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thewarriorspecial · 9 months

Text

Drive Me Crazy

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Rating: Explicit

Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Sex on a Car, car talk, Blow Jobs, Masturbation

Guy is supposed to be resting and recovering, but he'd rather pass the time working on his car than laying about. Kyle's not much help for letting him rest.

Read on AO3

Drive Me Crazy

Guy was a really unfortunate combination of hard-working and short sighted. If he would ever just use the damn ring or ask for some help it wouldn’t take so long for his latest combat wounds to heal. The closest he managed to come to something resembling resting his body was when he dropped face-down onto the mattress after several rounds of sex or entirely too many beers.

“Alcohol is a blood thinner, you know,” Kyle said, pushing sweaty hair out of his face.

“Mruh,” Guy responded, neither acknowledging nor denying the information.

Instead of icing his battered knee or kicking back in bed to let his ribs knit themselves back together, Guy decided to distract himself with some neglected work around the garage. He pushed the gold Trans-Am into the open bay door instead of driving it because, “The clutch is too soft. Don’t wanna plow through the wall.” Whatever that meant.

So Kyle watched his partner grunt and drip sweat in the morning sun. An excellent way to start the day, Kyle thought to himself as he raised his mug to his lips. The heat of the fresh coffee pooled in his belly along with other things. Kyle’s fingers wandered under his waistband as he thought about Guy’s big, powerful body. He knew he should be better about insisting that Guy rest and maybe not enable his bad behavior. But Guy had needs. And he had needs, too.

The cheery sunlight put the dips and curves of Guy’s muscles in sharp contrast. His huge basketball shorts rode up as he planted his feet and pushed the obnoxiously painted vehicle forward. The backs of Guy’s black and white hi-tops were crushed flat from sliding them on without untying them a hundred times. Kyle’s eyes traveled the taught line from Guy’s Achilles tendon along the rippling calf to the middle of his bulging thigh. Big thighs, shapely ass, back like a mountain range—everything tensed, everything heated and sweaty.

Kyle bit his lip and imagined how good that damp, sun-warm t-shirt smelled. He would definitely abscond with that later. Guy’s grunts and curses made it easy for Kyle to imagine those sounds coming from above, Guy panting, sweat dripping. Kyle could feel the soft brush of chest hair against his throat, the rasp of stubble against his temple.

“Big fuckin’ bitch,” Guy coughed out, as he patted the trunk affectionately. He lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Kyle needed to put his own face in the molten center of Guy’s hot, sweaty chest immediately. Still in his pajamas, which is to say Guy’s clothes from yesterday, Kyle shuffled his feet into some sneakers and headed out the front door.

The big, gold Pontiac gently rocked against the parking brake as Guy lovingly worked the drain plugs out of the differential. He checked the plugs for any metal debris and ducked the arc of brown, draining fluid with practiced ease. He lifted the wet plug to his nose and smelled it. No sign of contamination or overuse. He loved that smell—real 75 weight mineral oil. It smelled like hot summers on the drag strip and cavitating pumps at the amusement park.

“I’m not the mechanic here,” Kyle said, leaning on the garage door-frame, “but I’m pretty sure that’s not how you change oil.”

“You’re right. I’m juicing the pumpkin,” Guy’s voice came from under the rear end of the car. He began the quick work of refilling the gear oil and returning the plug to its proper position and torque.

Kyle scrunched his lips to the side, wondering how a pumpkin had gotten stuck under the car. He pursued his seduction head-on without questions. “Thank goodness I have a big strong man to take care of my car for me.”

Guy’s upper body came into view as he rolled the creeper out from under the car. He raised a suspicious eyebrow in Kyle’s direction, “My car.”

Kyle sighed and pushed himself off of the door-frame, “I just wish there was some way I could repay you for all of this.” He walked towards the front of the car and leaned his hip on the front quarter panel.

“Never paid me before.” Guy’s eyes roamed slowly over Kyle’s body. He was more than happy to have a booth bunny posing on his ride.

“Isn’t there something I can do for you? Something you’d like?”

“I…you’re fine?” Guy pulled the shredded remains of an old towel out of his overalls and wiped some of the grease off of his fingers. “I was gonna do this anyways?”

Kyle’s chuckle is devilish. He changes tactics, “I want you to show me how your machine works.”

