I have brought my camera to Kerry Park to capture the love of movement. The Latin band has released the merry dancers from the burden of the day; golden couples wanting the world to know how great it is to be alive; how great to sway and let the body speak. And I am primed to catch and store their image tonight.
The music is irresistible! Young and old are helpless before it, intoxicated by rhythms against which resistance is futile. I watch the little children as young as two jumping, giggling while their parents delight in the budding crackle of their humanity.
Young men and women seize the moment in playful, sometimes flirty twine of limbs and twirl of cloth made for dancing. In displays of festive warmth they talk without words – smiles saying, It’s been fun getting to know you!
Spectators lounge on the green, inhale the waves of sound, and secretly dance within. Everyone is doing it, including my mechanical eye, blinking at five frames per second, out of breath with its appointed task. It captures a couple in black – hopelessly in love; a lady in a red dress – smiling as wide as heaven; a Latino couple – practiced at the art of passion; and a girl in a pink skirt – prodigy of the Latinesque.
The musicians cannot escape the spell they have cast upon us. They are enchanters of sound, wizards resurrecting aspects of ourselves neglected in the hurly-burly of everyday life. They are not performers; they are catalysts of joy; inviting us to delight in the Mmmm of body and soul.
The night darkens, and my camera is spent – plump with its hoard of images now passed to me for prime selection. Dancers thin the floor, the band moves to conclusion and vendors stow their wares. As the evening tries to finish two youths jump into the lake, heads bobbing, barely visible in the moon’s reflected light. It is time to go I say…the dance is done.