SACHIYO ITO’S MEMOIR: CHAPTER 16
In Chapter 16, the continuation of her Salon Series exploration, Sachiyo Ito takes us deeper into the cultural heart of Japan through her collaborative programs. Photo of Sachiyo Ito in kimono by Larry Thompson.
Since January 2024 renowned dancer, dance educator, and choreographer Sachiyo Ito has been serializing her memoir on JapanCulture•NYC with monthly installments, each chapter revealing a different aspect of her early life in Tokyo and career in New York City.
Ito offers of a profound exploration of the experience of dedicating herself to traditional Japanese dance at an early age, arriving in New York City during the tumultuous ‘70s, and making a successful career in the arts. Each chapter offers a glimpse into the complexities that shaped her journey. It is a literary examination of not only Ito Sensei’s life, but of how New York City’s culture evolved over the decades and what sacrifices one must make to achieve a thriving career in the arts.
The memoir is an invitation to delve into the layers of a creative life and career that has spanned more than 50 years. As a work in progress, it is also an invitation for you to offer your feedback. Your insights will contribute to the evolution of this extraordinary work.
To read all the chapters, please click here. For more information about Sachiyo Ito, please visit her website, dancejapan.com.
Salon Series: Vertical and Horizontal Threads II
Cultural Introduction beyond Dance in the Salon Series
1. Literature: Poetry
While exploring different aspects of Japanese culture beyond dance, I decided to delve into the literary arts. As I am not an expert in literature, my intention was to rely on the expertise of writers and scholars. Other literary forms, such as essays and novels, felt too vast for me to connect meaningfully to dance—except when they served as the basis for dance dramas. As a result, I often turned to poetry, which has always felt more evocative and approachable as a source of inspiration for choreography.
My first attempt was a historical introduction to Japanese poetry, spanning from medieval to modern works—more specifically, from waka and haiku to Gendai-shi (modern Japanese poetry). Guest lecturers provided context and analysis while I presented classical dances inspired by waka, such as Shigure Saigyo, a Kabuki dance based on the monk and poet Saigyo. I even ventured into Western contemporary poetry—not as a formal introduction, but as a creative wellspring for choreography that explored universal themes. It was a joy to choreograph pieces inspired by poets like Rainer Maria Rilke and Mary Oliver. One special highlight was the opportunity to restage one of my favorite works, Chieko, based on Chieko-shō, which I had first presented at the Japan House in 1980. I was fortunate to collaborate with the beautiful voices of Mary Myers and Beth Griffith in that performance.
Among the most frequently presented poetry programs in the Salon Series were renku (linking verses) and dance, that is, alternating dance and haiku stanzas in linking form in the manner of renku. This idea first emerged through a collaboration with the Haiku Society of America, presented by Japan Society in 2006. (See Memoir Chapter 11: Poetry and Dance.) While most choreographic works in the Salon Series were improvised within a structured framework, the Renku and Dance performances featured “pure improvisation,” involving haiku poets, musicians, and myself in spontaneous creation. When asked by audience members how I managed to combine these art forms, my answer was simple: “The only way it was possible was because the poets and musicians were superb artists.”
Inspired by the success of Renku and Dance, I began offering free workshops at senior centers in Manhattan under the title Dance and Poetry of Japan Workshop. Over the past ten years, I have held six programs, and the senior participants have consistently been enthusiastic and creative. On the other end of the age spectrum, I also led Children’s Haiku and Dance workshops at elementary and high schools. I was deeply moved by the children’s haiku—not only were they beautiful, but they also revealed profound wisdom. These experiences taught me that observing the world with innocent eyes can lead to life’s most meaningful discoveries.
Renku and Performance
Because a core rule in renku is to avoid simply replicating the previous verse, I strove to create a progression—from waterfall to drinking water, to drinking sake, and finally to becoming drunk—in the video linked above. As is customary in Renku-related programs, we invited haiku submissions from the audience at the end. I then improvised dances inspired by those haiku, which delighted both the audience and the participating artists.