“Oh? Oh! Well in that case,” Guy began, excitedly pushing himself off of the creeper and onto his feet. He pulled the fallen strap of his overalls onto his right shoulder once he was on his feet. If any of the movement caused him pain, he didn’t show it.

Guy walked to the open hood and rested his hands at the front of the engine bay. His eyes swept over Kyle’s long legs and then the the fruits of his labor. “I wanted to keep as much of it as OG as possible, ya know? But she needed some work, that’s for sure. I was running her way too hard—cracked the rings, gouged the cylinders so I had to bore ‘em out.”

“Bore them out. Sure,” said Kyle, expression wide-eyed and lips pressed together.

“The cylinders. They gotta be smooth so I had to drill em out. Widen the holes.”

“Oh.” Kyle moved to lean next to Guy, under the hood. He liked the sound of that.

“Ended up doing a forty overbore—whole new stroke kit, torque plate, the works.”

“Stroke?” Another one of Kyle’s favorite words.

“Yup, more stoke means bigger parts to fill the bigger displacement.”

“Bigger’s always better.”

Guy squinted at Kyle’s enthusiastic nodding, “And then ya gotta balance the rest of the car out to handle that kinda power. But I could only go so far because I ain’t got another transmission and I don’t want to give up my four speed. Wally came by with a custom cam and main caps, too. Really brought the whole thing together.”

“Ah,” Kyle’s face pinched in a frown at the mention of one of his least favorite people. That explained where two bags of Doritos and an entire cheesecake had gone.

“And since I was already doin’ a whole teardown I figure well, gonna need a bigger crank so might as well do a new timing set which let me replace the fuel pump drive so I don’t have to stay carbureted. Lotta guys really like that sound, ya know? Got a certain smell too but long term, you know?”

“Classic, of course,” Kyle knew better than to try and speak man-car to Guy. He’d tried to keep up with the guy-talk once to horrific results. He enjoyed Guy’s gruff voice and his excitement. He just couldn’t understand how anyone actually enjoyed that amount of tedium and suffering to only drive around under very specific conditions. The subway was right there.

“I want her to last. I ain’t no racer. I wanna drive her as long as I can. Springs were rustin’ to hell so I went ahead and put coil-overs on. She sits a little lower but most people wouldn’t see the difference. New control arms, tie rods, you know, the little things. Got her aligned and shined. Upgraded the exhaust so you can still hear that loping rumble. She’s still got it,” Guy said, voice soft as he started to walk around the driver’s side. He let the tips of his fingers trail gently along the aggressive angle of the A-pillar. “Solar Gold Y88, special edition with the T-top. Only the ’78 Trans Ams. She really is…gorgeous. One of a kind.”

“Gorgeous,” Kyle echoed.

“Men like pretty things,” Guy said over his shoulder as he continued his appreciative walk around the vehicle. His piercing blue eyes stayed on Kyle as his fingers follow the curves of the car, “whether they say so or not.”

“We show it in different ways, I guess.” Kyle stands, crossing his arms and cocking his head as he watches Guy prowl.

“You’re an artist. You get it, don’cha?” Guy’s hands worked their way up the passenger side of the car.

“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder and whatnot.”

“Lucky for me,” Guy grins. He presses himself into Kyle’s space, steps in until they’re nose to nose. His hands flex with the urge to touch more.

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

Guy scoffs. He turned away suddenly, reaching for the hood strut. He lifted the enormous gold rectangle and tucked the hood strut into the engine bay. “Kid. I know I’m not,” he says as he drops the hood with a bang.

“Do you?” Undeterred, Kyle stepped behind Guy, crowding him against the front bumper of the car. Feather light, he ran his hands down Guy’s back, gentle with his tender ribs. He let his arms drape around Guy’s waist. He pressed his face between Guy’s shoulder blades and breathed, “You smell good.”

“Psh. B.O. and diff fluid. That’s the manly stuff right there.”

“It is. I like it. I like you sweaty and dirty.”

“You like my dirty hands?” Guy asked, as he laid his greasy hands over Kyle’s paint stained fingers.

“I like what you do with them.”

“Do ya?” Guy smirked as he turned in Kyle’s arms. His hands balled up in the hem of Kyle’s—his—shirt as he roughly tore it over Kyle’s head. He tossed it aside with one hand and grabbed Kyle around the back of his head with the other. He didn't give Kyle a chance to think, much less speak, as he sealed his mouth over Kyle’s. He was done talking.

