 50% of our young students between March and June 2020, the families that stayed on through 2020 (and 2021 and 2022, because it STILL is not over), really kept me going. They saw us through virtual class, outside class, outside recitals, back to virtual and outside class in November of 2021….they showed up for us, and for their kids;

 - We also had a core group of adult students who kept showing up online and outside for whatever I tried to do. Every Saturday, from March - July of 2020, I held online classes from my attic on Instagram Live. People came on and we actually had real classes where we worked on stuff and made real phrases. I worked infinitely harder on my online classes than I ever had before. I had to.

I don’t think I could ever explain the absolutely insane things I had to do every day to keep going, the massive amount of work involved, and the trauma involved in doing so. The world will move on and forget about this time, but believe me, I NEVER will.

June 2020: Cheltenham:

Still in lockdown, I thought about my next steps at 2511. I inquired about moving downstairs, in the same building, but I learned that space ultimately would never be available, and that my lease would ultimately not be renewed at all.

With everything around me falling apart, I thought about who I am as an artist and what I needed to do to stay open through all of this and what I wanted to do for the next 5 years.

Who I am:

• Choreographer and performing artist that makes new work in jazz music;

• A connector of music and dance;

• Teaching artist with decades of experience in all environments;

• Community leader/helper/resource maker;

• Problem solver/program maker/someone who is passionate about access;

• Innovator with big ideas;

• Someone who loves the energy of interacting with neighbors and passersby;

• Philly all day.

What I needed:

 - an accessible first floor location with an accessible restroom;

 - no stairs;

 - no doorbell;

 - a different corner where I could reach more people;

 - somewhere I could build a tap floor;

 - somewhere that could hold all my current and future programs and more

 - a gathering place, an open space, in the mix, where I could cultivate the vibe.

February 2021: Quarantined:

A year into the pandemic, I hit a wall and just about gave up entirely. A dear friend’s daughter, who was also my oldest daughter’s best friend, passed away very suddenly and tragically. The studio was limping along, with us doing hybrid teaching in double masks. My children all contracted COVID at various points, putting them in quarantine at home for weeks at a time.

June 2021: Philly/Columbus, OH:

After my third outside recital in 2 years, I was completely and totally exhausted, burnt out and dead inside. Besides keeping the studio alive, I was feverishly making concert work. Choreography and performance is my #1 love with teaching a close second. I had just made and performed a really successful, brand-new, evening length concert, live-streamed on PhillyCAM, and it took a lot out of me to do that. I had literally nothing left. I went to visit my best friend in Columbus, OH, and I slept for two days straight.

The reality is that keeping my business alive during the pandemic almost killed me. I didn’t eat well, sleep well or take care of myself, for almost two years. I didn’t stop until my body said, no more.

July 2021: Jacob’s Pillow:

I received the news that I have been accepted into Curriculum in Motion at Jacob’s Pillow, a dance education fellowship program that would allow me to meet new people, pursue new research and complete a project. I feel my energy coming back.

August 2021: Barnegat:

I was at the beach with my three kids for my first vacation in 8 years. I went back to our little room to check my email. I open an email from the SBA about a loan update, and when I click through the information, I am stunned. I have been offered a low-interest loan for the biggest amount of money I have ever seen in my life. Note: this amount was big FOR ME. I am essentially a first-generation college student from a blue-collar working-class family, held multiple jobs my entire life, had my kids very young, started from the bottom with studio 1 and a 5,000 credit card limit. I rolled with that 5,000 for many years, on a wing and a prayer. Was this finally my big break, my sigh of relief, had all the work paid off? 

September 2021: 31st Street

With no lease renewal at 2511 West Girard and many misgivings, I signed a lease at 1501 North 31st Street, because I thought, “I can make it work” and I wasn’t ready to walk away from everything I had built.

