My knees and I used to be on a curt, speaking relationship. We used to be comfortable with each other's eccentricities, maybe not understanding but accepting. These days, however, all is rebelling. In Brenda's words, my body is changing.
My knees crack and creak, they holler in exhaustion. They are not happy. My legs on the whole are not happy, but as I see it this is an opportunity, and in fact, a necessary one. It was always necessary that I learn to use my body efficiently, but before it gave me trouble there was little motivation to do it. Before the pain, there is simply inefficiency. Granted, when put to much use, those inefficiencies create pain, so maybe this is two sides of the same coin. The fact of the matter, however, is that it's time to start using my body right.
There was an old Aikido teacher who said that we should always continue to train through our injuries. When we compensate to protect an injured part, we are fully aware of what any motion will do to that part. The point of our training is to become that aware of our whole body at all times.
So being injured teaches two things. It teaches efficiency. As long as my knees are not completely shot, I can continue to walk and dance, but I have to do so carefully. I have to try to find leg motion that protects them. To do this, I am forced to cultivate awareness of my legs.
So I try to continue to learn. For the sake of my knees.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Relaxation
The port au bras in ballet is one of the hardest things for me to do. This is the motion of the arms through the different positions. Resting near the pelvis, elevated in front of the solar plexis, lifted above the head, and out to the sides. The second position, the one out to the sides, is particularly difficult. It forces me to open my shoulders, chest, and arms in a way that I've never done before. Unsurprisingly, the tendons in my arms are not flexible enough to do this, so staying in second can be a painful exercise.
I was thinking about it today, as I was pushing the arms outward, and suddenly I decided to relax the arms but continue to push, and then I understood the essence of these movements. My arm lengthened out another inch, and it no longer felt force or stress to hold itself out. It was simply strong and limber. In Aikido, they told me to think of Ki, or body energy, running through the arms out through the finger tips. You were supposed to let that energetic flow lengthen the body, and in doing this, it becomes strong. I realized that the same thing has prohibited me from really using the floor when I walk in my jazz dancing. If my legs stay stiff, something inside sort of locks up. The weight of my body is then being supported by these tense muscles. When I can relax the legs but keep them engaged, my body weight sinks into the ground, while my muscles are freed up to do the much easier task of manipulating my body - not hold it up.
In the retreat a few weeks back, we had a night where we all met up and worked on some things. That night, I heard Brenda describe the body in the subtlest and most profound way I had ever heard. She was talking about the body being a self-sustaining structure moving along the ground. I can't remember her exact phrasing, but she said something like the body is able to achieve a state of buoyancy on top of the ground. Buoyancy! Her voice lit up with a certain wonder as she said this, and I couldn't help be filled with it myself. We literally float on top of the earth. It is interesting to think of all life and our structures as things that continually work against the force of gravity. Surprising that we ever stood up at all - why not crawl on the ground and expend less energy in defying gravity? But to think of this rise as a state of buouancy... If I'm not mistaken in my definition of buoyancy - birds are buoyant. Flying is a state of buoyancy. When Brenda said we are buoyant, I no longer felt the urge to fly, because I felt like I already am. To perfect this earthly flight is my goal.
The body functions as a tensegrity structure - that is a structure that is held up using element that cannot stretch (but can bend freely) and other elements that are rigid (think: pipe and rope) - the bones and muscles can achieve efficiency when thinking this way. There are so many ways that we all misuse our bodies and make things so much more difficult than they need be. As I see it, this misuse takes two forms. We can use our muscles as rigid elements (bones), meaning we have excess tension, or we can fail to align our bones correctly, so that the structure cannot hold itself up without excess tension (bad posture).
So the ideal state uses our bones in such a way that the maximum amount of energy needed to hold us up or perform a specific action is relayed directly into the ground. Our muscles, in turn, only perform the manipulation as needed. A clear example is lifting a box with a bent back. It's more efficient to use our spine to absorb the weight, rather than using our lower back muscles to support us.
More thoughts on buoyancy and Archimedes.. Two of Archimedes' propositions - 1) "Any floating object displaces its own weight of fluid." Is this not similar to my body weight sinking into the ground? When I am able to achieve that state of relaxation where my body weight is not held by my muscles, but is sent into the earth. I have not displaced the earth, but that is incidental. That's only a factor of temperatures, right? If the universe were thousands of degrees hotter, the earth would be a liquid, and I, liquid or gas, would displace my weight in that molten earth.