Kyle let Guy’s grease spattered hands roam as they pleased.

“So? How much a’this little visit is about what I want, and how much of it is about what you want? Hm?”

“Depends how much you’re up for, old man.”

“Oh I’m up for it. I’m always good for it. How ‘bout you, kid? Are you down?” Guy asks, as he shoved Kyle roughly backwards, forcing him to fall onto the hood. Kyle startled; he half expected Guy to freak out about scratches or dents. “Let’s take ya for a little test ride. See what’s gotcha so hot and bothered.”

“You,” Kyle smiled.

“Let’s test that theory. Do a little diagnostic work.” Guy unsnapped one of the straps of his overalls, the look in his eyes heated and predatory.

“Since when are you a mechanic?”

“Since I got tools and shit, how bout that?” Guy’s brow furrowed.

“Tools?”

“Yeah! Lemme go get my new sniffer n’sniff you out.”

“Your what?” Kyle sat up on his elbows, alarmed.

Guy had already stalked away, steel-toed boots thumping a path over to the toolbox. He pulled a few drawers open, metallic clanging and clattering punctuated his search until he found what he wanted. It looked a bit like one of those book-reading lights—a long flexible new protruded from a plastic, oval body and a little rubber tip was affixed to the end.

“What’re you doing with that?”

“C’mere,” Guy surged forward, pinning Kyle to the car and poking him relentlessly with the tool.

“What the fuck! Knock it off!” Kyle laughed, eyes bright as he tried to wrestle the thing out of Guy’s eagle talon grip.

Guy clicked the switch on the side. A little red light flashed and the tool beeped twice. “Oh! Looks like we got a read here, Spock.” Guy held the tool up with exaggerated thoughtfulness, still keeping Kyle pinned down effortlessly with one arm.

“Well, what is it?” Kyle demanded in mock anger.

Guy clicked his tongue and sighed, “Chronic horny, I’m afraid.”

“Is there any cure, doc?” Kyle asked, honey-sweet with a rock of his hips.

“I fuckin’ hope not!”

“You think you’re the guy for the job? You gonna fix me?” Kyle asked as Guy was already popping the button on his jeans and yanking them down.

“I’m gonna fix you real good, you’ll see.” Guy ran his tongue over the big, red ‘W’ tattoo on Kyle’s hip.

The metal hood was cool against Kyle’s heated skin. He let Guy press him down, folded an arm behind his head to keep the hood scoop from digging into his skull. It felt special, being allowed to touch such a valuable car and to be the center of Guy’s focus despite the sun-gold paint and man-sized decal.

Guy’s big hands squeezed Kyle’s thighs as he lavished Kyle’s hipbones with teeth and tongue. He mouthed the bulge in Kyle’s underwear, blue eyes blazing as he stared up and into Kyle’s panting face.

“Yeah,” Kyle growled, taking a rough handful of Guy’s short, copper hair and pressing him down.

“Like that?” Came Guy’s muffled retort. “Yeah I fuckin’ do. And so do you.” Kyle’s rucked-down jeans rustled in the quiet garage as he wrapped his thighs around Guy’s head. He yanked Guy’s hair again, harder. The sound that came out of Guy was as much a growl as it was a raspy chuckle.

It was a lot of power for Kyle to push around—two hundred and twenty pounds of sex and fury, and both with a hair trigger. Like feathering the gas in a tight turn, Guy’s responses were forceful and immediate. And Kyle loved being the one behind the wheel.

Impatient, Kyle hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and kicked the last of his clothes off. Guy leaned back to give Kyle some room and divested himself of his shirt and dropped the overalls to the floor. Sharp blue eyes drank in all of Kyle’s tanned, tattooed skin one slow inch at a time.

Against the gold paint, the warm undertones of Kyle’s skin shone beautifully. His body was framed by the wings of the firebird decal, giving him the look of a Greek deity on an ancient mural.

“Gorgeous,” Guy said softly, reverently. He thought of how many times his phoenix had been reborn. “One of a kind.” Guy leaned down and his big, warm hands clamped around Kyle’s naked hips.

Kyle felt suddenly unnerved so he shoved Guy’s head down again, “Now take care of me, so I can take care of you.”

“You gonna take care of me?” Guy half-whispered, dragging his stubble along Kyle’s thigh and flattening his tongue against the base of Kyle’s cock, “Gonna go to work, and pay for dinner, and take real good care of me?” Guy flicked those dangerous blue eyes up at Kyle again, “Daddy?”

