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These were simply my unsubstantiated
theories but, nonetheless, I called my
piece "The Cane Dance of the Ancient
Pharaoh." I wore a black qianna jersey
skirt trimmed with a four-inch multi-
colored brocade border. The design was
all my own and looked very ancient
Egyptian. I made a pharaonic head
dress to match. It gave me a very
different look because it pulled all my
hair back from my face. Instead of a
veil, I had a circular cape tucked into
my skirt; the cape was hardly notice-
able until after my cane dance section.
In the middle of my show, I would
magically loosen it from the hidden
folds of my skirt and it turned into a
giant manta ray, flying and dancing
magically around me in the air above
the dance floor. It seemed fitting; a bit
of magic initiated by the pharaoh's
priests.
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using a prop on stage it is important to
know that prop so well you don't have
to look at it.) I finally settled on a cane
with a wide grip handle, plainly
carved from a single piece of wood.
Then I painted it with ancient Egyptian
empowerment symbols.
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I learned the standard cane moves from
a dancer by the name of Tricia of the
troupe, Azmorani which was directed
by Rossah of Santa Cruz. I tried
balancing my cane a bit. I made up my
own moves, using both ends of it. I
would place the tip of it on my fore-
head, start spinning madly, and then
use the centrifugal force to eject it
outward toward the audience, flinging
it in mad twirls on each side of my
body. (Fairly unique ...) I whirled it
parallel to the floor, over my head like
a helicopter. I tossed it. I bounced it. It
was truly my dance partner for a while!
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I didn't want my cane dance to be like
anyone else's, but heaven knows
where I got my ideas. First, I started
collecting canes at thrift stores and
began carrying them everywhere with
me so I would get a feel for the weight
and balance of the one I liked. I figured
if I carried it everywhere with me, it
would become second nature to handle
it effortlessly in performance. (When
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