2) "Any object, wholly or partially immersed in a fluid, is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the fluid displaced by the object." This is to say that my body is buoyed up by a force equal to that of the pull of gravity on my body. Or that the earth pushes against my body, so much as I push back on it. O-sensei, when asked how he was so strong, would laugh and answer - "How can you move the whole world?" I don't think this was simply a mystical or metaphysical answer, but he had literally achieved a state of near perfect groundedness, so that any opposing force when sent into him could be relayed directly into the earth. This would mean that the earth would push back the same amount, so that O-sensei did not use his own energy to deflect a blow, but rather the energy of the attack directed into the ground and returned back through his body.
I think this idea of buoyancy may not hold up under science's critical eye, but they are interesting thoughts.
Oh, and by the way, this is what I think about all day.
Addendum: I was mistaken about buoyancy of course. Monica let me know that it was Newton's third law... But still there is a wonderful image in my book of the pelvis "floating" on the femurs as though they were buoys. And one must imagine the water lever dropping or rising to bend or straighten the legs.
I was thinking about it today, as I was pushing the arms outward, and suddenly I decided to relax the arms but continue to push, and then I understood the essence of these movements. My arm lengthened out another inch, and it no longer felt force or stress to hold itself out. It was simply strong and limber. In Aikido, they told me to think of Ki, or body energy, running through the arms out through the finger tips. You were supposed to let that energetic flow lengthen the body, and in doing this, it becomes strong. I realized that the same thing has prohibited me from really using the floor when I walk in my jazz dancing. If my legs stay stiff, something inside sort of locks up. The weight of my body is then being supported by these tense muscles. When I can relax the legs but keep them engaged, my body weight sinks into the ground, while my muscles are freed up to do the much easier task of manipulating my body - not hold it up.
In the retreat a few weeks back, we had a night where we all met up and worked on some things. That night, I heard Brenda describe the body in the subtlest and most profound way I had ever heard. She was talking about the body being a self-sustaining structure moving along the ground. I can't remember her exact phrasing, but she said something like the body is able to achieve a state of buoyancy on top of the ground. Buoyancy! Her voice lit up with a certain wonder as she said this, and I couldn't help be filled with it myself. We literally float on top of the earth. It is interesting to think of all life and our structures as things that continually work against the force of gravity. Surprising that we ever stood up at all - why not crawl on the ground and expend less energy in defying gravity? But to think of this rise as a state of buouancy... If I'm not mistaken in my definition of buoyancy - birds are buoyant. Flying is a state of buoyancy. When Brenda said we are buoyant, I no longer felt the urge to fly, because I felt like I already am. To perfect this earthly flight is my goal.
The body functions as a tensegrity structure - that is a structure that is held up using element that cannot stretch (but can bend freely) and other elements that are rigid (think: pipe and rope) - the bones and muscles can achieve efficiency when thinking this way. There are so many ways that we all misuse our bodies and make things so much more difficult than they need be. As I see it, this misuse takes two forms. We can use our muscles as rigid elements (bones), meaning we have excess tension, or we can fail to align our bones correctly, so that the structure cannot hold itself up without excess tension (bad posture).
So the ideal state uses our bones in such a way that the maximum amount of energy needed to hold us up or perform a specific action is relayed directly into the ground. Our muscles, in turn, only perform the manipulation as needed. A clear example is lifting a box with a bent back. It's more efficient to use our spine to absorb the weight, rather than using our lower back muscles to support us.
More thoughts on buoyancy and Archimedes.. Two of Archimedes' propositions - 1) "Any floating object displaces its own weight of fluid." Is this not similar to my body weight sinking into the ground? When I am able to achieve that state of relaxation where my body weight is not held by my muscles, but is sent into the earth. I have not displaced the earth, but that is incidental. That's only a factor of temperatures, right? If the universe were thousands of degrees hotter, the earth would be a liquid, and I, liquid or gas, would displace my weight in that molten earth.
2) "Any object, wholly or partially immersed in a fluid, is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the fluid displaced by the object." This is to say that my body is buoyed up by a force equal to that of the pull of gravity on my body. Or that the earth pushes against my body, so much as I push back on it. O-sensei, when asked how he was so strong, would laugh and answer - "How can you move the whole world?" I don't think this was simply a mystical or metaphysical answer, but he had literally achieved a state of near perfect groundedness, so that any opposing force when sent into him could be relayed directly into the earth. This would mean that the earth would push back the same amount, so that O-sensei did not use his own energy to deflect a blow, but rather the energy of the attack directed into the ground and returned back through his body.
