Emergency and Intention
I had a lesson the other day, focused on two main themes. First, and what I'll talk about here, was making my lead more inviting, by removing the emergency from my body during faster steps. Second, which I might talk about another time, was which exercises were going to be most helpful to continue developing my dancing and dancing technique.
I have a little of practice moving smoothly and comfortably to regular rhythmic tango passages. However, I often want to respond to or play with the music, in moments when its rhythm changes. When that happens, I frequently want to change the rhythm of my own steps, or those I ask of a partner. What I've been working on here is two fast steps together, followed by a pause (or two fast steps together following a pause). To the best of my ASCII skills, consider the following rhythms:
1. TA - - ta -- TA (Straight/Square rhythm)
2. TA ta - - ta TA (Syncopated Rhythm)
3. TA - - - -ta TA (Syncopated Rhythm, very characteristic of Milonga)
Rhythm 1 my body accepts as a completely natural motion at this point, and processes the intention I give to my partner naturally, with no real new effort from my body or mind while dancing. However, for 2 and 3, when I go to take that fast step, I tense up in warning.
Now, this tenseness doesn't make the dance suddenly terrible, or become hard to follow. But the tensing does cause two things: it weakens the connection to my partner, and because I'm tense I actually no longer step at quite the right speed, so I miss the beat just slightly.
Avoiding that tenseness has taken some practice. One help has been placing my body's emphasis on the second of the fast steps instead of the first. If I focus on the first step, I tend to over-commit to it, or move too far with my initial step, which will break the connection when I recover too quickly to reach the second step. Second, just repition helps; I'm getting used to the faster pace required, and now that I'm more used to it, my body seems to stay more comfortable during.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Injured Shoulder
I pulled my shoulder last Sunday.
Perhaps ironically, I pulled it while stretching. I stretched a little too far, using my weight to lean into it, and I felt like I suddenly developed a little knot right under my shoulder blade. This knot persists, though I can tell it's improving -- I can now take a full breath without a twinge of pain.
It was that twinge of pain that prompted my post, though. I danced with a friend in my kitchen after pulling it on Sunday; I haven't been out to a milonga. While dancing, I would occasionally have a spike of pain from my shoulder. This created a difficulty: every time my shoulder spiked, I was jerked out of connection, music, and embrace. Indeed, quite literally, my embrace was hurting me. It spurred two thoughts.
First -- as a result, I had to focus extra hard on re-gaining connection after each spike. I wouldn't want to use pain for it, but something similar would make for good practice, I think. Songs that stop and start randomly, having to change partners or directions without warning, etc.
Second -- I think the ability to avoid causing moments like this (in either yourself or your partner) is one important role for focusing on physical technique. Not moments of pain, necessarily, but moments where your body feels awkward for yourself, or unclear for your partner.
I return to dancing tonight, and here's to better connection and re-connection on the dance floor.
Perhaps ironically, I pulled it while stretching. I stretched a little too far, using my weight to lean into it, and I felt like I suddenly developed a little knot right under my shoulder blade. This knot persists, though I can tell it's improving -- I can now take a full breath without a twinge of pain.
It was that twinge of pain that prompted my post, though. I danced with a friend in my kitchen after pulling it on Sunday; I haven't been out to a milonga. While dancing, I would occasionally have a spike of pain from my shoulder. This created a difficulty: every time my shoulder spiked, I was jerked out of connection, music, and embrace. Indeed, quite literally, my embrace was hurting me. It spurred two thoughts.
First -- as a result, I had to focus extra hard on re-gaining connection after each spike. I wouldn't want to use pain for it, but something similar would make for good practice, I think. Songs that stop and start randomly, having to change partners or directions without warning, etc.
Second -- I think the ability to avoid causing moments like this (in either yourself or your partner) is one important role for focusing on physical technique. Not moments of pain, necessarily, but moments where your body feels awkward for yourself, or unclear for your partner.
