“My poetry is consistent with my performance
side of it, the artistic part of it, the creating.”
After the interview is officially deemed over and the tape re-
corder put away, Katrina dances part of a student’s upcoming show
for my photographer, Mitchell Candreva (Junior, Visual Arts) and
me. She dances with her partner, Jerami Kipp (Sophomore, Dance);
later they are joined by the choreographer, Marissa Joseph (Sopho-
more, Dance).
There’s no music. The only sounds audible are their quick
intakes and heavy exhales as rib cages are sharply contracted and
spines curved. Their naked feet beat in sync across wooden floors.
The rhythm of their movements,” a quick meeting of Katrina’s head
to Jerami’s torso, a sudden whirl in matched strides; it reminds me
of how she compared her approach to dance and writing.
“My poetry is consistent with my performance side of it, the
artistic part of it, the creating, because that’s what you have in cho-
reography or prose, a sentence or a period or a comma—these are all
things you can feel in dance.”
And then I can feel it. The climbing crescendo as they come
together in the middle of the floor, the line break as they leap apart
and hurry to the next pose.
18
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