I think this idea of buoyancy may not hold up under science's critical eye, but they are interesting thoughts.
Oh, and by the way, this is what I think about all day.
Addendum: I was mistaken about buoyancy of course. Monica let me know that it was Newton's third law... But still there is a wonderful image in my book of the pelvis "floating" on the femurs as though they were buoys. And one must imagine the water lever dropping or rising to bend or straighten the legs.
Friday, April 23, 2010
hmm
It's Friday. We had class yesterday - our fourth class run by me and Drew. We are still at very low numbers, not quite paying our rent. Drew and I are also still working out our teaching rhythm. I've never taught with anyone regularly, so it can be hard to find a balance between the two of us. Sometimes we offend each other or don't get things said clearly, but all in all, I think our classes are going fairly well. We are offering a consistent venue to improve your dancing, and some people are coming out regularly. This Tuesday we will do some more promo work by dancing a demo at Tuesday Blues, the big local blues venue.
Drew is headed out to deliver some flyers to local studios as well. Those numbers will grow!
A friend of mine leant me Zorba the Greek - a wonderful read. It's the first page turner I've had since Pride and Prejudice.
As for my dance development. I feel a bit of stagnation, but am fairly unconcerned, because I think it's a time of rest. I've been watching Al Minns on the Spirit Moves more and more. I'd like to post a link to a video of him, but I haven't found him yet on youtube, and I don't know how to upload from DVD. Yesterday, I was describing dancing as a closed energetic system. That is to say that power and energy comes from the floor through our legs, and it is dispersed through our bodies at will. In the ideal case, there are no inefficiencies. There are no spots where the energy is lost. For this to be the case, we must of course have good posture, but we must also achieve that elusive state of "body integration." This is when the musculature and bones in our body function in a connected manner. In an integrated body, the movement in a hand is clearly and literally brought about by energy from the floor. Movements performed in this manner are done with grace and power - seemingly without effort. This is how Al Minns moves.
This is also how O-Sensei, Morihei Ueshiba, moved. With a different intent and aesthetic, but the same grace and power. Watch around minute 2:00 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XTlWDOQBno&feature=PlayList&p=9DEF1B75EFA8B830&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=3
Drew is headed out to deliver some flyers to local studios as well. Those numbers will grow!
A friend of mine leant me Zorba the Greek - a wonderful read. It's the first page turner I've had since Pride and Prejudice.
As for my dance development. I feel a bit of stagnation, but am fairly unconcerned, because I think it's a time of rest. I've been watching Al Minns on the Spirit Moves more and more. I'd like to post a link to a video of him, but I haven't found him yet on youtube, and I don't know how to upload from DVD. Yesterday, I was describing dancing as a closed energetic system. That is to say that power and energy comes from the floor through our legs, and it is dispersed through our bodies at will. In the ideal case, there are no inefficiencies. There are no spots where the energy is lost. For this to be the case, we must of course have good posture, but we must also achieve that elusive state of "body integration." This is when the musculature and bones in our body function in a connected manner. In an integrated body, the movement in a hand is clearly and literally brought about by energy from the floor. Movements performed in this manner are done with grace and power - seemingly without effort. This is how Al Minns moves.
This is also how O-Sensei, Morihei Ueshiba, moved. With a different intent and aesthetic, but the same grace and power. Watch around minute 2:00 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XTlWDOQBno&feature=PlayList&p=9DEF1B75EFA8B830&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=3
Monday, April 19, 2010
The weekend was not so restful afterall.
I was doing well. I cleaned my room, cooked some food, did what I needed to do. In fact, I finished my choreography and already printed up flyers for a 6 week class. But Sunday turned into a whirlwind. It started with a waltz brunch, where they taught a two hour class followed by social dancing. Afterwards, I was teaching at Blues Lab, a local venue for burgeoning instructors, which was followed by more social dancing, and then of course, I went out social dancing. All being said, I was on the dance floor for 10+ hours, and by the end of the night my knees were feeling it. Luckily I have gotten the plantar fasciitis, or pain in the hell, subsiding. But I still need to rest more.