January 2022: 2511 West Girard

It is January of 2022. I’m outside in the wind and cold at 7:30 am on a snowy Saturday morning, shoveling the sidewalk in front of the studio at 2511 West Girard, so that we can have a clear path for our baby class and parents at 9 am. I left my house at 6:30 am so I could brave the roads and get there in time to do this really crappy task. I look over. I see someone shoveling snow next door to me, in front of the MMPartners office. It is my homie, Levi, who helped me with various projects at 2511 throughout the years. He helped me take down a wall and he also helped me oil my floors. We recognize each other, laugh about being out so early and how nobody but us would be crazy enough to shovel snow in a blizzard. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I said, “funny that I’ve run into you like this. I am really in a bind. I’m building a new studio and I don't have anyone to help me.” I took down his new cell number and the rest is history.

The reason that the new studio is open is one hundred percent because of one man, Levi.

He built the floors, the bathroom, the walls, the plumbing, installed the water fountains, hung my mirrors, told me what I needed to do to get a job done, and fixed so many complicated things with a passion I’ll never forget. We may not look alike, but we are very similar people in our work ethic. He loves what he does. I can relate. He did so much to make the studio happen. He helped me solve so many problems and went above and beyond to create something from nothing, and I can never thank him enough for being there. He is a very special person with a big heart. I don’t know what forces brought us together that day in January, but thank heavens they did. 

April 2022: On the corner

Howard Victor, the owner of Pearlstein’s Furniture next door to 2511, is the Mayor of Brewerytown. His introduction to me back in March of 2017 was, “this corner has always been booze and beds.” (My building was once a liquor store and next door was a beer distributor). We got along famously from there. I could always count on Howard for a jawing session that only true Philadelphians could appreciate. Once, I walked by his side door and he offered me a dollar bill to teach him to dance. I said, “Howard, you know I only accept those at the strip club later.” Howard wasn’t for everyone, but being Philly born and bred, I got it. He even helped me meet Marvin Harrison one day. I had no idea that Marvin’s garage was around the corner on 26th Street. At the time, I was wondering if I could use one of Marvin’s parking lots for an outdoor dance recital. Howard got some kind of tip and he told me to walk around the corner and talk to Marvin. I walk over and walk directly into THE Marvin Harrison, sitting casually in front of his stacked Bentleys and Porsches, eating microwaved eggs and pancakes. He was also surprisingly wiry and kind of short for an NFL star. The funny part of this whole story is, he pretended like he wasn’t Marvin, and said he’d give Marvin the message about wanting to use his parking lot. (If he didn’t have a Wikipedia picture and MUCH press, he might get away with that trick, but…) Marvin said no to letting me have a dance recital in his parking lot, but the effort wasn’t lost on me. Howard enjoyed my ambitiousness and artistic wildness in a way that only a few people do.

One day, as I prepared to move, I saw that I’d need some help in the transportation department, and I asked him if I could use one of his moving trucks to transport my mirrors and my piano. He agreed with pleasure.

On moving day, which was April 29, I drove up to the side door at Pearlstein’s and I was taken aback. Howard’s moving truck was already parked on the curb and all set up for me. Howard’s crew was all outside, waiting to help me and send me off. Some of Howard’s crew has been working at Pearlstein’s for over thirty years. When the movers came, Howard’s people oversaw the moving and made sure everything was loaded on the truck just right. Then, Howard drove me and the truck over to the new studio and was so proud when he walked inside to see what I had done. All of this - from all of his people - was one of the nicest, kindest and sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.

September 2022: Stopping in time at 1501 North 31st Street

It’s a weird kind of deja vu these days. I find myself repeating some of the same tasks I did five years ago, when I opened the space at 2511 West Girard. It is exhausting. I wonder why I am doing this to myself! (First floor-first floor-first floor). Even though I have done this before, I get in my own head about certain decisions or, frankly, I succumb to procrastination due to anxiety-avoidance, and I have to remind myself, “Snap out of it! You did this five years ago! This should not be hard!”

