Yesterday had a gig shooting the Bill T. Jones Dance Co. in rehearsal at the sprawling suburban campus of the university named for this Middling City.
In the studio I respectfully took off my shoes, in which to blend.
Was speaking with another media type when someone from the company shushed us saying Mr. Jones doesn't like it when people are talking. I looked at him, searingly.
Dancers, techies, observors, more dancers on sidelines were all talking.
Mr. Jones is one intense man and it was absolutely great to be so close to the dancers to hear them muttering things like Hands flat, open, move in closer, etc. as they interpreted their directions.
One dancer, Malcolm, was off listening to his walkman when Mr. Jones wanted him to do something and all the dancers were shouting MALCOLM until he heard.

Thursday I photographed Uber Jazz Crank Diana Krall, who sold out the 2K or so seat venue downtown. I asked the head of security if there were any good new Diana Krall stories as she's a noted crabass. He said he walked into a room to hear the singer/pianist/diva screaming I DON'T TALK TO MANAGERS .
My colleagues were photographing Krall from an odd angle, through her piano because they saw an op there. I shot from the keyboard side waiting until she turned, which I knew she would at some point. Beautiful verticals, full-length, were the result. Her, piano, her long legs, her long hair.

Tonight is a marathon night, beginning with an opulent gig at 4PM. Onwards then to art ops, DJ Spooky, more more more.
Love.