I just went to a movie, the first one in a while, and I can now say, having seen nearly all of the oscar nominees, that "Un prophete" was my favorite of the year. I recommend it over Avatar and Up in the Air, and all the rest. Although I still have not seen "A single Man"
In other news, I've been scheming this weekend, and along with the men's choreography, I want to teach a blues fundamentals "boot camp." I'm currently thinking a four hour session on a Saturday or Sunday spent drilling fundamentals would be great. Hopefully I'd be able to run it once a month. It's hard, while trying to work all these things out, not to compare myself to the protagonist in "Un Prophete." Hopefully you won't think too badly of me when you see the movie.
I just went to a movie, the first one in a while, and I can now say, having seen nearly all of the oscar nominees, that "Un prophete" was my favorite of the year. I recommend it over Avatar and Up in the Air, and all the rest. Although I still have not seen "A single Man"
In other news, I've been scheming this weekend, and along with the men's choreography, I want to teach a blues fundamentals "boot camp." I'm currently thinking a four hour session on a Saturday or Sunday spent drilling fundamentals would be great. Hopefully I'd be able to run it once a month. It's hard, while trying to work all these things out, not to compare myself to the protagonist in "Un Prophete." Hopefully you won't think too badly of me when you see the movie.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Resting this weekend
I avoided all urges to buy a last minute flight to Austin and to catch a ride up to Seattle for Steven and Virginie's workshop. In the meantime, I have been resting my heel and thinking about choreographing a guys' routine. Actually I've started choreographing, and I have about 40 seconds of a 2 minute song finished. I plan to work on that for the rest of the day.
I just came from ballet. My ballet class on Thursday was miserable from my heel hurting, but today I was calm and relaxed, having a nice time.
I just came from ballet. My ballet class on Thursday was miserable from my heel hurting, but today I was calm and relaxed, having a nice time.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Imagery
I bought a book by Eric Franklin that focuses on using imagery to achieve "dynamic alignment." Here are some thoughts from it.
If posture and thought process are intimately connected, then, in a sense, your thoughts are constantly sculpting your posture, changing your alignment. The reverse holds true as well: Your posture influences your thinking. Your thoughts are part of a powerful matrix that influences your posture. THe flood of words and images around you affects the way you sit, stand, and walk. Notice how comforting, encouraging words of praise from a parent of trusted teacher can immediately improve your posture: "Good! Well Done! Perfect! Beautiful! Excellent job!" Conversely, observe the tension stifling all movement in a class being told it's "not good enough."
He also says that since our posture is constantly being sculpted, trying to hold yourself in "good posture" goes against nature, because it becomes something static. We must accept this changing nature of our bodies and realize that good posture is a perpetual quest. This is reminiscent of an idea of Isadora's. When creating her school, one of her stated goals was to help her students make their bodies into an "instrument as perfect as possible."
If posture and thought process are intimately connected, then, in a sense, your thoughts are constantly sculpting your posture, changing your alignment. The reverse holds true as well: Your posture influences your thinking. Your thoughts are part of a powerful matrix that influences your posture. THe flood of words and images around you affects the way you sit, stand, and walk. Notice how comforting, encouraging words of praise from a parent of trusted teacher can immediately improve your posture: "Good! Well Done! Perfect! Beautiful! Excellent job!" Conversely, observe the tension stifling all movement in a class being told it's "not good enough."
He also says that since our posture is constantly being sculpted, trying to hold yourself in "good posture" goes against nature, because it becomes something static. We must accept this changing nature of our bodies and realize that good posture is a perpetual quest. This is reminiscent of an idea of Isadora's. When creating her school, one of her stated goals was to help her students make their bodies into an "instrument as perfect as possible."
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Dance Retreat
For the past 4 days, I was attending a blues retreat with Barry and Brenda. Yesterday, I worked with Barry on my solo routine and jazz movement for four hours. This is not my life slowing down. Most of my friends are leaving town this weekend for Blues SHOUT, so I can hopefully relax and take some time to NOT dance.