YouTube Clip: Salon Series No. 32 Renku and Dance: An Afternoon of Improvisation
2. Literature: From Classic Works
The Heike Monogatari
Inspired by Hoichi the Earless, a tale retold by Lafcadio Hearn (Koizumi Yakumo), I created a dance titled Sound of Emptiness for the 10th anniversary concert of the Salon Series. This work later evolved into a larger-scale production for the 30th anniversary concert of Sachiyo Ito and Company in 2011, featuring singers and dancers portraying the ghosts of the Heike court ladies. Although we didn’t have access to a hanamichi (Kabuki theater’s walkway), we were fortunate to use the audience aisles—from the upper to the lower levels—for the entrance of singers and ghostly figures. This use of space made the transition from the other world feel especially effective.
However, my aim was not simply to depict ghosts. I centered the piece around the teaching of Prajnaparamita—a profound Buddhist sutra—making the work appropriate for the concert’s theme: “Praying for the Deceased of the Great Tohoku Earthquake.” We concluded the performance with a prayer for peace, joined by all company members, musicians, and Rev. T.K. Nakagaki, who inscribed sutra prayers onto lanterns on stage.
Looking back, the collective efforts of artists—both in Japan and abroad—to raise funds and support the victims of the earthquake became a powerful motivation for our performances in the following years. Now, with so many disasters and calamities occurring, it feels increasingly difficult to label them as merely “natural”—they are, in many ways, caused by humans, a result of climate change.
Postcard for the 10th anniversary of Salon Series
Flyer for Sachiyo Ito and Company’s 30th anniversary concert
Gion Shoja
For the 15th anniversary concert of the Salon Series, I choreographed Gion Shoja, inspired by the iconic opening lines of The Heike Monogatari (The Tale of the Heike), which epitomize the teaching of Buddhism, impermanence—one of the core aesthetics of Japanese culture.
The guest artist Yoshi Amao and I embodied the spirits of warriors from the Genpei War (1180–1185), a fierce conflict between the Taira and Minamoto clans that shook Japan during the late Heian period. Though the war lasted only five years, its influence on literature, music, and dance has been immeasurable.
“The sound of the bell of the Gion Temple echoes the impermanence of all things. The pale hue of the flowers of the teak-tree shows the truth that they who prosper must fall. The proud ones do not last long but vanish like a spring-night’s dream. And the mighty ones too will perish in the end, like dust before the wind.”
Despite the gravity of the theme, choreographing a dance defeating a samurai was fun!
Sachiyo Ito with Yoshi Amao. Photo: Larry Thompson
Sachiyo Ito with Yoshi Amao. Photo: Larry Thompson
Flyers for 15th anniverary (Photo: Larry Thompson) and Salon Series 66
The collaboration with Mr. Amao on Gion Shoja was so satisfying, and for Salon Series No. 66: An Ode to Autumn, the theme of impermanence seemed especially resonant during the autumn season, I invited him to the program to present the dance once again. I felt the dance would be suitable for autumn, the time when fallen leaves evoke deep reflection on the transience of life.
YouTube Clip: Gion Shoja from 15th Year Anniversary of Salon Series
3. Ma: The Japanese Cultural Concept
Ma in Space
We cannot speak of Japanese performing arts or Japanese culture without mentioning Ma, so I have presented several programs in the Salon Series inspired by Ma.
What is Ma? Ma is the Japanese concept of space and time. It refers to the interval between spaces, and the pause between moments. And yet it is not an empty void; it is a space filled with meaning.
Before I encountered Ma as a distinctly Japanese concept through the writings of Edward Hall*, I had only a vague sense of it—more as something personal, something learned through dance training: a felt sense of space within timing. The following reflections I offer are only my perspective as a dancer, for I am not a cultural anthropologist.
My exploration of Ma in the Salon Series began with the idea of approaching it as it exists in both space and time. I asked myself: Can we create a moment outside our ordinary perception of time and space? A serene experience where everything pauses—where time and space seem to freeze, and we exist fully within that stillness.
In Salon Series No. 48 Ma: Creating Sacred Space and Time Here and Now, my intention was to evoke a sense of sacredness in the physical space where we gathered, and in the musical space created through the sparseness of the Buddhist chant Shomyo and the sound of fue (bamboo flute). To deepen this sacred atmosphere further, I incorporated Shakyo, the meditative practice of copying Buddhist sutras into the costumes. The calligraphy featured the Shiku Seigan (The Four Great Vows, such as the vow to save all sentient beings), which I had sewn onto the kimono sleeves on stage as a visual and spiritual element.
Color played a symbolic role: black costumes accented with red, with layers of white revealed later in the performance. In the opening scene, the use of kurogo (stage assistants in Kabuki) in black near my dancers and myself seemed highly effective.
