"When a body moves, it's the most revealing thing. Dance for me a minute and I'll tell you who you are". - BaryshnikovIt is often said that dance, like other forms of art, is a form of self-expression. I mentioned in a previous blog how, even as a dancer, I wasn't quite sure I knew what this really meant. Of course, there are times when we feel joy, sadness, fear, rage; emotions that can be translated clearly and vividly through our movements. But what about those times when you're just dancing for fun? What about those moments when you're not really feeling a particular emotion? What exactly is it that we are expressing with our bodies at that point? Are we expressing anything at all? Or is it the physical equivalent of someone who is "talkin' loud but ain't sayin' nothin'"?
Although dancing can be used to project emotions or tell a story, I've come to the conclusion that the self-expression aspect of dance goes a bit deeper than that. Pictures are said to be worth a thousand words, but I believe our bodies in motion can express things that words can't even say. This may be a stretch, but I think sometimes our bodies, through dance, say things that our minds have always wanted to say, but never had the words for it; something so raw and primal that to attach a word to it would be horribly understating the idea.
I also believe, just like with other visual arts like drawing and painting, dance is a gateway into our imaginations; a portal through which our ideas and dreams can escape into reality. Speaking of escaping, dance can also be a way to escape reality. We can be momentarily free of all the stress and chaos going on in our lives. We can also step out of our normal selves and become another character, or that person we always wanted to be, but are afraid to be for whatever reason.
"The dance floor is the place where one can become a totally different person; however, the person you become is invariably the window into who you really are". - Ana MasacoteOn more than one occasion, I've had a non-dancer friend (Wha? Friends who don't dance? Who has those?), after seeing me dance, tell me that I seem to transform into a completely different person. At first, I wholeheartedly agreed. When I dance --especially when I'm in that "zone"-- you see no traces of the shy, self-conscious, insecure person I once was. Through dance and other areas of my life, God has helped me grow out of that. However, I'm not a finished product by any means. Add that to the fact that it's not hard to digress into my old self from time to time, and it will seem as if the "dancer" me and the "normal" me are two different people.
However, I noticed something interesting as I watched others dance. In the case of the dancers whom I had the chance to know both off and on the dance floor, I discovered that their dancing matched their personalities. In many cases, their dancing was an amplification of their personalities. I then began to consider my own dancing, and sure enough, my observation was true for me as well. Those that know me in person know that I am a very calm, even-tempered person. I'm not above having moments of extreme emotion, but for the most part, I'm very relaxed, mellow, and laid-back. The more I danced, the more I realized that my personality is reflected in my dancing. Though I can adjust to be flashy and flamboyant when needed, my dance style is normally tranquil, fluid & "smooth" (hey, that's what people always told me... I didn't make that up ;-) ). Even the tempo of music that I prefer dancing to fits me. Something just a few BPMs slower than medium-speed, something I can just cruise and glide along to, milking the beat for all it's worth, hitting every little break and nuance in the music that I can. That's pretty much me in real life -- going with the flow, enjoying the small things and intricate details as they come my way.
I mentioned earlier that I sometimes struggle with being introverted and insecure at times. I've grown by leaps and bounds in those areas. Shoot, a younger me would have cringed at the thought of being on a stage doing anything, let alone dancing. It blows me away every time I consider the fact that one of my biggest fears was speaking in front of people, yet, I look that fear square in the eye every Thursday and Friday when I teach my salsa classes. Despite my growth, I still have those flaws. There's a common misconception about dancers and other performers that we seek and crave attention, but that could not be any farther from the truth for some of us. For me, it shows in my dancing. When I'm just out social dancing, I have no problem. If I'm dancing socially and I notice that people just happen to be watching, I turn it up a bit. Not to attract more attention to myself, but to help me tune out the attention that's already on me. You see, I really just don't like being the center of attention. If I'm performing on stage, or if I'm put on display for the purpose of entertaining others... I can still dance, but it takes mental effort to distract myself away from the fact that others are watching me. I also seem to lose much of my sense of spontaneity. My movements aren't quite as free and energetic; I end up being more controlled, possibly by my fear of looking stupid. Again, my battle with that fear is becoming easier to battle the more I dance, but I have a feeling it will be a life-long fight.
"I don't look at dance as a separate part of my life but as an extension of it. Rather than take on a different persona, I prefer to indulge the current one but add a touch of artistry to it". - Magna GopalMy observations have brought me to the conclusion that, for those of us who are at least somewhat proficient in dancing, we do not become different people at all; rather, we are the same people with more tools at our disposal with which to express ourselves. Being able to dance and have above-average or better body control is the equivalent to giving a speaker or writer a deeper vocabulary, or giving a painter a larger set of colors to splash upon the canvas. Dancing, like everything that I just mentioned, loosens the reigns that usually exist on our normal selves, allowing us to show the world more parts of ourselves that we otherwise aren't able to or are afraid to. The dancer in you is, in many cases, the raw, uncut, unabridged, unadulterated you. The dancer in you isn't a different "you", it is the real "you".
