student blog

Something Positive: A few not-so-obvious benefits of being a dancer / Sarah

1. That artistic image that makes us so irresistible

“So you’re a dancer?” he says, head cocked in skepticism, at least one eyebrow raised- at least one.

“That’s right,” I say, fussing about in my homemade sweatpants, bending over before sitting down—knees straight—to tie my shoe. Gracefully. But something falls from my pocket as my torso ascends, and I go to pick it up. A bobby pin. To which I say, “Hmm… I wonder how that got there?”

Shower? Every day. Though truthfully, my favorite sweatshirt or socks might not be ‘refreshed’ as frequently.  1.5 weeks without washing: that’s the limit. 

That girl sitting in the back row of the lecture hall, make-up-less, hair array, clothing damp from “previous-dance class-perspiration,” whose mother probably tells her occasionally, “You look so lovely, you know, when you actually take time to do your hair”: that’s me. I can’t understand the intrigue of that flawless blonde- sparkling smile, trendy apparel- sitting in front of me. “She’s so mediocre,” I whisper.  He glares back at me, a look of disappointment.  I know what he’s thinking. “I didn’t wear my jeans today,” I say. “I just didn’t feel like dressing up, okay!”

2. Muscle Memory

Repetition of movement. It’s what we do over and over, again and again, day in and day out. Maybe in this order, or that, facing a different direction, maybe a retrograde here and there: its how we train to perform. It’s how we become versatile. And say on the night of performance, if our minds happen to desert us, our bodies—from hours of practice—will rush in like gallant warriors to save the day (and along with it our artistic dignity).

But this might also come in handy when making coffee at a specific early hour despite being in a sleep-like state, or grocery shopping when having forgotten a list. This talent can be both helpful and applicable, though I suppose if dating unacceptable men becomes at all familiar, this could become highly problematic (not that I would know).

3. Our doctors and chiropractors are likely to send us Christmas cards

We tend to visit these individuals more frequently than we do our own families (and not particularly by choice).  And as a result, our relationships flourish into beautiful friendships. With that being said, my chiropractor knows the following:

1. That I have no school spirit
2. Large crowds make me extremely uncomfortable
3. I carry a medium-sized, but heavy green bag filled with school things. 
4. I am in need of new running shoes.
5. I am going through my quarter-life crisis, and a tattoo is not the answer.

4. We can blame it on dance.  No really- we can.

Minimal to nonexistent social life, inability to sit still beyond sixty seconds, conversations of unrelated subject matter always concluding with “something about dance,” wearing the same clothes four times in one week, falling asleep in public places, having a fit about walking up a flights of stairs, a get-together with non-dancers proves to be socially awkward because “they don’t understand us,” profuse and uncontrollable sweating, intolerance for mechanical things and extreme matters of business, constant complaining about muscle/joint-related issues, inappropriate degree of openness, “Modesty? I don’t know what that means,” ridiculously high pain tolerance, unacceptable outfits repeatedly worn in public, extreme instances of multitasking…

This is all because of dance.

*For their input and inspiration pertaining to the subject matter of this blog entry, I would like to send a sincere “Thank you” to officemates, dancers, and dear friends Erin Donohue and Kim Chmielewski. Your uniqueness is lovely and motivating.

-- Sarah

on failure: experiencing it, fearing it, and dealing with it.

I’ve been told that the experience has never escaped me—that I have never overcome the detriments of my earliest encounter with real, heartfelt rejection. My father was the first to say it, I remember—circling around empty spaces in a parking lot waiting for my mother to push through the exit doors of some craft store, holding in her hand a package of miscellaneous things.  It was a conversation one might expect to encounter at an intervention: the victim enclosed in a space that seemingly begins to grow smaller, unanswerable questions in abundance, followed by the moment of surrender to an undeniable accusation, screaming aloud to anyone that might care to hear a pathetic cry of desperation, “YES!” I finally said, “You’re right! I AM terrified of failure!!”  The car grew silent when my mother reentered, and I wiped my cheeks like an adolescent.  “So, whatcha guys talk about while I was gone,” she said, to which I replied, “Nothing.”  My father was right: I was making excuses and I was scared—scared that years of hard work and dedication might someday amount to nothing.

