My Tango Diaries

Help for Tango Dancer Tom Kamrath, Austin, Texas

2012-01-27T06:46:00.000-08:00

Dear readers and dancers, I'm putting the word out to ask for help for a friend and fellow tango dancer, Tom Kamrath, in Austin, Texas, who is in urgent need. If you've ever danced in Austin, then you probably met Tom, who is such a foundational member of our community. Any help, even just spreading the word, is deeply appreciated. (This website has been created by Lacy, his daughter.)

Tom Kamrath - http://www.tomkamrath.org/

Home

2012-01-20T07:26:00.000-08:00

My teacher's words come back to me.

"You dance too small,
too soft,
too quiet."

A year ago I could, and did, claim lack of technique, lack of lessons, for dancing that way. So I studied, took lessons, practiced. Experimented.

I danced bigger ("with more expression!")
I danced harder ("more dynamically!")

For awhile.

While I will probably always be able to point to lack of good technique in these things, after all I never stop learning and developing as a dancer, these days technique isn't really the at the heart of the issue.

Dancing bigger seems to, except for rare occasions, make me feeling like I'm wearing someone else's clothes. It's okay for playing dress-up, but it's not really me.

I recently watched a video of myself dancing with a leader I've danced with a long time. For once, I managed to dance without caring about the camera. This gentleman has been dancing with me since my very first dance three years ago - and I'm sure that contributed to my relaxed state. I danced for him even though we had the entire room to ourselves. We had an audience. My dancing was quiet, soft and small. But it felt right. I felt like me.

It felt like home.

The Beginner

2011-12-21T13:24:00.000-08:00

From: http://www.morguefile.com

The slight, shy leader in front of me had started tango lessons a few months before, dabbled in it a bit, and with many other dances, but within the last month decided to get serious about tango. That night he was attending his first milonga.

I was happy to see him return to tango. When I met him in a class a couple of months prior to that, I was struck by his warmth and gentleness. So when he asked me to dance, I accepted, and told him how happy I was that he was coming out to the milongas. He smiled warmly and embraced me with such tenderness that I was momentarily too surprised to move. Had I mistaken him for someone else? Had we danced socially before and I just didn't remember? Nope - this was the same leader I remembered from the class.

We changed weight for a moment and I decided to risk startling him (which happens sometimes with new leaders), and hold him like we'd been dancing for ages. He embraced me back with the same sense of affection and, most startlingly, relief.

With that, we were off. He walked softly, a little hesitantly, with some rock steps and an ocho cortado or two. The cruzada was still a little bit of a challenge and he took extra time to make sure I was where he thought I was before exiting the step. (I appreciated that.) He tried leading back ochos but when he would have needed to open the embrace to make that work, he adjusted, changed weight and pulled me back in front of him, continuing his walk. I smiled against his cheek, and he smiled back, and patted my back lightly - almost absentmindedly.

Between songs he said, "I tried other things [dances], listened to other music. But this," he pointed to the speakers on the wall, "this is what makes me feel like dancing. It's so beautiful. I had to come back."

With that, he returned me to his chest and hugging him back, I whispered in his ear, "I am so glad to hear it."

I felt like the Grinch at the end of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" - my heart grew three sizes that day.

I sat down later with my friend and asked if she had danced with Mr. Shy, and she answered enthusiastically, "Oh yes! That man is going to go far!" At that, we both giggled and watched him circle around the dance floor, smiling.

Now I look for him at every milonga (and I'm not the only one).

Rejection

2011-12-21T07:54:00.000-08:00

Going through emails and messages over one of the links I posted on Facebook, to Irene and Man Yung's Tango Blog about "Mean Girls" about the hows and whys of rejection. These are quotes from two of the comments and they both reflect what I hear a lot from leaders:

D: "What I was objecting to was the followers who insist on only dancing with expert leaders despite having relatively low skills themselves."

D: "When you [comment addressed to me] talk about not betraying the dance, you are talking about people's skill level, their artistic ability, not about the danger of injury, and not about manners. And this is a topic that comes up a lot, and it's usually quite explicitly about skill level."

All I can say is - no, I'm not actually talking about skill level, and I really don't know how I can make that more clear. *exasperated sigh*

Please highlight this as possibly the most important thing I may ever write about tango: If I don't feel safe, if I don't feel connected to my partner and the music - then I am not dancing tango. I am going through the motions of the dance, but not engaged in the spirit of the dance. Period.

Plus, it is very easy to think you can judge someone's skill level simply by watching them dance, and I'm telling you that you can't. You can pick out those things that you think are indicators, but beyond watching someone make a hazard on the floor for others, those indicators only speak to your preferences and your experience - not the dancers engaged in the embrace and their experience of each other during the dance.

What I want to know is how are you so sure what's really going on? I have dozens of reason for seeking out particular partners. I hate to disappoint them, but most of the time it's not about their "expert" level of dancing. Experience can give you a few things that are very desirable, however - comfort in your own skin, confidence, familiarity with the music. I won't deny those factors - but those are generally not easily observable from outside the embrace.) Most of the time, okay pretty much 100% of the time, it's what they bring emotionally to their dance with me.

My favorite message so far from a friend in the UK,

"Why do we [followers] keep bringing up how the dance feels and yet they [leaders] keep hearing it's about their skill or about how the woman wants to look??? How many different ways can we say 'tanguero, most of the time it's your attitude. It's about how you feel!'"

Exactly.

The most important rule of dealing with rejection - don't assume you know why you were turned down. Chances are, you don't.

What I hear most often from leaders when followers decline dancing with them:

"She doesn't think I'm good/skilled/experienced enough."
"She only likes dancing with experienced dancers that make her look good,"
"She thinks she's too good for everyone,"
"She wants someone who shows her off."
"She only dances with older leaders/milongueros."
"She only dances with younger leaders/hot shots."

What I hear most often from followers when they decline a leader: (excluding the most common ones which are actually- "I just don't feel like dancing right now," and "I'm afraid he's going to get me hurt.")

"His embrace is uncomfortable." (Sometimes this is about height difference - not something personal that the leader is doing.)
"I don't like how he makes me feel."
"He pushes/pulls, shoves too hard."
"I don't feel a connection with him."
"He's dancing his own dance (and not with me)."
"He doesn't seem to like/hear the music." (This comes into play not because of how a leader is dancing to the music so much as other things - especially talking through the music.)
"This is a vals/milonga/favorite orquestra - and I want to dance with my favorite vals/milonga/so-and-so-orquestra partner."

My own experience on rejection:

There are about a dozen men who almost never dance with me, including a few who have never danced with me in the almost 3 years I've been dancing in this community. I don't look for their cabeceo anymore, but more importantly for my own sanity I've given up trying to figure out why they don't invite me and beating myself up over it. Does it still sting when I accidentally make eye contact and they abruptly look away? Sure. But unless they talk to me at practica or seek me out some other way, I don't have a very reliable way to find out their reasons. I can guess, but that's rarely worth my energy. I seek feedback from the leaders who are willing to work with me and focus on that - there's more than material there.

So how do you find out why someone is declining to dance with you?

- Ask if you can work with them at practica or in class.
- Ask who they study with or have studied with in the past, and then, if you're feeling particularly industrious, go to that teacher to find out what might be going on with your dance.
- Observe how they are dancing when they seem happiest - what is their partner doing? What is the music?
- And once again, don't assume anything.

Most important: For godsakes focus on the folks who do want to dance with you (and that you want to dance with of course) who have probably been patiently waiting for you to pull your head out and notice them. (I've been guilty of that, so I know of what I speak here, folks.)

Anyway. those are my thoughts thus far on the matter. If we're friends on Facebook, you can follow the conversation here: https://www.facebook.com/marijohnson/posts/211751532239400 If we're not connected on Facebook, feel free to send me an invite.

2011-12-16T08:12:00.000-08:00

Dancing in Austin, Denis and Deena's Milonga // --Mari

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

From Essential Rumi
by Coleman Barks

Be that Guy

2011-12-09T06:48:00.001-08:00

San Telmo Plaza Dorrego - Wikipedia Images

"There is always an elderly, overweight, Argentine guy in a suit who slowly dances around the edge of the dance floor, and all he does is walking and maybe an ocho once in a while. And he has usually an amazingly beautiful girl who dances incredibly well plastered all over him. Be that guy.

"There is also always a someone on the dance floor who wrestles his partner through all kinds of maneuvers, interrupted only by short pauses where he repeats a move 5 time till it "works", or where he explains just exactly how the follower has to move to make the 40 step sequence he wants to do work. Note that he dances mostly with beginners. Note the frozen smile on his partners face. Don' be that guy."

Still one of my favorite quotes about tango, originally from Dance-forums.com - http://www.dance-forums.com/showthread.php?p=514203

Body at War, Body at Peace

2011-12-08T13:15:00.001-08:00

(Picture courtesy of http://www.morguefile.com )

Fragments of a Conversation

Body at War

I can't remember a time when my body was not on guard. Ready to decide - stay and fight or run away. My secret daily routines as a child included having a bag packed at all times. Scanning every building for places to hide. At a very young age, I knew if I were running from someone, don't go up, don't go into rooms with no exit or window, don't get trapped. This isn't the sort of information a child should have to know, is it? I don't even remember where or how I learned it. I just knew I always had to have a plan. If I couldn't make myself safe, I could make myself ready. I lived in Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, Arizona, Massachusetts, and finally landed in Texas. Every place I lived, until I moved in with my husband, I had a bag packed. Every time we moved, I made plans for where I would need to go.

Even now, when I walk into a room, I note the easiest exits, the paths of least resistance, in case I need to leave quickly. I never unlearned the habit. When was the last time I actually had to do that? I can't remember. I've never been safer or had circumstances like these, where I should feel so content and secure, before. I feel safe at home, safe with my husband - but especially in public, the habits remain.

When my doctor asked me how long it had been since I'd had a solid week of good sleep, I couldn't remember. It hasn't been months or years - it's been a couple of decades. When did I last have surgery? I slept a lot then, I told him. That's not what he meant. I don't know then, I said, I'm an insomniac. It doesn't feel like my mind is ever entirely at rest. Even when I'm exhausted, I still try to function in my half-awake state, holding conversations, getting ready for work - only truly waking up some time later wondering how I'd gotten my clothes on, checked my messages and managed to make coffee, while apparently still sleeping.

Now I have to question the consequences of living so many years ready to fight, or ready to run.

My recent diagnosis has me wondering if the effect of a lifetime spent looking for a fight, has left my body with no other way to behave. An auto-immune disorder means my body is essentially at war with itself. Is my body tearing itself apart looking for a threat that doesn't exist? My doctor is trying to trace the battle lines for clues - why are these muscles being affected, and not those. Why the muscles, but not the joints?

More questions from my doctor. "Do you meditate?" (Yes.) "Do you practice yoga?" (Yes.) "When are you most relaxed?"

"When do you feel safe?"

Body at Peace

"When I dance."

"So you relax when you dance? What is that like?"

"How much time have you got?" I ask. He shrugs and leans forward. On my phone, I show him a video of me dancing with Mr. X at Copa. It is clearly not what he expected to see. No gymnastics, no jumping or kicking. Just walking.

I tell him, it's not relaxed in some passive, nap-like way. I don't know. Can you relax actively? He shrugs.

Cradled against a man's chest, listening to the music through his body, breathing in the smell of his cologne, I can feel safe. I don't know what combination of factors creates that alchemy, but it works. I listen to his breathing, a few breaths go by, and we're in synch. If we pay attention, we can feel a little of each other's history in the way we move, in the tiny ways we adjust to each other. It's different every time.

It's not just that being held that way feels good - of course it does, I don't think that really surprises anyone. But for me, for someone to make the effort, and to put in the energy, to make me feel safe, to make me feel like something precious in his arms - to put his embrace before the steps he wants to dance - that makes me feel safe.

Safe enough to stop running. Safe enough to stop fighting.

I can surrender.

"I prefer to explore the most intimate moments, the smaller, crystallized details we all hinge our lives on."
Poet Rita Dove

What is it that you do?

2011-12-07T14:39:00.001-08:00

"So, what is this that you do? You don't want to teach. You don't want to perform. You don't want to compete. Yet you're going to South America for it! What are you ever going to do with tango?"
I can't explain and that makes my heart ache.
"I'm just going to dance, grandma - until I can't anymore."

Site/Blog Update - Commenting

2011-12-07T08:58:00.001-08:00

Hopefully issues with the ability to comment are resolved. If not, please email me at infinitetango (at) gmail.com directly and I'll put in another ticket with Blogger.

Tonight

2011-12-01T06:44:00.001-08:00

(Picture courtesy of www.morguefile.com)

Me entrego a tus brazos
Con miedo y con calma
Y un ruego en la boca
Y un ruego en el alma

-- Con Toda Palabra by Lhasa de Sela

Tonight there is a heaviness in his heart.
I can feel a melancholy weight between my hand on his back,
. . . and my own heart beating.
He is sad about something. . .
Or someone.

Tonight, he smiles, but the smile doesn't reach his lowered eyes.
He embraces me the way he always does, then pauses . . .
very still,
not even a breath,
his arm holds me a little closer.
I hold him a little tighter in return and he relaxes slightly.
We take a deep breath together.

The second phrase starts and we glide into the stream of dancers.
He is here, but also somewhere else . . . .
. . . . reliving something that the music has brought to mind.

Translation (courtesy of Lyricstranslate.com)
"I surrender to your arms
with fear and with calm
and a prayer on my lips
and a prayer in my heart"

http://lyricstranslate.com

Festival Lesson - Ask for What You Need

2011-11-30T12:38:00.001-08:00

(Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com)

The Fandango de Tango festival is over and I'm back at work, trying to remember what it is I do in the daylight hours. I must be dreaming music at night because when I wake up, the silence around me is heavy and sudden - like someone switching off a radio.

I think I danced more at this festival than any previous one I've attended. Five milongas (no classes) - and then I danced again at our local Monday night milonga at Cafe Medici. I wish I could go tonight. I'm pushing off the inevitable tango hangover, but it's coming. I can feel it.

The biggest lesson I learned this weekend - nothing beats just asking for what you need. I think I need to tattoo that on my hand so I don't forget.

I danced far more than I thought I would be able to, but it wasn't easy. By the third night it was clear to me, and probably to many of my partners, I wasn't going to be able to keep up the pace. Saturday night, at least I think it was Saturday? Maybe it was Friday. I can't remember for sure now. A friend asked me to dance for a milonga tanda and I almost declined, worried I wouldn't be able to keep up. Instead of declining, I just let him know I was hurting. So even though it was a milonga playing, I needed to dance soft. If that was okay with him, I was ready to dance. He accepted the challenge and much to my delight, he danced me soft. It was gorgeous. It was such a relief to dance a milonga without the fear that I wouldn't be able to keep up, or be afraid that I would hurt afterward, and instead be able to focus on all of the things we could do in the music.

To give an idea of the tanda felt, all I can say is that it reminded my of this video (and the one below it came courtesy of Terpsichoral Tango.)

And this:

Tandas over the next couple of days were, thankfully, much the same. I let my partners know what was going on and told them I would completely understand if they wanted to skip it. They danced with me anyway, and I had some truly beautiful, restorative dances. I was completely spoiled by embraces that melted away my aches and my worries. Every time it happens I'm still so amazed by how curative this music, and this dance, can be - how it can untangle the knots and ease the pain, both emotional and physical.

Thank you to the leaders who were so careful with me, and took extra time, this weekend. I am more grateful to you than I can possibly express.

5 Things I Learned from Exotic Dancers

2011-11-30T11:44:00.001-08:00

Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com

At different points in my life I've had the opportunity to work with several exotic dancers, as a coworker in their "day job", and as their make-up artist, photographer etc. I've been amazed at how transferable the advice I got from them about dancing around, and with, men, is to women in tango and other partner dances.

1. Smell good, but don't smell strong. Leaving a "fragrance trail" on gentlemen is not usually appreciated by them, or by the next woman who dances with them.
2. Limit (or preferably eliminate) the glitter or anything else that will end up on your partner. Married or not, it's not likely your partner wants to wear glitter home - or transfer it on to the next woman he dances with.
3. Same goes for make-up - waterproof and transfer-resistant is the way to go. It's such a cliche but it's disturbing how often I see lipstick on collars.
4. Care about the music you're dancing to - it shows in how you dance. If you're bored, you look bored.
5. Your body really is your temple. Your body tells your story. Take care of it and be proud of it

A Little Advice, Honey

2011-11-22T17:44:00.001-08:00

This is not C, but the picture captures the mood. Courtesy of morguefile.com.

I had the conversation below outside of a milonga at Esquina tango, about 3 months after I started my tango journey.

C was visiting from out of town and was staying only that night, then she was off again to Chicago. About two hours ago, C. emailed me just to say, "What I told you two years ago is a hundred times more true in Buenos Aires. Have fun, dear!" (and to give me permission to publish this.)

Esquina Tango, 2009

C. waved me over with her cigarette like she had something very urgent to tell me.

C: I like your blog, honey - you write great. But I think you are way too naive about tango.

Me: *scowling* How so?

C: Look, in tango, you're gonna be attracted to men, you understand? Very attracted to a lot of men. Okay? (She said this with such a grave tone that I thought she was going to follow it with 'and it's going to ruin your life', or 'give you leprosy', or 'turn you into a communist!' Something serious, anyway. )

C: It's natural. You're a woman - you're not dead. They're not dead either. And this is tango. (She shrugged like this was completely obvious to everyone but me.)

I nodded agreeably and wondered if this conversation was going anywhere in particular.

C: . . . and you will be shocked by the men that attract you (squinting one eye and jabbing her cigarette into the air for emphasis) Shocked!

C: You will dance with some old man with 3 teeth, an old suit and no hair, with great cologne, but bad breath who stumbled into the milonga with a walker! (I couldn't help thinking that was awfully specific.) This little man, he will dance you to the rafters and back. Then, then (she repeated, pointing to me, both eyes squinting at me this time), when the music stops and you part for the cortina, you will look at him and think to yourself, "My God, what a man this is!" she shouted, clutching her heart dramatically.

(She leaned in close, the same way you lean in over a campfire, talking low, when you're telling ghost stories and the bit about the man with the hook for a hand is coming up. )

C: Don't you think for a single moment, (lowering her voice even more, and jabbing the air again with her nearly extinguished cigarette) that he (jab) doesn't (jab) know it! (jab).

(C. leaned back, winked and smiled knowingly, satisfied with her proclamation.)

Me: (I'm sure my eyes were wide, wondering over the deep significance of this revelation.) So what do you do?

C: Dance! You dance! Dancing tango is for saying things you can't say, doing things you can't do. All the stuff you didn't do and should have - and things you did that you shouldn't have. All of it!

Let him know in the dance. Then there is no harm. If he is listening, he will know. If he is not listening (and by the tone of her voice I would not want to be one of the men who didn't listen), he is not worth the message.

(I nodding again because that's all I could think to do.)

C. crushed her cigarette out in the pavement, picked up her bag and started toward the steps into the milonga. With her hand on the door handle, she looked over her shoulder and laughing, added "and for God sake don't write about it in your blog!"

Which is why for two years I never blogged this conversation. With my last email exchange, I got her permission to share this, in honor of planning to visit Buenos Aires.

I'll be looking for a little guy with a walker and 3 teeth . . . If you see him, send him my way.

Buenos Aires, Treatment, and Gratitude

2011-11-22T09:52:00.001-08:00

I'm going to Buenos Aires in May.

The words don't feel real yet, but I am definitely going. I'm excited and terrified at the same time. This is one of many times that I'm completely in awe of my mom. She went to Brazil on her own, at 19 years old, during the military dictatorship, and without knowing a single complete sentence in Portuguese. Damn. I've never travelled anywhere outside the US.

My practical reason is that I have enough points to convert to Delta Skymiles to pay for the round trip flight, and that was the biggest obstacle. Now I just have to come up with the money to pay for everything else.

The emotional reason is quite a bit different. It's not intellectual, not practical, almost not rational. It's visceral. Or, lately as I talk about it more, it's a feverish infection taking over my higher reasoning. I try very hard not to let fear guide any decision I make, but while fear may not be in the driver's seat right now, it is almost certainly in the passenger side pushing, cajoling . . .

whispering . . .

'drive faster.'

I'm afraid I will run out of time to travel to Buenos Aires - at least as a dancer.

My doctor has given me three diagnoses and, maybe it is my upbringing showing through, but to have the names of these things gives me some measure of power over them. I have autoimmune polymyositis (my immune system is attacking my muscles/connective tissue) and that has given me a sort of road map. I can make a plan. I can learn. I didn't, however, expect that the diagnosis would be just the beginning. As my muscles have weakened, I've learned that the strength I had built in my muscles had actually been masking other problems. Once my muscles began weakening, some even deteriorating, other problems were revealed. Can't it ever just be one thing at a time?

Still, it's amazing how the body compensates for things, how it picks up the slack when and where it can. The muscles around my knees and ankles had been picking up the slack (almost literally) for ligamentous laxity (loose ligaments from years of abusing my lower joints). The upside is that I have great range of motion in my ankles - the bad news is, as the muscle supporting my ankles have weakened, the stability and strength in my ankles, and my balance generally, has suffered.

I also have chondralmalacia in both knees which is a fairly common condition but complicates how I treat the instability caused by the ligaments being weak. I support my ankles and knees with braces - both because of the laxity and the muscle pain. However, when my joints swell from overuse or whatever, I can't brace them because it worsens the pain from the chondralmalacia by compressing my joints and making them feel like sandpaper rubbing against sandpaper. I can take anti-inflammatories and a very few muscle relaxers, but not narcotic pain killers due to allergic reactions, so my options are further limited. I feel like I'm living in the middle of a Venn diagram of ouch.