One unexpected challenge arose: The calligraphy ink was too wet to attach directly as sleeves to the costumes. It reminded me that “having an idea in the head doesn’t always work in practice!” Fortunately, my stage assistants clad in white kimono, Mariko Suzuki and Monika Hadioetomo, who were both costume designers. saved the moment by carefully drying the ink with paper towels on stage. They executed the task with grace and in a meditative manner. When the ink was dry and ready, they sewed both sleeves to the white kimono while I was wearing it on stage.
To conclude, we invited the audience to join in a walking meditation as a shared closure to the experience.
YouTube Clip: Salon Series No. 48 Ma: Creating Sacred Space and Time, Here and Now
Flyer for Salon Series 48. Photos by Larry Thompson and Akiko Nishimura
Ma: Sacred Space II was presented as nature worship in Salon Series No.55 Creating Sacred Space II: Japanese Nature Worship and Labyrinth Walk. This time, I incorporated Shinto ceremonial elements of reverence for nature, such as water purification ritual into the performance space. I believe we were able to transform the venue, Tenri Gallery, into a sacred space without relying on theatrical effects, despite its intimate size, which is typically too small for a labyrinth.
For the music and singing, I selected Etenraku Imayo from gagaku, Japanese court music. The goddess and her attendants descended from the gallery’s upper balcony as they sang, signifying their divine arrival from heaven. Bells echoed through the space to ward off evil spirits during our dances—performed by the goddess, her attendants, and myself.
To evoke a labyrinth, I shaped a winding path with rope, connecting the performance area to the corridor and entrance. Each audience member held a candle as they joined in the walking meditation. At the closing, we gathered in a perfect circle, an expression of unity for peace.
YouTube Clip: Salon Series No. 55 – Creating Sacred Space II: Japanese Nature Worship and Labyrinth Walk
The Labyrinth of Salon Series 48
Ma in Time and Iki
Ma in timing is one of the most vital elements in the performing arts, whether in dance, music, or drama. Its significance also extends to our social interactions, shaping conversation, emotional expression, and energetic presence.
In dance, Ma can be structured by musical rhythm (hyoshi) or guided by breath. Yet in Japanese, breath is expressed in two distinct ways, though both are translated into English simply as “breath.” The first is kokyu, referring to the physical act of inhaling and exhaling. The second is iki, which encompasses not just the physical function, but also intention and the internal energy known as ki or chi.
A powerful example of iki is found in the traditional orchestras of Kabuki and Bunraku. These ensembles perform without a conductor, yet the musicians begin, pause, and resume in perfect unity through shared breath. It’s an intuitive synchrony, cultivated through practice and passed down through generations.
Kabuki critic Tamotsu Kaoru once stated, “Iki is the foundation of acting.”
My personal journey with breath began in the 1980s when I first encountered yoga. At the time, I struggled with deep inhalations and exhalations. I later realized this difficulty may have stemmed from my dance training, which emphasizes concealing breath—even during high-impact movements. Dancers and actors must appear effortless on stage; therefore, shallow, controlled breath becomes essential. Here, breath transforms into iki—an intentional, internal force.
Curiosity led me to explore breath’s role in healing arts, which then inspired Salon Series No. 49: Ma in Healing Arts and Dance. My guest was Wataru Ohashi, the founder of Ohashiatsu (the Ohashi Method). His charismatic presence drew many audience members into participating. Pairing strangers who sat next to each other to try shiatsu techniques brought laughter and connection, while exploring iki through shared breath proved deeply engaging.
I also demonstrated how iki is used to convey emotion in Okinawan female-style dance. In portraying sadness, subtle breath supports the graceful flow of movement, but it must remain hidden from view, felt rather than seen.
Iki (breath with control) and kokyu (breath as physical function) form an expansive topic across the performing arts. For the Salon Series, I could only touch on the related practices in two programs that featured Karate and Okinawan male-style dance, the dance form influenced by Karate, in Salon Series No.12 and Salon Series No. 29. These presentations revealed how critical it is to grasp hara.
In all the traditional martial arts and traditional music, including utai singing, breath originates from the abdomen, known as hara. It is the body’s energetic center, grounding one's stance and channeling power through movement. Hara is the anchor, and mastering it is essential in dance, Okinawan dance, Japanese dance, martial arts, and in healing arts such as Mr. Ohashi’s.