When I was eighteen years old, I was not accepted as a trainee with the Milwaukee Ballet Company for two reasons: 1. I lacked musicality (they said) and 2. I was overweight: 5’5,” weighing in at 120 pounds. I had been dancing with the school for approximately 10 years and it wasn’t until my moment of rejection that I had heard an evaluation like this.  At first, I handled things gracefully, returned to the studio, and had poor, distasteful conversations about the success of my peers only with myself (naturally, I would never comment on “ballet politics” aloud, and announce that so-and-so’s mother paid her way into the company).  However, this only cured temporary pain and soon after, artistic self-motivation seemed rather funny to me.  Not laugh-out-loud funny.  Sad funny. Truthfully, it took me several months to pick up the tiny pieces of my so-called life and move on.

When I did, however, I found myself at The University of Iowa, and this proved to be a good thing.  The Department of Dance welcomed me with open arms and pointed toes, and for the first time in awhile, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wanted to slip back into my tutu again.  Of course, I eventually traded in my tights for a pair of cotton shorts, a loose fitted tank top, and the bare soles of my own feet in order to explore the less constrictive world of contemporary dance.  As it turned out, I preferred the modern artist’s universe to the pretentious island of classical dance for its creative embrace and kinetic possibilities (and yes, I feel that my many years of dedication and respect for classical ballet have earned me the right to say this). And for the record I still own and wear my ballet shoes proudly and respectfully.

While attending the university, my encounter with Failure has become minimal, though when we do happen to cross paths, our run-ins are bearable and often surpassed by my consistent failure with relationships and men.  However, the most fearful degree of failure is the type that is anticipated and most associated with my future endeavors.  This is what my father was talking about.  My fear of failure buries itself in the form of rejection, much like my experience with the Milwaukee Ballet, only this time it appears in nightmare form in my post-collegiate life and in a way that I see my career as a dancer ending well before it even begins. This is how I have come to understand the evils of anticipation.

“Failure and rejection are not the same thing,” my father said before my mother’s retaking of the passenger seat, and he was right. I was misusing the word almost criminally—tossing about its implications in a way that made me appear to myself as someone who had little talent and no intelligence with which to recognize it.  But that was not the case at all, nor has it ever proven to be. 

Dancers—at least the ones that I know—are modest creatures, and they will say things like, “Oh, I’m nothing special,” or “I could have done better,” but the truth is, they’re all full of it, myself included. Most of the dancers I know and work with are talented artists—unique in their approach to movement and their relationship to the art of dance— and seemingly, most of them fail to recognize and take pride in their success. Perhaps this is inherent in a dancer’s embrace of perfectionism, or maybe it’s just that there seems no appropriate way of actually acknowledge one’s talent without seeming annoyingly pretentious.  And I suppose either of these may be the very reasons as to why fear develops in relationship to failure. It all amounts to an unfortunate and unnecessary frame of mind, followed by even more unnecessary self-criticism. 

As I think about my plans to incorporate myself into the professional world of dance, I am beginning to realize the importance of understanding the difference between failure and rejection—that they are absolutely not the same thing. Failure implies a lack of effort—a conscious decision to neglect responsibility as an artist—and this is nothing I have ever chosen to do, nor will it ever be. But rejection—rejection is both uncontrollable and inevitable, and often times cannot be helped. I have only the physicality and artistry that belongs to me, and unfortunately it might not be at all what a choreographer or artistic director is looking for at some particular time, in some particular place; and this would not be my fault.  How could it be?

In order to negate rejection, one must first understand its nature, only to realize that it is something worth facing multiple times in order to achieve success. Rejection does not imply failure. Actually, it makes obvious an attempt at success—the desire to achieve happiness for one’s self—and that is a good thing.  And so for most of us, Failure becomes nothing more than a manipulative ghost in haunting that can only prove to be harmful upon the acknowledgment of its existence.  Apparently, these things are only to be understood from the circling about with one’s father in adolescent frenzy and the rational thinking that increases with age.  Regardless, these things happen to be matters of the heart, and so I suppose that I was lucky enough to have them explained to me by someone who loves me for the artist I aim to become and the inexpressive individual I will never prove to be. I understand feelings and emotions and their inherent tendency to inspire art-making, which means I also understand their ability to hinder it simultaneously, and while this is no serious solution to combating Failure, having a general understanding of what it may or may not entail makes dealing with it moderately tolerable. 