The most immediate problem is preserving muscle and halting any further deterioration. I have physical therapy, weight training, and a combination of pilates and yoga regimen that I now have to follow. I work on the 3rd floor of my building and, while it takes awhile, I take the stairs four times a day. Sometimes I get to my desk panting a bit, but I can still do it.

I skip the two campus shuttles that would take me from my commuter stop to my building, and walk the mile and a half to and from my building at least half the days I work (that's about 3 miles a day). Walking as fast as I can, it still takes me half an hour to walk a mile and a half. I used to walk more than twice that fast. I meditate. I read up on mindfulness. I keep a log of my muscle measurements every week. If I continue to lose muscle, we have to take the next step - high dose steroids. My doctor and I are trying to avoid that for as long as possible.

The pain attacks still come every couple of days, but that's down from 2 or 3 times every day. I still don't know the mechanism that causes the pain attacks. There seems to be no particular food, drug or environmental factor that my doctor and I can find. They come when they come and I wait them out. I breathe through them. I try to listen for the message, look for a pattern.

And I still dance.

I asked my doctor if I was making any of my conditions worse by dancing and he said the benefits outweighed the risks of further damage, for now.

"Keep dancing. Whenever and however you can." So I do.

In this season of gratitude, I am grateful, so incredibly grateful, for the leaders who dance with me. They have been patient and generous. Warm, soothing and kind. Saturday night I felt like I was passed from one protective, almost cocooned embrace to another, all night long. Even a shy, newer leader I had never danced with, held me as though I was the most precious thing he could hold in his arms. Please tell me the teacher who is teaching him that! I will send everyone to them.

Meanwhile, I try not to apologize or focus on what I can't do, and focus on what I can give in the moment. With Fandango starting on Wednesday, I have those little fears in my gut - what if something happens? What if I can't dance? What if I'm terrible? Festivals don't seem to bring out the most helpful self-talk. I'm working on that.

One thing at a time. Fandango this week. Austin Tango Festival in March/April. And then, Buenos Aires in May.

I'm ready.

Tanguero's Lament

2011-11-20T12:53:00.001-08:00

An (online) conversation with my very amusing friend, a tango dancer born in Buenos Aires, and currently living in Europe.
Name withheld to protect the guilty. ;)

J: The best part of dancing with porteñas is they way they connect so completely with me.
J: They are so close, so completely connected, it feels like they are trying to dance inside my shirt.
J: There is nothing the same.

Me: Wow, that's very close indeed.

J: Yes. And why I am so deeply sad.

Me: Because you're in [European city] right now?

J: No. Because they don't actually want to dance inside my shirt . . . .
J: . . .
J. I feel so used . . .

Me: *smirk*

J: hmm. I sense you do not sympathize with the heavy burden I must carry.

Guest Post: Connection in Tango

2011-11-17T18:13:00.001-08:00

From fellow tango dancer and blogger, Jan Ulrich Hasecke, a lovely guest post on connection and embrace. (Thank you again Jan, for letting me post your thoughts on my blog.)

Connection in Tango
Jan Ulrich Hasecke

I promised to write something about my thoughts about connection in #tango.

"What does connection in tango mean to you and how do you create it?" I was asked on Google+. I bragged that I could talk the whole day about connection in tango but was too busy to do it at once. Ok, I won't talk the whole day about connection and maybe I won't find the right words to describe what I mean, but here I deliver on my promise.

Connection in tango means everything to me. It's the reason I dance. Showing some cool steps is nice but I can only enjoy them when they add to the connection and don't spoil it. A great dancer and teacher once said in his workshop that tango is the only dance, where you dance /together/. To get and to keep the connection is what I want to achieve while dancing.

There are a few things I can do to create it. I always try to get in a good position with my partner. I adapt my height to the height of my partner so that our torsos are on the same level by bending my knees. I always have difficulties to dance with a partner who is much smaller than me. It is easier for me to dance with someone who is rather tall, even taller than me.

When I feel that we lose our connection during the dance I try to adapt my height again. This helps often. This may sound a little bit technical, but I discovered in a workshop that it is very important that the center of the two bodies are on the same level. If the two centers are on the same level the energy of the movements can better flow from the leader to the follower and back again.

Of course I try to keep the connection during the dance and avoid all things that would destroy it, but the connection is dynamic. It gets stronger and weaker with the music, there is tension and relaxation, there is willful playing, allurement and intense, calm moments.

Sometimes, with very few partners, I feel something that I'd like to call a spiritual connection. The connection is so strong that my interpretation of the music is instantly reflected by my partner. It feels as if not me but the music leads us or something inside of us leads us. And at the same time we are both very aware of each other.

About Jan:
Born in 1963, Jan works as an independent text writer for advertising agencies and companies. He discovered Tango Argentino in 2003. He had never danced before, because he never liked the way standard or Latin dancers behaved on the dance floor. Two dance courses with 15, that was all. He began taking real courses in 2004 together with his wife. So they've both danced for seven years. Tango has really changed their lives, but this is a story many dancers know… ;-)

Ladies Room "Come to Jesus" Meeting

2011-11-14T07:30:00.001-08:00

. . .is enough.

[written on a napkin on the way home from a milonga . . . Very rough draft, but sometimes it's better to leave it that way.]

How many painful tandas does it take before I learn?
I've got to break this habit of telling myself,
It must be me.
it must be something I did.
I'm not good enough.
If I just adjust, it'll work.
My mistake was thinking this was a bad tango habit.
It's not.
In fact, this isn't really about tango.
There's a much longer history at work here
and you know it, I thought, accusing my red-eyed, disheveled reflection.

My reflection in the milonga venue's bathroom mirror blinked back and sighed.
I scowled at her and thought sternly (in my best "I mean it this time" voice):

"If it hurts, I'm done."
No matter who it is,
no matter where I am.
Even if we're friends,
especially if we're friends . . .
Say thank you for the dances, but you're hurting me,
and walk the hell off the goddamn floor!

Now I'm rattled and hurting and wondering whether to call a cab.
Was it worth that? No.
Does it do him any favors thinking this is okay with me? No.
So that was the last time. Got it?
My reflection and I nodded.
Got it.

"Come to Jesus" meeting: A time when a polite ultimatum is given, generally followed by a less polite ultimatum, then a threat. Drug and alcohol "interventions" are often referred to as "Come to Jesus Meetings".

(Photo courtesy of Morguefile.com.)

Prove it.

2011-11-10T07:58:00.000-08:00

The last couple of posts sent me searching for one of my favorite quotes/videos of Gavito (one I'm told he took a lot of crap for at the time. But since I wasn't there, I can't really speak to that.)

The bit that I'm referencing starts about 4:25 as Gavito is teaching a class on giros. The sound quality is poor, but this is what he says to the followers:

Gavito:

"We accompany each other (during the giro). [ . . . ]
Do I have to push her? Does she listen to the music? Is she deaf? I don't think so.
Are you deaf, girls? You listen to the music?
Then prove it. Prove it that you listen to the music!"

More on the Tango Conversation - a bigger issue?

2011-11-09T19:59:00.000-08:00

My answer to Cherie's comment, which was:

Really interesting post and one that obviously you have thought a lot about.

Please don't take it as a negative when I say that the dancers of traditional tango milonguero here in BsAs don't feel that way.

The idea of a conversation between two bodies is rather recent, and foreign. Enclosed in the tango embrace, the body is one--not with four legs, but with two, as this body is only standing on two legs at any one time.

It's Ying/Yang--one whole from two parts that meld together and make something new.

When I dance I don't feel the need to tap or to do rulos or raise my left shoulder in time to the music--I am completely within the music and at the command of my partner, and with his design of the dance, I can express myself and the music perfectly in his embrace without adding anything but elegant posture and good technique.

It's not a struggle between two minds of how to dance this song, but a blending of souls.

Well, that's the way I would describe it anyway.

Besos,
cherie

And my answer, which was too long to put in comments, according to blogger.

Cherie -

I don't take your post negatively and I respect your opinions on the matter very much. (I also hope that my response doesn't come off too negative.) Actually, I expected more responses like yours. Maybe others who usually comment similarly have given up on me. Your post was kinder than theirs' would have been though, I think. Please forgive me for using your comment to address a somewhat larger issue that comes up so frequently over posts like this.

As my post wasn't about traditional milongueros in Buenos Aires, was your comment meant to inform readers who may want to travel there? I do know several dancers have been "surprised" (run off the pista) as a result of their ignorance of the differences in dance cultures. I suspect people who have been reading this blog know that I'm specifically addressing tango as it's danced in North America - though I can start putting the disclaimer in the beginning again.

You're absolutely right, in North America tango has a more conversational quality to it. And I know the traditional milongueros don't feel the way about it that I wrote in my post.

I do take exception to this: "raise my left shoulder in time to the music" - which I didn't say and didn't mean. What I wrote was, "moving my shoulder slightly" (which I'm told I do occasionally on the last note of some songs.) *shrug* Leaders do similar things on that last sharp note - so what would be so terrible about it? Raising my shoulder in time with the music, on the other hand, would look rather like a spasm and not something musical. I was trying to think of examples of things I, or someone else might do if they felt it in the music.

I want to clarify one thing that wasn't clear from my post - when I "adjust" my interpretation of music in a dance, 95% of the time I'm quieting it down - not adding something in. There are a few orquestras I get (possibly) overly-excited about and have to temper my enthusiasm. I very rarely (and usually at practica or in class) consciously add stuff in - but how else should I write it? "A little toe-raise was manifested"? Language fails me for things like this because dancing has always been about, and for, the things I am not able to write - ironic I know, considering how much I write about tango.

I did want to ask about this - "It's not a struggle between two minds of how to dance this song, but a blending of souls."

Really? Every single time? You never have a different feeling from/about the music playing than your leader? You're always in synch? Wow. If that were the case here, I would probably feel exactly the same way. No sarcasm at all - I really would. But I'm not writing about traditional milongueros in Buenos Aires. I'm writing specifically about the times when that total synch is not happening - or at least not happening right away.

For example, most nights I dance, someone tells me they've never heard a particular song that's playing - so it's a whole new adventure for them, and for me when I'm dancing with them. They're feeling their way through the music - and trying to connect with me at the same time. So there's a key difference again - in Buenos Aires, the dancers know the music on a very different level. And that brings me back to the point I mentioned earlier about comparing the Buenos Aires dancing experience to, well, anything else really.

As my dear friend (who has traveled to Buenos Aires a few times a year for the last dozen or so years) told me, and tells those who come back from dancing there, "Adjust your expectations." Please note she did not say, and did not mean, lower your expectations.

If I go into every dance looking for that experience, not only would I likely end up disappointed and sitting a lot because I was looking disappointed - but I would be missing the beautiful strengths and unique treasures the leaders here offer me every night that I dance. People come to tango for different reasons, with different histories, and different gifts.

It's not that I don't appreciate hearing how it is in Buenos Aires - I do, and I am hopeful that I will get there. My circumstances don't allow for it right now and, I suspect, not for quite awhile. It's just that sentiments like that, create this idea that until we (North Americans) "get it" and start dancing like they do in Buenos Aires, we're not really dancing tango - we're just dancing some kind of inferior imitation. Almost like we're somehow not worthy. The tone of it is very often belittling. It's not the words "that's not how it's danced in Buenos Aires" - it's the implication behind the words, whether you mean them or not. Often, it feels like, 'what you're doing doesn't really count as tango.' When it gets said again and again, and when that standard is the only standard by which all tango in the world is judged, it alienates a lot of people who love the dance, and the music so very much.

Altering the Conversation - A Follower's Perspective

2011-11-08T10:36:00.000-08:00

Ghost,

Here is my response to your questions in the comments of my "Hearing through my Partner" post.

Altering the conversation
(from this follower's perspective)

When a leader leads a movement, there are varying degrees of energy, speed, fluidity etc. he or she can lead the movement with. That tells me about the structure I have to work within. This is an area where I think perhaps some nuevo tango teachers might be doing a better job explaining certain dance concepts like energy exchange, compression, and expansion etc. I'm trying not to generalize, but I've noticed that this topic comes up more in nuevo-based classes, which I think has a lot more to do with how nuevo developed as a teaching method, rather than the actual sequences and moves that are taught and then associated with "nuevo tango".

There are so many factors in deciding how much I can contribute, before I even get to what the music might actually call from my body to do. That's why this post has taken so long to write - and even now I think I've only gotten the tip of the iceberg. And as long-winded as this post is, the amount of time I actually spend actively thinking of what to do when while I'm dancing seems like the blink of an eye. It's only in retrospect that I get a picture of why something worked, or didn't work.

Regardless of the music, ask yourself, "Is this a conversation?"

First, as a follower, I have to decide if I'm actually having a conversation with my partner - or rather, am I being invited to have one. On only one occasion have I felt that I was allowed no input of my own into the dance. An out-of-town dancer was visiting Austin for a weekend with his partner and I had the opportunity to dance with him a few times during classes. The first time I danced with him was the first time I felt tango, as it is often cliched, as a fight. We were dancing to a song I liked very much and I wanted to have a part in its interpretation. He was having nothing of it. I felt like I was in an iron cage. I couldn't have mis-followed his lead even if I had tried. When I gave resistance of any kind, he simply moved and placed me where he wanted me to be. This is the surprising part - he never actually hurt me or caused me physical discomfort. His embrace was very firm, nearly rigid - but not painful. How he managed that, I have no idea. It was just very restricting. I felt a bit like furniture. The only time he relaxed the embrace even a little, was when I glued myself to his body from my temple to my hip. I don't mean just connected - I mean glued, without a sliver of daylight between us. When I was able to do that, he relaxed a little. The point is, we were not having a conversation. I was going to dance to his interpretation of the music, period. In that situation I had to decide if it was worth it to adapt, or chose not to dance with him. Maybe it was my Leo personality, but I saw it as a challenge, and continued to dance with him several times that weekend to try to figure him out. I learned a lot, but I think I would have to skip dancing like that in a social setting.

Second, do I have the skill?

Pretty self explanatory. I may hear a beautiful triple toe tap opportunity or something, but I'll likely never get that in my repertoire.

Third, do I have the time?

Even if my leader is willing and able to give me freedom in the dance conversation, with some pieces (like milongas) I'm not going to have much time. My window of opportunity is going to be very slim - though some leaders still manage to somehow give incredible freedom and space even in the fastest milongas. If I'm not sure I'll be fast enough, or if I don't know my partner well, I'm likely to skip adding a lot of my own interpretation into the milonga - at least until I know my leader's style and preferences better.

Fourth, do I have the space?

This comes in two parts. One, is he or she giving me the space I need to do things I would like to express the music? I won't fight my leader for the space - if he gives it, great. If not, I work with what I have. Second, are the floor conditions conducive to what I would like to do with the music? My partner could be giving me the room for the the larger, sweepy move I hear in the music - but if I can feel the hem of the follower's skirt behind me (for example), I'm going to play it safe and small.

Fifth, do I have the energy/momentum from your leader?

I've heard from leaders that one of the worst feelings they can experience from a follower is that they are being used as almost physical leverage for the follower to do her own movements. One gentleman told me that, at best, he felt sort of irrelevant when that happened, at worst, dragged off balance and a danger to other dancers on the floor. If my partner isn't providing the energy, or the momentum for the movement that I'm feeling in the music, I skip it. Maybe he doesn't feel the energy in the music quite the same way. Maybe he's afraid the the resulting movement will be too big or take too long. Whatever the reason, the opening/invitation isn't there.

For example, when I have the momentum from the lead and the inspiration in the music, I like to occasionally decorate a front ocho with a rulo (see Jennifer Bratt's demonstration here). Once I hear the opportunity in the music, how the leader leads the ocho determines if:

1.) I have the time,
2.) the momentum, and
3.) the space.

As often as I have heard the opening in the music in the 2 years I've danced (and was led the necessary front ocho), outside of practica or class, I've probably only executed this particular step about half a dozen times. And at least two of those - I should have skipped it because I didn't have the time I thought I did, and I could feel it interfere with the leader's timing. Lesson learned.

Which leads me, sort of, to my last point: Are we, as followers, thinking (only) with our feet?

There are limitless ways to express the music that having nothing to do with our feet. Closing my eyes, moving my shoulder slightly, smiling, changing my breathing - all of these things, and so many more, reflect how I'm feeling the music. I can feel the same things in my leader's body, so we really are sharing a conversation Best of all, since most of these things are invisible - they are messages expressed to, and for, my partner - not for an audience at large.

The Early Thank You

2011-11-07T12:01:00.000-08:00

The tanda was not going well.

After the first song, I broke my rule and apologized, telling my partner that I couldn't keep up with him and could we slow down a little bit. My leader had taken a couple of large steps against the line of dance and bumped another couple, so I was rattled and for some reason, I couldn't seem to get my right ankle to cooperate with me. Quick steps and traspies were taking their toll. He even started telling me verbally what he needed me to do. All I could do was answer, I can't - not that fast. I should have sat down, but I'm always so apprehensive about giving an early thank you - I only do it if there's no other way I can make a tanda work out.

The second song went even worse. He seemed to go faster, not slower, and when I couldn't move fast enough, his fingers dug into my ribcage harder. I was heartbroken that I seemed to be dancing so badly to music I loved. My ankle wase getting stiffer, even as I tried to stretch it. The second song ended, and the third, a slower song, began. Within moments, my relief at the slower music choice evaporated. My partner gave me an abrupt early thank you and returned me to my table. I tried to smile and acknowledge that it was probably the best thing, but I was deeply embarrassed. I didn't want to look at anyone while I made my way back to my seat.

Just as I sat down, surprised (which I really shouldn't have been) at the first early thank you I'd gotten in over 2 years, my former partner held his hand out to the dancer next to me at my table and took her out for the last song of the tanda. She's a superior dancer by far, so I can't blame him (though it irked me to have him do it directly in front of me) - but as I watched them dance, I saw him slow down and lead her with what looked like far more care than he had led me. It wasn't just that he slowed down, but he seemed to generally show more care for her comfort as they danced. I asked my friend who came to sit next to me, "What gives? He's not dancing her like a rag doll!"

My friend nodded and replied, "Because he wouldn't dare dance her that way." It was true. The dancer in my former partner's arms always seemed to bring out an elegant maturity in tangueros.

After a few moments, I excused myself and went to the ladies room to nurse my wounds, both physical and emotional, and see what the hell was up with my ankle. The condition of my ankle wasn't really surprising - it was stiff because it was swollen. My doctor had warned me that there had been, and would likely continue to be, times when I count on a muscle for support and that support simply wouldn't be there. Some muscle groups, particularly in my back and legs, are starting to atrophy. The joints of my ankles have been weak for years (having broken them both at different times) and the muscles supporting the joints have always picked up the slack. Not tonight. The FHL muscle was tight, swollen and sore and sending a very clear message. Bitch, you need to sit down. (Lately my muscles have had a real swearing problem.)

Before I left the ladies room, I checked one more thing. I lifted my shirt to see the side of my ribcage, expecting to see that I had overreacted to my partner's handling of me. I hadn't. I had pink marks along my ribcage that would later turn an interesting shade of light purple. I bruise a little easily - but not that easily.

I passed by another dancer as I returned to my table and we briefly commiserated about our ankle troubles. He offered the use of his brace which I gratefully accepted. Once I slipped it on and the compression took affect, the relief was incredible. Why the hell didn't I carry one of these all the time? Oh yeah, because I hadn't needed it at a milonga before. The best part was that I could still put on my tango shoe over it. I felt a small wave of triumph over that, but the whole situation surrounding that tanda still stung.

As I sat and listened to the music and watched the other dancers, I tried to unravel the snarl that I was so hurt about. I don't know if it stung more that I had gotten an early thank you (which was probably just as well), or that he immediately picked up the dancer next to me at my table right in front of me. I was still embarrassed, and wondered if I would get anymore dances that night. I was annoyed with myself for putting my comfort and health at risk, which made it feel so much worse. I risked further injury to my ankle and got a bruise on my ribs for the trouble of trying to keep up when I should have just sat down.

After resting up a bit and re-hydrating, I received a very welcome cabeceo from a favorite partner and decided to give the borrowed brace a road test. After that I felt a little more like myself. I had a some very lovely tandas with very patient gentlemen who turned the whole evening around for me. No more pushing, shoving, bumping. I'm glad I held in there.

This is the most extreme incident in a series of incidents that's making me increasingly selective in who I dance with. I tell people, and write so often here, to be open minded - to give every dancer the benefit of the doubt and a welcoming embrace. After all, you can't truly tell from outside the embrace how a dancer feels to dance with. But these days the risk for me greater. Add to that the overwhelming relief I feel from leaders who do take the time and considerable effort to feel where I am - and not get frustrated at me for the things I can't do, is immeasurable.

Divorcing Facebook - A Non-tango Post

2011-10-28T11:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Facebook, I quit.

I finally did it.

I divorced Facebook.

I haven't closed the account, because frankly that doesn't really delete my info anyway and if people absolutely have to reach me that way, I can still (eventually) get the message. But I deleted all but a couple of pictures, notes etc. Also, I removed the ability for anyone but me to post to my wall or tag me in posts or pictures (without my permission anyway.)

I have moved to Google Plus that I love more and more. I have friends all over the political and religious spectrum, and we manage to have actual civil discourse about issues without the usual hateful remarks or flat out trolling. It's amazing! The downside is that my traffic to my blog is way down since so much of it was driven by Facebook. So I'm forging new paths on Google+ and using Twitter a bit more. It's coming back up, slowly. I'm keeping my blogs, my Twitter account, and LinkedIn. I'm only dropping Facebook - because honestly, it's only Facebook that pisses me off this much.

You can find my Google + profile here: http://gplus.to/marijohnson . Circle me, and if you let me know that you're a tango dancer, I'll share my circle of 200+ tango dancers in my circles for you to get started making connections. If you're just starting out with G+, please remember to fill out your profile and post a few times to make it easier for folks to know what you're about and circle you back.

2011-10-27T13:28:00.000-07:00

Listen well.