Talk about shifting into a higher gear, Kyle thought as he yanked Guy’s mouth open with his thumb and shoved his cock in. Maybe their interests weren’t so different. “Yeah, baby,” Kyle hissed. His fingers dug into Guy’s skull as he started to move his hips, “My good boy.”

With a groan, Guy dropped to his knees. His body ignited and relaxed all at once at the praise. He couldn’t stop the soft little sounds that worked their way out of his mouth every time Kyle’s dick hit the back of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks. He dug his fingers into Kyle’s squirming hips.

“Fuck,” Kyle pushed against Guy’s shoulders, “Guy, fuck, I’m gonna…”

Guy grabbed Kyle’s thighs and closed them tight around his head.

“So fuckin' good, you’re so fuckin' good for me, baby,” Kyle’s head tipped back and he stilled.

Guy greedily drank down everything he was given.

Kyle tried to sit up but he kept sliding in his own sweat. He reached his hand up and laughed, “Here, help me up. Switch me.”

Guy was biting his lip, pondering the lovely sight before him.

“What?” Kyle asked. “What’s that look for?”

“Can I just, you know, look at’cha?”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Okay,” Kyle shrugged. He leaned back into his comfortable position with his arms over his head again.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Guy sighed, taking himself in hand.

Kyle found himself unable to look away from the motion and felt his cheeks heat up. Watching Guy work himself was powerfully masculine and erotic. Kyle could feel his entire body coiling with desire again at the sight. He raised his legs up, running the arches of his feet along Guy’s calves.

Guy ran his fingertips over the tattoo on Kyle’s thigh—a row of the solar system’s planets. “When’d ya get this one?”

“Long time ago. It’s kinda like those bumper stickers people get every time they visit a land mark. I did each planet. The first time I went there. When I was a new Lantern.”

“Nine of em?” Guy panted out.

“Yup. Pluto counts.”

“Good, “ Guy smiled. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, “N’at one?” He asked, gesturing to the cartoon skull and crossbones on Kyle’s bicep. “Hm. You wanna talk about another man touching me right now?” Kyle teased.

“I dunno,” Guy replied, surprisingly unfazed. His eyes were dark with desire, “Is he hot?”

Kyle couldn’t hold in his laugh. He was not discussing Roy on a scale of 1-10 right now. No way. He started to laugh in earnest and covered his face.

“Don’t do that,” Guy panted, “Tell me later. Come back.”

Kyle dropped his hands to his waist, where he twisted his fingers together awkwardly. “Is this one your favorite?” He asked, trailing his fingers along the ‘W’ on his hip. Guy’s hand started pumping faster.

“Yeah.”

Kyle let his hands trail slowly over his body. He watched the way Guy’s eyes followed the motion. He played with his nipples, pinched them, and smiled at the way it made them both hiss.

“Look at me,” Kyle said, “Keep your eyes open for me.”

Guy grunted in response, but did as he was asked. When he came he nearly lost his balance. Kyle sat up, reaching his hands out. Not thinking, he gripped Guy around the ribs. When Guy twisted away, he jerked back immediately.

“Shit! I’m so sorry! You okay?”

“I’m good,” Guy said with a dopey smile. “All good.”

“You haven’t taken any of your medicine today, have you?” Kyle frowned.

“Psh, what do I need Oxycontin for when I got all this oxytocin, huh?” Guy smiled. He reached out and pinched Kyle’s cheek, “My little drug dealer.” He chuckled and stretched—gingerly as he had forgotten about his ribs again already.

“You sure you’re good?”

“Everything’s good when I got you, baby.”

#*myfic #guykyle #peace love and guykyle #i love cars so much sorry

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2700fstreet · 6 years

Photo

DANCE / 2018-2019

WRITTEN IN WATER

NOV 2 SCHOOL PERFORMANCE

RAGAMALA DANCE COMPANY

Ranee Ramaswamy and Aparna Ramaswamy, Artistic Directors and Choreographers Ashwini Ramaswamy, Choreographic Associate Amir ElSaffar and Prema Ramamurthy, Composers V. Keshav, Visual Artist (with additional artwork by Nathan Christopher and historical image provided by the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Cambridge) Aparna Ramaswamy, Ranee Ramaswamy, Ashwini Ramaswamy, Tamara Nadel, Jessica Fiala, Dancers Amir ElSaffar (trumpet, santur, and vocal), Preethy Mahesh (vocal), Rohan Krishnamurthy (mridangam), Arun Ramamurthy (violin), Kasi Aysola (nattuvangam), Musicians

Have you ever felt mesmerized while watching a dance performance? Written in Water might have that effect on you—the colors, sounds, costumes, and choreography will seem to take you to another world. And even if you’re unfamiliar with classical Indian dance, you may find yourself captivated by the work unfolding on the stage…an expression of emotions and states of being told without any English words.

