(Sat Kaur Khalsa / Mujaku Senjin1946-2016)
A short film—A Glimpse of Senjin—made by Hokyu Aronson, MRO
I first saw Angela Caponigro performing onstage at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in the 1980s I am going to guess, spinning like a silver dervish in one of Laura Dean’s transcendent works. Her long red hair flying, tall, slim, elegant and shining, I somehow expected her to helicopter right off the opera house stage, that is how electrifying and other worldly she was as a performer in my eyes.
I don’t remember how or when we first became friends, but Angela often rehearsed at STH studios so we crossed paths often and we shared many mutual dancer-friends. Angela was also a spectacular sight to behold offstage as well as on in those days, a true fashionista with a keen sense of color and style and sometimes outlandish accessories. One time she gave me a huge ziplock bag full of plastic kids’ hair bobbles and clips she had found in Chinatown and thought I might enjoy them. (Of course, I did!)
Crowned with her very high periwinkle turban/beehive,often circled by a wide straw brim she had somehow engineered around the turban, retro cat-eye sunglasses, and her favorite “Rocket” brand shoes or boots, you couldn’t miss Angela on her bicycle riding around town, or with her friend Hari Bir, also tall, turbaned and outstanding with his long flowing beard and clothes, driving their flea market wares to market in their beat up old station wagon.
And then there were her dances. Originally an art school student, Angela often worked with copious drawings and diagrams, many long sticks and swords, repetitive rhythms, stomping, animal and plant imagery, fantastic bizarre head dresses, silver unitards and appliqued circle skirts or Grahm-esque dresses (for example), all designed and sewn by her own hands. Angela’s own solos were often performed on pointe, along with her sticks and stones, and of course, her own brand of sufi spinning. Really, there was no one else out there in the dance world at the time quite like her — nor is there now.
In her final dance days in Brooklyn before moving upstate to join the Zen Mountain Monastery, Angela also worked at STH as an arts administrator and at Broadway Dance Center in a similar capacity. She was always very funny, very friendly, sometimes formal, always wanting to get things done exactly right, and although she hardly ever “blended” in with these surroundings, she was always comfortable being the ‘exotic flower’ amongst the fishnets and hip hoppers or the Park Slope moms and strollers. I found the Brooklyn street grit that informed her artistic work and spiritual evolution to be a fascinating amalgamation to watch from the sidelines; it was like observing a stunning, space alien answering our phones, directing traffic and investing our dance floors with a mysterious inquiry. Unique is an understatement when trying to describe Angela.
The last time I saw Angela in person was sometime before Christmas 2015, when we crossed passed unexpectedly in the foyer over at Gowanus Arts. There were kids all over the place, construction workers I was thick in negotiation with, other dancers and parents bombarding me with questions — it was quite a noisy, chaotic, unruly human intersection, and in the middle of it all, I was surprised to find Angela just standing there, smiling at me. She looked quite thin and frail, but also happy, the person I knew and had not seen for over a decade. It seems she had moved back to Brooklyn and had made her way back into the studio. We hugged each other, made a date to have tea and have our overdue catch-up somewhere at a later date, where we could hear ourselves think- and then went on about our business. But our tea date was postponed several times and the next I heard through the grapevine was that Angela had Stage IV uterine cancer and had transitioned out of her body at Methodist Hospital.
Angela was known by several names that marked the chapters of her spiritual journey and the communities she was an integral part of – Sat Kaur Khalsa for her Sikh affiliation, and finally, Mujaku Senjin, the name given to her when she became a zen monastic. The Zen Mountain Monastery held a memorial celebration of her life in February and on their website there is a lovely write-up and film of Angela talking about her life’s journey. Her story is profound, quirky, moving, funny and inspirational – just like Angela. She will be missed.
Elise Long
In Memoriam: Angela Caponigro
I met Angela in 1999 while exploring opportunities for dance performance. She proposed sharing a program of solos that would also bring her back to the stage after a 5 year hiatus from performing in Manhattan to work in retreat.
At that time she was on the faculties of Pratt Institute, Broadway Dance Center, Kundalini Yoga East and Park Slope Kundalini Center. We both performed solos on a self-produced program, Portrait of our Souls: The Second Level of Meaning at Westbeth in June 2000.
She was inspiring and supportive through the whole process. With assistance from Dance Theater Workshop, we hired excellent collaborators including Roma Flowers (lighting) and Tom Brazil (photography). We hoped for better response, but the concert was not well attended or covered by press.
After that concert we lost touch and Angela left New York City, but her energy, optimism and courage helped me through a turning point.
Angela’s words from our June 2000 program are her essential message:
For years when the stage manager said “dancers on stage” it aroused in me the same feelings as when I heard the tingsha bells in the sanctuary. My dances have often been referred to as spiritual. I believe every moment alive is a “spiritual” moment and certainly every movement danced is a sacred action. So lose your skin as a barrier and enter with me, the axis mundi, the central point, the point where stillness and movement exist together.
Dalienne Majors