Learn to be quiet enough to hear the genuine within yourself so that you can hear it in others. ~ Marian Wright Edelman

(Thank you Heather for the quote. Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com .)

Hearing through my Partner - a Confession

2011-10-26T18:19:00.000-07:00

The Friday night milonga a couple of weeks ago was both incredibly beautiful and, at times, intensely frustrating.

I had several amazing, connected dances Friday with wonderfully patient and generous gentlemen. La Tazza Fresca has a wonderful vibe that keeps people coming back despite the hard, concrete floor that's murder on the knees. The sound system is a bit rough but the food and atmosphere are fantastic.

The rough sound system plus the number of loud conversations along the side of the dance space made it impossible at times for me to hear anything but the strong rhythm of the music. The problem is, only part of the frustration is the result of the venue. Most of it is me. I've yet to write about it, and have talked about it very rarely, because as a dancer I'm still embarrassed. I know better, but the little voice always comes back . . .

If leaders know I can't hear - no one will dance with me.

I have congenital Sensorineural Hearing Loss (when I was diagnosed as a child, it was simply called nerve deafness.) It's worse in my left ear than my right (and my eyesight is worse in my right eye than my left - which was very disorienting growing up.) SNHL isn't quite like other forms of deafness. I can still hear sounds fairly well - in some cases very well. Mostly I have problems differentiating sounds - s's, sh's, j's, and th's for instance. (Which makes Castellano challenging for me.) High pitched sounds are tough. Voices are the hardest - especially if I'm trying to follow a conversation when there are lots of other conversations going on in the background. And yet I'm very sensitive to loud noises - go figure. So it isn't that I can't hear the sound, it's that if there is background noise especially, I have a hard time hearing the smaller variations within the sound.

My hearing issues sometimes give me a bit of anxiety - which is why I haven't talked about it much. When I can't hear something, it's like I'm immediately transported to grade school, struggling to hear the teacher among talking students. Or understand dialogue in movies. I hate talking on the phone because it makes the s/sh/th/j thing so much worse. And I don't have the benefit of having the person's face to watch.

. . . but back to Friday night . . .

Wonderful music, warm, comforting leaders - yet I became increasingly frustrated and anxious with my dancing because I couldn't hear the softer components of the music. Tango music is beautiful to dance to because there is so much going on in each song. Shifting melodies, pauses - decorations to the music, that I can only hear when the ambient noise is very low. (And let's face it - that's pretty rare.)

Hearing Through my Leader

Between songs in a tanda, I had to have a mental reset. There is a way I cope with my hearing in dancing tango. It's one of the biggest reasons I love the dance so much. The trouble is it requires even a little more trust than I normally give to my partner. I have to let go a little bit of my interpretation of the music. I want to contribute and not just be moved around on the pista, but if I can't hear the music well, I have another option. I can let my partner provide the piece(s) that are missing.

It does make me feel a little guilty. Like I'm making him do all of the work. I am still listening to the music - I'm just listening through him. That night I felt like I needed to explain since I was sure my partner could feel my frustration - and I was so afraid he would think it was him causing the stress. He understood my situation, and what I was trying to do to remedy it. As usual, this tanguero was extremely supportive and I felt the weight lift a bit.

My experiences in tango somewhat echo Terpsichoral's post here (I highly recommend reading the whole thing, as well as the informative comments): .

The author writes, "When the leader is musical enough, you can tune your body to respond to the tiny changes in the way he prepares physically for each movement and read in advance the exact cadence of his step."

That has been my experience. I also rely on this when my interpretation of the a piece is profoundly different from my partner's. At that point, because I am following and not leading, I make an effort to turn down my interpretation, and tune in more to his body's response. I can feel the details in changes in my partner's breathing, the flexing or relaxing of his hand on my back, how hard he pushes into the ground with each step, the muscles tightening or relaxing across his shoulders and back. All of that creates a picture of the music overlaying my own. At times that Friday night, his picture was all I had.

"Where are the girls?" Followers and Community

2011-10-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

This topic recently came up in conversation, and then again in Katya Merezhinsky's note on Facebook titled, "Conversations about a Follower's Technique" (concerning followers in Washington, DC):

The issues according to Katya, in Washington DC anyway:

1.) It is very common that women in the class are there just to accompany men, but not to learn their own part.
2.) The majority of students are men.
3.) The level of followers in the city has dropped significantly compare to the leader's progress.

I bring these up, even though she is specifically speaking about Washington DC, because these conversations are happening in tango communities all over, even in Austin.

1. Are the followers slacking in class?

As to the first point, in Austin when I have been able to attend workshops, I haven't noticed this to be true thankfully. In fact I've overheard a great deal of frustration from followers when their partners decide they'd rather work on something else during a class, and not work on what's being taught. It's also not clear if the author, by "learn their own part", means learn how to follow what's being led (by which I mean reading your partner's body, listening for the potential in the music, learn how to move your own body to make the sequence comfortable/easier etc.), or simply memorize the pattern. To me, there's a danger in just learning the pattern. If followers in a class only memorize the pattern without actually learning how to follow it well, chances are only the ladies in class will be able to "follow" the pattern when leaders lead it at the milonga.

2. Where are the women?

The second point has come up several times lately - usually in the form of, "why aren't there more women in the intermediate and advanced classes?"

In fact, two people in one evening asked me why I wasn't taking classes anymore and wasn't I worried about my technique slipping. First of all, I'm not taking classes "right now" - it's not that I'm not taking classes "anymore". There's a difference. There are two major reasons for me, the same two reasons I've had for awhile. The first reason is money. I simply don't have the funds for classes right now. I've blown out two pair of shoes (hence the new pair) and with Fandango de Tango Festival coming up, and I'm doubting I'll have enough to even attend the milongas, let alone the workshops. I'm missing Murat and Michelle's workshops this weekend for the same reason - and their technique and musicality teaching knocked my socks off last year.

The second is my health. I have to choose whether to take classes or be able to dance socially, and you can bet when I have only enough energy for one, I'm going to choose social dancing. That's what all the classes have been for, after all. As far as my technique - I don't know if it's slipping or not. If it is, and it certainly could be, I don't know if it's lack of practice or lack of strength and stamina - or more likely a combination of the two. I practice and exercise at home, to the music, almost every single day. When I'm able, I go to practicas and take privates because they seem to be the best use of my time and money. If you're a leader who isn't satisfied with my level of technique, by all means please stop asking me to dance.

So am I already losing dances because I'm not working hard enough? There was an instance quite recently with very few people in the room (5 people - 2 were dancing) and I was the only woman available to dance. The two gentlemen seated next to me gazed into their smartphones for the entire tanda. Usually the use of the cabeceo and other social structures prevent one from feeling rejection quite so acutely, but there you have it. For whatever reason, they didn't want to dance with me. Was it my technique? My "style"? My personality? I have no idea. Does it sting? Of course. But it is what it is. Truly, I would rather sit and be embarrassed then feel like someone was dancing with me who didn't really want to dance with me. Feeling someone's disappointment within the embrace is a much deeper hurt.

There is another reason, however, that I don't sign up for every class I can. And this is a somewhat pervasive reason with several followers I know (by no means the majority, however). Many classes, especially pattern-based classes, are geared and tailored for leaders. Not all, but many of them. The technique discussion and explanation is geared for leaders. We often feel like we're just there for the leaders to practice on. In some of the more "rigorous" classes - back/trap/combo sacada classes, volcada/colgada/boleo combos etc., for instance, more than one follower has told me they felt like a "crash test dummy" by the end. Bruised, sore and grumpy. I know it's important for us to be exposed to what's being taught, to see what's possible, to learn optimum technique for following it, and to help leaders the best we can - but it is frequently an expensive, exhausting, and sometimes downright painful proposition. Sometimes it comes down to, do I want to learn clever gancho/boleo combinations, or do I want to be able to dance tonight?

When Jorge Torres was here, I went to all but one class that I had a schedule conflict with - sitting through parts of them when I was too tired to stand up anymore. When I can afford it, and when the material is going to be technique focused, I'm happy to commit to it fully. I am, however, very discerning in which classes I choose to spend my time, energy and money.

3. Followers losing ground as a group?

As to the third point, I don't think the overall follower technique is falling behind the leaders - but I'm not in the best position to judge that, obviously. (It's funny because I've heard the same thing from both sides - a few leaders complaining that followers aren't as committed to technique as leaders, and followers saying that leaders aren't putting in enough effort in their technique. Thankfully neither is a common complaint.)

There are a lot of things happening at once lately in our community. We have an influx of a lot of new people - several experienced dancers from other communities, and lots of new beginners just getting their feet wet. Our University Argentine Tango Club is doing an amazing job of bringing new people into the fold. So it's hard to judge the overall skill level of either leaders or followers as a single group. And generalities can get you into trouble anyway. How can you be sure if the dancer in your arms is "slipping in their technique" or if they're working twice as many hours every week, and this all they've got to give right now? Should they stop dancing until their schedule clears so they don't risk disappointing anyone? How do you know it's not you? Or the combination of their new workload and your new allergy medication? (I've been part of that equation - it's a challenge. lol)

Conclusion

If any activity's skill level ought to be judged (if that's even the right word or approach) on a case-by-case basis, it's tango. Communities shift, change, experience growing pains. Stereotypes and generalizations get in the way of seeing the person standing before us as they are in this moment, in our arms.

The New Tango* Shoes - A Review

2011-10-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

Technically, these are street shoes. But I'm taking my teacher, Daniela Arcuri's advice, wearing shoes that fit and do the job well, regardless of the label inside. (Her exact words were, "I don't care if they come from Payless, if they fit well, support you, and slide easily, they work for tango."

Specs:

Brand: Adrienne Vittadini
Retail price: $99
Marshall's price: $49
Heel height (somewhat hidden by the carpet): 3.75"
Material: Leather upper and hard leather sole.
Colors: Available in gold/beige and black/silver.

The shoes have excellent arch support and shock absorption. While the sole is very sturdy, it is still flexible and I can lift my heel another inch or so off the ground when I flex my foot. The heel is set slightly forward, the same as my tango shoes. The heels are well balanced with no wobble. I thought the zipper heel was sort of gimmicky until I put it on and it conformed really well to my hard-to-fit narrow heel. (Plus my feet are significantly different sizes - the zipper actually helps with that.)

These are higher than any of my tango shoes, yet strangely just as comfortable as my most comfortable tango shoes (which are from Jorge Nel). I wore them all night Friday and Saturday night (finally trading them out for my dance slippers for my last tanda of the night when I was too tired to wear shoes of any kind) and had no pain, no blisters, no pinching.

Now the test is to see how long they last to the abuse dancing dishes out.

Tango in Austin - Video

2011-10-08T19:27:00.001-07:00

Soul's Expression

2011-10-06T20:45:00.000-07:00

"Tango is a dance that is about a movement between here and there, about an exchange between two bodies, about the pain of disconnection and the desire for communication." Erin Manning, "Politics of Touch: Sense, Movement, Sovereignty"

I keep trying to explain something that I have no good words for. I can't even explain why it's so important to me to express it. Maybe this is why so many people, when they are most passionate talking about tango, throw their hands up and fall helplessly back to cliches.

Tango is a feeling that is danced.

I know that my own experience is coloring my judgment on the matter. Maybe it's worse than that. Maybe it's my way of making excuses for myself.

When I stand on the edge of the pista, my leader in front of me, I falter. I have just a second of flight response. I wonder what new way my body will conspire against my best attempt at a graceful dance. I can't offer an athlete's body or myriad exquisite maneuvers to capture every nuance of the music. My body sometimes feels slow, weighted - suddenly uncoordinated. Some nights I can't even offer a solid axis.

So as I falter, my inner voice rattling away the things I cannot give, I remind myself of the one thing I can give . . .

Me.
All that I am in the moment - not what I can do, but what I am made of.

The miles walked to this place. The sighs, the heartbeats, the tears, the peals of laughter, that brought me to this moment in your arms.

If you want it, I can give you that.
. . in my embrace.

And in return?
The same.

I've lied, really. I've always said that I'm easy to please, which isn't true. I am demanding - and more demanding now than perhaps I have ever been. Entrega. I want permission to give it, and I want it in return. I didn't mean to lie - it seemed like it should be simple. Now I know it's not. If it was hard for me to learn to surrender, why should I think it would be easier for a leader to do it? But that's what it's really all about for me.

Ultimately, I don't care about the shape of your body,
the precision of your lapiz,
the smoothness of your walk.
I don't care how you look,
or if your interpretation of the music is the same as mine,
or if you prefer Golden Age or alternativo . .

And . .

are you ready for this?

I don't care which embrace you prefer - close, open, fluid . . .

I'll admit it's far more rare to feel the connection I'm so longing for in an open embrace.
But it has happened.

So what do I want from you as a leader?
You. Your story. Not your teacher's story.
It's not about the steps you lead.
I can feel it in how you hold me.
Or maybe more importantly, why you hold me.

Dancing who you are isn't about your technique, though good technique can keep our bodies from getting in the way of our soul's expression. (1)
Dancing who you are is being relaxed enough to let me in.
I will hold you in my arms like you mean the world to me because, at least for the few minutes we get,
you do.

That's not what everyone wants from tango, I know.
And I'm finding that dancers are somewhat self-sorting in that regard.

Right now, that's where I am in my dance. That's what I long for. I'm so lucky here that almost every night I dance, I find it. Often more than once. For some reason that seems to make the times I can't reach my partner all the more painful.

"What happens when you dance totally? The dancer disappears in a total dance. That's my definition of the total dance: the dancer disappears, dissolves; only the dancing remains. When there is only dancing and no dancer, this is the ultimate of meditation - the taste of nectar, bliss, God, truth, ecstasy, freedom, freedom from the ego, freedom from the doer. And when there is no ego, no doer, and the dance is going on and there is no dancer, a great witnessing arises, a great awareness like a cloud of light surrounding you."
- Osho

(1) -The only reason for mastering technique is to make sure the body does not prevent the soul from expressing itself. - La Meri

(2) - Image courtesy of morguefile.com

Just dance

2011-10-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of morguefile.com

It had been an evening of favorite music - I couldn't believe my luck. I can't dance as often as I would like these days, and it seemed like I was making up for lost time in warm, wonderful dances. A Rodriguez tanda started and I was smiling so hard my face almost hurt. Halfway into the first song, my partner tried a somewhat complex sequence and, in close embrace, it just didn't come off. Once around the floor, he tried again, and again it didn't work well. We shifted a bit, got back on track and continued. During the next song, he broke the embrace and pushed me away, led the sequence completely and then brought me back to close embrace.

I couldn't get the connection back. I can't think of any other way to put it than my feelings were hurt. To me it felt like he put the "move" before our embrace. I didn't want to settle back against his chest if he was going to just push me back out again.

I wish this were a rare occurrence, but especially after workshops or a festival, it becomes ever more common with lots of dancers. There is a difference, to my feeling, between expanding an embrace to accommodate for comfort and/or musical expression - and breaking the embrace to perform a pattern or a move. I can't explain it well - it's just a feeling. There's a difference in technical execution of course - how smooth you can make the expansion feel - not too abrupt or sharp for example. But there is also a difference in how the intention feels. As a leader, are you expanding the embrace for comfort - or breaking it just to "do" something? Is the move you're trying to work in worth making your partner feel like she's just an accessory to your dance? If you're working on something that you can only really do in open embrace then just leave the embrace open - or better yet, wait until practica to "work on stuff."

Sometimes it's not even a matter of breaking the embrace that's the problem - but the feeling that somehow the dance is flawed or worse, ruined, if my leader can't get me to follow some move or pattern. Ideally, when a move doesn't work, we just transition into something else and keep going. With some of my favorite partners there's a mutual, grinning "whoops" like kids playing a game. Not serious at at all - just an opportunity to do something else instead. Sometimes though, far more often than I'd like, I get a feeling of disappointment from my leader. Disappointment in how he led something - disappointment that I couldn't follow it. It doesn't matter if a leader thinks it's all his fault, or all my fault, or somewhere in between - the feeling of disappointment like that should have no place in a social dance. The worst part of that feeling is that it's infectious - I end up unintentionally carrying it with me to my next tanda. I get self-conscious and feel like I must be dancing badly. I don't want to bring that mentality to my next leader - it's not fair to him. It brings an unwelcome third party into the dance - a judge.

At practicas and in classes and lessons, I want to work - and work hard. I take my dancing, and my technique, seriously. But at the milonga, I want to dance socially. I'm there to connect with the music, my partner, my friends and relax. If things fall apart - they fall apart. So what? I'm not obsessing over my embellishments or the depth of my cruzado - why are you? This isn't an operating room. No one's going to lose a limb if the molinete doesn't work out. We're supposed to be getting away from the stress of our workaday lives, right? Can't we take a break from the constant evaluating and comparing we feel in our everyday world?

I just want to dance.

The joy will burn out the pain

2011-09-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever. -- Lance Armstrong

My old companion is back. Sometimes it is resting on my shoulders, sometimes squeezing my ribs, sometimes clawing at my legs. In its wake, I'm sore, angry, tired . . . and scared. More paralyzing than the pain, as always, is the fear of the pain which has settled over my skin.

I'm dancing less and less. I go as often as I can, dance as long as I can. Saturday night I made it two tandas and then my calf seized up hard enough to turn my ankle and pull my foot under. My partners have been patient with me. I can feel the change in my dance, I'm sure they can feel it too. A couple have said so. I'm slower, less responsive, heavier. I can either dance in pain, or dance under the sedating effect of muscle relaxers that minimally help control the pain. Every time I get up to dance I wonder if it's a mistake. Moving makes me feel better much of the time, but I'm putting my partners in the position of compensating for me.

Anxiety sets in with that thought.

How long before I can't dance anymore at all? How long before my skin hurts so much I can't even be held?

Two days ago, for the first time in my life, I needed help to get off of a city bus. The driver gently chided me, saying that if I had an impairment I needed to be seated at the front of the bus where it's easier to get on and off. I told him I hadn't been impaired when I got on the bus. How could I explain? I never get warning before hand.

So now my cell phone is always charged and ready should I need to call for help. I sit at the front of the bus. I double the amount of time I think I'll need to get anywhere. I've always tried to operate under my own power and I'm not going to stop now. It's just that everything seems so much more complicated now.

Looking for answers

I had a visit with my new Osteopath yesterday.
After much discussion, prodding, patting, stretching and poking, he said, "Well, I know what it isn't."
Me: "um, okay?"
Him: "It's not fibromyalgia."
Me: "Excuse me? That's what I was diagnosed with years ago."

A small, hard panic formed in my stomach. Was I going to have to start all over convincing someone that the pain wasn't all in my head?

Him: (flipping through my chart) "and that's what you had years ago. I don't doubt it at all. This is something different. You don't have the tender knots under the trigger points. We're going to have to start all over - first with rather a lot of lab tests to rule out some things." CPK, C-reactive protein, mineral levels, thyroid, sed rate . . . the list went on and on.
Me: "Well what do you think it is, if you had to guess?"
Him: "Right now? Based on nothing but symptoms," he looked at me under knitted brows, "Polymyositis. It means 'many-muscles-inflammation'," he said in answer to my confused expression, "a little bit like rheumatoid arthritis, but in the muscles and connective tissue. It's treated with short term, high dose steroids among other things. But let's make sure that's what it is."

He ordered the tests and sent me to the lab just before closing time. Next week I should have more answers about what to do next. Meanwhile, my instructions are pretty clear cut. When I'm not in pain, move, exercise, walk, dance as much as I can comfortably. When the muscles cramp, stop - stop everything. Don't try to stretch it out (which is incredibly hard not to do since it seems like it should work - but it never does.) Get the muscles in as neutral a position as possible and wait it out. Otherwise, because the muscles are in such a vulnerable position, it's very easy to do damage unintentionally.

So now, I wait.
I dance when I can. Stretch, walk, move when I can.
I listen to tango.

Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain. -- Joseph Campbell

Tango and Work Life Project

2011-09-14T08:21:00.000-07:00

Picture courtesy of www.morguefile.com .

Tango dancers:

I'm working on an article that I very much need your help with. After speaking with several dancers online and in person, I've started noticing some trends that I'd like to investigate further. Mostly I want to know if and how dancing tango has changed your professional life or your previous professional life if you've retired (other than being tired from all those late night milongas. lol)

For example, has learning and dancing tango changed the way you see your profession?
- the way you treat your coworkers?
- the skills you use in your job?
- the skills you value in others?
Do your coworkers say that you've changed? If so, in what way?
Have you changed jobs or professions because of the impact tango has had on you?
If you're a hiring manager, do you think a tango dancing candidate would bring any particular strengths to a job? Any weaknesses?

Please let me know your thoughts on how tango has affected you professionally (if at all.)

Any thoughts you have to share would be so appreciated. (You can email me at infinitetango(at)gmail.com if you prefer to leave me feedback that way. Thank you so much for your help - and many happy tandas!

From the Mail Bag - More on the Cabeceo

2011-08-31T17:43:00.000-07:00

Images, edited for this post, were obtained from morguefile.com.

I received two emails from readers, one leader and one follower, regarding my continued "rabid" support of the "archaic" cabeceo.* (All I wrote in the last post was that a good, clear cabeceo knocks my socks off. I didn't think that sounded rabid.) Normally I simply agree to disagree. You can choose to participate in this custom or not - no one, not even me, is going to force you. This time, however, I couldn't help noting that in previous messages to me, they had both complained about not getting the dances, with the dancers, that they wanted. So I asked if the cabeceo was at least moderately used in their communities. As it turns out, yes - about half or more people use it in these two separate communities. My answer to them? You can't have it both ways. If you choose to ask verbally in a community that uses the cabeceo, or where the dancers you most want to dance with use it, you're putting yourself at a disadvantage - no one is doing it to you.

