Chris Collins
Jonathan Rubin (from left), Frank Goode, Elmore Lawson, Christopher Wirth, Charles Latimer let loose at the weekly drum circle.
It’s snowing and cold outside, but in the Goodman Center’s Teen Loft, sweat is dripping. In a circle of about 20 people, everyone is either drumming or dancing.
This is the Sunday Drum Circle, free and open to anyone. Today’s participants are 6 to 70 years old, from all walks of life. “We all interact,” says Elmore Lawson. “We’re all connected through the circle.”
Lawson started the circle eight years ago on UW-Madison’s Library Mall where he’d sit and drum every Sunday. Passersby would watch, and Lawson offered them a percussion instrument to join in. People joined. The circle grew.
Twenty years ago, Lawson came to drumming with a similar invitation while observing a lone drummer at a Chicago festival. “The energy was so intense, I’d never experienced anything like that before,” he says. It piqued a fascination with drumming across many cultures.
Drumming, he says, is but a tool. “I was trying to find a way to break down the barriers, the illusion that we are separated. A connectedness happens — the drummers, the dancers, become one unity,” Lawson says. “It’s not about drumming, it’s about spirituality, a way of life, a being, becoming. When you drum like that, you stop trying, the body relaxes, and you don’t know what you’re looking at anymore. The names in your mind cease to exist.”
At Goodman, 6-year-old Lenore Raven Jones, a regular at the circle, has been scarf dancing, hooping, drumming and swinging poi balls on stage — skills she learned at the circle. She wants to sing Native American songs, and the drummers join in. “It’s fun,” she says, “I have friends here. I like music and dancing.”
Her grandparents, David and Dianna Jones, mostly drum, though Dianna sometimes dances. David says: “We love it; it’s people oriented. So welcoming, so friendly. Sunday is now set up for the drum circle.” Dianna never expected she’d learn to drum or dance at 67 years old. In addition to the exercise, she appreciates the communal experience. “It’s great to see what others are capable of doing,” she says. “Everyone does their own thing, dances their own way.”
Another regular, 69-year-old Sariah Daine, has been participating for four years. “I come for the energy, camaraderie, the invitation to express yourself fully, however you are,” she says. “This is my favorite thing to do of all time. It completes my soul and spirit. It reaches my primal soul.”
Full expression happens at the circle. “People don’t criticize here. It’s amazing how they support each other,” says Elmore. “The community is the greatest teacher I’ve ever had. It allows me to explore, make mistakes and stop making mistakes.”
Drummer Charles Latimer, a private detective and boxing and martial arts instructor, agrees. He’s played in other drum circles, but this one, he says, is special. “Elmore is a great facilitator; he has an uncanny way to bring people together. He’s like a conductor without ever trying to control.”
“People should feel permission to explore,” Lawson adds. “But sometimes they need a community to allow themselves to do so. That’s what we are.”
Elmore Lawson’s background: Originally from Batang, Philippines, a remote fishermen’s community without electricity where his grandfather was a Protestant minister.
How many instruments does he own? Enough to facilitate 400 drummers.
Unconventional instruments in his collection: “pots and pans of all sizes.”
Instruments from most-faraway places: djembe from West Africa, dumbek from the Middle East, congas from Latin America.