— Sarah

a brief update on that show we're following / Rachael

Look, it's been a week since "SYTYCD" aired. I know this, you know this, I was on my way home (again, I can't seem to say away) for a Tom Petty concert last weekend. And I'm moving next weekend so I've been busy. (I'm just trying to win an award for most excuses used in a blog, ever). Anyway, that's why this is happening now. It's OK, just go with it.

Ashley is gone! Well, she got injured (fractured rib) and had to leave, but still, that makes me so sad. She was fantastic, and now we're left with five guys, and one girl.

Rob actually asked me awhile ago to blog about the new format and if it's creating some gender issues because the females were getting eliminated super fast and the guys were dominating. Well, here are my thoughts (finally, I know, sorry Rob).

I don't want to look at this in regards to gender. I don't think there's a bias there and I don't think that the new format is necessarily making it tougher for girls than it is for the guys. I think what's unique about this season is that there are more talented guy performers than girl performers. That's a pretty hefty statement to make, but let's look through some of the dancers and I bet I can make you think the same way.

Cristina the salsa dancer. She was fantastic at ballroom dance, but could not hold her own when it came to other styles. Look at Jose, who specializes in break-dancing. He can hold is own in other styles, not because he's the best, but because he's got the personality and the spirit to push through and win the audience over. Cristina didn't have that.

Melinda the tap dancer was the same as Cristina. She didn't have the talent to push herself into excelling at different types of dance. I want to use Alex Wong to contrast her to (even though he left due to an injury) because Alex was a ballet dancer and did the best hip-hop routine I've ever seen. Melinda had to do ballroom dance and didn't do so hot. So it makes sense that she got booted.

I don't have much to say about Alexie because she was eliminated first, and Ashley (as we know) was forced to leave due to an injury. That leaves us with Lauren, who is so talented and such a diverse dancer, and honestly one of my favorites and I'm sure she's favored by many.

But don't get me wrong, every one of the dancers who were on/who are still on this show are so beyond talented it's out of control. But when it comes to choosing the best, I think all of the eliminations make complete sense and I don't think there are any issues with this season being male-dominated.

— Rachael

finding inspiration / Rachael

Let me preface this week’s “So You Think You Can Dance” summary by saying that I was Googling dance studios in Iowa City during the results show because I was so inspired. Yeah, it was that good.

So let’s get to it. Honestly, there’s too much that happened for me to cover it all, so I’m going to hit on some highlights with a video that you have to watch. (Seriously, it’s not optional).

1. Alex and tWitch danced a hip-hop routine. Yes, Alex the ballet dancer, who was a principal soloist for Miami City Ballet and once danced with American Ballet Theatre (if you don’t know anything about ballet companies, this is a big deal). It was unbelievable. The duo captivated the audience, had fun, nailed moves, and made it look so easy.

Plus, (and Mia Michaels proved it with her air quotes on Wednesday night) ballet dancers tend to have a stigma attached to them in that they’re often perceived to not really be able to break away from their formal technique and embrace a completely different style like hip-hop. Alex totally proved that wrong. (Watch him do it!)

2. Ashley and Ade Obayomi were a contemporary dream team. Wow. Now, this is a tease because I cannot find the video anywhere but I’ll do my best to explain. The former Fame girl and her all-star danced this brilliant choreography, telling the story of a girl who couldn’t stand so she needed to be held up by her partner. Let me tell you, it lead to some inspirational partnering. Those two had insane chemistry. But I think Nigel summed it up best during judging by saying, “The steps did not get in the way at all. You just danced.” She did, and it was beautiful.

3.  AdéChiké and Lauren performed a hot hip-hop number. Seriously, the confidence and chemistry those two had together was out of control. Until now, we hadn’t really seen AdéChiké’s  personality come out, nor have we seen him have this much fun, and such a great connect with the audience before tonight, so this really was so great to see. I’d love to give you all a link to a video, but SYTYCD is a bit tight with its vids, and I can’t seem to find one anywhere.

Alright, let’s move onto the world’s most surprising elimination — not. Melinda and her very odd pants got knocked off after being in the bottom with both Billy and Robert. Yeah, it was expected. It was time for her to go.

But here’s the thing that really resonated with me after this week’s episodes — how much watching this show made me want to get out and dance, or at least go see some sort of dance performance live.

See, that’s part of the point of the entire thing in the first place: opening up peoples’ minds and inspiring them to get out there and see what they’re made of. SYTYCD does that.

 And again, we find ourselves connecting reality TV to real life. It’s fantastic.