You can complain about the cabeceo and choose not to use it but understand that if it is used in your community, you are going to likely miss out on at least some dances from dancers who do use it. It's not "prejudice" as one of them suggested - it's simple logistics. By the time you walk over to a dancer to verbally ask them to dance, they have likely already made eye contact and accepted the cabeceo of another dancer. The leader replied, "but the codigos say I should wait until the music starts to ask, so I'm at a disadvantage because in that instance I am following the rules!" Generally speaking, so did the gentleman who cabeceo'd the dancer you wanted to dance with. Walking and asking just takes longer.

It's also not just about the instance a man makes eye contact with me and nods - the individual cabeceo itself. When the custom is in use in a community there are conversations going on all around you all the time using nothing more than smiles, raised eye brows, an occasional wink - a look that says, I can't right now, but ask me later. Body language, non-verbal cues, and slight gestures are going on all around - we do it whether we mean to or not. The codigos simply make use of something we already do to make the process of inviting and accepting (or declining) elegantly efficient - when the conditions are right. Lots of factors can work against the cabeceo - poor eye sight, poor lighting and awkward seating are the most common culprits - so sometimes you just can't make it work. That's why ask, when people complain about the cabeceo, if a significant number of the community's dancers use it. If they are - then they're finding a way to make it work.

I'm not saying that every community should, or even can, use the cabeceo. Every community, even every milonga, can have a personality of its own -and it simply may not be appropriate or feasible. But if dancers around you are using it, and you're choosing not to, you can be unintentionally limiting your options. Getting mad at the tradition doesn't really help your case.

* I received their permission to quote their emails.

Taking the Leap

2011-08-28T18:10:00.000-07:00

(picture from Morguefile.com. Used with permission.)

"Leap and the net will appear." - Zen Saying

When he walked in to the milonga, no one I was sitting with knew who he was.

I was tired, so sore, and apprehensive. I tell people, and write in this blog, how important it is to give first, trust first . . . to risk first. But not that night. It was probably selfish, and certainly antisocial, but I kept my distance. I didn't introduce myself and welcome this new dancer to our community like I usually try to do. Since so many others were doing so, I let them make the first move. I just waited. I danced with safe friends that I knew would look out for me to try to shake off the bad feelings I had come in with - both physical and mental.

Finally, I saw him dance with La Milonguera. She looked radiant and deeply happy in his arms. Dancing with her, he looked like such a calm dancer - the eye of the occasionally whirling storm around him. I couldn't describe, even to myself at the time, what I was looking for. Not just that he wasn't leading crazy things or bumping into people - something else. Something that I see sometimes in La Milonguera's face that I recognize. When it's there, I know that the leader she's dancing with is someone I should try to dance with, if I'm able.

It was getting late. After dancing with La Milonguera, he took a seat and chatted for awhile. I thought he was probably done dancing for the evening and my "playing it safe" had cost me an opportunity.

The next tanda started. A familiar song came on, and I decided to go for broke. I made eye contact with him several tables away. He stood up, turned to face me squarely, and nodded with a questioning smile. It doesn't matter how many times it happens, there is something about a well executed cabeceo that just knocks my socks off. I grinned broadly and made myself wait in my chair for him to walk to me, instead of hopping up and trotting over to him. If he was going to go through the effort of cabeceo'ing me, I was going to answer his cabeceo properly.

He smiled warmly and invited me to the pista. As I got up from my chair, I took a moment to let go.

I let go of the apprehension, the aches and pains of body and mind. It's easy, well easier, to do that dancing with people I know. With strangers, it takes a conscious effort. I chided myself a bit. If I was going to get up, I was damn well going to give everything I had. (Why do I so often have to have the same conversation with myself?) I am so glad I did. If I hadn't, it might have all gone very differently.

He welcomed me to his embrace as if we'd been dancing together for ages, but had just been apart for a time. No hesitation, no question. Just a kind of welcome home.

That is the quality that I recognize in La Milonguera's face sometimes. That feeling. Belonging. Calm breathing in the eye of the storm. The tanda was wonderful. I have no idea what he led, or what I did. If I followed everything the way he intended. I just have no idea.

When we parted I remembered to ask his name and gibbered a few other things that I can't remember now. I only remember that his voice was much calmer than mine - relaxed. Warm.

I sat down and reminded myself for the 100th or so time, that to get it, you have to give it. Sometimes it doesn't work. You go into the embrace, opening yourself and offering all that you have - and it falls apart. It can be crushing. But when your effort is met with the same effort from your partner - it's worth it. More than worth it.

I hope someday soon to stop forgetting that.

"Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. "

- Cadet Maxim

A Floorcraft PSA from the Mail Bag

2011-08-17T19:24:00.001-07:00

A story from one of my readers (from an undisclosed location):

Four dancers sitting at a table on the edge of the milonga floor. Three of the dancers have been dancing more than 2 years, the fourth has been dancing about six months.

All four dancers watch the couple in the middle of the floor as the leader leads a triple traveling volcada, followed by a waist high leg wrap and ending in a lightening fast gancho.

Beginner dancer: Wow! Now that's real tango!!
The other three dancers at the table: ::blink-blink:: . . . :: triple facepalm ::

Advice from my friend: Just a reminder, be sure to set a good example for the young'uns.

*PSA - Public Service Announcement

Workshops with Jorge Torres

2011-08-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

Review

I broke my rule to take Jorge Torres's classes. Usually, I don't sign up for classes from a teacher I haven't seen dance socially. I have very little money available to spend for lessons, so I want to know how a teacher handles himself, or herself, on the social dance floor. That isn't always possible, but it is my preference. In this case, enough people told me to take his workshops, and if possible a private, that I decided not to wait and just book on faith. No fewer than 10 people personally recommended Torres to me - and they did so quite emphatically. They called him "The Philosopher." They recommended his technique, posture and balance training very highly and since that's what I'm always after, I couldn't very well resist.

I attended all 7 classes and shared a private lesson with one of my dance partners over the course of 4 days. The balance and technique classes that Jorge Torres is so famous for were very challenging for me - and for many of my classmates. Maintaining my balance just standing still can be a challenge lately - but through turns it was even more challenging. Plus, I'm still not quite up to speed after my surgery, so I had to sit out more than I would have liked, but I still enjoyed the classes.

Well . .. enjoyed might not be quite the right word.

A conversation -

Me (to my classmate during a break), "Damn it! I finally got it (the balance exercise we were working on), did it correctly for like 10 seconds, then he (Jorge) walks up and it fell apart and I went the wrong way. Crap. Now he's going to think I can't follow simple directions"
Classmate, "Wow. At least you had 10 seconds."

So "enjoyed" might be overstating it. The classes were tough - certainly tougher than they seemed like they would be. They did follow a very logical progression, however - and that made them very worthwhile. The balance and technique exercises stressed disassociation and groundedness, especially through turns and quick changes of direction, and then were immediately incorporated into the turns we learned in the next class, for example.

This is usually when I get the argument that one doesn't need technique classes to dance tango.

Do you need yoga or Pilates or balance exercises to dance social tango? No. You can dance without them. But the truth is, I dance far better with them. I feel better. I avoid injury more easily. I adapt to my partners better. And it never fails that after I've really spent the time and effort working on those things outside of the milonga - I get far more compliments, and blissful dances, inside the milonga. After these classes in particular, I got more compliments on my dancing all weekend. I felt "stable", "fluid", "responsive", "solid", "connected". Wow. So I'm going to keep at it while it continues to bring such positive reinforcement.

Update: It's been a couple of weeks since the workshop and I'm still working the balance exercises. It's slow but steady progress. If you have the opportunity to study with Jorge, I very highly recommend his classes.

Finnish Tango Meets Argentine Tango

2011-08-02T12:19:00.000-07:00

Fleeting.

2011-07-09T10:43:00.000-07:00

Last night
I felt your heart beat
as we danced,
and it felt like a secret.
So I held you closer,
smiled against your cheek,
and I didn't say anything.

Sitting out

2011-07-06T09:54:00.000-07:00

At the milonga . . .

Our out-of-town visitor sat almost the entire milonga, dancing only three tandas all night. I was disappointed not to get to dance with him, but I knew he had taught workshops all day and likely just wanted to unwind. In this Texas heat, I don't think anyone has the stamina they have at during the Fall and Winter.

When the milonga was over we gave each other a big hug and he suddenly, and emphatically, apologized for not dancing with me, which was really unexpected - and very kind. He went on to say that the music he prefers to dance to simply didn't get played very much, so he sat and listened. He only wanted to dance to the music that really moved him. I thanked him for choosing to sit rather than dance to music he didn't care for - and I meant it.

Reflections . . .

This is one of those things we hear about in North America, the milongueros who sit and wait for the music that they love - even if it means sitting all night, but it's not all that common here where milongas are a very social event. It's simply a different experience here, and mostly I can accept that. Especially since I know that it can be very difficult for leaders to sit out tandas, when there are more women than men, with all of those (perceived) accusing eyes asking, "why won't he ask someone to dance?"

Yet for me as a follower, there are few things more disheartening than dancing with a leader who clearly doesn't like the music that's playing. I've had more than one leader tell me, as he was walking me to the dance floor, often for a milonga or vals tanda, that he really disliked that particular song playing. Another gentleman told me that he felt completely bored by the music that had just started, yet still stood there with his hand out.

Then why ask me to dance to it???

When I've suggested that we wait for the next tanda instead, I get a wave, and a "no, no, let's give it a try."

I'm sorry to be blunt, but "give it a try" during practica or class. Milongas are for dancing to music that moves you. If it doesn't move you - if you really dislike it, sit down. Milongas are social events and many times we dance with people simply because we're good friends regardless of the music that's playing. But when you don't feel any connection to the music, is it really fair to your partner to subject him or her to dancing with no connection to the music - especially if you feel like you have to suffer through it?

I would like to draw a distinction here between not knowing what to do with the music, or how to interpret it - and not liking it. There's a big difference. I know that appreciation for the complexities and possibilities of tango music can take a long time and a lot of listening and walking to the music. Often it does take dancing with people who *do* love it, to really feel it. I'm specifically talking about dancing to music one doesn't like out of a feeling of obligation or duty.

For example, I love milongas. I almost can't contain how much I love them. I spent a year being completely afraid of them and sitting them out, so now maybe I am making up for lost time. I seek out leaders who love them too so that I can share that experience - that love for that type of music.

Here's the tricky thing - I learned to love milonga by dancing with people who loved milonga. Makes perfect sense right? But I danced with them at practicas and in classes - not at milongas. I encourage people who have a difficult time with a particular orquestra like Biagi or Pugliese, or other types of music like milonga or vals, to seek out the dancers who love it and ask for their help. Most of the time dancers are more than happy to share their love of a particular type of music. Practicas are fantastic for this. At the milonga however, I really believe a dancer should not be expected to dance with a partner who, at that point in time, simply doesn't like the music.

Have you ever danced with someone who felt like they'd rather be doing something else than dancing to what was playing? Do you ever dance to music you really don't like just because you feel you should?

Ganchos . . . again . . .

2011-07-05T19:06:00.001-07:00

(Image courtesy of Emilie Boudet: http://www.emilieboudet.com)

From the Facebook comments on my "Expressing the music or dancing for tables" post:

"But adornments can become problematic when they interfere with something I'm trying to do. (I have enough trouble as it is). Some of these are basically harmless and don't really bother me that much. Like some ladies insist on doing a gancho whenever I lead them to step over my leg. I'm mostly amused by this. Some girls just like their ganchos and will seize any opportunity to do one."

Predictably, I have several problems with the above behavior.

First of all, they aren't "their ganchos"! The gancho for the follower is led. It is my (nearly fanatical) opinion that it should never be an adornment or something the follower just decides to do on her own. As someone who is now attempting to learn to lead, the last thing I want to see, or heaven forbid feel, is a stiletto heel near my crotch. Sorry to be so blunt, but that's how I feel.

In the follower's defense, however, I think I can explain why it appears to happen that way.

When a leader leads me into a well-placed gancho, it would actually take effort for me not to do it. He is, or should be, interrupting my step and creating the movement. When led that way, I hardly notice the move and it really doesn't bother me to do it. I also don't mind ganchos that really end up feeling like small or low leg wraps. Those can be slinky and take up very little room - they also don't usually require breaking, or contorting, the embrace.

However, most of the time what I get is the leader opening his legs and expecting me to figure out what he wants. There are teachers who actually tell followers that even if they're not correctly placed, or the interruption of the step isn't felt clearly - they should execute the gancho anyway. After all, we're always talking about how the leader "invites" a movement and doesn't force it. (There is actually one aspect that applies to this - I can chose, in certain situations, to perform an amague instead of gancho, depending on my leg position and that's usually my preference.) That particular principle, that you can simply invite the move, is tricky to apply to ganchos.

If a leader stands there with his legs open and his knee against my knee - that's not an invitation to execute a gancho, that's just him standing with his legs open and me wondering what the heck he wants me to do with that.

Fast forward to the milonga setting where we have dancers with the best of intentions trying to work out the gancho thing. Mostly I see one of two things happen:

1. The leader opens his legs, places his follower hurriedly and somewhat awkwardly and waits for her to "do a gancho." When she seems to hesitate, he frequently (I'm not kidding, it happens all the time) either verbally tells her "you're supposed to gancho me here" or pushes her harder until she "gets it". So the follower gets the idea that the gancho isn't a very precise movement and if the leader opens his legs, that means gancho.

2. The second scenario, depicted in the comment above, is the follower performing ganchos whenever she sees or feels the opportunity to do it - on her own - probably because she never got the idea from class that the move is supposed to be led.

I frequently fall in the middle. After a leader chides me several times for missing his gancho leads, or following it with an amague because it's more comfortable for my knee, I execute one when I think he wants one, and then get it wrong.

Which always leaves my wondering, why the heck I'm trying so hard to do a move I don't even care about?

A note on leader-ganchos . . .

I am now going to give up any pretense of writing about technique issues, and just state my (very unpopular) direct opinion. I am annoyed when a leader "ganchos" me. I don't like the way leader ganchos look, and I really hate the way they feel 99% of the time. (On the other hand, just to give a more balanced view, sometimes I barely notice them because they're very fast and light - so those aren't so bad. If I don't have time to really notice them, I don't have time to get particularly annoyed, do I?) Still, I have to wonder was there no other way the leader could express the music??

When I watch this, and similar videos, on leader ganchos - all I can think is that none of it looks elegant, or graceful. So often it just looks forced and uncomfortable.

Oh, and the "double gancho - trap my leg" move (especially if the leader is not supporting his own balance), makes me not want to dance with that leader again. It's personal, it's just me - I'm not making a judgment on the value of the move - I'm only saying I really don't like how they feel. Again, does this really express something in the music that couldn't be expressed any other (simpler and more comfortable) way?

From the super-brilliant Learningtango.com Ghost Guide to Ganchos page - a video, with follower's comments) on the double gancho:

Quoted from the above mentioned page:

"As the Follower points out in the video, there comes a point where she's literally trapped. That's not really tango. At tango the lady should be able to step out of any position she's in easily. Also you end up in a position where your legs are tangled up, you're both balancing on one leg, she's pivoting and most likely in heels! If another couple crashes into you, you're going to fall over. There's simply no way to take avoiding action. Take a moment and imagine how painful landing in that position is going to be..."

Apologies

I am very sincerely sorry for the leaders who have led those with me and are reading this now. I have tried to tell leaders at practica, but when I do they tend to look at me like I just insulted their mother and kicked their puppy. I actually feel guilty that I don't like them when they look at me like that. So I comply and hope they don't lead it more than once in the tanda. I'm sorry I don't like them. I have tried - really, I have. I even worked on them in a private lesson. I just don't get the attraction at all.

If a leader leads it at a milonga, I'll try to make it work so that we don't both fall down. I will suppress the urge to say, "knock that crap off" and just do it. But depending on how uncomfortable the leader makes me in completing the move, he may be getting an early thank you. There are loads and loads of followers who love it - so by all means, lead it to them. Go crazy. And during practica, sometimes I'm game to work on them for a little bit (for many of the same reasons listed at the bottom of Ghost Guide to Ganchos, linked above.)

Leaders have been telling me for two years that some day a light will just turn on and suddenly I'll love ganchos.

I'm not holding my breath.

Striking a balance

2011-07-04T18:04:00.000-07:00

(Picture courtesy of morguefile.com.)

This post was inspired by a comment from another blogger who wrote:

"One thing you should also bear in mind is that you can't please everyone with your tango. Some leaders like a follower who decorates a lot and others don't. It's not always possible to tell which is which. As followers, we have to strike a very delicate balance between being dance chameleons who try to adapt to every leader and finding our own personality, our own character as dancers. It's a fine line. I'd love it if you'd write a whole post about it." from Terpsichoral Tango at http://www.tangoaddiction.wordpress.com

Coincidentally, I was already working on a post addressing this, so I'll give it my best shot Terpsichoral.

Above is a 7-ish minute long video with only a few sentences that I want to point out. Whenever I hear (or read about) anyone talking about the follower's musicality - this is what I think of. The bit that I'm referencing starts about 4:25 as Gavito is teaching a class on giros. The sound quality is poor, but this is what he says to the followers:

Gavito:

"We accompany each other (during the giro). [ . . . ]
Do I have to push her? Does she listen to the music? Is she deaf? I don't think so.
Are you deaf, girls? You listen to the music?
Then prove it. Prove it that you listen to the music."

In a different comment on another forum, a dancer stated that the follower's job is follow the leader's musicality - not impose her own. While I agree that interfering with a leader's expression of the music is asking for a very unpleasant tanda, that's not all there is to it. I am not deaf. I can't help but have my own feelings and interpretation of the music and my body is going to respond accordingly. How much I allow myself to respond directly to the music depends on my leader and the connection we have. If I have no feeling of my own in the music, wouldn't I feel rather like a piece of furniture you have to move around?

When I agree to dance with a leader, I am agreeing to listen and adapt to his interpretation of the music. Otherwise the dance is a struggle, and it really shouldn't be. Of course it's easiest when you and your partner share a very similar interpretation of the music. That is when we are both most free in the music. When you hear the song the same way, the connection can be incredibly strong - the feeling is simply amazing. Everything seems effortless, seamless - the line between dancers seems to disappear. The more divergent my interpretation of the music is from my partner's, the more I have to adapt. My dance becomes quiet while I listen very intently to my leader, to the music, and to the way his body expresses the music. If he expresses what I consider to be a very melodic piece, very rhythmically, I adjust. I sharpen my steps, change how I place my feet. If he steps softly, I step softly. If he collects slowly, I collect slowly. Most of these things I can feel in his lead, but some things are left for me to interpret. Generally, if it's possible and comfortable, I get closer or more "locked in" to his torso to get as much information as I can from his body. If that's not possible, I just work with what I have. That's why I dance open embrace so rarely and usually only with people whose style I know well.

When it goes well it reminds me, as Terpsichoral Tango wrote, of a chameleon changing color against a rock. It's not that I'm making conscious decisions to do this or do that, I just let his movements inform mine. I listen to the music through him. When it goes very well, it changes forever how I hear that piece of music and opens new possibilities in my own interpretation.

When it goes badly - when I just can't hear the music the way he does, it's much more challenging. I feel like I have to suppress my connection to the music altogether. That is thankfully very, very rare. The longer I dance, the more adaptable I become, and the less that happens. When it does happen, I simply make note that he and I don't have a good connection for that orquestra. It's not personal, it's not a statement about his skill or mine - we just don't fit well together in that music. If I know I can't adapt enough to a leader, or more often that it would be painful for me to try, I avoid his cabeceo or turn him down directly if he asks directly. If the opportunity arises to try again at a practica, then I may seek him out at that point.

Followers, how do you adapt to your leaders? Are there occasions when you just can't make it work? And leaders, have you felt a follower adapt to you? Or danced with a follower who seemed to hear the music completely differently than you? How much do you adapt to your followers?

Expressing music or dancing for tables?

2011-07-04T12:31:00.000-07:00

Too much of a good thing?

As sort of a follow-up to my thoughts on technique, I've run into a little snag I'd like some feedback.

When I get compliments about my embrace, I'm absolutely elated. When someone compliments the way my walk feels, I feel accomplished. Compliments about my musicality - ditto.

When I start getting lots of compliments about my foot work, however - I get worried. I shouldn't right? A compliment is a compliment, and should be taken graciously. It's certainly meant as a positive thing. It's a good thing if a dancer's feet are pretty - why else would everyone wear those silly, yet gorgeous, shoes? But like Richard Dreyfuss staring down his plate of mash potatoes in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, I can't help thinking it means something.

Something not good.

I don't mean like a backhanded compliment - but more like a fear that my priorities have unintentionally shifted. Maybe it's a community thing. Online I very often read leaders' complaints about followers' adornments and suggestions that women who adorn are "dancing for the tables", or secretly want to lead etc. etc. Yet, when I'm dancing in the milongas here, I've noticed that my increased effort on foot work has resulted in a greater number of invitations to dance. (Of course I'm very aware that how you look can get you that first tanda with a dancer - but how you feel determines if you get any invitations after that.)

So at the last several practicas, I've been asking leaders - how do I feel? Am I too "noisy" in the dance? Do I feel like I'm disconnecting? I asked leaders who I knew would be freer with criticism of my dancing and got a lot of good feedback - which was reassuring. I still felt connected, some leaders said I felt even more so lately. My walk was still strong, grounded and mostly smooth (which is pretty much par for the course.) Okay, so that's a bit of a relief.

And then more questions.

So I experimented a bit (again at practicas - not in the milongas.) I tried "turning off" the embellishments and particular foot placements, but found it much harder to do than I thought it would be. Even when I dance very, very quietly, I'm careful and deliberate in how I place my feet. Deliberately not moving my feet that way felt like I was sucking the life out of the music - and not really answering my partner's musicality.

