I've recently become acquainted a researcher named Mike Barnes who is, fascinatingly, focuses on dancers from an anthropological perspective. He poses thought-provoking questions on his blog and I've responded to a few of his posts, hoping to help in his research. One post got me thinking about the cycle of class, rehearsal, and performance.
Class is my constant; it is the food I live on as a dancer, and as a person. Class is my anchor; it gives me structure and I can rely on it to complete my day. The reality is, given the limitations of my schedule due to juggling a corporate job with dancing, I sometimes have to choose between class and rehearsal. The truth is, I never feel complete if I haven't had class. It doesn't even have to be dance class; it can be cross-training, but as long as it's class that makes me sweat bullets I am satisfied.
If I don't have a choice, I give myself class in my room. (I'm beginning to fear that I'm wearing a big divot into my carpet and floor.) When I was traveling abroad for work and living out of a suitcase, I got up at 6:00am each morning to give myself class before work, and ran on a treadmill for one hour after work. I'm not a fan of running, but it was the only way to maintain any kind of endurance. No matter how tired and beat up I felt, I was resolute in keeping this up. This served a psychological purpose, too: it was a way to establish a routine away from home, and fulfill me in some way when I couldn't dance like I wanted to. It definitely helped me sleep!
Still, even my strict regimen cannot replace class for any considerable period of time. Even though performance may be the end goal, class gives structure to the body and mind. Class makes the rhythm of my days. It's painful to go without.
3 comments:
Thank you so much for referring to my blog in your opening.
I have been taking my time thinking about this post of class as sustenance. Then I reread a comment of yours in my blog and responded with "[I] think that some people like to explore the unknown and push boundaries that way (prefer rehearsals and performance); whilst others have more of a task orientation and like to push boundaries in a more linear fashion (prefer class and exercise)." You are probably a lot like me. You are basically task oriented and love an environment with structure in which to work. Before I retired and pursued my interest in anthropology (which was a big leap of faith for me), I was a software developer. In that world, a good day was one in which I had written the specifications and worked alone on the development. I had total control and did things in a linear fashion. Stepping into the academic world of anthropology and more recently dance, I have had to broaden my focus and push boundaries into unknown worlds. I feel I have far less control and my comfort zone is stretched. None the less I have adapted. I was adapting far less in the world of computers as it became more customer oriented.
You may be wondering why I am telling you all this. Well I think it is a good analogy of how you return to class to give you structure. I used to withdraw to working alone in development for structure. Sadly, at the end of the day, I think that structure starts to get stale and like it or not something else is needed to find balance. I look forward to hearing more about your journey in dance in particular. Feel free to say if you think I am wrong or alternatively want to explore this idea.
Just my thoughts :-)
Mike, thank you for coming by, and for your thoughtful comment! It's truly a pleasure to have you visit and I hope you will do so often. I will surely be back at your blog to catch up very soon and to chime in to your thought-provoking discussions.
The distinction you've made between those who work well with structure and those who prefer exploration within looser parameters makes good sense. I've noticed that while I enjoy branching out creatively sometimes, I am much more comfortable knowing I've covered my bases and considered my next actions.
Perhaps the more people like us push ourselves into uncharted territory, the more we wish to maintain balance by maintaining structure or creating it if none existed previously.
It's a push-pull: If I don't feel like I'm growing, I will break out of my existing structure, experiment, and ultimately create a modified or brand new one. And so it evolves, as I evolve in my process of self-discovery.
In this sense, I feel that structure can be wonderfully empowering. It provides a reassuring presence, and yet is not so mired in convention that it cannot be improved to suit one's changing goals.
Does it work for you this way? I feel there is no right or wrong in this topic, since each individual's personal experience so richly influences perspective and subsequent decisions. Come what may, let the exploration continue in your own, special way.
For me it really is a case of feeling uncomfortable with change, yet when change is not present, I get bored. Let me try something else here. I have been accused of being a control freak, and that other people don't like me trying to control them. It took me a long while to work out that I have no desire at all to control other people (cf. Foucault), what I want to control is my own circumstances and of course that usually involves other people. So control and structure are somewhat synonymous to me. This may just be going off on a tangent but I think it influences how we behave, so maybe you seek class to regain an element of control.
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