Who's Writing?

I never doubt that I will get it all done or do my best.  “Perfectionist” is what they call it.  Whether it was my 5^th grade science fair project, getting into college, or teaching my younger neighbors how to ride a bike, this yearning inside of me to “accomplish” never sleeps. 

Dance was no different.  I started in ballet and tap combo classes when I was five, adding jazz to the mix at the age of nine.  It transitioned from a recreational activity to something I wanted to pursue and advance in when I learned of a competitive team at my studio.  I spent every morning one summer in my driveway stretching, practicing my kicks, splits and pirouettes so I could meet all of the requirements to make the competitive team.  Once a member, the new goal was to shine amongst the dozens of other dancers that could also nail all of the tricks.  It was as if there was a never-ending checklist in my mind – set a goal, achieve it, check it off the list, set the next goal, repeat.

The cliché of the small town girl meets the big city life, her eyes opened to a whole new world of possibilities, was a reality for me.  An undecided major at NYU, I went back and forth with what I wanted to study though I knew I wanted to keep dance involved somehow.

 

I studied dance and its history in classes.  I learned of the experimentation that dance allowed, of the dance movements where even no movement was considered dance.  I took classes where my balletic posture was fought against.  Every notion I had about the art was flipped on its head and I wasn’t sure what the “goal” was anymore.  The idea of being a perfect dancer was much more complicated than I had imagined.

People from home would ask me why I didn’t want to become a professional dancer.  I used to think it was because somewhere deep inside I didn’t feel “good enough” despite all of my hard work.  In retrospect, however, I think my passion for dance had extended beyond performance and that I needed to experience it in more ways.

 

As my perception of dance shifted, so did my goals.  I no longer felt the sole urge to do a clean triple pirouette.  Rather, I wanted to choreograph that pirouette in between other movements.  I wanted to watch a fellow dancer perform that pirouette and feel a sort of kinetic understanding between us.  I wanted to try and put that triple pirouette - its beauty, the feel of it, its character -into words.  This is when dance and writing came together for me.

The best part of being a perfectionist, I’ve discovered, is the challenge to be one. 

Dancing and writing about dance are a constant challenge for me.  The possibilities, the endless interpretations, the transient nature of the art make it exciting, frustrating and interesting.  Choosing what moments and images to put into words and how to do so are difficult yet rewarding.  My checklist for dance has dissolved, or rather a new understanding of dance has overpowered my incessant need to rationalize see in black and white.  This I appreciate.