One leader told me that when he could feel something that could be categorized as an embellishment, it didn't feel like something I was doing on my own, but an answer to what he was doing - which is how it felt to me. So what about the leaders who say when a follower embellishes, she's dancing by herself? Where is the line? Is it just something that varies from leader to leader, which would be understandable, or are there really some embellishments and adornments that leaders find noisy generally?

And where is the line between an embellishment and simply how someone moves? I was told that an embellishment or adornment was anything a follower does that is not led by the leader. Which sort of makes sense, and sort of doesn't. After all, the leader leads me to walk - but not exactly how to walk. He leads the length and speed of the step, but how I place my foot is up to me. I choose according to the music and the style he is leading. And choose is really the wrong word here. I'm not weighing my options and choosing the best one. I'm responding to what I feel from my leader and how he moves. If he moves softly and smoothly, I try to move softly and smoothly in return. If the next leader dances more sharply and rhythmically, with sharp collections and taps, and I adjust accordingly - when am I embellishing, and when am I simply following?

For example, the partner that I quoted above and I were dancing to a milonga. One thing that I do that had received compliments (and bear with me, it's difficult to describe) was rather than just collecting my feet, if the music was right for it, I would slow my foot down as I collected almost like building momentum and then at the last moment on the sharp beat, snap my feet closed. When done at the same time as my leader, who collects in a similar way during that particular milonga, it creates a great connectedness when marking the end of the phrase. It just plain feels good to do it. When I didn't do it, it felt sort of flat to him and to me - like I was muffling the music and the lead.

I'm sure there are lots of very strong feelings on the subject (pulling on my asbestos knickers) - and I look forward hearing some feedback (really). What I would like to avoid however are blanket, black and white judgments about the character or motivations of dancers who adorn or don't. Those kinds of statements, like the ones I quoted above, don't really further the discussion. I'm much more interested in hearing from dancers about when or how adornments add or take something away from the dance experience. What makes a dancer (leader or follower) feel "noisy"? Where do you draw the line with interpreting the music? When it's a problem - is the problem with the adornment, or could it be an issue of poor technique while executing the adornment?

I do still allow anonymous comments, so should any local dancers like to weigh in on this, I strongly encourage you to do so. (Even if the feedback is, "damn chica, you've been going too nuts with the feet lately.") Try not to swear too much since my grandmother reads this blog. :)

More thoughts on technique

2011-07-04T12:19:00.000-07:00

Two women who say it better than I can . . .

An excerpt from Ms Hedgehog's post on Technique:

"To feel somebody's heart through a good suit jacket, you have to zone in and he has to be in the right place as well. And even then, it only means anything if other things are right. It's awesome. I feel like I shouldn't talk about it. But the better I dance, the more those moments happen and the more awesome they are. It's that simple."

Read more of this great post here: http://mshedgehog.blogspot.com/2011/07/technique.html

And from Terpsichoral Tango, who also shares some great ideas for solo practice, makes this point particularly well:

"Of course, solo practice is not a substitute for practising with a partner or for social dancing in a milonga setting. When I am actually dancing, I want to be able to focus on quite different things - in particular, the interpretation of the music, the connection with my partner and the embrace - and not have to worry about technicalities such as my posture or whether my weight change is soft or clunky and elephantine. Like a pianist playing endless scales, I concentrate now on the boring, repetitive and purely technical challenges in order to free myself up to think about more artistic elements of the dance later."

The rest of her excellent post can be found here: http://tangoaddiction.wordpress.com/2011/04/04/solo/

Men's Strategies

2011-06-20T19:38:00.000-07:00

A recent thread, called "Men's Strategies [for dancing in Buenos Aires]" on Tango-L got me thinking about the codigos again. Austin isn't Buenos Aires, and my expectations are, for the most part, adjusted accordingly. I'm not making a character judgment based on whether a dancer follows the codigos. (I know that might seem hard to believe after reading some of my posts, but it's true.) And I'm not offended or hurt or angry when a gentleman doesn't walk me off the pista after a tanda.

But here's something to keep in mind from a dancer on Tango-L, regarding this particular aspect of the milonga codes:

"Sometimes the friendships are so familiar and casual that the man does not escort [the follower] back to her chair.. However, I find that if the man really appreciates and enjoys the tanda he had with me, his final and most all-encompassing thank you and sign of respect and appreciation is to escort me all the way back to my seat, not just to the aisle. Typically, they hold your hand the whole way back to the seat or leave their arm around your waist, it is a very flattering way to let you know that you are a Diosa (goddess). Even what appears to be some very rustic men, maybe from the Provincias, extend this incredible courtesy, as though the woman has just performed her heart out for him and has to be assisted back to her seat to recover...very nice... how often do we see this in communities outside of BsAs....not so much...."

Some gentlemen leave me in the middle of the pista after a tanda, which doesn't particularly make me feel one way or another about him (unless it's very, very abrupt.) Like I said, it's not that I think it's rude - it's just not, well, . . . anything. Then there are a few men who walk me back to my seat (our milongas don't really have more than one row of seating), holding my hand and making me feel like I'm valued and cared for. Followers remember that kind of thing.

So really, I'm just asking . . . Which tanguero would you rather be?

The Sensual Conversation

2011-06-16T08:10:00.000-07:00

From a previous post's comments (thank you Happyseaurchin for the post topic):

"In the post, you mention the distinction between sensual and sexual. I have that distinction too, and I was wondering if you could elaborate on some future post. Many people I speak to don't seem to be aware of this, and I was wondering how that was "wired" into your being...? I presume your partner is not threatened by your tango exploits, precisely because of this distinction? Whether I have been in a relationship or single, the experience of this distinction is ever present. Your observation of your own experience in this matter would be most appreciated."

This will be my fourth draft on this topic. It's such a difficult thing to write about and feel like I'm conveying what I mean to convey. I've tried twice before, here and here. And I still don't think I've done the topic justice.

I have told people this frequently, but until they experience it for themselves, it won't make any sense. Tango, the music and the dance, is both intimate and universal. Tango asks us our secrets, but not our name. We can reveal so much, certainly at times more than we intend to, that there is almost an understanding that crossing lines without invitation puts the freedom to express ourselves at risk.

Ninety-nine percent of the time the overtly sexual aspect is simply not relevant whereas the sensual aspect is absolutely everything. Does that make sense? I suspect that the fact that I'm married makes my situation different than if I were single. (And you are correct in assuming my non-tango dancing husband is very supportive of my dancing, and thankfully not threatened by it.) There is nothing to prove to me - I'm not looking for more than the dance. I've been told that takes some of the pressure off. Maybe that's the case and it changes things. It's really hard for me to know from my side of the embrace.

To me, in this dance we are constantly communicating with one another. There is a line that, once it's crossed - when the feeling goes from sensual to sexual, creates a very different conversation.

And this is only my experience, which is limited of course to where I dance, how long I've been dancing, and with whom I dance. My tango world is quite small, and maybe naive.

The Lion

2011-06-13T19:19:00.000-07:00

El Leon is returning. :)

Exposed

2011-06-13T13:35:00.000-07:00

(Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com)

A new face.

Well, new to me anyway.

One follower told me how beautiful his dynamic, nuevo styling felt. Another how comforting and secure his close embrace was. One would tell me how light and quick he was on his feet. Another how grounded and secure he felt. Were they all talking about the same dancer?

Then, the invitation to dance.
To embrace.

The first song played while I tried to open the map to him, to get a feel for the terrain. Was he fast or slow? Light or heavy?

Sometimes, okay more than sometimes, this is my favorite part of the dance. Listening. Adapting. Does he prefer a Ferrari or a Rolls Royce? Grace Kelly or Ava Gardner? (You could say that dancing tango is ultimately about being yourself, and of course it is - but it is also a little bit about being more than yourself. More than the self that goes to work, picks up groceries, and watches the latest movie from the Netflix queue.)

Yet as we danced, each time I'd get a feel for some preference of movement, some adjustment of the embrace, I'd feel him shift again, just slightly, and adjust to me.

I hesitated as he started a closed-side turn, which is always challenging for me (mostly due to lack of practice), yet before I could adjust, he'd seemed to have already felt the hesitation, and disassociated a little more to make me comfortable, to make the movement almost effortless for me. From then on turns to that side, where I was weakest, rather than leave them out, he simply gave more support, which made me feel more accomplished, rather than simply accommodated.

A minute or two later, another couple veered quickly out of their lane and almost in to us. My leader shifted weight, turned and pulled me to his chest (even closer than I already was) in such a swift, smooth movement that I didn't entirely put together what had happened until I saw the other leader's eyes widen at the collision that had almost occurred. Still wrapped tightly in his embrace, I exhaled and settled in there - wondering if now that the danger had passed, he'd let go of me. He didn't. I was happy to be where I was and he seemed just as happy to keep me there.

The first song ended and we parted. Made small talk. The usual things. The music. The heat.

When the second song started, he invited me into his embrace and I immediately found the place I had been before. I felt enveloped, like I was being carried. I had to remind myself I needed to be actively listening to his body. And then I caught the thought that almost drifted away without observation - I was getting exactly the dance I wanted.

The turns, the embrace, how he stepped - all done in the way that felt most comfortable, most natural for me to follow.

Which suddenly made me uncomfortable.

I should be elated, right? Mostly I was. To be danced in the way your body most wants to move is an extraordinary gift. Tears welled in my eyes at the relief of that feeling. But then, as the edges of my observation solidified, I got nervous. Please forgive my journalism analogy, but it was like being an interviewer and suddenly realizing you're the one being interviewed.

The table was turned.

For me, there is a not-so-healthy side to wanting to adapt to my partner. A side that's become particularly strong these last few months as tango became a means of escape from a toxic work situation. I danced to forget, at least for a short time, large pieces of my life. I danced so I wouldn't spend all of my time examining and picking apart the things that were going so wrong. I could escape into an embrace and put all of that energy and attention on the music and the man in front of me. An unfortunately familiar pattern, being someone else was becoming easier than being me. For all my talk of entrega, I had actually found a way to out-maneuver surrendering, by keeping my self hidden. I could give all of my focus, my effort, my feeling for the music and the dance, to my partner - just not all of me.

They say you dance who you are, but that can mean a lot of things. What you see depends very much on how you look at it.

I've been running away for a long time.

It's not ideal, maybe it's not even right, but it worked. It gave me an outlet. It bought me time.

The storm, for the most part, has passed, but the habit is still there. Having someone listen intently to me, and adapting to what they heard, made me feel exposed.

At the end of the tanda, I struggled with conversation as I tried to figure out what all I had revealed.

I wondered if I'd been caught in my bait-and-switch.

And yet . . .

As I watched him return to his seat on the far side of the pista, I wondered, am I the only one playing chameleon to buy a little time.

In Defense of the Perpetual Tango Student

2011-06-02T09:43:00.000-07:00

"The only reason for mastering technique is to make sure the body does not prevent the soul from expressing itself." - La Meri

There's been a lot of criticism thrown about lately on tango blogs, forums and on Facebook, regarding the "perpetual tango student" and of course the corresponding tango teachers that encourage their students to continue to take classes (presumably rather than learning the "traditional" way of just showing up and dancing socially - though I've never been too sure how that was supposed to work.)

I've only been dancing a little over two years and I still take classes, though mostly I take private lessons and workshops, when I'm able. Most of the people I dance with, in fact most of the people in my community, take classes from one or more of the teachers in town. A few dancers travel to Buenos Aires to take classes.

This is the usual advice I hear from people who tell me classes aren't necessary:

Just walk naturally.
And for followers, walk naturally, backwards.

Okay, let's clarify "naturally". My natural walk before I started tango, was walking on the outside of my feet (never in high heels) and with a posture that rather suggested I had an invisible pole up my butt. That kind of natural? Or do you mean the way South American women walk? They are not the same thing. "Walking naturally" has to be one of the biggest myths of learning tango. There's an excellent post here with some ideas addressing the tango walk.

My point is that I had to take lesson first of all to learn how to walk for this dance. If you've always worn high heels and have a beautiful, fuild gate, good for you - maybe you won't need lessons. The rest of us will probably always be working on our walk.

Just listen to the music. The music will tell you how to dance.

Okay . . . and then what?

Sure the music will tell me how to dance - but you probably won't like it. I was a Goth dancer. Let me tell you, very little of that "skill set" is applicable to tango. Or anything else really.

If I didn't know anything about tango as a social dance, I'd just amble about, more or less (most likely less) on the rhythm. Having no vocabulary or clue about body mechanics, I wouldn't know:

- to disassociate to stay with my partner during turns,
- or not constantly split my weight between both feet, leaving my partner wondering what foot I'm on,
- or backweight my posture pulling my partner off of his balance.

In fact I doubt I'd know to pay any attention at all to my balance. As a result I'd probably (and I'm sure I did in the beginning) hang on my partner like a wet coat because I wasn't able to keep my balance, trip over my feet, trip over his feet, kick people, and make a very uncomfortable dance for my partner. Of course it would be a milonga so my partner wouldn't be able to say anything to me, he'd just politely drop me off at my chair after a dance or two. And since I wasn't in any classes, the likelihood of my knowing about any practicas (since they are usually, though not always, hosted by teachers), would be pretty much nil.

So very soon I would be sitting on the sidelines not getting danced and wondering what I was doing wrong. I woudn't know anyone because I wouldn't have met anyone in classes, so I'd pretty much have to maneuver a new and intimidating social scene feeling completely inadequate to the task. That'll keep me coming back for sure!! Not.

But don't worry - I'm sure some very helpful tanguero would offer to take me under his wing and teach me all sorts of wonderful moves, especially all of those sexy, kicky ones, (that he can't get anyone else who actually knows how to follow) to do. And through him I would learn the "One True (his) Tango" and be just peachy without any classes at all. Think of all the money I'll save ( so I can get a couple of pair of really deadly stilettos!)

Meanwhile the people who start with classes enjoy all sorts of benefits I would be missing:

- Community. As soon as you start a class, in Austin anyway, you become part of a community. You're welcomed as soon as you show up - just for being willing to try to learn what certainly feels like the hardest dance in the world. Our teachers introduce you to other students and event organizers, guide you through the schedule of activities in the community - milongas, practicas, classes, workshops. We have tango events just about every night of the week, and live music to dance to weekly. Luckily our teachers promote one another's events and attend each other's events - I know many communities don't have that luxury.

- Encouragement. I would never have braved a milonga or a practica on my own without knowing people from classes. From what I've heard from other dancers, very few people would. Being in classes gives students a feeling of camaraderie and a sense of belonging that can help so much when coping with the more challenging (read: embarrassing, awkward) aspects of learning tango.

- Consistent practice time. Not only to physically practice the dance, but to listen to the music with other dancers. To hear and see other people's reactions to the same music. To be able to talk about the dance, the music, the history of both. To be able to ask questions and not expect someone on the social dance floor to spend what should otherwise be a relaxing time for them, basically teaching me how to dance and behave without using the pista as a classroom.

- Music, music, music. Teachers have vast quantities of music and they want you to hear it. They want to share their experience of it, information and history about it, technique for expressing it.

- Technique. Dancers who take classes (ideally) learn how to prevent injury to themselves and to others by strengthening muscles, improving balance, and increasing flexibility. Some dancers need more help with this than others. If I were 20 years old, I wouldn't have needed as much help - but as it was I was 36, with bad posture, back pain, and very limited flexibility. If I hadn't had classes to improve those things, how many dances do you think I would have gotten? You could argue that with continued dancing things would have improved on their own, but from what I've experienced, I doubt that. Sometimes the easiest thing for your body to do in a situation is not the best thing - and can even be harmful to your dance partner. We tend, without anyone to tell us otherwise, do whatever comes easiest or most natural. But what's most natural for a body that's out of alignment is frequently not the best thing.

So why STAY in classes?

Technique frees my soul's musical expression.

This is where my quote from about comes in. When you don't have solid technique and at least a basic vocabulary of movements, you are very limited in the ways you can express the music. You may not know how you want to express a piece of music - you'll only know that what you're capable of at the moment isn't it. The more experience you have, the more you are able to do with your body (in disassociation, in good posture, flexibility, balance), the easier it is to express how you feel the music gracefully - and the more easily you can recover from mishaps and prevent injury to your body.

When I stop taking classes, I forget to continue working on my technique - or I do it haphazardly. And I don't have the sort of body that maintains it's current state. I backslide. My balance suffers. My flexibility diminishes. And when I'm not in classes with other people, I'm not getting exposed to other people's ways of seeing things, and hearing and expressing the music.

I like to work on my weaknesses. When I got too comfortable in traditional, very close embrace, I took a few (very informal) classes on open technique and worked with leaders who danced more in that style. A year into dancing tango, I was still terrified of milonga tandas - so I signed up to take classes and through myself into milonga for several months. Now I have such a love for milonga, that I've made myself turn my focus back to tango and vals as my technique in those areas has started to slip a bit. I found myself unable to express the music the way I felt it inside. It's frustrating to feel the music a particular way, but be chained by my body's inability to do it gracefully. So back to work. For me, it's not a chore, it's a work of love and devotion to an art form.

Back to community - time to pay it forward . .

The last, but maybe the most important reason I try to take classes or workshops when I can, is to work with dancers with less experience. (Or experienced dancers who just want to work on something different.) Continuing to take occasional classes keeps me interacting with new people, old friends I don't see often, and visitors from other communities. It also gives me more time to interact with them than I would normally get in a milonga.

"Freedom to a dancer means discipline. That is what technique is for -- liberation." - Martha Graham

On the Edge

2011-06-01T19:49:00.001-07:00

Every time I dance, I stand on the edge of myself to reach you.
Whether you are open, or closed, or on the edge trying to decide,
I will be there waiting in the music.
Standing on the edge to reach you.

You dance inside

2011-06-01T08:40:00.000-07:00

"You dance inside my chest, where no one sees you,

but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art." -- Rumi

Why is this so difficult?

2011-05-31T11:23:00.000-07:00

The floor at Friday night's milonga was enormous. All of the dancers I asked agreed we could have fit a couple of hundred dancers on that floor. Instead we had a few dozen. A nice crowd - but we still had what seemed like acres of room. With all that room you would think there would be no need for any leader to overtake another couple on the pista. (That's what I thought, anyway.)

And yet a couple of tangueros not only tailgated and overtook another couple on the right side (the other leader's blind side, which is why you don't do it) - but they overtook many, many couples - practically "lapping"(1) the other dancers on the floor.

I couldn't keep the "Are you *&%$# serious?" look off my face when a leader repeatedly got within a few inches of my partner and me (leaving a full 6+ feet between him and the couple behind him), and then passed us. Twice. It's not like we were holding up the line of dance either. We were maintaining the same few feet of distance that most of the other couples were keeping. And it didn't matter who I was dancing with - Mr. Race-car-driver raced up behind, and then past, nearly every couple on the floor.

It's not like this subject hasn't been well covered. Here are 10 pages that cover this topic online.

1. "In Tango, the rule should be 'never overtake, unless absolutely necessary' ". It's not a race, there's no requirement to achieve or maintain a minimum speed - the enjoyment is in the dance, not in the amound of ground covered." -- Milonga Driving

2. "Avoid passing. Tango is not a race. If the dancer in front of you is advancing more slowly than you would like, alter your dance so that it is more circular and less linear. Learn to dance well and happily without much forward advancement. " -- Tuscon Tango Festival

3. "One shouldn't attempt to overtake nor should one let too much distance evolve to slow down the couple behind." -- Tango Etiquette

4. "Keep your distance to the couple in front, and avoid overtaking." -- Thames Valley Tango

5. "There is a simple truism that eludes too many of our tango friends: Tango is not a race: there is no finish line. Therefore, there is no reason to overtake." -- Tango-L Essay

6. "Avoid passing the couple in front of you. NEVER pass a couple on their right side (your left side) while in the line of dance. (It continues to amaze me that some experienced dancers routinely do this.) " -- Tango Chose Me

7. "This means that I’ve started cringing when I see people switching back and forth between lanes, overtaking, and making everyone else in the dance floor cautious about getting hurt." -- Tango Padawan

8. "You will be expected to dance in an anti-clockwise route around the dance floor, not overtake, and dance appropriately i.e. no drops or aerials etc. " -- Ms. Hedgehog

9. "With respect to passing: Don’t do it unless there is a major accident." -- Tango Student

10. "No passing or overtaking. This is absolutely important, it may challenge you to figure out how to dance in a tight space that is barely moving." -- Niko Salgado

There are dozens more links and resources on this - just check with Google. Also, every teacher I have had has told us not to pass unless absolutely necessary - and especially not to pass on the right side. So please enlighten me - why is this such a difficult concept for some dancers to grasp?

- Don't tailgate.
- Don't overtake unless there is no other option for maintaining the line of dance.
- And if you absolutely have to pass another couple, do not do it on the right (the other leader's blind) side.

(1. Overtake (a competitor in a race) to become one or more laps ahead.)

Wardrobe Challenge

2011-05-19T11:51:00.000-07:00

Now that I have loads of fabulous tango-worthy outfits filling out my wardrobe, I've been faced with a new challenge.

Job interviews.

And not a single nice fitting, straight hemlined skirt to be found. Handkerchief, asymmetrical, fringe, car-wash, ruffly, frilly hems - you name it, I've got it.

But a basic straight skirt?

Not one.

Well, not one that fits. Last time I needed interview clothes was several years ago, and I was a couple of sizes larger then. Sort of a good news/bad news thing. I feel great that I lost weight, but now I'm in a panic trying to find business-y clothes that fit well.

And frankly, I resent spending money on clothes I can't wear for tango. Should I feel guilty for that? Is that a bad sign? Things have certainly changed.

. . .

A related conversation with my husband on the 8th or 9th interview outfit I tried on.

Him: "Aren't you going to wear hose with that?"
Me: "I never wear pantyhose!"
Him: (very confused expression) "You always have tights on - the fancy ones for tango."
Me: "Oh. Those would be the fishnets, sweetie. I won't be wearing those to the job interview."
Him: *shrug* (with a slightly quizzical "Suit yourself. That's what you get for asking me these silly wardrobe questions" look on his face.)

