Justa Flaggin' Minnit...

Back from Dubai…

Four days from first inquiry to departure for Dubai, four weeks from touchdown to liftoff for home; 28 intense days, sheltered from the extreme heat of the Arabian Desert while immersed in what became a hotbed of creativity amidst a sometimes smooth, sometimes cacophonous mixing of cultures; both geographic and corporate.

This month in Dubai was to become one of the affirming and fulfilling Moments of my life. Recommended as stand-in by and for a world-class producer of spectacle; the pressure was great and the time was short. There was no room in the schedule for me to second-guess myself; I had to hit the proverbial ground, running, be fully present and aware, trust my instincts and deliver the best product possible – representing well the icon who recommended me and giving the client a production design and plan that would support the victory of her bid for this job.

I accomplished the first and I believe we accomplished the second; we won’t know until a decision is rendered, in mid-September. Meanwhile, the results seen day-by-day were tangible and unique; I’m excited to see how this proposal is received.

Yet, the true value in this sojourn in the sand was in my affect on the people with whom I was fortunate to work. The atmosphere when I arrived was of an overworked group of creative and production professionals under tremendous pressure and no small amount of antipathy between the two sections. Morale was low: this was truly the quietest, most energy-free creative suite I’ve ever encountered.

When I arrived, all the creatives were facing outward, backs toward one another and facing pristine walls, hunched over their computer screens, headphones on, creating and filing what was being created onto a server for receipt by Executives. The room was dead quiet.

When I left, most of the headphones were off, traffic was high from desk to desk, the walls were quite literally covered in artwork and the noise level was at a far higher pitch than it had been mere weeks previously. Rather than awaiting assignments, the artists were reaching out and asking for specific components in which they were interested…and collaborating!

On my final day, some shed tears at my departure. I think these people had been surprised and exhilarated at the trust that was given them and what was able to be accomplished through that trust and collaboration…some had simply forgotten how good they are at what they do. Now, they are freshly invigorated; feel respect from without and from within.

The crowning moment for me was at lunch the day before departure. One of the longtime Production Managers turned to me and told me what a wonderful pleasure it had been to work with me; that “…we get a lot of consultants in here over the years, Kile, and none of them has ever been like you. You know what makes you different? You LISTEN. It has been clear that you listen first, to everyone who might have input, before you render a decision. That has been fantastic!”

And a more valuable compliment or acknowledgement I can’t imagine receiving. I do listen better, now; better than I have in my entire life. And, I have learned that I can trust my instincts to distill the data and input from myriad minds into the plan or course that best serves the mission or goals. This was huge, this compliment coming from her.

I’d love to return to the Emirates to direct this show we designed and wrote; but, if I never return to Dubai, my time there is complete in objectives met, goals fulfilled, theories proven and methodologies validated and shared. I arrived home with no regrets.

On Saturday, a week ago, I experienced something unexpected and spiritually profound.

To say that afternoon in the AIDS Memorial Grove was transcendent would be an understatement… For four blissful, sunny, breezy hours, Susan Morabito played the happiest music from far happier times, inspiring those who came to flag and dance to abandon inhibition and release themselves to memory and music…even passers-by set down backpack and bicycle to dance among the flowing fabric and even try their hands (and wrists) at flagging. It was a celebratory afternoon - celebrating those who aren't with us, anymore, and celebrating the gradual entry into the light that we, our brothers and sisters, are slowly trusting to embrace…

Every so often, a group of flaggers gathers at the Grove for an afternoon of “Flagging in the Grove” for a charity specified by that day’s DJ. On this day, the charity was the Grove, itself.

Fans and Flagging are a phenomenon that was born in the massive dance clubs of the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s. I will never, ever forget my first encounter…

Early December of 1979 and my first visit to New York’s “Saint” nightclub; my friends and I entered the cavernous space of the main floor, and I’d never seen anything like the sybaritic elegance of that place. Velour and satin, red everywhere, lighting such as I’d never seen (and this was the lounge, thankyouverymuch) and at the far end…the bar: staffed by stunning men and backed with a towering, multicolored display of fresh fruit (I KNOW!)…

The music was throbbing and thrumming through the ceiling, as the dance floor was one flight up. But that stairway went far more than one floor; it went all the way to another world, another dimension.

