One Night in Miami

Recently, I had the opportunity to spend some time in Miami, Florida, land of Palm trees and beaches. I was there to work with docents and staff of the education department at the Pérez Art Museum Miami on accessible customer service and audio description. This was my third time working with this museum and its staff, and as always, it was a great pleasure. And the museum setting is fabulous too! We were in the Board Room, with wrap-around windows that overlook a water runway… and seaplanes landed throughout the day, bouncing through the wakes their pontoons kicked up. We had a lively conversation concerning best practices for interacting with patrons with diverse abilities, and then spent some quality time in the galleries talking about verbal description for some of the artworks.

In the lobby, For Those in Peril on the Sea by the London-based artist Hew Locke, 70 model boats are suspended from the ceiling. They are diverse in size and color, painted in strong reds, greens, and yellows; some are covered with plastic plants and artificial flowers. They include Chinese junks, Norwegian cruise ships, Indonesian fishing boats, cigarette boats and clipper ships.

For the second year in a row, my trip to Miami coincided with a Miami-based arts and disability conference that I was able to attend as well. This year, Forward Motion, a Physically Integrated Dance Festival and Conference, organized by Karen Paterson & Dancers, was my special treat. Although I wasn’t able to stay for the entire festival, I was able to see several of the Candoco dancers and Karen Peterson dancers perform an intriguing score incorporating voice, echo, translation, and space. It is based on a structure practiced by the British company, Dog Kennel Hill. It was adapted by the dancers working together at Forward Motion for this conference. In addition to Candoco (London) and KPD (Miami), AXIS Dance Company (Oakland) and REVolutions Dance (Tampa) were also performing at the Festival.

The conference consisted of several thought-provoking panel discussions concerning topics of representation in the arts and media, moving beyond inclusion, and intersecting disability, sexuality, race, religion, ethnicity, and gender. Whoa: three very diverse and incredibly important panels discussing some meaty topics!

Some quotes that have stayed with me include:

“Diverse doesn’t mean inclusive.” So true. Many people still struggle with the concept of inclusion; what it means in context of disability.

“I am not educating people… But maybe I am because I am being seen. I know I have the power to be seen.” I have always believed that if you live your life, and let other people experience you living your life, education can happen.

“Inclusion means, I’m included but you’re not. Inclusivity means our stories are included, therefore our bodies are included too.” This one made me think.

And finally, this one is attributed to Annie Segarra, (artist, activist, YouTuber): “Inclusion is being invited to a party that is not equipped to have me there. Access is being invited to a party where I can make my own decision. Maybe I don’t want to dance, but I have the choice.”

All the panelists were very engaged and could have talked longer given the opportunity.

I ended my time in Miami wandering the Wynwood Walls, a neighborhood of warehouses that have been transformed by muralists. I discovered a poet, Jess, (@poemshop-js) who writes poetry on his manual typewriter outside one of the coffee shops. When asked to write a poem about One Night in Miami, he obliged:

The summer air blazes into 

  October, pausing 

a moment 

   to let the sun hide.

   The cotton candy clouds of 

    technicolor sunset 

now drift in simple notes 

       of stray slate 

  and dove gray. 

   We can breathe, 

finally. There is 

     opening and room, 

where the sauna and 

  red glow made us melt 

  inward at noon, 

    now we can stroll 

calm in the open 

    beneath the waning moon.

           The music of evening 

    calls the convocation, 

cars with made-up faces pass, 

swirling the dust of the street. 

Another night before 

             the weekend, in this city 

    where the ocean 

         and Everglades meet.

Jess Allen and his typewriter sit at the edge of the sidewalk, observed by two passers-by.