I return to dancing tonight, and here's to better connection and re-connection on the dance floor.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Excitement and Frustration
I spent a great weekend at the inaugural LA Tango Marathon. I traveled with two of my friends, and we proved to be good roommates and travel partners. Many in-jokes were created, and lots of laughter accompanied the trip. The dancing was great - I danced with many new people, for hours and hours. Music was generally excellent, I don't remember ever feeling let down by it. I also danced with people I have seen at other events, and it was fun to reconnect.
The marathon itself had one main issue: the floor of the venue was tough. It was very hard, and slightly sticky linoleum. It was also old: sunk in some places; rippled in others; generally not very nice. From about 1-inch upward, the room had been remodeled, and it was gorgeous: stained-glass-like painted panels in the ceiling, chandeliers, and high ceilings. My feet mostly lasted through the dancing, and I'm very glad I went.
While in LA, I took a private lesson. I have not done a lot of private tuition in the past; most of my learning comes from group classes, and time spent dancing. I also must admit to not a whole lot of practice time. Therefore - the lesson was hugely useful, in a technique sense. I mostly dance close, and my pivots lack a certain amount of technique or balance. They are just not something I perform very often as a lead. We also discussed some posture (always welcome) and leading changes, which I enjoyed (I might expand another time, but basically: incorporating thoughts of my belly as a leading tool). Apparently these changes were successful, as a regular partner immediately commented on them when I returned to Seattle.
However, the immediate effect was to make me feel hugely unsuccessful as a dancer: how could I think I have any ability at this, when there are so many basic, fundamental movements I still don't do well? It took me a couple of hours at the dance (and some very enjoyable dances) to shake it off. I think I feel this way in a lot of areas: when faced with an expert, I am reminded that I am not one.
A friend did tell me this, and it made me feel a lot better: "Your dance can always improve, but don't forget there are already a lot of people that love dancing with you." If you are feeling similarly down about your abilities, remember that this is likely true for you as well.
The marathon itself had one main issue: the floor of the venue was tough. It was very hard, and slightly sticky linoleum. It was also old: sunk in some places; rippled in others; generally not very nice. From about 1-inch upward, the room had been remodeled, and it was gorgeous: stained-glass-like painted panels in the ceiling, chandeliers, and high ceilings. My feet mostly lasted through the dancing, and I'm very glad I went.
While in LA, I took a private lesson. I have not done a lot of private tuition in the past; most of my learning comes from group classes, and time spent dancing. I also must admit to not a whole lot of practice time. Therefore - the lesson was hugely useful, in a technique sense. I mostly dance close, and my pivots lack a certain amount of technique or balance. They are just not something I perform very often as a lead. We also discussed some posture (always welcome) and leading changes, which I enjoyed (I might expand another time, but basically: incorporating thoughts of my belly as a leading tool). Apparently these changes were successful, as a regular partner immediately commented on them when I returned to Seattle.
However, the immediate effect was to make me feel hugely unsuccessful as a dancer: how could I think I have any ability at this, when there are so many basic, fundamental movements I still don't do well? It took me a couple of hours at the dance (and some very enjoyable dances) to shake it off. I think I feel this way in a lot of areas: when faced with an expert, I am reminded that I am not one.
A friend did tell me this, and it made me feel a lot better: "Your dance can always improve, but don't forget there are already a lot of people that love dancing with you." If you are feeling similarly down about your abilities, remember that this is likely true for you as well.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Visiting other places
I spent the weekend in Bellingham, and had occasion to dance with a roomful of entirely new people.
My dancing has always been in one of two places so far: Seattle or Portland. I have become quite comfortable with the group of people I regularly dance with in each of those places. Although I certainly dance with a wide mix of people, and occasionally new people (both new to me, and new to tango), the communities both have a solid sense of style to which I have become accustomed.
Both Seattle and Portland are heavily weighted toward a close, milonguero style embrace. I favor such a style myself, and therefore get along just fine. However, when I attended a dance in Bellingham, it was largely new dancers, and mostly open embrace. I was reminded how different a completely open embrace feels, and how the technique required changes. I was also reminded of various technique (axis, balance, intention) that I have let slip.
