By Tony Wan
This post is part of 30 Days of Gaga. A Non-Dancer’s Diary of Dance. Read Day 1.
Day 7
A 7 p.m. evening class.
It’s the same teacher as from Day 6, again wearing black T-shirt, shorts, and socks. She puts on music. It’s barely audible. There’s a Batsheva performance in the studio below. We must be quiet.
“Move only from your bones.”
She moves beautifully in 3D. I move at right angles, 2D. I run out of unique positions after five seconds. Hinges and unhinges her joints, her unique positions seem to be infinite.
I’m aware of the space around me, and of how little of it I use.
“Now move from your flesh.”
The choice of words is interesting: “flesh,” and not “muscle.” Is muscling movement not good? It’s how I’ve moved my entire life.
“Bring the texture up to fifty percent.”
Looking at her, I comprehend. “Texture” is resisting your own movement. It’s hard to maintain smoothness as I dial up the texture.
I’m herky-jerky. Like learning how to drive a stick shift car. As I inched forward in the drive-through MacDonald’s line, I kept stalling my car. At least there were milkshakes.
My body gives me an ultimatum: “Dude, you can be smooth. Or have texture. Not both.”
“Keep the intensity high. But keep the movement small.”
Oh, that feels different. I’m less all over the place. When my movements get small, my focus goes inwards, and my eyes narrow. It’s a battle to keep my eyes open while dialing up the sensitivity.
I know the cue is prompted by the Batsheva performance unfolding below, but it seems perfectly timed. The teacher has improvised the entire class, tuning into our energy, the needs of the space (quiet!), crafting a unique journey for us this evening.
Maybe it’s her steady voice… Maybe it’s voodoo… When class finishes, I’m in a trance. Not a runner’s high… something else. A feeling that I’ve been OUT THERE. Maybe the fourth dimension.
Quietly, I walk down the stairs and exit the studio.
Under the streetlights, I look at my body as it moves through space.
Are these my hands? Are these my arms? Is this my body?
My teacher hasn’t beamed me to the fourth dimension.
She’s brought me into the third.
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Follow Tony Wan’s journey through a full month of classes with biweekly posts here and on his blog.