This was my third retreat with Barry and Brenda, and it was certainly distinctive. I spent much of the time in silence considering the fact that I don't understand the essence of blues. Admittedly, Isadora has left quite an impression on me. She has me seeking what she calls the "quality inherent in each movement." How little do we understand this! Even walking, as simple as it seems, is immensely difficult if one is trying to capture the rhythm of blues or jazz music. There was a moment that brought everything to a head for me. We were practicing a simple touch, step rhythm without any music, and I realized that every person in the room except Barry was stepping early. The rhythm, at its worst, was speeding up. At its best, the hit of the feet hit early in the beat. This is immensely subtle. If you want to try to understand what I'm talking about, listen to Howlin' Wolf or Ella Fitzgerald's singing. As Steven Mitchell says, "listen to Ella: she'll keep you on time."
How we step to the rhythms is the essence of the dance, and I'm becoming convinced that this is the difference between the original Lindy Hop in the 30s-40s and the modern Lindy. When you watch the two dances, there is obviously a difference in the rhythms of the dance. Why this is has eluded me for a few years now. Sometimes I wonder if it's a racial difference. This is not a politically correct thing to muse about, but what are blogs for, but musing? I was reading a book on jazz and the author was talking about what happened when African rhythms were first exposed to a European audience. The Europeans thought it was sheer nonsense. Furthermore, originally, they only heard short clips of hour long performances. As I understand it, the African rhythms function something like runners on a track. They may all start in different positions, but they end in the same place. That is to say that the Europeans could not understand African rhythms interspersed moving on and "off-beat" to form a complicated whole.
I do believe in a cultural heritage. And maybe that knowledge of rhythm filtered down. It does, however, seem silly to reduce it entirely to race. We are talking about timing. There are specific moments that can be hit in the beat. But somehow, I wonder if our young community of dancers will ever do the blues justice. Isadora wanted to discover a dance worthy of the Parthenon. I want to discover one worthy of Howlin' Wolf.
This was my third retreat with Barry and Brenda, and it was certainly distinctive. I spent much of the time in silence considering the fact that I don't understand the essence of blues. Admittedly, Isadora has left quite an impression on me. She has me seeking what she calls the "quality inherent in each movement." How little do we understand this! Even walking, as simple as it seems, is immensely difficult if one is trying to capture the rhythm of blues or jazz music. There was a moment that brought everything to a head for me. We were practicing a simple touch, step rhythm without any music, and I realized that every person in the room except Barry was stepping early. The rhythm, at its worst, was speeding up. At its best, the hit of the feet hit early in the beat. This is immensely subtle. If you want to try to understand what I'm talking about, listen to Howlin' Wolf or Ella Fitzgerald's singing. As Steven Mitchell says, "listen to Ella: she'll keep you on time."
How we step to the rhythms is the essence of the dance, and I'm becoming convinced that this is the difference between the original Lindy Hop in the 30s-40s and the modern Lindy. When you watch the two dances, there is obviously a difference in the rhythms of the dance. Why this is has eluded me for a few years now. Sometimes I wonder if it's a racial difference. This is not a politically correct thing to muse about, but what are blogs for, but musing? I was reading a book on jazz and the author was talking about what happened when African rhythms were first exposed to a European audience. The Europeans thought it was sheer nonsense. Furthermore, originally, they only heard short clips of hour long performances. As I understand it, the African rhythms function something like runners on a track. They may all start in different positions, but they end in the same place. That is to say that the Europeans could not understand African rhythms interspersed moving on and "off-beat" to form a complicated whole.
I do believe in a cultural heritage. And maybe that knowledge of rhythm filtered down. It does, however, seem silly to reduce it entirely to race. We are talking about timing. There are specific moments that can be hit in the beat. But somehow, I wonder if our young community of dancers will ever do the blues justice. Isadora wanted to discover a dance worthy of the Parthenon. I want to discover one worthy of Howlin' Wolf.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
on a hectic life
I saw Anna today, and we were supposed to dance, but instead she ended up doing energy work on me, frequently commenting on how ragged I was running myself. She says that I need to slow down and figure out what will help me grow the most instead of trying to do everything. (yesterday I went to Pilates, Modern Dance, Tango Practica, Ballet, and another Ballet class, followed by a few songs of Blues dancing in a bar) By the end of the day yesterday, my knees were feeling shot, and my spirit was down. In times like these, I keep forgetting why I am doing what I'm doing.
So maybe she's right. I fill out the final paperwork for my classes tomorrow, so i might drop one or two. That would give me more time to get accustomed to living in my new setting and in Portland. Anna also says this will be time to start figuring out how to take care of my body and stop expecting it to simply keep running.