It was a fun evening, and I learned quite a bit. Thank you, Bellingham dancers.
My dancing has always been in one of two places so far: Seattle or Portland. I have become quite comfortable with the group of people I regularly dance with in each of those places. Although I certainly dance with a wide mix of people, and occasionally new people (both new to me, and new to tango), the communities both have a solid sense of style to which I have become accustomed.
Both Seattle and Portland are heavily weighted toward a close, milonguero style embrace. I favor such a style myself, and therefore get along just fine. However, when I attended a dance in Bellingham, it was largely new dancers, and mostly open embrace. I was reminded how different a completely open embrace feels, and how the technique required changes. I was also reminded of various technique (axis, balance, intention) that I have let slip.
It was a fun evening, and I learned quite a bit. Thank you, Bellingham dancers.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Gradual Improvement
I have made a lot of time for dancing lately. With that time, I have been improving again. My balance is better, and some nuances of connection in the embrace have improved. Instead of trying to lead broadly through my whole chest, I try to put intention into the actual point of contact (sternum to sternum, sternum to ribs, belly to sternum, whatever it might be).
Visualization has a surprising effect on physical performance. In the case of playing a musical instrument, some study has been made of the neural effects of virtual practice (imagining the specific practice activity) vs physical practice. The neural growth and connection in the mind after the period of training was very similar between the two groups. (The paper is here, and a description here).
Now, this doesn't directly carry over (although looking at whether visualizing better technique would improve it fascinates me), but of late I have been focused on visualizing the connection between me and my partner. Imagining some warmth there, which passes information.
It seems to help, anyway.
Visualization has a surprising effect on physical performance. In the case of playing a musical instrument, some study has been made of the neural effects of virtual practice (imagining the specific practice activity) vs physical practice. The neural growth and connection in the mind after the period of training was very similar between the two groups. (The paper is here, and a description here).
Now, this doesn't directly carry over (although looking at whether visualizing better technique would improve it fascinates me), but of late I have been focused on visualizing the connection between me and my partner. Imagining some warmth there, which passes information.
It seems to help, anyway.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Social Interaction
I spent last night in my living room, and yet it was a very satisfactory evening of tango. Two friends came by, one fresh off an airplane, and we made dinner, looked out over the city, and talked about life, tango, and the mix of the two.
I often find milongas and practicas lacking a strong social element. I'm not sure if this is particular to Seattle, but I suspect it is true to some degree everywhere. At least for me, a lot of the problem is created because I like dancing, and tango music drives me to the floor. It's very tough to maintain a meaningful conversation in 1 minute chunks every 15 minutes.
A couple of the dances here in town maintain a stronger social atmosphere: China Harbor, and Om Culture; they have more space dedicated to non-dancing, and seating that encourages staying off the dance floor. Perhaps not coincidentally, they are also my favorite dances currently. Social atmosphere is not entirely dictated by layout, of course; other dances here have fluctuated in terms of atmosphere, attendance, music, etc.
How do you maintain social connections 5 or 15 minutes at a time?
I often find milongas and practicas lacking a strong social element. I'm not sure if this is particular to Seattle, but I suspect it is true to some degree everywhere. At least for me, a lot of the problem is created because I like dancing, and tango music drives me to the floor. It's very tough to maintain a meaningful conversation in 1 minute chunks every 15 minutes.
A couple of the dances here in town maintain a stronger social atmosphere: China Harbor, and Om Culture; they have more space dedicated to non-dancing, and seating that encourages staying off the dance floor. Perhaps not coincidentally, they are also my favorite dances currently. Social atmosphere is not entirely dictated by layout, of course; other dances here have fluctuated in terms of atmosphere, attendance, music, etc.
How do you maintain social connections 5 or 15 minutes at a time?