While unrelated to the topic, I wish to express heartfelt gratitude for the kindness and long-standing friendship of Mr. Ohashi and Mrs. Ohashi, who generously hosted a celebration at their Manhattan home in 1988 when I received my Ph.D.
YouTube Clip: Salon Series No. 49 – Ma and Breathing in Dance and Healing
Flyer for Salon Series 49. Photo by Mariko Suzuki
Ma in Dance
So now how can we achieve Ma and iki successfully in dance?
Ma is an essential part of dance learning and yet cannot be learned. Well then, a student may say, “Not fair!” Ma is crucial, and yet elusive. Still, finding the right Ma is a journey every dancer and artist must pursue.
The same was expressed by the noted Kabuki actor Ichikawa Danjuro VII, “There is Ma you can be taught, while there is Ma you cannot be taught.”
According to another great Kabuki actor, Onoe Kikugoro VI, “Ma is 悪魔の魔 (Ma of devil), 魔術の魔 (Ma of magic).” That means if Ma is executed poorly, it will destroy the acting, dancing, even the whole play, while if implemented well, it can be magic to mesmerize the audience. I must say, “fearful and awesome!”
The Kanji character he used in his analogy was different since Ma is written as 間, but it cleverly mentions how, on the one hand, it is difficult to use it properly, while on the other hand it can be used to great effect in art.
Then how can we make 間 magical as 魔? The answer lies in refining one’s craft.
If you’re not a dancer, feel free to skip the next section, for it summarizes my dance instruction.
We first go by the prescribed timing of music, the rhythm (hyoshi), which is clearly punctuated by the music. A difficulty may be that there is more than simply following hyoshi in mastering a dance piece. It is characteristic of Japanese music to place importance on melody more than rhythm. Furthermore, classical choreography often requires movements with the words—such as at beginning or the end of a word or phrase. The latter poses an additional difficulty for non-Japanese-speaking students, one they can however overcome through their studiousness.
Then, we brush up our Ma through breath—more precisely, breath control—with iki: long and short breath, deep and shallow breath in executing movements and gestures. They are first controlled by intention: how you want to express the emotions or the meaning of the lyrics, the character in dance. Then find a good Ma in between the clear musical stomps: Try going against the music rather than going together with the tempo of the music or simply pause. Yes, the pause. Ma is the essence. It is not a static pause in dance. As is said in Noh, dance and acting are stillness in silence. Energy flows through after the punctuation of words and the rhythmical cues.
The above is my general instruction in lessons, but over the years I began to think of another word to be used, or should I say a linguistic approach to reflect what I really mean. It is “resonance,” as I believe dance can have an effect of resonance as in music.
The word suggests audiences create their universe as they hear the echo in their mind.
Does it sound hard? Not really, experimenting is a fun process. There, you are given freedom for your own creativity, although we get the criticism that there is no freedom in traditional dance. I need to remind those who consider traditional art as rigid: Japanese culture is a culture of pattern, going into pattern and out of it. Once you master discipline, the basic, there is freedom. So have fun!
Then, as a part of investigation of Ma, I presented Salon Series No. 54: Resonance in Music, Dance, and Literature. My guest speaker and shakuhachi player was James Nyoraku Schlefer, to whose music I danced. He demonstrated the importance of sound—to be absorbed in the sound, which gives us meditative quality—more than melody or rhythm. Also, realizing the importance of pause/silence in haiku, I invited John Stevenson, the haiku laureate. (Refer to Chapter 11 of this memoir for his insightful comments.)
My aim in the program was to show how important it is to have resonance, the echo in music, as well as resonance in the movements of dance, and to consider this concept: Dance does not and should not end at the punctuation of or stamp of sound in music. My further quest was, “Can I send an effective message of the dance through the pause, by doing nothing, just as Zeami the Noh dramatist said, ‘Doing nothing is captivating’?”
Here it may be interesting to know that Roh Ogura, the composer and writer, mentioned in his book Japanese Ear that the Japanese ear has a fondness for the silence after a music performance and a temple gong.
Now, I know you are reading this, and we are not facing each other, but what I shared in the Salon may be interesting for you.
““Please close your eyes. Keep breathing easy, in and out, feel space around you, and you are the space itself, and you are expanding.
“Here is the Gong. Keep soft breathing, 10 seconds.
“…
“Open your eyes.
“Smile!””
Did you hear the echo, and even hear the silence after the sound is gone?
