Dance Me from the Outside
Last night I packed both my unsuspecting wife and my unsuspecting self into a car and headed down to the St Lawrence Center for the Arts. Why? Well, partially to witness the fruits of my own labours, but mostly to seek inspiration. I say unsuspecting because even though I knew I was going to see something special, I had no idea how special. June 23rd marked the night of Outside Looking In, a yearly charitable performance showcasing the dancing talent of aboriginal children from across Ontario. The organization takes kids from Indian preserves across the province and puts them through a grueling training program, giving them both the mastery of choreographed dance routines and an opportunity to perform live in the big smoke. The organization was founded by Tracee Smith, a member of the Missanabie Cree First Nation. Tracee worked as a professional dancer in New York and Los Angeles, and is one of the busiest people I've encountered. We've only met a few times, but since knowing her I've been nothing short of amazed that she founded this organization and runs it also. I mean, how many people do you meet who have started charities, especially ones which are so personally connected to their own lives?
Tracee takes a no-nonsense approach to the kids, and of the 80 or so that first sign up for her program generally only 20 end up remaining long enough to make the trip to Toronto. They are required to attend almost every rehearsal, maintain good attendance and grades at school, and must give 100% while practicing their routines. After all, Tracee flies top dancers from New York up to their remote reserves, so they are expected to give it their all. Many quit, but those who don't get a chance to do something wonderful. I had the distinct honour of being involved with the night to some small degree, by doing the print and motion design work surrounding the event. That logo you see above is mine, but my contribution was small at best. My friend Colin Kelday did far more, editing a brilliant and touching series of accompanying films that played between dances - films which literally brought tears to my eyes. When the kids finally took to the stage, it seemed that every single member of the audience was moved. I know that I was.
Even my wife, someone who cries in movies far less than I do, was obviously affected. The poor gal had to be up at 3am for a shoot the next day, so was intending to leave the performance during intermission. When that intermission came however she asked how she could possibly leave when the kids had worked so hard for this night.
The cheers were loud and constant, and the smiles on the faces of these kids, many of whom have never left their reserves, were worth the price of admission by themselves. After the show, while sharing a few drinks with Tracee, I learned some of the heartbreaking back-stories associated with the performers. I won't go into the sad details, but it brought into sharp focus for me how different and difficult life can be for aboriginal peoples, often outsiders to mainstream society. I'm only thankful I learned the stories after the performance, for had I known them during I might have spent the entire show weeping.
It's certainly an endeavour I'd like to remain associated with. In fact in 2011 I intend to bully family and friends into buying tickets themselves. I hope next year brings OLI continued success, an even greater show, and a new batch of kids suddenly full of reasons to be proud of themselves.
Here's a look at the intro I did for the event.