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Tango and Intimacy
My girlfriend and I broke up about a month ago. In this case, a very amiable split. We still enjoy each other's company, and dance together when both present at the same dance. I am mostly reconciled -- I miss the time we spent being close, but no longer feel driven to push back toward it.
Melina Sedo wrote about sex in tango, and as I contemplate new romantic endeavors, I have been thinking about the trouble involved in dating within a community. Now, I don't think tango is unique in this instance: workplace and school are also environments where becoming involved with another community member can potentially be tricky. I imagine this is true of any reasonably small social group. Relationships of all types have trouble with dividing lives afterward, and determining new social boundaries. The smaller a group that is involved, the more interwoven relationships, expectations, and needs will be.
So, does tango present a unique problem? Informally, most people seem to think so. In talking with others, I generally hear 1 of 2 responses:
Second, tango creates intimacy for an extended period with a group of people. This creates feelings in many cases within the community ("Tango Crushes"), and can cause problems of time/intimacy sharing across the group. Equally, it can cause trouble with a partner outside the group ("Why do you need intimacy from all these other people?")
How do you manage the barrier between communities, the level of intimacy in dance, and the various time commitments?
(Also: it strikes my analytical side that there might be an interesting paper here ... considering a group of people with some characteristics, how does the size of the group affect the forming/breaking of personal bonds? Perhaps some sort of simulation, where you have some chance of interaction ... how do you measure group function/disfunction resulting from dating/breaking up?)
Melina Sedo wrote about sex in tango, and as I contemplate new romantic endeavors, I have been thinking about the trouble involved in dating within a community. Now, I don't think tango is unique in this instance: workplace and school are also environments where becoming involved with another community member can potentially be tricky. I imagine this is true of any reasonably small social group. Relationships of all types have trouble with dividing lives afterward, and determining new social boundaries. The smaller a group that is involved, the more interwoven relationships, expectations, and needs will be.
So, does tango present a unique problem? Informally, most people seem to think so. In talking with others, I generally hear 1 of 2 responses:
- (Minority) I only date tango dancers, because (not enough time, shared interests, social circle).
- (Majority) I never date tango dancers, because (too much time, outside interests, bad experience).
Second, tango creates intimacy for an extended period with a group of people. This creates feelings in many cases within the community ("Tango Crushes"), and can cause problems of time/intimacy sharing across the group. Equally, it can cause trouble with a partner outside the group ("Why do you need intimacy from all these other people?")
How do you manage the barrier between communities, the level of intimacy in dance, and the various time commitments?
(Also: it strikes my analytical side that there might be an interesting paper here ... considering a group of people with some characteristics, how does the size of the group affect the forming/breaking of personal bonds? Perhaps some sort of simulation, where you have some chance of interaction ... how do you measure group function/disfunction resulting from dating/breaking up?)
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Creativity and Expression
A friend of mine shared this lovely Milonga with me:
It is a very showy piece of dancing, not to everyone's taste, I am sure. I find it a wonderful milonga, and wish I had the creativity and control on display.
It is a very showy piece of dancing, not to everyone's taste, I am sure. I find it a wonderful milonga, and wish I had the creativity and control on display.
- As a show piece, I really like the lighting: in the background, you see their whole bodies; in the foreground, you see only knees down, making for an interesting contrast in focus. I don't know how much of that was intentional vs. a happy mistake of the available lighting, but I loved it.
- I am amazed at their creativity. Practically every 8 measures they change up what they are doing, displaying something new.
- The showy-ness does not hide underlying musicality and control. Clearly, these dancers know what they are doing (I have never met them personally, so I can't say directly). They are well connected with each other and the music.
- When the light shows their face -- they are smiling. They enjoy dancing with each other, they enjoy the response of the crowd, and they enjoy the music. And that makes for a good show.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Focus, Clarity, and Landing a Partner
My friend Ampster has talked about waiting for the follow to land, and how he uses that to dance. It sparked a chain of thoughts about my own process. My process is not very different really, but:
I always want to know where the follower has their weight. Why? Because a step taken when they are off-balance (or worse, have the wrong leg free) will break connection with the follower, and likely with the music. Maintaining those two things are my main focus (and the source of most of my enjoyment and satisfaction) when I dance. At least so far, the people I dance with seem to appreciate that focus!