How is that possible?

The dance, music, and design elements work together to convey feelings that transcend language. No matter your spiritual or cultural background, everyone can relate with the universal themes of Written in Water: morality, divinity, adversity, and community. And you don’t need to be an expert in Indian dance to appreciate the beauty, effort, and experience of the performance. But here’s a bit of a helpful summary to connect you with the history and vision of Written in Water so you can better enjoy the experience.

So, What’s Going On?

Using movement, gesture, melody, and rhythm—Bharatanatyam (pronounced BAH-rah-tah-NAHT-yam), is India’s oldest classical dance tradition. Bharatanatyam dates back more than 2,000 years to the Hindu temples of Tamil Nadu (in southeastern India), where dancers used music and movement to translate mythological themes and stories for the people. It is a living, breathing dance form that has evolved throughout the centuries. In the 1930s, Bharatanatyam moved out of the temples and became a concert dance form. Today, dancers and choreographers in India and around the world use Bharatanatyam in innovative ways to create their own work.

The word “Bharatanatyam” comes from four words in Sanskrit (an ancient language from India): Bha (Bhava, which means expression), Ra (Raga, which means melody), Ta (Talam, which means rhythm), and Natyam, which means dance. It was traditionally a solo dance form, performed by women. Today, men and women perform Bharatanatyam, both in solo and ensemble productions.

The two main aspects of Bharatanatyam are rhythmic dance and expressive dance. In rhythmic choreography—known as nritta (NRIT-tah)—dancers perform dynamic, often symmetric, movements with their entire bodies—torso, head, legs, arms, hands, and feet—while they use their bare feet to stamp out rhythms on the floor. Expressive dance—known as abhinaya (AH-bee-nah-yah)—is the physical expression of emotions and states of being. Dancers use hand gestures, facial expressions, and body movements to tell stories and convey emotions.

Bharatanatyam technique is made up of a vocabulary of rhythms, postures, gestures, and movements, which offer a beautiful language that can be used in creative ways. Just as a poet can use words to write his or her own poetry, a choreographer can use the Bharatanatyam vocabulary to create his or her own dances.

The dance is accompanied by live music: a vocalist singing in an Indian language (usually Tamil, Telegu, or Sanskrit), a melodic instrument (usually a violin or flute), a two-headed drum called a mridangam (mruh-DAHN-gahm), and a conductor, who uses small cymbals and vocal percussion to mirror and complement the rhythms of the dancers’ feet.

Still not certain what to expect? Want a preview? Take a look:

vimeo

'Written in Water' trailer from Ragamala Dance Company on Vimeo.

About the Performance

Understanding the inspirations and themes of Written in Water will help you relate to the performance and better appreciate the work. Written in Water is a collaborative creation that brings together choreography, ancient poetry, mythological stories, three musical styles, and visual art to explore universal ideas of humanity, community, adversity, morality, and divinity.

Written in Water does not tell a linear story. Rather, it explores the idea of a human soul on a journey toward ultimate wisdom. This idea is universal; it is experienced by people of all cultures from around the world. It is something we can all relate to, regardless of our nationality, ethnicity, or faith.

In creating Written in Water, choreographers Ranee Ramaswamy and Aparna Ramaswamy were inspired by an age-old board game from India known as Paramapadam (PAH-rah-mah-PAH-dham). This game takes players on a symbolic journey in the search for ultimate wisdom. (Paramapadam might look familiar to you—centuries later, the British brought it to the Western world, where Milton Bradley adapted it into “Chutes and Ladders.”)

Ranee and Aparna have used the Paramapadam game board as a framework for Written in Water. This framework is both physical and metaphorical. At times during the performance, the game board is projected upon the stage and the dancers negotiate snakes and ladders, which represent the heights of ecstasy and depths of longing. Watch how the dancers move when they are traversing the snakes and ladders.