So maybe she's right. I fill out the final paperwork for my classes tomorrow, so i might drop one or two. That would give me more time to get accustomed to living in my new setting and in Portland. Anna also says this will be time to start figuring out how to take care of my body and stop expecting it to simply keep running.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
On the Ballet
A quote from Isadora:
"For three hours i sat tense with bewilderment, watching the amazing feats of Pavlowa. She seemed to be made of steel and elastic. Her beautiful face took on the stern lines of a martyr. She never stopped for one moment. the whole tendency of this training seems to be to separate the gymnastic movements of the body completely from the mind. The mind, on the contrary, can only suffer in aloofness from this rigorous muscular discipline. This is just the opposite from all the theories on which I founded my school, by which the body becomes transparent and is a medium for the mind and spirit."
I know what she means. I was thinking on this exact theme just half an hour before reading it in ballet class. We were working on some step where the arch of the foot rests against the inner ankle bone - heel facing forward, toes pointed and behind. And I couldn't help chuckling at the extremity of ballet. Everything is done to the maximum. Muscles stretch and pull in strange directions, not necessarily done in an efficient physiological manner, but done with full concern for the aesthetic. This is a performance dance. Some of the exercises are so strange. Walking is probably the strangest for me, because I have done so much work on my walk in partner dances. To walk in turnout with your legs straight is odd indeed. I, however (unlike Isadora), have not waged war on the ballet. (I suppose that I must support a cause fully before I could wage a war..) But I enjoy the exercises, strange as I find them. It is in fact the strangeness and difficulty that keeps me coming back.
I was just reading the account of Isadora's premiere in Russia. She says she dances Chopin's preludes as she understood them. Oh to see that. I wonder how someone fully expresses themselves in dance, how, as she says, one dances with the spirit. And what would it mean to do other things in this manner? To live and work with the spirit? To eat? To shit?
"For three hours i sat tense with bewilderment, watching the amazing feats of Pavlowa. She seemed to be made of steel and elastic. Her beautiful face took on the stern lines of a martyr. She never stopped for one moment. the whole tendency of this training seems to be to separate the gymnastic movements of the body completely from the mind. The mind, on the contrary, can only suffer in aloofness from this rigorous muscular discipline. This is just the opposite from all the theories on which I founded my school, by which the body becomes transparent and is a medium for the mind and spirit."
I know what she means. I was thinking on this exact theme just half an hour before reading it in ballet class. We were working on some step where the arch of the foot rests against the inner ankle bone - heel facing forward, toes pointed and behind. And I couldn't help chuckling at the extremity of ballet. Everything is done to the maximum. Muscles stretch and pull in strange directions, not necessarily done in an efficient physiological manner, but done with full concern for the aesthetic. This is a performance dance. Some of the exercises are so strange. Walking is probably the strangest for me, because I have done so much work on my walk in partner dances. To walk in turnout with your legs straight is odd indeed. I, however (unlike Isadora), have not waged war on the ballet. (I suppose that I must support a cause fully before I could wage a war..) But I enjoy the exercises, strange as I find them. It is in fact the strangeness and difficulty that keeps me coming back.
I was just reading the account of Isadora's premiere in Russia. She says she dances Chopin's preludes as she understood them. Oh to see that. I wonder how someone fully expresses themselves in dance, how, as she says, one dances with the spirit. And what would it mean to do other things in this manner? To live and work with the spirit? To eat? To shit?
Working with Barry
I was working on blues and tango with Barry for 4 hours yesterday. There is little that helps me improve more, but he's not seen as an authority in many of the communities I dance in. But Barry has been dancing for years and he dances more dances than I've ever heard of. He can reduce all these dances down to the base technique underlying each, and then add on the individual stylings and aesthetics to create each one. He's choreographing a routine for me to work on my stuff.
In the meantime though, he can break down the tango walk better than anyone I've ever seen, and sure enough when I look around, the good dancers are doing what he's talking about. I was practicing my tango walk today at Alex Kreb's practica. Walking and walking, learning to drive and swing my legs properly. I'm also thinking about adding upper body rotation to turn the walk or add a specific aesthetic. I can tell me posture is improving, because the stretch from turning my rib cage is no longer isolated in my abdominal muscles, but it reaches up my back. It's currently stopping just between my shoulder blades. Barry says I'll really have it when I feel it just above my glutes.