— Rachael Lander

 

this reality tv thing is still happening, I promise / Rachael

I’ve been slacking on my “So You Think You Can Dance” reviews. I have good excuses, but let’s get real — nothing much happens in the first few episodes, right? Anyway, we’ll get down to a bit of a recap of this week’s episodes right after I gush about the best dance I’ve seen on the show yet.

The first real episode of the season (well, alright it wasn’t really real since it was a meet the dancers ep., but no matter) featured a piece choreographed by Travis Wall (a former SYTYCD contestant) to the song “Paris is Burning” by St. Vincent.

While the dancing (featuring contestants Lauren and Kent and all stars Mark and Kathryn) was modern-esque, the inspiration behind it was ‘20s night life in Paris. Really, the song couldn’t have been more perfect for that setting.

Here’s a little unnecessary background about me: I enjoy choreographing in my head. I know, I’m weird, especially when I start dancing down hallways pretending like I can actually translate the jumble of steps in my head. I can’t. Anyway, I typically do this only when I listen to U2 or classical tracks, but when I first heard “Paris is Burning” I found the fluctuations and stresses (and all of those other music words I don’t remember from my days playing violin) fit so well with choreography.

Obviously Wall’s was a million and a half times better than my pathetic head-choreography ever could be, but I flipped when I saw it, nonetheless. See for yourself. Ugh look at the lines, the fluidity, the partnering!

Alright, I’ll stop slobbering over choreography and move onto what happened this week. What did happen this week? I don’t even know. Three of the best performers ended up in the bottom for whatever reason (for those who don’t know, voters decide who gets into the bottom three and then they have to “dance for their lives” or whatever. America needs to get its crap together).

The three lowest were Cristina (the salsa dancer who ended up getting knocked off), Melinda (who wore some sweet pants…again…also her dance on Wednesday was a little weird ), and Robert (who I enjoy immensely, mostly because of his arms). I guess out of everyone, those may have been the best to end up at the bottom, but I thought Cristina killed it. The judges really didn’t have many bad things to say for the three of them, either, and did profess their shock at seeing where the votes left them.

Honestly, I didn’t find too much else worth of note this week, but I have to comment on how much I love the range of styles happening this season (it also helps that the contestants are paired up with all stars who always dance what they excel at). Jose (who is known for his break dancing skills) did an awesome Bollywood dance he totally rocked (bear with me, I can’t find the video anywhere), and there was also a featured krump dance, along with the typical jazz/modern/contemporary mix.

Also, throughout the jumble of genres featured each week on SYTYCD, I keep coming back to thoughts on the Merce Cunningham Dance Company which will be touring here as a part of Hancher’s next season, and is known for being very…outside the box, if you will. Anyway, I just wanted to bring that up for you all to muddle over a bit and try and make some connections on your own. But don’t worry, I’ll offer a full opinion of the link between Merce and SYTYCD very soon.

—Rachael Lander

getting excited about ballet / Rachael

When Hancher announced its 2010-2011 season last week, I was thrilled to see Ballet West II on the list. Though I’m a huge fan of all things dance, I have to admit my favorite genre is ballet.

But I’m a little biased. I’ve done ballet all my life and was lucky enough to belong to a fantastic pre-professional company during high school that really helped make me appreciate the artistry and hard work that goes into a production. (Plus my intense Center Stage addiction has even furthered my passion, if only because I thought ballet would help me meet Sascha Radetsky. It did). 

Corny movie aside, ballet has meant so much to me over the years, and whenever I get the opportunity to go see one live, I grand jeté over. Basically what I’m saying is to give ballet a chance. I’ve heard a lot of people easily dismiss it, calling ballet boring or even a tad confusing.

It’s neither, I promise.

 I could make a case against those remarks for nearly any ballet company, but in the spirit of our Hancher season, let me tell you why you should get excited about Ballet West II.

Ballet West II is a branch of Ballet West, a company directed by Adam Sklute (who used to be the associate artistic director for The Joffrey Ballet), and based in Salt Lake City. As opposed to the professional Ballet West company, Ballet West II is a pre-professional group. Don’t let the pre-professional part throw you off though—they’re really good. 

Plus, while they’re here in Iowa City on September 18 (the group will also be around the area in Fairfield, Kalona, and Muscatine), the dancers will be working with our dance department and performing free outdoor shows. What could be better than hanging out in the sun and watching ballet for free? Just try and think of a good answer.

—Rachael Lander