To add additional emotional layers to Written in Water, Ranee and Aparna drew from the 12th century epic poem The Conference of the Birds, which explores the journey toward transcendence from a Sufi perspective. In this poem, a group of birds travels through seven valleys to find their leader. Each of the valleys represents a state of being—spiritual longing, human love, unity with others, detachment from material life—ending in the realization that the leader they were seeking was within them all along.

They also have drawn from the Indian mythological story of Ksheerabthi Madanam (Shee-RABH-dhee MAH-dah-nahm), the Churning of the Seven Seas. This story is a metaphor for a world in chaos, the dynamic tension between good and evil, and the mythological figure of Vishnu, who becomes the perfect center toward which humans strive.

Ranee and Aparna commissioned a new musical score for Written in Water from Iraqi-American composer/musician Amir ElSaffar, which brings together musical influences from South India, Iraq, and American jazz. To create a visual environment for the work, they commissioned paintings from India-based visual artist V. Keshav to be projected on the stage floor and a standing screen. The artists worked together to construct the choreography, music, visual art, and design of Written in Water simultaneously, in a collaborative process that lasted four years.

Caption: During the performance, look for the banner screen and game board projections. Note the snakes and ladders running across the squares on the floor.

Photo by Three Phase Multimedia, LLC

What to Look and Listen for

Details about the costumes, projection, movement, and music…

Costumes:

Bharatanatyam dancers wear costumes stitched together from traditional saris (wrapped garments often made from handwoven silk). This design was created in the 20th century to make it easier for dancers to move freely. The costume includes a blouse, pants, an upper sash and waist sash, and a pleated fabric that falls in front of the dancer’s midline. When she takes a bent-kneed position, the pleats open like the folds of a fan.

Dancers wear anklets called chalangai (SHA-lan-gay, pieces of leather sewn with many small metallic bells), to enhance the rhythms of their feet. Experienced dancers have the ability to modulate numerous different percussive sounds with different parts of the feet. This modulation yields delicate or more impactful sounds from the dancers’ bells.

Dancers also wear South Indian ‘temple’ jewelry—gold-colored pieces embellished with stones made to look like rubies, emeralds, and pearls. A set of temple jewelry consists of long chains, pendants, short necklaces, headpieces, earrings, waist belts, nose pins, and bangles.

Dramatic makeup is carefully applied to dancers’ faces—especially around the eyes—to highlight their expressions and subtle yet impactful facial movements.

Red dye known as alta (AHL-tah) is used to paint the dancers’ fingertips and toes. The red color accentuates dancers’ hand gestures and foot movements.

Caption: Close up of Aparna Ramaswamy. Look for traditional Bharatanatyam makeup, jewelry, and costume.

Photo courtesy of NCPA

Caption: Another close-up of Aparna Ramaswamy in Bharatanatyam makeup design and ornate jewelry.

Photo by Hub Willson

How does a Bharatanatyam dancer get ready for her performance? Here’s a time-lapse video of a Ragamala dancer getting into Bharatanatyam makeup and jewelry in under one minute: https://www.facebook.com/ragamala/videos/10155561684898074/

Projection:

In Written in Water, Ragamala Dance Company commissioned paintings by contemporary Indian artist V. Keshav to be projected on the floor of the stage and on a screen behind the dancers. Take note of how the projections change through the course of the piece.

Mr. Keshav’s paintings present contemporary interpretations of figures from Indian mythology and their identifying symbols, with an emphasis on a sense of movement and beauty.

Movement:

Bharatanatyam has 36 fundamental movements that use the dancer’s entire body—torso, head, legs, arms, hands, and feet. These movements, called adavus (AH-dah-voos), make up the alphabet of rhythmic choreography in Bharatanatyam.

Look for the araimandi (AH-rai-mahn-dee) position (half-seated with the dancer’s legs bent and knees and feet pointed outward) from which many movements start in Bharatanatyam.

There are 28 single-handed hastas (gestures) called Asamyukta Hasta (AH-sahm-yook-tah HAHS-ta) and 24 double-handed hastas called Samyukta Hasta (SAHM-yook-tah HAHS-ta). It takes many, many years to study Bharatanatyam, and children will start as young as age six or seven.

In rhythmic choreography, these gestures are used to beautify the rigor of the line. In expressive choreography, they can have a wide variety of meanings when presented in context with body movements and emotional expression.