So back to Goodwill and Salvation Army - my ultimate source for cheap, nice clothes.

Workshops with Javier Rochwarger

2011-05-17T13:24:00.000-07:00

Here's a little example of his dancing:

Just a (long overdue) quickie summary -

What I loved:

I loved his focus on the embrace - on locking into your partner (Important caveat: He did not mean *squeezing* your partner!) by keeping your intention forward. One of his classes was labeled "Complex Sequences in Close, and very close, embrace." How could I resist a class with a title like that? And of course the additional two milonga classes made my weekend! One of my dance partners convinced me to sign up for a shared private with him (to work on milonga some more - that was a pretty easy sell) and I'm so glad I did.

Javier's focuses (in the classes I took, and in the private): - Embrace, embrace, embrace.
- Ways to reduce "play" and bounce between partners (unintentional movement/being out of synch) with a firm (again, not squeezing) embrace and forward-intention connection.
- Staying up and forward - not rocking back and away from partner.
- Slow down.

Notes from the private lesson in milonga:
For me:
- Keeping my hip square (not dropping it - or breaking at the waist)
- Try harder not to anticipate and in particular, avoid auto-collecting.

For my partner and me -
- Zipping up the hip when collection. This is one of those visual things that's easy to explain in person, but hard to explain in writing. Mostly it keeps both partners from rushing one another and is closely related to the next technique Javier hit on . .
- Landing/finishing the step before continuing on - really land it (push into the floor).

The only things I was disappointed in were his limited time with us in Austin (I so wish he could return more often and/or stay longer) and his reluctance for videos to be put on YouTube. I think his refusal for posting videos online is completely understandable, but he has very little online presence as it is, and I was actually reluctant to take classes with him because there was so few examples of him dancing online. I know performances are generally not a good indicator of how much I'm going to like a class, but it's still something to view.

I recommend Javier very much and look forward to his next visit to Austin!

Teacher Condescension

2011-05-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

rant . . .

When I'm in a class, or in particular a private lesson, I make a conscious effort to be open to criticism. It's a little bit my Buddhist learning, but it's really a whole lot more about economics. I am paying to learn. Getting defensive wastes time and money. That said, I am also aware that every teacher says something different - often contradicting what the last teacher said. The best advice I received regarding that all-to-common phenomenon, is that the teacher of the class is correct at least for the duration of lesson. After that, you have to decide what works for your body, your situation, and your comfort. So for the duration of the class or lesson, I try very hard to give the benefit of the doubt.

So let me repeat (mostly for my own benefit) that I try very, very hard to stay open to criticism. I may not always welcome it with the grace that I would like, but I do try to be a receptive student. I can take a teacher being abrupt, or abrasive - even short tempered (to a point).

What I don't handle well is condescension directed at an entire group of dancers based on style preference. At one class I was informed that "close embrace" or "milonguero" style tango is only done in the Buenos Aires' "lower class" milongas simply because they tend to be more crowded. Lower class milongas? Do you mean like Niño Bien, or Salon Canning, or Porteno y Bailarin, or Los Consagrados, or maybe Cachirulo (which wasn't crowded at all in this video.) In the days before YouTube, maybe you could get away with saying something like that - but now I can simply search for myself and see video of dozens of milongas all over Buenos Aires. What I see is close embrace danced practically everywhere.

And even when overt comments aren't made, the attitude is still there. The attitude of close embrace dancers dance that way because they aren't good/skilled/creative enough to dance any other way. For the record, I don't accept that open embrace or nuevo dancers are insensitive or disprespectful either. Generalizations on both sides do no good. If there is an action or specific behavior that needs to be addressed, then address that behavior and leave the personal jibes out of it.

Anyway, I'm sorry to get so ranty about this topic. It's been building up a little while.

/rant

Why I Embellish.

2011-05-16T14:14:00.000-07:00

Of Silk Purses and Sows' Ears.

When I started dancing tango, I had constant problems with my balance. Actually, all tango did was make the problem with my balance more obvious to myself and others. I've always had terrible balance. Much of the problem came from the way that I walked. Both of my ankles and both of my knees have been seriously injured at different times in my life, and as a result I have excessive supination of my ankles and feet. Basically, I walk on the outside edges of my feet. (Read: a little bow-legged.) Not only does it look bad (especially when I'm dancing), but it makes me feel unstable to my partner. Almost more frustrating than that was that I could never seem to express the music the way I was feeling it. I couldn't answer my partner with my body. I felt clunky. Uneven. Ungraceful. And before I looked into correcting my lack of solid technique, it was also making it quite painful to dance. My knees and back were paying the price for poor alignment of my ankles and feet. Different teachers, first Mardi Brown and Stephen Shortnacy from Georgetown Tango, and then Daniela Arcuri in Austin, took up the task of correcting my walk.

Daniela in particular is famous for her foot and posture exercises. She immediately set to work on my feet. First she gave me a series of strengthening exercises for my back, legs and feet - even my toes, that brought more balance to my walk and made me feel much more stable. Then she started on adornments. At first I balked since I didn't have any interest in adornments when my walk was still, to me anyway, a little iffy. However, as I worked on them - even though I very rarely used them - I noticed that being able to place my feet in an intentional way was enough to counteract the habit of turning them under.

Learning embellishments gave me control of my feet, which is what she intended. The stronger my feet and legs got, according to leaders I danced with, the easier I became to lead. I was also able to express my feeling for the music in more nuanced ways. I responded more quickly to my partners and to unfamiliar music. And when things went wrong, when I misstepped, or slipped, or ended up in a different place than my partner intended, I could recover almost effortlessly. (Actually, I'm almost sure that the majority of adornments came from something gone wrong. "Silk purses out of a sows' ears".)

So in classes, practicas and at home, I work very hard on my adornment technique. I do strengthening exercises and stretching to make my feet (and legs) stronger and faster. However, when I'm dancing at the milonga, I let go of all that and just dance. I used to feel the need to apologize for working on what seemed like "the looks" of the dance, but not anymore. The feedback I get from my partners is that I'm more stable and manueverable than ever. After speaking with my podiatrist and my regular physician, I'm pretty sure I will always battle weak ankles and the tendency to turn my feet under, but at least I have some tools (granted, rather pretty tools) to address it.

No Tango Today, Just Phoebe

2011-04-26T20:20:00.000-07:00

Of all the things to make me write . . .

Such terrible news today. Phoebe Snow has died. An amazing voice and such a beautiful soul, gone too soon.

When I was 16, I was sure, as most 16 year olds are, that my mother was from another planet. I was sure she didn't know what I was going through. How bad things were. She couldn't possibly understand what I was feeling.

She, by that point I'm sure, had to be tired of trying to get me to talk about things. She just passed by my room and said, 'you may like this.'

Phoebe Snow
Second Childhood.

The whole album played and I listened, trying not to look like I was listening. Like I didn't care. I think I said something like, 'nice voice' or something. I went back to my room, closed the door, and cried and cried. Not out of sadness, but out of relief. Not only did this mean that my mom, patiently building new paths to me, understood. But this woman, who moved (and still moves) my mom in such profound ways, understood too.

My life at home with mom is colored by our soundtrack. Recollections of conversations, fights, revelations, all seemed to come with songs. We always found, and still find, common ground in music. For the record, I'm still apologizing to her for years 14 through 19. What a pain in the ass I was.

Rest in Peace, Phoebe - you are so loved, and so missed. Thank you for helping me really see my mother.

Either or Both, which speaks to both our lives in different ways, is one of our favorites. I hope you like it too.

EITHER or BOTH
Sometimes these hands get so clumsy
That I drop things and people laugh
Sometimes these hands seem so graceful
I can see them signin' autographs

What I want to know from you
When you hear my plea
Do you like or love
Either or both of me
Do you like or love
Either or both of me

Sometimes this face looks so funny
That I hide it behind a book
But sometimes this face has so much class
That I have to sneak a second look

Sometimes this life gets so empty
That I become afraid
Then I remember you're in it
And I think I might still have it made

Still . . .

2011-04-14T11:11:00.000-07:00

still here. still dancing. there's been a break in the clouds, but the storm's still hanging around. I breathe in the tandas and it gets me through the week. Just keep on keepin' on. I've run the gamut. A to Z. Three cheers and dammit, C'est la vie. I got through all of last year And I'm here. -- Stephen Sondheim, "I'm Still Here" from Follies.

What Tango is for Me

2011-03-15T01:13:00.000-07:00

I'm still catching up. Job changes, recovering from the flu, and so many other things going on have put me way behind in answering comments on the blog, and in email. So please be patient with me as I try to catch up. Meanwhile, I'll be publishing a few things here and there that have been sitting in drafts too long . . .

Diary entries

03/07/2011 - Is tango fun?

From the free dictionary online: "Fun (noun): A source of enjoyment, amusement, or pleasure."

Jantango said in a comment that she does not dance tango because it's fun.

"This may come as a surprise, but tango isn't fun for me. It's so much more. Lots of things can be fun for a moment, but then it passes and you want something else to satisfy. Tango does that for me."

I am glad that tango does that for Jan, but the implication seems to be that if I'm having fun, somehow I'm not really getting it - not really experiencing true tango. Or maybe I'm not serious enough. If I'm misunderstanding this Jan, then please let me know.

Quite often I dance tango because it is fun. But why would saying that tango is fun exclude it from being anything else? Or from it being a lasting or satisfying enjoyment?

I don't judge anyone else's reason for dancing tango. We all come to it for different reasons, and those reasons are subject to change over time.

I know a man who came to tango, as many do, for the love of a woman. She left. He stayed. Is tango fun for him? He frequently says so. Is it more? Undoubtedly.

I came to tango to heal my body and found that it also heals the soul. Is tango fun for me? Yes. Is it more than that? It is beyond anything I could have imagined. My blog might be quite a bit more sparse if it weren't.

What does it matter? Who am I, or is anyone else, to analyze or criticize someone's reasons for dancing tango? Or what they get from it? Why would I even presume I could know someone else's experience of tango?

03/14/11 - What tango is for me tonight . . .

I'm reading the news before bed again. I know I shouldn't because it will probably keep me up for hours (not that blogging is likely to send me to bed any sooner.) I have been catching snippets and comments, watching the news as if from my peripheral vision. Trying not to take it all in fully.

As if I could take it all in.

There's too much.

DH is frustrated because I cry over the news. Crying accomplishes nothing and keeps me awake, so why spend the energy? He asks this of me, yet he knows I cry over tango songs, sad movies, and even a few melodramatic television commercials. That I'm crying over the devastation in Japan, over the political (and human rights) crises that have erupted all over the Middle East, and over the venom being spewed by politicians here in the US in place of the true work that needs to be done - should really come as no surprise. I'm overly emotional about all sorts of things. Maybe for that reason, I have found such a perfect home in tango. I can be as emotional as I need to be.

So I read the news. Have a good cry. Then I put on my vals CDs to make the world seem okay again. Or at least okay enough for now so I can get some sleep.

Vignette

The three of us were in Daniela's kitchen - Daniel "El Latigo" Ponce, Daniela Arcuri and me. The lesson was over and there was a pause in our chatting. The transition was happening - from tango life to the non-tango life. Like leaving through an airlock - a change in pressure. My outside life was returning to my shoulders. I was suddenly very tired. We all seemed to breathe out at once.

I looked at Daniel and answered a question he had asked me earlier. "I dance tango because when the world falls apart, I can still, for now at least, get up, find a milonga and dance."

Teaching at the Milonga

2011-03-14T21:55:00.000-07:00

It seems like this has been covered before on nearly every tango blog, yet it always surprises me to see it happen at milongas. There were three instances this weekend. *sigh*

A few words of advice for dancers that feel the need to teach at the milonga . . .

Leaders: Don't assume that if a follower doesn't follow something you led, that she doesn't know how to follow it. To be clear, that doesn't mean you need to assume you led it wrong - there could be other reasons she chose not to follow it (there wasn't room, it was uncomfortable, skirt was too tight/short etc.) To take those instances of a lead being missed, or ignored, as a "teaching moment" at a milonga, may find you getting a lot of averted eyes the next time you look for a dance.

And really, if a leader has to explain a step to get a follower to follow it, there are already problems. The follower wasn't ready to be led the step, or wasn't in a position to follow it for whatever reason and explaining it verbally, in front of others at a milonga, worsens the problem and puts your reputation as a desirable leader on thin ice.

Followers: The same goes for us. Unless a leader is painful or uncomfortable (emotionally or physically), to follow, it is not okay for us to teach at the milonga either.

Teaching, or worse, reprimanding a dancer over mis-followed or mis-led steps, doesn't make you look smart, it makes you look like a jerk.

Learning . . . Bring it On, Baby

2011-03-02T08:37:00.000-08:00

"When we love and accept ourselves as we are, we engage in the vulnerable act of learning without the fear of looking foolish." -- Laurence G. Boldt

Workshops with Hugo "Gato" Valdez and Andrea Monti

2011-03-01T07:10:00.000-08:00

I had doubts about these workshops. I went in with a fairly skeptical attitude.

Local teachers Juan Carlos and Alicia Suarez , hosted Gato and Andrea, and I wasn't familiar with them at all. When I searched for information (and YouTube videos of course) about them, all I found was performance dances and very general details about their style. From their website, "Andrea Monti and Hugo “Gato” Valdez were both trained as tango dancers and teachers in their native city of Buenos Aires, Argentina, sixteen years ago (Andrea) and twenty-five years ago (Hugo). They met in 1998 and since then, they have been working continuously in Argentina and around the world."

Their website is here and their Youtube channel is here.

The class descriptions were a little bit general, but still intriguing:

Tango I Workshop
Dance with style and musicality: different possibilities when walking for parallel and cross systems; double time steps in the walk. Use of the pause. Changes of directions. Turns. Good resources for good navigation. Easy sequencies for the social dance. Close and open embrace.

Here's the deom from their first class:

Tango II Workshop
Turns with “entradas” and stops. Technique of the "sacada". Special moves and positions for sacadas. Technique of the “barrida”; barridas inside the turn and from different positions. Coordination and musicality. Line of dance. Flexibility of the embrace. Combinations and Sequencies.

Here is a demo from their second class:

Tango Vals Workshop
Rhythm and musicality for vals. Figuras from cross system. Turns with syncopation for vals; double time in the turn. Turns with sacadas and voleos. Specific sequencies and combinations for vals.

Milonga Workshop
Rhythm and musicality. Close embrace and connection. Different walks. Easy, useful and playful moves for the social dance, leading tranfer of weight. Combinations.

After some persuading from a friend (and my curiosity about the class subjects), I decided to give it a try despite my reservations. I am so glad I did!

As with most tango workshops, the classes were pattern based but with two very welcome differences. First, each pattern was made of 3 interchangeable chunks that could be worked into nearly anything. Gato and Andrea showed several ways to get in and out of each chunk and change it up as needed. At the end we would string the sequence together and play with it some more. They allowed time for practicing each part and throughout the workshops, Andrea taught a few posture exercises to make each movement more graceful and distinct.

Second, and most surprising to me given the fact I could only find performance videos of them to watch, was that every step/sequence/movement they taught was immediately useful and appropriate in a milonga setting.

No ganchos. No boleos. No colgadas, soltadas, or volcadas.

Everything was on the floor. The "fancy" stuff came from small, well placed and timed sacadas, amagues, arrastres, and changes of direction. (See glossary here for terms.)

I learned a great deal in their classes though not much of it related to the sequences themselves, but more about waiting to feel for the transitions between movements. I also, as I always do, had ample opportunity to work on my posture. I wish I had been able to record their Vals and Milonga class demos as I was especially impressed with those classes. Andrea is excellent about breaking down and explaining each part as well as letting you know what you need in your posture and alignment to lead/follow each part well.

As far as their style goes, they are flexible embrace dancers but seemed comfortable in everything from very close embrace to completely open embrace, depending on how the students in the class preferred to learn.

If you get the chance to study with them, I highly recommend them. They have their schedule posted here: http://www.gatotango.com/htmldocs/schedule.html though it appears that it might be outdated. Their contact info is here: http://www.gatotango.com/htmldocs/contact.html.

Thank you to Juan Carlos and Alicia for hosting Gato and Andrea in Austin.

León en el Sol - The Lion in the Sun

2011-02-28T19:40:00.000-08:00

"To touch is to open us to a story we have not yet heard, to an unworked work, a narrative without a beginning and an end. [ . . .] 'Touch signifies 'being in the world' for a finite being." (Derrida 2000, 161).

León en el Sol
The Lion in the Sun

The Lion, a visiting guest of my regular teacher, held me like he'd known me all my life. Every time I danced with him, at a milonga or in classes, or during the lesson, he smelled like "outside". I have the quoted because I don't know how to describe it. The smell of sun on leaves? A bit like that.

His embrace was pure warmth. No hesitation. No self-consciousness. No vanity. We just worked, and danced, and worked, and laughed, and danced some more. It was like dancing outside when you're a child that doesn't know to be self-conscious - warm, bright, energizing, playful. I don't think I learned a single new pattern during the lesson or the classes. We focused on embrace and posture, which of course makes everything else possible. Most importantly, I learned to trust myself. Even to relax and get free of my inner critic for a little while. That was the first lesson where I could quiet "the voice of doom" that chants "ohnoI'mdancingwithateacher". The same voice that tells me I'm not good enough/strong enough/graceful enough.

For the duration of the lesson at least, I didn't feel like I needed to be embarrassed by my emotional response to the music. So as much as I could, I held him the way he held me - like a long lost friend.

I learned to follow his breathing - though we didn't talk about that. It just came out of the time dancing. It was something I used to do/know and somehow forgot it for a time - listening and feeling for my partner's breathing. There's so much information there.

We worked hard, covered a lot of ground, and spoke very little. Laughed a lot. The more I shared of myself in the music - the more he shared, and the more I learned. It was a relief to dance to the music - and not to the voice of the inner critic. (At least until the camera started rolling. But one takes what one can get.)

Don't chase the music

2011-02-28T19:11:00.000-08:00

The lesson I am forever learning and re-learning . . .

Wait.

Old Marquez from Pompeya, to Carlos Gavito: "Have you come to ask me what to wait for? [ . . .] For the music to reach you and not for you to chase the music."

Gavito: "I never forgot that advice and I still keep repeating it to myself. Don't run. Let yourself move with the music and not with the step."

- "I Wanted to Dance - Carlos Gavito: Life, passion and tango" by Ricardo Plazaola

No quiero hablar / I don't want to talk

2011-02-25T19:14:00.000-08:00

A wonderful friend, Eduardo Castro, translated a poem I wrote into Spanish. Then I lost the email for ages - but I finally found it. I so love the way it reads in Spanish. Thank you again Eduardo for doing this.

	I don't want to talk		No quiero hablar

	At the local milongas,		En las milongas locales
	surrounded by good friends,		rodeado de buenos amigos
	it's very common to hear,		es muy común escuchar
	How's work?		¿Cómo te va en el trabajo?
	How are things going?		¿Cómo van las cosas?
	What's new with you?		¿Qué hay de nuevo con tigo?

	I don't mean to be evasive.		No pretendo evadir.
	I really do want to be connected.		Realmente quiero estar conectado.
	To let people know how I am.		Dejarle saber a la gente como estoy.
	I am grateful to be cared for.		Agradesco que se preocupan por mí.

	It's just that the milonga is . . .		Es que la milonga es…
	life/safe/hidden/revealed		vida / seguridad / un secreto / revelado.

	. . . too many cliches to finish that sentence.		. . . demasiados clichés para terminar la frase.
	Too many words and not enough meaning.		Muchas palabras sin sentido suficiente
	That's the real problem right there.		Ese es el problema verdadero allí mismo
	Too many words.		Muchas palabras.

	At the milongas, for a few hours,		En las milongas, por unas horas,
	I am not haunted by my past,		No estoy obsesionado por mi pasado,
	or worried for my future.		o preocupado por mi futuro.
	I am human.		Soy humano.
	a whole human being,		un ser humano completo,
	moment to moment,		de momento a momento,
	tanda to tanda.		de tanda a tanda.

	So just sometimes,		Así que sólo a veces,
	I don't want to talk.		No quiero hablar.

	Please know that I am grateful.		Por favor, comprendan que estoy agradecido.
	But let the music tell my story.		Pero dejen que la música cuente mi historia.
	And I'll dance the answers to your questions		Y voy a bailar las respuestas a sus preguntas
	whether I mean to or not.		aunque la quiera contar o no.

Tango is not "that kind of friend"

2011-02-25T18:45:00.001-08:00

(Adding a few things that went to Facebook notes, but never made it to the blog. Originally published May 28, 2010. Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com)

You know that friend that you might call if you ever get into a lot of trouble - like "ending up in jail" kind of trouble? The one that you'd call to bail you out and then she'd tell you everything is going to be okay. You just need to get your life together and make good choices (for instance not the one that landed you in jail), and all it takes is the right attitude. And possibly the right man (or woman). Do you have one of those? I have a few.

Tango is not that friend.

Tango can't bail you out of jail, because tango probably got busted the same time you did. In fact tango was probably driving. Tango isn't going to tell you everything's fine, because it's not, and tango is all about telling you the hard truth. She'll also probably tell you that your ex deserved it. And tango sure as hell isn't going to lecture you about good choices, and putting your life in order.

Tango is going to sit in the cell with you, crying, smoking (can you still smoke in jail?), and agreeing that this situation well and truly sucks. Tango may remind you of the last time you ended up in such dire straits. And that it sucked then too.

And then tango is going to crush out her cigarette, put her arms around you and hold you like there's no one else in the world that matters to her as much as you do. And she'll tell you that the most important thing, the thing that really counts, is that you're not alone. She understands and you don't have to put your life together and make good choices for her to love you. She loved you just for showing up.