You know what, it is hard. It’s a level up for me, there’s a learning curve for sure, and I have to say, there’s a bit of wistfulness about the passage of time. My own life has changed dramatically since March of 2017, when I expanded to 2511 West Girard. Since I began this journey, my children have grown from ages 9-6-10 months to 16-13-7. The person who opened the studio at 2511 was a baby herself, taking care of babies, while believing all the while she knew what she was doing running a new business. 

Those of you out there with little kids, you know - the time just blasts by and rolls over, day in, day out, you fill the sippy cups, wash the clothes, pick up the toys, get up at night for years on end, and you grab the joy that you can, but mostly, you’re just tired. If you hold down a job or jobs, sometimes it’s just pure survival mode. My life for the last five years in particular required so much self-sacrifice. It’s a constant balancing act of wishing they were little and being thankful they no longer are! If you feel me.

The process of owning a business transforms you and looking back at the person I was when I started, I have no idea how I got to this point, because that person who took over 1200 square feet of space in 2017 was NOT SMART! Ha! I distinctly remember, in the first or second week of business, running to The Lucky Goat to steal their WiFi, because I couldn’t afford to have my own, and working out what I owed people on the back of a piece of scrap paper. You have to be a fast learner and you can’t give up, even when everything looks the bleakest. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up with zero dollars in the bank account and my gas tank literally on empty, and then… the phone rings. I get a celebratory email with information about a grant award I’ve been given, for a grant I forgot I even applied for. A presenter books me for a major concert out of nowhere. Basically, something happens to turn it around to where I forget I was planning on giving up twelve hours earlier. There is nothing like owning a business in the arts to keep you in the present moment. You need to do the work and get out of the way.

However, if you are serious about doing that work, this is what happens. You level up and you mature, you gain experience and make better art, and you get better gigs. The side effect is, you outgrow people, sometimes at an alarming rate. 

Way back, when I just had a practice floor at 1525 North Bailey Street, I remember being so excited at the prospect of hanging out with all of the people I grew up dancing with, especially the ones I spent all that time tap dancing with, because - - didn't we always say we needed a real tap floor? We would all use the floor, and we would hang out until the wee hours, jamming and making new stuff. Well, the people I grew up with haven’t come out to my studio in over 7 years, and I am now on my third location. Growth is joy and pain. 

I know that what I do is not linear and it never will be about the money for me. I am an artist. I learned that I have to be so careful and clear about what it is I am building and who I am. It’s hard to explain how this happens, but if you aren’t super clear about what you offer, there are people who will actively try to shape and mold your business into whatever it is that suits them. I am a choreographer, a performer and I teach dance at a very high level. But, if I wanted to, I could make serious bank doing lots of other things with my space: baby showers, fitness classes, pod school, Girl Scout meetings, vogue parties, birthday parties. There’s nothing wrong with taking that business, and I’ve tried taking that business, but it’s just not my business. I dance. And my studio is devoted to that purpose. My purpose.

I spoke to my mentor last week. I called her on the phone on a whim. I didn’t think she was going to pick up when I called, but she did. So, I said, “I didn’t think you’d pick up.” And she said, “is that what you called to tell me?” I laughed, because no - I called, because I wanted to talk. But, her joke made me think about my tendency, maybe all of our tendencies, to pretend that any of us can do hard things alone. Also: if someone calls you, don’t screen it. Pick up the phone.

I only get the chance to speak with her every so often, and I treasure the opportunity to have an hour of her time, because she has this masterful ability to say the right thing to pull my head out of my ass. For example, at times like these, when I am mopping up drywall dust, or writing this piece, when I should be posting or calling or networking, I definitely question if I have what it takes. Because, you know what, it may be 2022, but there are still plenty of people out there who are afraid of strong women who try to claim space. I’ve learned to reach out, dial a number, and understand that I may only leave a situation with my dignity intact. Or just take a moment, close my eyes and be grateful that I had the good luck to make it this far. And that I get another day to get it right.