Ma is not a void, but alive and critical.
My Shimai (Noh dance) teacher likened the stillness, the non-movements, to pressing both brake and accelerator pedals in driving at once: The action holds both forward and backward tension. When that control is released, energy radiates outwards. But please, don’t try that in your car. We’re speaking about dance.
Resonance after motion. Silence after sound. What message can we send in the space, the “Ma,” that follows?
In conversation, silence between words can be powerful: “Will you marry me?” “……”
In literature, The Pillow Book exemplifies simplicity and resonance: “Spring, dawn.”
The two words, that resonate afterward, offer us infinite meaning that we can enjoy.
A haiku by Basho echoes similarly.
An ancient pond—
A frog jumps in
The sound of water
The splash fades, then comes the deeper stillness, inviting us into timelessness.
Things are unsaid but resonate after sound and movements are performed or words are spoken, offering limitless opportunities for audience/reader/viewer to participate in the completion of the art with their imagination. What freedom we have! The unimaginable wonder of Ma: Resonance after a word, movement, or sound offers the audience the freedom to imagine, to co-create the meaning of art with artist.
Ma has been one of my lifelong quests, and yet I am not certain if I could see any of it. But I hope this chapter offers you a window to look into this fascinating subject in the arts, and in our lives.
Cultural Introduction Beyond Dance: Flower and Tea
A decade into the Salon Series, still exploring the crucial yet elusive concept of Ma, I began to broaden my efforts. Ma cannot be taught in the conventional sense, and that may seem unfair to students. Still, finding the right Ma is a journey every dancer and artist must pursue.
Recognizing that its scope goes beyond the performing arts led to the introduction of other cultural forms: Ikebana (traditional Japanese flower arrangement) in Salon Series #56; Chanoyu/Sado (茶道), the Japanese tea ceremony in Salon Series #57. For the Ikebana program, I performed classical dances themed around flowers: Shikunshi (The Four Noble Flowers), Aki no Iro-kusa (Flowers in the Autumn), and Shiki no Hana (Flowers in Four Seasons). For the tea ceremony program, I was fortunate to have Cha Ondo (Tea Ceremony Song) accompanied live to complement the tea ceremony demonstration.
The Ikebana demonstration sparked the idea of creating a dance centered on a flower theme, leading to a collaboration with contemporary florist Katsuya Nishimori in Salon Series #57: Flower Petals Fall, But Not the Flower. The title was inspired by the teaching of Kaneko Daiei, as mentioned in Chapter 4 of this memoir, which details my belief in dance, “flower theory.” This dance unfolded as sequences in the dream of a playful, vain woman, proud of her beauty. In her dream there appears a lavish flower arrangement, built by the florist in real time on stage in Kurogo costume.
Destruction: Consumed with jealousy toward the flowers for their beauty, she destroys the blossoms in a fit of rage.
Regret and Awakening: Overcome with remorse and sorrow for her deed, she glimpses a light of redemption.
Acceptance: Acknowledging the fragility of emotions—like flowers— she prays for the “real flower” that transcends temporality.
The woman walks to drape a white net across the stage over fallen petals on the floor, covering them as if she were consoling these fallen lives into a peaceful sleep. At the end, the scattered petals were meant to symbolize the transient nature of life.
Flyer for Salon Series 57. Flower arrangements by Katusya
Flyer for Salon Series 56. Ikebana by Masako Gibeault
Beyond Barriers
The initial focus of the Salon Series was to foster “understanding beyond boundaries of culture and ethnicity through the introduction and exploration of Japanese arts and culture.”
Over time, however, this evolved into a profound message:
“We are all human beings. Regardless of cultural, racial, or physical differences, let us overcome these boundaries and work together.”
One of the programs that embodied this vision was Salon Series No. 65: On the Human Spirit. It was a multidisciplinary collaboration featuring poetry, dance, music, and sign language.
Inspired by Ishigaki Rin’s poem Taiyo no Fumoto de (At the Foot of the Sun), the program began by portraying the world we live in as a beautiful place, blessed by the sun. The performance began by celebrating the beauty of our world, blessed by sunlight. Through poetry and singing, we expressed wonder and gratitude.
The dance segment that followed represented tragedies of our human history: war and natural disasters such as earthquakes.