Written in Water is performed without intermission or pauses for costume changes. Observe how the dancers transition between the different parts of the performance through their choreography, expression, and music.

Caption: Watch how the dancers “freeze” at different times to direct the audience’s focus to another dancer or part of the stage. Thematically, this provides a sense of contemplation.

Photo by Three Phase Multimedia, LLC

Here’s a video of some of the single-handed hastas of Bharatanatyam. You can see how these gestures can be part of a language. Each gesture can have dozens (even hundreds) of meanings depending on how it is held or moved around the body, the position of the body, and the dancer’s expression. Yet it is different from sign language, because it does not stand alone. It needs the accompanying body movements and words and/or music to provide the full meaning. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_vUCoufnws&t=359s

youtube

Music:

There are a variety of rhythms created by the musical ensemble and by the dancers—the musical instruments, vocals, and the movements of the feet.

Notice the mix of musical styles—South Indian classical music is called Carnatic (car-NAH-tik) music, and in Written in Water, it is blended with the classical music tradition of Iraq—known as Maqam (mah-KAHM)—and also with American jazz influences.

Listen for strong melodies backed by a drone, or a note that is held steady.

What instruments do you hear? Try to point out the violin, mridangam (drum), trumpet, and santur (sahn-TOOR) (hammered dulcimer).

Written in Water also features vocal percussion. This is a percussive language that that is understood by both drummers and dancers. The vocalizations mirror and complement the rhythms of the dancers’ feet.

Caption: Notice how the musicians watch the dancers throughout the performance. There is a dialogue between music and movement.

Photo courtesy of Valley Performing Arts Center

What to Think About

How do the vivid colors of the costumes and projections add to the mood of the movement? Try to think of what feelings you experience when you envision different colors. How do the artists use colors to help evoke feelings?

How does the mix of different musical styles make you feel? Why do you think the artists decided to bring together these specific forms of music?

The music was written especially for Written in Water. How does the music interact with the choreography to create a dialogue between musicians and dancers?

How does Bharatanatyam compare and contrast with ballet or other forms of dance?

Caption: Think how the movement, music, costumes, projections, and lighting all come together.

Photo by Three Phase Multimedia, LLC

Take Action

In order to create a work of art, artists take inspiration from many sources. Written in Water was inspired by a board-game, mythological stories, poems, music, and imagery. It’s one thing to just feel inspired, but it’s another thing to act creatively upon that inspiration. So, let’s take action!

Ragamala Founder and Co-Artistic Director Ranee Ramaswamy remembers playing the Indian board game Paramapadam as a child. Once a year during a religious festival, everyone would stay up at all night and fast. Her family would play the game to distract themselves. Ramaswamy recalls the magic of the game—a seemingly simple game that brought to light some important life topics like mythology, fate, purpose, free will, transcendence, and humanity. This game was a major inspiration for Written in Water.

Now it’s time to create your own board game that relates to your cultural identity. First, come up with a goal (what it means to “win” the game). Then, work backwards to figure out the steps and rules needed to achieve that goal by way of the game. Will you use cards, dice, or maybe a coin? Are there elements of skill or chance involved? Do players work in teams? Take your time to plan out your own unique board game on a poster board or piece of cardboard. Get creative by adding color, drawings, and other fun elements to your board that remind you of your culture and heritage. Don’t forget to come up with a name for your game, too. When you’re finished, try playing the game with a friend or family member.

If you feel comfortable, share a photo of your board game on Instagram. Be sure to tag @thekennedycenter and use the hashtag #myculturalboardgame.

Additional Photos

Photos by Bruce Palmer, Amanulla, and Ed Bock

EXPLORE MORE

Go even deeper with the Ragamala Dance Company: Written in Water Extras.

Writer: Mary Callahan

Content Editor: Lisa Resnick

Logistics Coordination: Katherine Huseman

Producer and Program Manager: Tiffany A. Bryant

The Kennedy Center’s presentation of Written in Water is made possible through the generosity of Trehan Foundation, Inc.

International Programming at the Kennedy Center is made possible through the generosity of the Kennedy Center International Committee on the Arts.

Major support for educational programs at the Kennedy Center is provided by David M. Rubenstein through the Rubenstein Arts Access Program.

Kennedy Center education and related artistic programming is made possible through the generosity of the National Committee for the Performing Arts.

#ragamaladancecompanyat2700F #dance

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