Perhaps, back in her childhood, her lark’s voice
acquired that dark intonation of a back alley,
or maybe it is the romance she only names
when she gets sad with the alcohol.
Malena sings the tango with a somber voice;
Malena has the sadness of a bandoneon.

Hugo Diaz - Bailando en la tierra

2011-02-25T03:26:00.000-08:00

It's hard to describe what Hugo Diaz does for me. There's something about his music that makes me want to dance barefoot. I want to dance it on bad floors. Floors with texture. With stories. Or in the dirt. That would flat out do it for me. I want to feel the earth under my feet.

Or maybe I want the earth to feel me.

More than most other musicians, Diaz's music always feels like it comes up through the floor, through my feet, to my heart. It doesn't go through my head - in fact it seems to bypass my brain completely. I can't think about it. I have to move to it. Not a lot, sometimes just a little - if I'm not dancing, sometimes I just sway. But I have to move.

And if I'm dancing Diaz with you at a milonga, I'm trusting you with a lot. I would rather sit out the tanda than filter the experience through thoughts of "Am I being too emotional?" or "How do we look?" No dancing for the tables with Diaz playing. (God willing, no dancing for the tables with anyone playing.) So I'm choosy with that one.

And with Diaz, I am a little bit, well . . . demanding. I want that emotion back. If you don't feel one way or the other about Diaz, then maybe ask for a different tanda. What a leader leads, or how he leads it, means a damn sight less to me than how he feels about the music. If you love the music, I can feel it. If you're bored by it, I can feel that too.

If you love it, I'll make it work - whatever you lead.

Some great Hugo Diaz resources are available in Alex Tango Fuego's latest post . Go have a look and a listen. I think I might have to start every morning this way.

Delirious Milonga - The Prequel

2011-02-19T08:46:00.001-08:00

This is another video from the same lesson. I was going to skip posting it because there were so many places that I anticipated the lead and ended up somewhere other than where Daniel had meant (but of course Daniel then just followed whatever I did and made it work as he always does.) DH was also sitting a bit too close while recording and felt that he cut off too much of us during that song, so he wasn't very happy with it either. But as I described the lesson to other people the subject of this particular song came up quite a bit, so I decided to post it anyway so that folks would know what song I keep prattling on about.

Milonga of My Dogs

Daniel and I are dancing here to one of my favorite milongas, Canaro's Milonga de Mis Perros. Not only is it a fun one to dance to, but it's about dogs (see Ms Hedgehog's post here), so of course I love it. It's not played very often at milongas so when I do hear it, I go a little nuts for it.

Another reason I like this video is that Daniel and I are laughing almost the entire way through it. In fact I start giggling before we even start to dance - which Daniel seemed to find very funny. :) There's a point where I misstep and get nervous (you can hear Daniela in the background telling me to relax) and I do just as soon as I start paying attention to the music again. And by the time Daniel and I get to the end of the song, I'm almost out of breath from trying not to laugh. (I've noticed frequently that the more I laugh, the less I follow lol. A classic case of what DH calls, "LOLwhut?")

NOTE: (Here are Ines Rossettti and Augusto Lagardera dancing to the same song at Club Villa Malcolm. The video is dark and a bit grainy, but still fun to watch.)

Delirious Milonga

2011-02-18T06:20:00.001-08:00

Milonga lesson with Daniela Arcuri and "Latigo" Daniel Ponce 2/13/11)

When I watch this video from my typical analytical perspective, I cringe.

I regret having Dennis record it.

Every time I know I'm being recorded, I get nervous and forget everything I knew 3 minutes before the camera started rolling. This time was no different. I was exhausted, having stayed far too late all week and most especially the night before, and it shows. My balance suffered. My posture was crap. I wasn't able to keep my center/core firm. I was so tired that my knees felt like I was walking through water. I'm off the music in several places. (And of course there's that usual self-critical voice saying, "Christ-on-crutches is that really my butt???")

Now for the part you can't see - the reason this video is up here at all. The reason I don't truly regret Dennis recording it.

What you can't see are the tears streaming down my face from the pure bliss of dancing that afternoon. Daniel () and Daniela put me through my paces and the lesson was incredibly useful - but the best part of the lesson was the part you see there. Just dancing milonga - so tired I don't know how I was even standing up, let alone dancing, and nearly delirious with joy. Daniel told me he could feel my joy in the music clearly (and he responded in kind) - and that was more important than anything else.

So I posted the video for three reasons.

I wanted to share what a lovely dancer Daniel is. Truly, if you have the opportunity to see this man dance, or better yet dance with him, take it. His emotion simply radiates from him.

I wanted to see what I need to work on most - especially when I'm tired.

But most of all, I wanted to remind myself of the most important part of tango - the part no one can see, but your partner can feel, and that's the love of the music and the dance. Everything else is secondary to that. I may not always be able to give great posture, perfect balance, elegant musicality - but I can try to give my love of this experience every time I dance.

No Particular Order

2011-02-10T20:45:00.000-08:00

"What a terrible, beautiful limbo we're in, this intimate and temporary time, glimmering between Before and After." D.G. Fulford

Tango has confused and confounded my body. The music can be so bitter, so sad, despairing - yet I often leave the dance floor elated. Dancing, any dancing, makes me laugh. Not light, tinkling (dignified) giggles, but breathless, blushing, belly laughs from the core of my body. As far as I know, I have always had that reaction. In drill team, jazz, ballet - it was always the same. Keeping a serious face was impossible for any length of time. Even when the music was slow and sad, moving my body to music felt ecstatic.

And now there is tango.

An example:

There is a leader that, for some reason I cannot understand, makes me positively gleeful when we dance. I often laugh so much that it's hard for me to follow smoothly, but bless his enormously generous heart, he just keeps going laughing with me and hugging me like the I'm the most important person he knows. For 10 minutes. Then the music stops and we wipe the tears from our eyes and part ways, catching our breath.

In the midst of the upheaval in my life right now, that carnival ride of a dance is what I need sometimes.

I know that part of me is laughing from sheer release, in bounding joy at being able to move at all. My body has always needed to move and when, for awhile, I couldn't move well or easily, I was filled with fear. What if I would never get better? Would this be the new baseline? But I did get better - and every day that I dance my dance is, at least in part, a dance of blissful gratitude.

But laughter, I know for me, is also a mask. It lessens my anxiety, gives me a little breathing room - and conceals what I'm not ready to share on the surface. Sometimes, like anyone else, I laugh to keep from crying. From seeing the enormity of the challenges around me. And sometimes I do both. What do you call it when you're laughing and crying, ecstatic, yet sad? So happy that I cry - so sad, that I laugh at the absurdity of it.

What is that, besides overwhelming?

In this limbo - in this place where all I can see is how unprepared I am - is tango. What does it say about me that there are times when only this music can reach me?

The beauty of dancing to tango music is that it allows for such a huge range of emotion. When I listen to an upbeat, almost cheerful tango, with incredibly sad lyrics - I feel a kind of belonging. A satisfaction. I feel understood. When the bandoneon weeps, but the piano seems to sing almost happily in the background, I feel relieved - not that there is a component of levity in a sad song, but because the full spectrum is there, in the music - ready to speak to whatever I need at the moment. Maybe that's why it's so easy to find one's story in tango music. There is simply so much story to find.

(Image courtesy of Morguefile.com. )

The Fear of not Moving

2011-01-27T20:02:00.000-08:00

" . . . tango is what remains when you remove all movement, when the only thing that is left is feeling." - Carlos Gavito, (1)

Three steps forward, two steps back.
At least I have made some progress.
But I am still rushing. Still moving too soon.
And too fast.
Falling away.

Tango, it seems, can't undo a lifetime of constantly moving.
Constantly running - always closing the doors behind me.
It's exhausting to keep moving - but terrifying to stop.
To wait. To listen.
Sometimes stopping feels a lot like suffocating.
What am I so afraid of?

Feeling? Possibly.
Entrega? Sometimes.
El duende? Frequently.
But even those aren't really it.

Maybe that there will be nothing.
Not the little nothings that inhabit tiny gaps in our day.
Those traveling moments of suspension between one thing and the next thing.
Falling forward into the next moment. Not those.
Big nothing.
Thunderous silence in the absence of. . . .

of?
the absence of what?

The absence of me?
Expanded. Dispersed. Without bounds and without borders.
Transparent.
Between notes, between steps,
between one breath and the next,
between his heart and mine.
Letting go.

Free-fall in the pause.

So I court the pauses, write about them, wax nostalgic about them as if we're old friends.
But really, all I do is peek at them around corners, and then take off again as they approach,
often leaving my partner chasing me in the embrace.

I want to stop preparing for the next thing,
stop being ready,
silence the constant "what'scomingnextwhat'scomingnextwhat'scomingnext."

At practica,
"So what are you working on?"
Being here,
doing this,
nothing else.

"What does a dancer feel when he pauses? Fear, the fear of not moving. Dancing - moving, in effect - is like escaping from something: from a silence, from a commitment." (Ibid.)

1. "I Wanted to Dance: Carlos Gavito: Life, passion and tango" by Ricardo Plazaola
Picture courtesy of morguefile.com.

Highlights of Houston Tango Marathon

2011-01-24T12:53:00.000-08:00

I wasn't able to make Sunday's festivities due to injury, but here are the highlights from the Houston Tango Marathon Friday and Saturday in no particular order (after the first one):

- No. 1 highlight: Watching the most beautiful, romantic marriage proposal ever of Alejandro Almanza and Pilar Prieto on the dance floor Saturday night. It was so sweet, I cried all over myself.
- the music! The music was outstanding all weekend - thank you so much to the dj's.
- our hosts provided wonderful food and drink to enjoy. It must have been a challenge to provide so many delights (tamales, fruit, baklava, etc) for so many hungry dancers. And whatever that hot drinking chocolate concoction was - it was amazing!
- the space itself - the rooms, the floors, the lighting and the sound quality were all terrific. Rice University has great facilities.
- this was also the first time, I think, that I've been in Houston when it's sunny for than one day at a time. I was beginning to think I would be cursed to bring bad weather with me every time I went.
- while all three performances Saturday night were accomplished and musical, I especially loved watching Eric and Rebecca. I was mesmerized by their graceful connection, timing and elegance. They both moved with such purpose and intention, without rushing or using rapid fire moves. More importantly (to me anyway), they were also a pleasure to watch on the social dance floor with every one I saw them dance with.
- conversations with old friends and new,
- playing "wait for it" during practica on Saturday with a very sweet and patient tanguero from Austin, and then totally tearing up a crazy milonga tanda after that,
- time with my wonderful hosts who not only provided transportation to and from Houston, but made me feel so welcome in their home. Thank you so very, very much!

There was more but I'm still recovering so that's all I've got for now - thank you to the Houston tango community!

I don't want to talk

2011-01-18T19:37:00.000-08:00

"Music and silence combine strongly because music is done with silence, and silence is full of music." Marcel Marceau

At the local milongas,
surrounded by good friends,
it's very common to hear,
How's work?
How are things going?
What's new with you?

I don't mean to be evasive.
I really do want to be connected.
To let people know how I am.
I am grateful to be cared for.

It's just that the milonga is . . .
life/safe/hidden/revealed

. . . too many cliches to finish that sentence.
Too many words and not enough meaning.
That's the real problem right there.
Too many words.

At the milongas, for a few hours,
I am not haunted by my past,
or worried for my future.
I am human.
a whole human being,
moment to moment,
tanda to tanda.

So just sometimes,
I don't want to talk.

Please know that I am grateful.
But let the music tell my story.
And I'll dance the answers to your questions
whether I mean to or not.

(Image courtesy of Morguefile.com)

"The Handbag", Tango, and Enjo-kosai

2011-01-11T07:14:00.000-08:00

The Handbag

Featuring Kyoko Wakao & Teruyuki "Mocky" Saito
Written, Produced & Directed by Ivy Yukiko Ishihara Oldford
Original Music by Riaz Hassan

I loved this video the moment I watched it, and yet even now I hesitate to post it. When I was first sent the link, the summary that accompanied it said it was about a Tokyo salaryman returning a bag to a high school girl at a subway station - and then I suppose sort of randomly taken to dancing Argentine tango in the middle of that transaction. When I watched the video, I could see quite a lot more going on, though I didn't know the complete story until I read the blog post by filmmaker, Ivy Oldford, here.

If you'd like to see it before learning any details about it, simply watch it embedded below:

What I loved immediately:

- The music moves me. It's so beautiful that I immediately went looking for the artist and the song. Both of which you can find here.
- The camera spends a lot of time focused on the dancers' embrace. I wish more tango videos would spend the time focused there, than on the dancers' feet (of course this video has quite a lot of footwork focus as well.) Their embrace is appropriate to the music and to the story they're telling and it's nice to actually be able to see that.
- The way Kyoko Wakao can dance in loafers. I can't even walk gracefully in loafers, let alone dance. The shoes, by the way, were new, and had not even been broken in. (See tango instructor, Kyoko Wakao, dancing in more traditional tango attire with her partner Ezequial Gomez.)

Themes and Context

Like anything else in life (and art), context is everything. As soon as I saw the female lead in a schoolgirl uniform, I recognized the Lolicon theme (named for "Lolita complex" and describing the attraction of older Japanese men to young women, typically wearing school uniforms) which is quite prevalent in Japanese pop culture. What I didn't see immediately, but wondered about, was the appearance at the end of the video that the dance was a compensated transaction. When I read Ivy Oldford's blog post, I got confirmation that was the intention.

Enjo-kosai, or compensated dating, while it has been occurring for quite a long time in Japan, is starting to alarm even the Japanese media. In Japan, prostitution is a very tangled issue with nebulous laws and it doesn't have the same stigma that it has in the United States. In a few important ways (that would take too long to address here) I think Japan is somewhat more realistic in its views on sex. Yet no one can deny that several factors in the culture are creating a generation of "young girls who view sex as a clear form of acceptable capitalism." (1)

That is when I wondered whether I should post video.

While the music and the dancing are compelling, the context of the situation is very controversial. Should I try to separate the dance from the story? Of course not. How could anyone? I've read manga and watched anime for over two decades, so these themes hardly stun me. Yet I wondered (and still wonder) who I will offend. However, if I never learn anything else from my tango journey, I have learned this - the dance always tells a story - intentional ones and unintentional ones.

So watch video. Take or leave as much of the context as you like. Let me know what you think. Does it bother you to see tango viewed as in some way transactional? Does it call on tango's own supposed historical themes and connections to prostitution? How does knowing the more complete story change how you look at their dance? Or does it?

More articles on "compensated dating" in Japan can be found here:

(1) Prostitution in Japan: A Young Body Worth a Profit: http://www.public.iastate.edu/~rhetoric/105H17/nnguyen/cof.html
Japan for the Uninvited: http://www.japanfortheuninvited.com/articles/enjo-kosai.html

ADDENDUM
(not tango-related, so feel free to skip this if the topic holds no interest)

"The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise." ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

I should have expected that comments would come via email, rather than get posted on the blog post itself - but I didn't expect this many emails so soon.

I'd like to address some of the questions here, rather than answering the same questions over and over via email. The topics of underage sex and prostitution are well outside the scope of this blog and so I'm hesitant to launch into essays on the subjects, but I do have a couple of "short" (well, short-ish. Shorter than dissertations, anyway) answers for the questions that came up most often.

"Aren't you offended by men being attracted to women in school girl uniforms?"

Well, how about cheerleader uniforms, as is more the case over here? Should I be offended by women being attracted to men in UPS uniforms? Or firefighter uniforms? Let's drop the uniform question, because I think we can agree that isn't really the issue. The age, or the perceived age gap, is the issue. I address that later in these comments.

"So what is your position on Enjo-kosai? You never really say in your post."

There was a reason for that. My position will likely change depending on when you ask me and the context within which we are discussing it. I do have a few thoughts about it though.

First, if the prevailing attitude (worldwide) tells young women (and young men) that they are only valuable, attractive and accepted if they have money and material goods - and that obtaining those things is more important than showing good judgment regarding their physical, mental and emotional health, how could you expect to avoid this scenario?

Second, if you think the "my body is my currency" attitude only prevails in Japan, which was the attitude in a few of the emails I received, you should work in a women's health clinic on any major college campus in the US (and increasingly, sad to say, high school health clinics.) Or turn on the TV for that matter. The attitude, in various forms and to various degrees, is everywhere.

Third, if the legal system charges only the sellers and not the buyers in the sex trade, as in Japan, the system is broken and the laws will never stop the trade.

"Do you think prostitution should be legal?"

If we lived in an ideal world, filled with ideal people all living in ideal circumstances, than perhaps prostitution could be a victimless "crime". Or even better, prostitution would find no market. But the world being what it is, and people being what they are - prostitution has quite a market and it certainly has victims. Most importantly, it has victims before money ever changes hands. So my answer is hypothetically maybe, realistically, no. The letter of the law versus how the law is actually enforced however, is a whole other issue, and again, well outside the scope of this blog.

May-December Relationships

If the issue, as one email suggested, is with the "appropriateness" of the May-December romance, I would sugggest focusing on what makes you personally happy and fulfilled, rather than judging what makes others happy. I know several loving, devoted couples, both where the man is older, and where the woman is older. Love and attraction are rarely predictable or convenient and frankly, if both people are adults, what makes them happy is their own affair. Who can say what body one's soul mate should arrive?

Don't Save Me

2011-01-10T19:05:00.000-08:00

"Try again. Fail again. Fail better." -- Samuel Beckett

Four different advertisements telling me if I take this or that tango class/workshop/intensivo, I will:

- get immediate results!
- save years of learning!
- experience efficient technique training!
- advance faster than ever!

The classes fill up fast, so there must be quite a market for efficient tango learning.

Is it just me that thinks the words "tango" and "efficient" should never be in the same sentence?
Learn tango faster?
Are we racing?
There is no end (thank God) - so what are we saving years from? Or for?
Isn't the journey the point?

I don't want to be saved the time, or the years . . .
or the mistakes.
Mistakes take me deeper,
reveal something more . . .

Our miles make our tango.
Our dance tells our story.
How fast would we want to make that?

"In life as in dance: Grace glides on blistered feet." - - Alice Abrams

(Image courtesy of Morguefile.com.)

Sticking the End

2010-12-23T07:26:00.000-08:00

(image courtesy of morguefile.com)

When I was in middle school I decided to take gymnastics. I have no idea, even to this day, what possessed me. It was, as the kids say, and epic fail. I was terrible at it. My balance was always bad. I had little-to-no natural grace. I seemed to run and jump about as if I were playing dress-up in someone else's body for the day. I could never get my limbs to do what I wanted them to do, when I wanted them to do it. As painful, and occasionally absurdly ridiculous, as that experience was, I managed to take away two lessons from my year in gymnastics:

1. Do the things that scare you.
2. "Stick the end"

The first lesson is pretty self-explanatory - and it has always paid off well for me.

Sticking the end, as my coach constantly reminded me, meant ending my routine resting in a balanced, stable position. If the routine was set to music, it was also a way of respecting and acknowledging the music. It meant learning precisely how much momentum I would need to get to where I was ending - and no more. It meant being in control of my body - not just hurtling myself to the spot where I stopped. For my coach, it was the epitome of grace and precision. It was a statement in itself.

That second lesson came back to me when I started letting myself really feel the music. Some music in the milongas was familiar, but much of it was not. The more I learned, the better I could move my body with true intension, to the music. When I watched other dancers who "stuck the end" of songs, I was struck by the grace of it - and how much seemed to be required to do it. I would not only have to really learn the music, but be in control of my body while I was being led by someone else. A lot of factors to contend with when one can barely manage a molinete.

NOTE: "Sticking the end" is not synonymous with ending in a "tango pose". I find those a bit silly. They're fun for playing at in practicas ("You be Gavito, and I'll be Marcela Duran, okay?" Yeah, I love that game. So sue me.), but not something I'm comfortable with in a milonga.

The feeling I like best is simply an acknowledgment of the music and ending in a balanced, comfortable position rather than being caught off guard mid-ocho when the music stops. Daniela Arcuri made a point of saying several times that marking the end of the song, like some adornments and embellishments, need not be visible to anyone outside the couple dancing. Although I heard that months ago, I didn't truly know or appreciate it until quite recently.

I admit there is a part of me that finds being able to mark the end of the song in some visible way a little too gratifying - especially when the music is quite challenging. It's a bit like trying to prove how well I know the music, when there's no one I need to prove that to. Once I start down that path, I begin dancing for the tables, and that's not where I want to be in this dance. Every so often I have to remind myself about what my priorities are. Sticking the end is really for me - for my relationship to the music.

A story . . .

A few weeks ago, I recognized something in the dance with a couple of my partners that perhaps had always been there - but I just hadn't appreciated. I still wonder, have I been missing it all this time?

The last song of the tanda was ending. We were gaining momentum in that build-up phrase that comes before the chan-chan. It was Pugliese, so the last phrase was long, and the chan-chan coming was soft and slow. We came to rest on the first chan - and as the last note played, my leader gathered me to him, closed his eyes, smiled against my temple and sighed - marking the end of the song in gestures no one else would see.

A gift for me, not the tables.

Thank you.

Behind your Back

2010-12-22T19:08:00.000-08:00

(Tango at a nightclub in Buenos Aires, 1924. Source: www.esnips.com)

A Scenario for Leaders:

Your favorite orquestra begins to play and the follower you enjoy most for that music is looking for your cabeceo at just the right moment. You meet at the edge of the dance floor, look for the nod from the leader behind you, and as the first few bars play, you find the most blissful embrace in each other's arms.

Just as you take your first step, another leader suddenly enters the line of dance, butt first, backing into your surprised partner. Oblivious to the run in, he takes off down the line of dance. The spell is broken and now you and your partner have to wonder if this tanda is going to be spent in "defensive driving" mode.

This scenario, or a similar one, happens at almost every milonga I attend. This is after we had a very well attended workshop discussing, in detail, how to enter the line of dance.