I've also been thinking about my head. I took an amazing Pilates class yesterday. The teacher was so clear and precise that I was really working hard. I still feel all the vertebrae in my back from stretching them so hard yesterday. But he was talking about keeping the head back, in a sit up for instance. You can't crane forward with your neck so that it hurts, but lift from the chest, while curling the chin in. This lengthens the upper spine instead of stressing it. I was thinking about this in my turns. As you turn, it's important to keep your spine straight, and when I can add the head, my turns just glide, and spotting becomes a cinch.
It's a lot of technical details, but this is what I'm thinking about nearly every waking hour.
In the meantime though, he can break down the tango walk better than anyone I've ever seen, and sure enough when I look around, the good dancers are doing what he's talking about. I was practicing my tango walk today at Alex Kreb's practica. Walking and walking, learning to drive and swing my legs properly. I'm also thinking about adding upper body rotation to turn the walk or add a specific aesthetic. I can tell me posture is improving, because the stretch from turning my rib cage is no longer isolated in my abdominal muscles, but it reaches up my back. It's currently stopping just between my shoulder blades. Barry says I'll really have it when I feel it just above my glutes.
I've also been thinking about my head. I took an amazing Pilates class yesterday. The teacher was so clear and precise that I was really working hard. I still feel all the vertebrae in my back from stretching them so hard yesterday. But he was talking about keeping the head back, in a sit up for instance. You can't crane forward with your neck so that it hurts, but lift from the chest, while curling the chin in. This lengthens the upper spine instead of stressing it. I was thinking about this in my turns. As you turn, it's important to keep your spine straight, and when I can add the head, my turns just glide, and spotting becomes a cinch.
It's a lot of technical details, but this is what I'm thinking about nearly every waking hour.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Isadora, again
"On my return from performances where the audience had been delirious with joy, I would sit far into the night in my white tunic, with a glass of white milk beside me, poring over the pages of Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason" from which, Heaven only knows how, I believed I was finding inspiration for those movements of pure beauty which I sought."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z19zFlPah-o
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z19zFlPah-o
Isadora
"At that Villa in Abbazia there was a palm tree before our windows. It was the first time I had seen a palm tree growing in a temperate climate. I used to notice its leaves trembling in the early morning breeze, and from them I created in my dance that light fluttering of the arms, hands, and fingers, which has been so much abused by my imitators; for they forget to go to the original source and contemplate the movements of the palm tree, to receive inwardly before giving them outwardly."
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Tango
Topher and I went on a little coffee date yesterday to Coffee House Northwest, the hottest coffee house in Portland. They hand you a shot of espresso, letting you know the steam temperature and length of the pull... It's pretty geeky, but it's amazing coffee. Anyways, after distracting ourselves with espresso speak among other subjects, we bought some food to cook dinner. Trout with Buerre blanc (that was in fact black), brocollini, salad with grapefruit and goat cheese and a creamy nut dressing. After that meal, cooked with lots of love, I headed over to Milonga Berretin, for Alex Krebs' CD release party. I arrived a few songs into the live set, feeling calm and excited to see a packed house.
It was like the big tango fests, where there is no room to move on the floor. People can get a little stressed in that environment, and it is little wonder, considering that 50% of the people in the room wear 4" spikes on their shoes. I used to get thrown off by those crowds, wondering how I could ever keep a follow interested when I could only take tiny steps in any given direction. Maybe it's been all the practice walking, maybe it was the love cooked into my dinner, maybe the fantastic live music, but something clicked last night, and I was dancing another sort of dance. I stopped trying to dance to the music and just kind of let it flow through. It's so entertaining to dance like this. I've experienced it a few times before with swing - the last notable experience was dancing to George Gee in DC.
My breath aligned with my movement, my partners smiled, and the bandoneons played. It's hard to explain what happens in moments like that on the social floor. It's as though all the things you have been practicing cease to be concepts in your mind, and they become manifested in your body. Your mind then stays calm and able to enjoy the moment, while the dancing becomes a playful game.
It was like the big tango fests, where there is no room to move on the floor. People can get a little stressed in that environment, and it is little wonder, considering that 50% of the people in the room wear 4" spikes on their shoes. I used to get thrown off by those crowds, wondering how I could ever keep a follow interested when I could only take tiny steps in any given direction. Maybe it's been all the practice walking, maybe it was the love cooked into my dinner, maybe the fantastic live music, but something clicked last night, and I was dancing another sort of dance. I stopped trying to dance to the music and just kind of let it flow through. It's so entertaining to dance like this. I've experienced it a few times before with swing - the last notable experience was dancing to George Gee in DC.
