‘Spiritual Path’: I recoil at the phrase having seen it grotesquely misused so many times. But I’ll suffer it for now.
I had little trouble finding my way regularly to the Hemingway Bar at the Paris Ritz. Can’t afford it anymore. That path was truly spiritual.
Paris in my youth. Memories of some extraordinary women I knew; and one I didn’t.
She helped do for Classical Dance what Picasso did for Realistic Art. [Living contemporaneously and close, between Nice and Paris].
Along with Ruth St. Denis and others, she offered the viewer a new way of ‘Seeing’.
Isadora was killed when her hand-painted silk scarf was caught in the wheels of her convertible. She was being driven along the Riviera for an evening of champagne and caviar. [As a young man, I shared a rented summer house nearby, overlooking the sea.]
A Dance at death as unguarded and riveting as those in life.