This country boy from Klamath Falls Oregon mounted the stairs and entered a world previously unimaginable. The dance floor was a gigantic circle in dark space, roofed by a giant, white dome. In the center of the space hovered a mass of light fixtures, at the core of which was what seemed to be a planetarium projector. That’s what it was!

It was “night” inside; the stars were shining and slowly moving with surreal intensity. The music was rapturous, filling the air with celebratory sound. The sheer freedom I felt, the exhilaration of being able to be there, among all these other gay people, dancing openly, provocatively with one another in sensual celebration of self and of one another. It was truly awesome.

Then, “dawn” began to break…but in 360-degrees. And, as the orange light began to ring the sky and the blackness up above evolved to indigo, lapis, blue…I realized that the source of the flashes I’d been seeing around our perimeter were coming from an informal and stunningly beautiful ring of men with shiny fans in each hand; twirling them acrobatically in ingenious patterns and formations that were hard to follow…but magical.

What a fantastic thing it was to be Gay…I could see my bright and happy future before me.

This was the first of the Fans dancing I’d seen. An art form borne of the culture of clubs and music and dancing and adding to the feast to the senses that these places became. From that evolved the even more poetic and beautiful flagging; huge swaths of silk in brilliant colors spinning in three dimensions almost faster than one can follow; choreographed on the spot to the music as it plays. These things were magical.

These beautiful experiences were born and evolving at the same time as the Virus that then stopped so many of us dead in our tracks; and brought a generation and a movement to its knees. From celebrating ourselves we went, in a few short months, to defending ourselves, protecting ourselves, demanding care and medicine for ourselves… What had begun as a movement of Pride had to become a movement of strife, fear, anger and power.

I think that AIDS gave us the opportunity to form a different, stronger community sooner than might have evolved, otherwise; but the freedom and fun was eradicated from our lives in one, virtual, fell swoop and the spectre of that time will never leave us.

On that Saturday in Golden Gate Park, though; I saw and was reminded of all the good of those times. To stand there among the dancers and the flaggers and the music and the elements of nature and witness the dynamic and the celebration was epiphanic.

In addition to those who were there to be there, scores of people who just happened to walk into the Grove that day found themselves out on the meadow, trying and succeeding at spinning the silk through the sun-sparkling air. Everyone was smiling: everyone.

Two Spanish boys of about 24 or 25 just happened to be riding their bicycles down the path into the Grove on that afternoon. I don’t know whether these guys were gay or straight: either way, neither of them knew into what they were riding…they were simply investigating the music.

But what the music and the color and the Grove did was this…

One of them just dropped his bike, threw off his shirt and called to his friend to join him as he danced onto the meadow. Just danced, no questions asked. As he danced, he watched the flaggers as he moved among them…never having seen anything like that, before.

Someone handed him a flag and he tried it, but could only make it work with two hands…which had absolutely no effect on his enthusiasm; he was ecstatic as he danced.

Then, someone took him aside and gave him a pair of flags, showing him how to do it. Slowly, he tried it….he got it….he spun the silks…faster and faster; no expert, but competent, with the music and making his smile extend to the furthest thread of the cloth.

I, of course, got all emotional as I witnessed this. His happiness, his openness to whatever came his way, the way in which he was nonverbally welcomed into the experience, the outreach, the teaching, the learning, the love...

Some things don’t change…yet everything does.

I leave you with the 70-second clip from my iPhone of what the day was like.

(the resolution on this upload is pretty awful;  it can be played on or downloaded from 

MobileMe Gallery - Justa Flaggin' Minnit and go full screen with good resolution...)

The National AIDS Memorial Grove is an amazing place of remembrance, of meditation and of celebration…I offer that you visit it when you are in San Francisco.