My breath aligned with my movement, my partners smiled, and the bandoneons played. It's hard to explain what happens in moments like that on the social floor. It's as though all the things you have been practicing cease to be concepts in your mind, and they become manifested in your body. Your mind then stays calm and able to enjoy the moment, while the dancing becomes a playful game.
I have a post in mind
I have a post in mind to write about. It has to do with live tango last night, but I am running to an Easter brunch. In the meantime, I will let you know that I know I have everything I need when my ballet slippers and Isadora Duncan's autobiography are in my bag.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
another teacher
I have two great teachers. I am blessed in this. One needs teachers, and I find that as I search, the world provides what I need.
Recently I received another teacher, though this one is not specifically a teacher of dance, one might call her a teacher of the spirit. She has me reading the autobiography of Isadora Duncan - a name that keeps appearing in my life lately. This teacher discusses things in a language I know. She speaks of the spirit, knowing thyself, not of winning dance competitions, but of becoming something far greater. And of learning to dance with the soul.
Recently I received another teacher, though this one is not specifically a teacher of dance, one might call her a teacher of the spirit. She has me reading the autobiography of Isadora Duncan - a name that keeps appearing in my life lately. This teacher discusses things in a language I know. She speaks of the spirit, knowing thyself, not of winning dance competitions, but of becoming something far greater. And of learning to dance with the soul.
Friday, April 2, 2010
first practica and On Determination
Drew and I had our first blues practica and class series last night. I'm glad some people came out, but we were pretty close to not breaking even. The classes went fairly well, and given the minimal numbers in attendance, we changed the format some, gearing it to meet specific needs as we saw fit. We'll keep plugging away and hopefully get those numbers up. We should have our real flyers printed soon, and I expect them to help.
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People ask me why I'm not going to a blues festival coming up that all the dancers will be attending. It will be a big deal, full of competitions and performances. Yet I cannot feel drawn or connected to it. Everyone gets really worked up and excited about these things, and i do too, but that is exactly why I want to stay away. My dancing feels so delicate and in its formative stages. It feels like a tree that one has to be careful to nurture. To protect it from shocks is the gardener's main objective. I used to travel to lots of dance events. All over the country and the world, but I found that my dancing was not really improving drastically. Everything was fast - a whirlwind, but I never found the time to drill my basics and create a solid groundwork.
People also ask me why I don't have a cell phone, and I think the answer to this as well as the first question is that I'm determined. I see an end, and when you see an end everything else vanishes. It as though you've become the center of your reality (which I suppose one must essentially be, but that fact becomes apparent when determination takes hold.), and everything becomes a tool to use. Set rules and logic are bent under this lens. Henry Ford's quote feels so true: "Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal."
I haven't posted this for a few days. I kept thinking about it, editing it, not sure what I really think. My blog entries are a way of clarifying my thoughts. So some of this is all still hazy in my mind. But I do know that something has changed.
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People ask me why I'm not going to a blues festival coming up that all the dancers will be attending. It will be a big deal, full of competitions and performances. Yet I cannot feel drawn or connected to it. Everyone gets really worked up and excited about these things, and i do too, but that is exactly why I want to stay away. My dancing feels so delicate and in its formative stages. It feels like a tree that one has to be careful to nurture. To protect it from shocks is the gardener's main objective. I used to travel to lots of dance events. All over the country and the world, but I found that my dancing was not really improving drastically. Everything was fast - a whirlwind, but I never found the time to drill my basics and create a solid groundwork.
People also ask me why I don't have a cell phone, and I think the answer to this as well as the first question is that I'm determined. I see an end, and when you see an end everything else vanishes. It as though you've become the center of your reality (which I suppose one must essentially be, but that fact becomes apparent when determination takes hold.), and everything becomes a tool to use. Set rules and logic are bent under this lens. Henry Ford's quote feels so true: "Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal."
I haven't posted this for a few days. I kept thinking about it, editing it, not sure what I really think. My blog entries are a way of clarifying my thoughts. So some of this is all still hazy in my mind. But I do know that something has changed.
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