This isn't to say that I test each and every step before I take it ... I don't. When I am doing a turn, I might do the whole thing in one smooth motion. I will make sure that my follow *is* ready for that first step, but for the next couple steps, I leave it to some mutual sense of when, how far, and how fast to take additional steps. I still influence this, of course, by using my chest to direct the movement, the strength of the initial pulse, and keeping my own weight moving through the step. However, the fine control of each step has become, to some extent, muscle memory.
The creation of this muscle memory has lead to nicer dancing. I no longer have to plot out the exact physical instructions for my body to create certain motions, I can think at a high level: 'A step in cross system out of this turn will feel good here', and can enjoy the sensation more easily than when I needed to focus on thinking 'okay, step 18 inches to the left. Twist upper body to signal to follow. Shift my own weight while follow is engaged pivoting ...'. I am exaggerating the thought process some, but I think the sense of it is clear?
This clarity in my own motion also frees me to focus on the follower. By improving my own technique, balance, and 'mind of no mind', I can pay better attention to my partner's weight and balance, and the music.
Hurray!
I always want to know where the follower has their weight. Why? Because a step taken when they are off-balance (or worse, have the wrong leg free) will break connection with the follower, and likely with the music. Maintaining those two things are my main focus (and the source of most of my enjoyment and satisfaction) when I dance. At least so far, the people I dance with seem to appreciate that focus!
This isn't to say that I test each and every step before I take it ... I don't. When I am doing a turn, I might do the whole thing in one smooth motion. I will make sure that my follow *is* ready for that first step, but for the next couple steps, I leave it to some mutual sense of when, how far, and how fast to take additional steps. I still influence this, of course, by using my chest to direct the movement, the strength of the initial pulse, and keeping my own weight moving through the step. However, the fine control of each step has become, to some extent, muscle memory.
The creation of this muscle memory has lead to nicer dancing. I no longer have to plot out the exact physical instructions for my body to create certain motions, I can think at a high level: 'A step in cross system out of this turn will feel good here', and can enjoy the sensation more easily than when I needed to focus on thinking 'okay, step 18 inches to the left. Twist upper body to signal to follow. Shift my own weight while follow is engaged pivoting ...'. I am exaggerating the thought process some, but I think the sense of it is clear?
This clarity in my own motion also frees me to focus on the follower. By improving my own technique, balance, and 'mind of no mind', I can pay better attention to my partner's weight and balance, and the music.
Hurray!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Confidence and Interpretation
I had a funny exchange Monday night.
Monday night, at the China Harbor milonga, I never felt on. It was a mix of losing my balance, not quite connecting with music, and losing connection with my partner. This part was not funny, but it happens from time to time.
Later in the evening, I was standing at the bar, chatting with some friends (followers, in this case) who made the exact same observation. One of them I had danced with earlier, but added that she really enjoyed my dancing for our dance, it was just her dancing that felt off. And I thought the same: that her dancing was quite nice, even if mine was off.
I guess if we could stop criticizing ourselves, we could just take pleasure from the fact that our partner enjoyed the dance. Not a new realization, but it keeps happening. I should try actually learning the lesson.
Monday night, at the China Harbor milonga, I never felt on. It was a mix of losing my balance, not quite connecting with music, and losing connection with my partner. This part was not funny, but it happens from time to time.
Later in the evening, I was standing at the bar, chatting with some friends (followers, in this case) who made the exact same observation. One of them I had danced with earlier, but added that she really enjoyed my dancing for our dance, it was just her dancing that felt off. And I thought the same: that her dancing was quite nice, even if mine was off.
I guess if we could stop criticizing ourselves, we could just take pleasure from the fact that our partner enjoyed the dance. Not a new realization, but it keeps happening. I should try actually learning the lesson.
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