In one symbolic gesture, I shredded pieces of the inner sleeves of my kimono to express the torn state of the human spirit. Then, I began tying them together, signifying the act of healing, of picking up the broken emotional and physical pieces of ourselves. The reuniting of the fragments was a metaphor for healing and reclaiming emotional and physical wholeness.
Audience participation was an essential part of this process. I invited them to join me in tying the fragments together into one long string as they sat next to each other in their chairs. This act symbolized unity and the possibility of recovery from both natural disasters and personal tragedies through mutual and collective support.
To close the program, Amelia Hensley (of Deaf West’s Spring Awakening on Broadway) taught sign language to us, dancers, poetry reciters, and audience members. We were so delighted to see the audience engage and try the sign language gestures. The vocalist Beth Griffith then sang “Amazing Grace,” a light to guide us to healing.
YouTube Clip: Salon Series No. 65: On the Human Spirit
Flyer for Salon Series 65
Dance and Prayer
Amid the crisis of COVID-19, I felt a deep need to offer a message of prayer and healing. In response, we live-streamed Salon Series: Prayer for Healing and Peace through the Symbolism of Cranes to welcome the New Year with hope. Drawing on Japanese traditions, the crane—symbolizing health, longevity, and peace—became our central motif.
The program featured classical dances themed around the crane, an origami paper-crane folding session, and my original dance works honoring the lives of those we had lost. It was a gentle offering of peace, renewal, and collective memory.
Also featured in the program was my new piece titled Memories, dedicated to all those who died during the pandemic.
YouTube Clip: Salon Series No. 67 Prayer for Healing and Peace through the Symbolism of Cranes
The dance in the link below is an excerpt from Seiten no Tsuru (Cranes in the Blue Sky). Though it is not from No. 67, but from No. 63, it will give you an idea of the classical dance Seiten no Tsuru.
YouTube Clip: “Crane” from Expressions in Traditional and Contemporary Dance in Salon Series No. 63
The Meaning of Dance
What is most important in dance? For me, it is not technical virtuosity or performance for the sake of display. Dance, at its core, is an offering and a prayer. This intention was at the heart of Salon Series No. 67. I was pleased that our crane dance conveyed this message so clearly. It affirmed the deeper meaning of dance: to connect, to heal, and to transcend.
Closure of Salon Series
As the saying goes, “Where there is a beginning, there is an ending.” The final Salon Series, No. 74, was held in December 2023. My photo appeared in Shukan NY Seikatsu, was captured in a moment of emotional intensity, perhaps even a bit of theatrical distress, and still brings a smile to my face. It was taken after I recreated the earthquake stanza from one of the audience members, after moving with fear, possibly rolling on the floor in response to the earthquake scene.
I have been deeply fortunate to have longtime friends and collaborators John Stevenson, Yukio Tsuji, Beth Griffith, and Masayo Ishigure join me in closing the Salon Series, which spanned a quarter of a century.
Thanks to the unwavering support of audiences and guest artists, I was privileged to embark on this incredible 25-year journey. The Salon Series was not only a platform to share my knowledge as a dancer and educator, but also a source of profound learning. Each presentation led me to explore vast and varied subjects so expansive that they stretch beyond the scope of a single lifetime.
This journey reaffirmed a humbling truth: The more years I spend pursuing my path and craft, the more I realize how little I truly know.
Above all, the artists and audiences have gifted me with deeper insight into our shared human nature. No words can fully express my gratitude.
With deep bow
From Shukan NY Seikatsu
Salon Series No. 65 Review
The Salon #65 performance ended ecstatically with vocalist Beth Griffith singing Jacques Brel’s If We Only Have Love. With the full cast onstage, Ito’s parting words to the audience were to observe nature and engage the love that connects everything on earth.
— Dalienne Majors
60th Salon Series Welcomes Shogo Fujima
Ito performed “Petals Fall But Not the Flowers” and “Only Breath” with Indian and European dancers, closing the event in a spectacular atmosphere.
— Kaoru Komimi
Shukan NY Seikatsu, June 24, 2017
Flyer for the 60th Salon Series installment. Photo by Jason Gardner.
The posting of this chapter to JapanCulture-NYC.com was paid for by Sachiyo Ito and reprinted here with her permission. Susan Miyagi McCormac of JapanCultureNYC, LLC edited this chapter for grammatical purposes only and did not write or fact-check any information. For more information about Sachiyo Ito and Company, please visit dancejapan.com. ©Sachiyo Ito. All rights reserved.
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