I've written about this before, and I've discussed it on forums, in emails, and in person. For every leader who uses the "male cabeceo" and enters the line of dance respectfully, there are 2 or 3 who don't - or don't know how. I know dancers don't mean to be rude or disrespectful on the pista. I don't believe anyone intends to be impolite and many people don't know that there is a better way to do things. I also know it can be awkward to try to make eye contact with other leaders - particularly if they ignore you, or blatantly move into the room you need to enter the dance floor.

Leaders, if you think it's awkward trying to make eye contact and get "permission" to enter the dance floor, take a look at it from your partner's point of view.

Behind your Back

Here's what happens from my perspective when my leader barges into the line of dance.

My leader's back is turned so he doesn't get to see the expression on the other leader's face - I do. When my leader cuts off another leader in the line of dance, I have to, with my facial expression and the look in my eyes, apologize for my leader's behavior and acknowledge the space the other leader has had to give up for us. Even when it is completely accidental and both couples simply misjudged the room they had, which happens quite often, the follower and the leader behind, frequently acknowledge each other with a mutually apologetic nod - just as when you brush or bump another couple. It happens - but there are ways to minimize that, and courteous ways to handle it when it does happen. I've been rightfully chided when I've broken the rules and those lessons have been more important to me than much of the material I learned in my classes.

The reality is that followers should be every bit as responsible for following proper etiquette on the dancer floor and when a leader charges on to the pista, she often, though not always, has an opportunity to "suggest" that her leader at least acknowledge the gentleman behind him. Followers also have the responsibility to respect the line of dance and not jump in front of a couple themselves.

How we enter the line of dance sets the tone for that tanda. It affects not only us, but the couple behind us. That chain reaction of acknowledgment, or lack of acknowledgment, sets the mood of the entire pista.

Something that does still baffle me, is that it took visiting teachers to bring this point of floor craft to everyone's attention. This isn't a new concept - it's published all over the web (there are 3 examples below). This should be a fundamental part of any tango curriculum. When it's not, it shows. It's exasperating to see the same behavior again and again.

When Murat and Michelle brought up in the class, followers practically cheered out loud because leaders, if you think you're uncomfortable making eye contact with other leaders - how uncomfortable do you think we are having to look at the angry face of the leader you just cut off?

More resources about floor craft:

From Barefootango.com

"Leaders when entering the line of dance, make eye contact with the on coming traffic of leaders and acknowledge that you’d like to enter the line of dance and ONLY enter when you have consented acknowledgment of the leader next in the lane of dance. This also means do NOT allow your follower to jump onto the floor or into the flow of dance. YOU as a leader are responsible for her. However if there is an open gap in the line of dance, you MAY be able to slip in, but that gap should be several partners wide. Don’t think a few feet here, but rather YARDS of space."
From Tango Colorado

"Entering the Line of Dance: Please be aware that the line of dance is moving on the outside lane as you step into the line. Wait for a slight break in the line and be courteous to the couple coming up behind you. Frequently there are only one or two places where couples enter the dance floor so be aware of everyone around you."

From Niko Salgado:
"When entering an already active floor even if it's the beginning of the song in the middle of a tanda, it is effective to visually catch the attention of the leader dancing in the outside lane to let them know you are entering. It's like asking permission. Being cut off in line or in traffic is very annoying. This respects the flow of the dance floor. Sometimes you have to wait for the next one if the leader is not paying attention. Do not just jump in, that's for the beginning of the tanda."

It's a Wonderful Life

2010-12-15T20:14:00.000-08:00

Sometimes my mind goes down such useless roads.
When things are going badly, it seems so easy to get lost in thorny tangles of what if I had?
What if they had?
What if I never?

Maybe I would have finished college.
Maybe I wouldn't live my life in pieces at a time.
Maybe I would look further ahead than the end of the month.
Maybe I wouldn't feel so raw so often.

Maybe.

But if the bad things hadn't happened . . .
If better things had.
If my route had changed . . .
and my life changed . . .

I wouldn't have met my husband . . .
or his family that became my family . . .
I wouldn't know the people I know
who care so much for me and for whom I care so deeply.

and tango . . .

my life, all the ugliness and beauty, pain and elation, brought me to tango.
So I've got to shake this off - this useless interrogation of the past.

La vida es una milonga y hay que saberla bailar,
Life is a milonga,
you gotta dance to how it goes . . .

So let's just dance
Let your body tell me your tales,
and I'll let mine do the same.
Our feet can trace out
our battle scars in the dust on the floor,
and our hearts can whisper secrets
to each other in their beats.

Our hard won miles brought us here
to this music,
this tanda,
this moment . . .

There is no time,
for what if I had,
what if I hadn't.
Just this - right now.

La vida es una milonga y hay que saberla bailar,
que en la pista está sobrando el que pierde su compás.

Life is a milonga—
you gotta dance to how it goes;
it'll leave you behind on the floor
if you're one to lose the beat.

(Translation courtesy of TangoDC and photo courtesy of morguefile.com . )

Putting all the Meat on the Fire - Part II

2010-12-14T19:50:00.000-08:00

We've danced before - though not often. He visits rarely, and I'm always a little nervous when we dance. He is one of a very few dancers I know with who grew up with tango music. He was not always a dancer - but the music is his heritage and I can feel it. On those rare occasions when he visits Austin, and asks me to dance, I silently pray to the tango gods that every song in the tanda will be one that I know well. Though I know it is the leader's job to shape the interpretation of the music, when I don't know the piece, it feels like he can tell. (Now, this little panic is entirely my own making, as he's never said or done anything to make me think he was being the least bit critical of me - exactly the opposite, in fact.)

Despite my case of nerves, I was very pleased to see his cabeceo. As I accepted with a nod and stood by my table, I noticed the dance floor was so empty. I suddenly felt very visible. I was even more nervous than before. My partner for the last tanda, with whom I dance often, and I were just out on the pista relaxing, playing with the music, trying new things - even the slightly more dramatic things like volcadas that we almost never have room for. Where was that daring woman now? The "Daring Me" must have locked herself in the loo and left the "Timid Me" there standing in her shoes.

It wouldn't be so bad except that he knows when I'm nervous. He adapts, reassures, calms - he always makes it work beautifully. I almost never know whether I've made a mistake in following something because he transitions to something else so quickly and smoothly, I barely register it. What makes me nervous is being so transparent.

He always feels every change in my face, every tiny hesitation - and manages to shape the dance around how I react to what. It's not a critical scrutiny, rather an intense awareness of how I am feeling generally, how I'm feeling the music and his lead. It's weirdly reassuring and unnerving at the same time.

The first song went by in a flash. I don't know what he led or what I followed. It flowed and I relaxed, finally.

In the middle of the second song of the tanda, he led a small volcada, inviting me to lean, and I stepped forward - out of the invitation. I don't know why. I was just doing these in the last tanda for heaven's sakes. There was practically acres of room. I knew I could trust his lead. I knew he could support me. I can't fathom why I walked out of it. It would have fit the music beautifully. I was annoyed with myself. I could feel his eyebrow rise against my temple, yet his smile never left his face. He worked with my step forward smoothly and moved on as if it was what he had intended all along.

Later in the song, very gently, he invited me to a slight lean again and though I didn't step forward that time, I hesitated to release my axis, and almost as soon as I did, I crossed and stepped down before he'd led me to step. He just smiled. A partial victory? Was I was getting braver in small increments? As he led me in such beautiful, musical steps, making me feel like such an accomplished dancer, I felt like an anxious beginner on the inside.

At the start of the last song of the tanda, I wondered to myself if I'd been only paying lip service to entrega all this time. I was still nervously holding back. I could give myself to the experience with people I danced with often and knew well, but for the ones I didn't know well - it was so hard to trust, no matter how wonderful their reputation. No matter how beautiful their dancing. I remembered the words of a friend who has danced tango for many years. He told me the ability to surrender to the experience, to the lead, to the music, to your own emotions, within the embrace of a stranger is (for some at least) the beauty of tango.

What was the worst that could happen if I truly let go? Screw up the step? Hardly fatal. It was time to stop holding back. It was time to put all the meat on the fire.

The last song played, and I could hear another place for a volcada coming in the music. I could feel the shape of it in the phrase (does that even make sense? feeling a shape?), and I wondered if he would try one more time. I hadn't given him much reason to but I wished I could let him know that I was ready this time. So, I did the only thing I could. I shut up the inner voice, stopped "trying to dance", and just danced.

Did he know? Did he feel a change in me - or just guess?

I still have no idea. I felt it in his breathing and his chest - he was going to give it another try. I felt his invitation and without hesitation, I surrendered my axis as he took me into a quick, sweeping arc. I felt weightless and graceful. I was flying . . . He smiled against my cheek, and I smiled back.

"Ah," he breathed, "I knew you could do it." I could feel him hug me just slightly tighter for a second or two.

It wasn't a "you passed the test" remark - not that feeling at all. It was more a recognition that I had overcome something important. It's a silly thing - just a volcada, I'm led (and follow) them all the time with leaders I dance with often. But if I can only surrender to the dance/to the experience/to the lead/to the music, when there is no risk - that's not really surrendering at all.

The Embrace Begins with the Eyes

2010-12-14T09:25:00.000-08:00

He invited me into his embrace and, as I always do, I looked down
. . . and away.
It's not just with him - I do it with almost every leader.

I can finally use the cabeceo with relative ease, yet as I enter the embrace I'm still shy in making eye contact for more than a moment. The (few) previous times we've danced, he's just smiled and enveloped me.

This time he stopped.

He held me out from him for a moment or two longer and said, 'the embrace begins with the eyes.' He then smiled warmly and, in no particular hurry, invited me to settle into his embrace.

The first song went by so fast that I was almost surprised to find myself on the other side of the room. As we separated between songs, once again my eyes sought out the floor. He softly cleared his throat, waiting, and when I looked up he smiled broadly. He held my gaze a second or two longer, and the welcomed me to into his embrace again.

I'm learning.

( Image courtesy of morguefile.com )

Get Ready for Austin's Spring Tango Festival 2011

2010-12-01T18:51:00.001-08:00

Early Bird Registration is open for the Austin Spring Tango Festival 2011

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

AUSTIN SPRING TANGO FESTIVAL 2011

March 25, 26, and 27

Our Master Teachers will be:

* Tomas Howlin and partner (TBA)
* Cecilia Gonzalez
* Somer Surgit
* Anabella Diaz-Hojman
* Mario Consiglieri

* 18 Classes and 3 Milongas
* Three levels of classes at all times
* Milonga every night
* Special Asada Milonga on Sunday

More Festival Observations from Fandango de Tango

2010-12-01T06:16:00.000-08:00

Etiquette

At the milongas, I was very disappointed to see several "Master" teachers cut off and ignore other dancers behind them as they entered the line of dance.

The cabeceo was more consistently used by local dancers, than by visiting dancers (though there were a few much appreciated exceptions).

Floorcraft

Over-use of the 8-count basic at the milonga was greatly reduced this year and floor craft was generally a bit better than last year. However it was a lot less crowded this year, too - making things much easier. That said, there was still far too much "teaching" on the milonga floor. As Alex wrote:

"Do not ever teach or work through 'moves' on the dance floor at a social milonga. You are embarrassing yourself, and you are embarrassing the woman you are dancing with. We are embarrassed for you, and feel sorry for her." (http://alextangofuego.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-couldnt-bear-to-watch-check-your.html)

Lack of food

No surprise here. Hotels, because they'd prefer you patronize their restaurants and bar, often do not serve snacks or beverages (other than water) at the milongas. If for that reason alone, hotel milongas are never quite as welcoming-feeling as those held in other venues where food and drink are more readily available - even for sale.

Two hours of Master Teachers' performances
(during the Saturday milonga.)

I know a lot of people really like the shows, but two hours is a very long time to be sitting. I think it's a difference of perspective that will probably never be resolved. Many people look at the $45 cover charge for the milonga to be worth it because there's a show. Others look at that $45 and think, why am I paying more to dance less? The big show brings the big(ger) crowd, and so theoretically more dancing. Still, I'd rather have an hour less of performances, and another hour to dance.

No Practicas

That's really a lose/lose situation. If dancers don't get a chance to practice what they've just learned in (rather expensive) classes, they'll start to lose the information pretty rapidly. I know I do. The other option is to break with the accepted etiquette and practice their moves at the milonga which will likely frustrate them - and annoy the other dancers (particularly their partners who were not in the same classes with them.) See Alex's comment above, and his post regarding ideas like a dedicated practice room.

Conclusion

I did, despite what I wrote above, have very good time at Fandango and had loads of wonderful dances. I enjoyed seeing people from out of town and dancing until the wee hours of the morning. Spending time with friends, at the milongas and during the day, was the highlight of the festival. But mostly, just like last year, Fandango made me miss the atmosphere of my local venues and look forward even more to Austin's Spring Tango Festival. (Registration is open now, by the way. :-) Just in case you're interested.)

Hotel Elevators at Tango Festivals

2010-11-30T06:00:00.000-08:00

Apparently, entering an elevator in a slinky dress, stiletto heels and fishnet stockings, without luggage, does not immediately make the other passengers on the elevator think "tango dancer".

At least I wasn't wearing "over the knee" boots . . .

(start around 2:35)

Fandango de Tango Festival

2010-11-29T20:53:00.000-08:00

The Tango Festival

A few days of living a fantasy tango life,
for me it was a (short) milonga life.
Eat, dance, sleep, dance. Repeat.
Dancing with friends, old and new. Dancing with strangers.
Unfamiliar music, and old favorites.

The fiercest, raciest Pugliese tanda I've ever danced - was that really me?
Hair in my face, breathless, heart racing - flying over, and yet still sinking into, the dance floor . . .
yeah, that was me.

A Hugo Diaz song that seared my heart and made me feel like I was dancing several inches into the ground.
(That feeling of rough, wet soil under your feet, sinking a little,
surrounding your toes, holding you to the earth . . .
that's what Hugo Diaz feels like for me . . . )

Heart-melting vals sets,
Joyful milonga tandas that pushed away every care and worry.
The freedom to dance and dance and dance until I could hardly stand up.

But the world, my non-tango life, marched on.
It knew I would have to come out some time.

Thank you to Dearest, Darlingest Husband, and to Patrick, Mardi, Mark and Marcus, for making it possible for me to participate in Austin's Fandango de Tango. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you all.

And to friends and dancers, near and far, I hope to see you all again at the Austin Spring Tango Festival.

Leveling Up

2010-11-23T12:54:00.000-08:00

I forced myself to wait for quite awhile before posting this. As it turns out, time isn't making me less annoyed, so here goes.

For some reason (or maybe many reasons), I am simply infuriated by this:

From Sherpal1 on Tango-L,

"[To Michael] ...you are absolutely correct...woman show no sense of taste or discrimination...and it perpetuates the existence of clowns in a community...women need to know it is better not to dance than to dance poorly...i know of no other commodity that is consumed endlessly regardless of taste, excellence, value, expertise, effectiveness besides dance...woman just want to dance and they accept any old bone....women need to bring their sense of consumerism to the dance floor and only accept the dance of a man that is their equal or better....practicas are where a woman can assist an inferior dancer to be better. I do not want to seem harsh here, only to encourage women to stop rewarding bad leads with a dance...."

There are so many problems with this, I don't know where to begin.

1.) How would one determine, without previously dancing with a particular dancer, what his or her skill level is? Should you only dance with people you know so as not to take the chance?

2.) How do you know that a previously "inferior dancer" is still inferior?

3.) Maybe those things that you might judge as inferior are more about your dance, than their dance. How can you be completely sure it's not at least in part, you?

4.) and most difficult to ascertain - how do you judge inferiority? Inferior in what way? Vocabulary (which is meaningless to me in most cases, presuming you can manage your way around the the pista)? Musicality - isn't that a matter of interpretation? Connection? Navigation? What? What if you are great at musicality, but his gift is navigation and connection? What then? Is he still "inferior"?

The only dancers I turn down are the ones who have hurt me, or gotten me hurt, on the dance floor. Even then, I'll keep an eye on them, work with them at practicas, and give them a try later, if they are so inclined.

What I have always seen to be true at least in my community, is that you just never know. That awkward, hesitant gentleman who may have started tango two months ago, may have a sense of the music that knocks followers' socks off. The rest will come. If the "more experienced" dancers never dance with the less experienced dancers in a milonga where they can really learn how to behave in context of social dancing, how will they ever grow? Practicas are awesome and I don't think it's possible to have too many, honestly. But they're not milongas and eventually dancers have to be tested, and put their miles in, there.

Speaking from my own experience, which of course is limited and not completely comparable, I would rather spend my time dancing with those gentlemen who have invested in my dancing from the very beginning - men who started with me, those that started after me, and those who were far more advanced. I would rather dance with those dancers who stuck with me through my brilliant moments, and my immense suckage, who invested not only in me - but also invested in the community.

For me, because as usual, I can only really speak for myself, dancing is not about leveling up. It's about community. When I dance with my partner, we are both also dancing with everyone else on the pista. When we behave in a way that feels as though we are all looking out for one another, instead of trying to out step/run/gancho/boleo each other, there is no better feeling I know of. To embrace, and be embraced by, a community is not a default state. You have to work at it. All . the . time . The work never stops.

The lovely dancers, leaders and followers, in my community who mentored me (and continue to mentor me), have always stressed that if you don't invest your time and energy helping and building the community, that's absolutely your prerogative. No one will make you. But don't complain later that the community doesn't meet your expectations.

I'll tuck my soap box back under the bed now. Thank you as always, for reading.

Trainers and Teachers: Walking the Walk

2010-11-22T21:12:00.000-08:00

Does your expression match your words? (Picture courtesy morguefile.com )

There's been some great discussion going on around the blogs and tango forums about teaching - when to teach, best practices etc. And it's provided a lot of thoughtful material. I have strong opinions on the subject, but since I'm not a tango teacher, I wanted to wait and think on it for awhile before jumping in with my two cents as a student/consumer and as a trainer.

I've mentioned in previous posts that in my former life as a makeup artist, I was a trainer for many cosmetic lines. I was also a trainer who trained trainers. I use that knowledge absolutely every day, and when I forget the lessons I learned in that environment, I'm almost always sorry for it.

What I Learned Training Trainers: Everyone is Listening

The last cosmetic retailer I worked and trained for had no commission structure. We were a team of 22 people selling every line (theoretically) without favor. I learned to maintain a very fine line when I started training on the different lines, and then training to train incoming staff. No favoritism meant that one week I would be teaching team members the amazing benefits of "Company A" skin care, the next week I would be training the competing "Company B" line. Often these training sessions would go on during store hours to build excitement from customers coming in to browse. How could I promote every line in the store without sounding like a hypocrite? It was, at first, very awkward and stressful. I was more enthusiastic in my training on some products than others. We all did the best we could, and we admitted our biases pretty openly to each other, and to customers when it came up. But we all had to keep our biases in check to meet the overall goal of the store - and to make people feel comfortable shopping with us.

Essentially, we could (and were encouraged to) promote every line equally. It's a great goal, and I tried very hard to do just that. I focused on the strengths of each company's products, "Line bashing" or criticizing particular lines or products, especially in generalities, was very much discouraged. Not only because it's distracting from the goal of actually learning the material (and selling the product), but you never knew who was listening. You never knew if someone's background, customer or student, put them in a far more knowledgeable position than your own. The message was simple, don't assume what they know, or don't know. This of course leads to one of the most important bits of advice - know your audience. If you don't know - learn, and learn fast, because training and selling are about what they need from you - not about what you want to give them.

Respect your students/customers. One of my trainers reminded us frequently that when you dismiss or belittle someone's preference for a competing product/style/service - you're also belittling their judgment, their taste, even, depending on what you're trying to teach or sell, their sense of worth. It was perfectly acceptable to tell students and customers our personal preferences, as long as they were framed as exactly that - personal preferences.

Lesson: Be impeccable with your word.(1) Understand your own biases because they will show in your tone of voice, in your facial expressions, in your posture. Stick with what you know. Admit what you don't know. Acknowledge openly that it's okay for your students and customers to like what they like. But here's the trick: you have to mean it. Walk the walk you're talking.

Saying you're just trying to provide options, in a tone of voice that says, "but the other options suck" - is pretty much belittling under the guise of educating. It's not professional and it will bite you in the ass later. Smirking, rolling eyes, deep sighing - all of those things let your students know that you may be saying that it's okay to have your own preferences - but really it's only okay if they agree with yours.

The same goes for outside your classes. Derogatory comments made in social settings aren't any more acceptable. It's not fair, I realize. It would be nice to be able to say what we like when we're "off-duty" but as teachers surrounded by potential students (for me students and customers) there is no off-duty. Same goes, unfortunately, for teachers/trainers with blogs. You're running a business. Think carefully about what you write. And remember the deep and meaningful wisdom of this age-old business adage: Be careful whose toes you step on today, they might be attached to the ass you have to kiss tomorrow.

The point of all this . . .

By now, very patient readers, you're probably getting where I'm going with this. Just as much as it is a culture, a lifestyle, a heritage - tango is also a product for sale in cities all over the world. Every instructor has their own strengths and preferences. No teacher can be, or really should try to be, all things to all people. I don't have words to express how much I admire teachers that stay out of the in-fighting and "trash-talking" and instead build communities - often from the ground up. All while walking that very fine line of promoting themselves and growing the community. It's a hard job and I'm grateful for the teachers that take up the task.

(1) - While I'm not big on self-help books, there was one book whose premise I've tried very hard to remember in every interaction of my life, and that's the Four Agreements. In teaching anything, training anything - the four agreements have served me very well.

Experimenting with the Nuevo Side of the Force

2010-11-10T20:24:00.000-08:00

I finally took a pre-milonga mini class with different local tango teachers, who tend to teach (though not always) open embrace, and more nuevo-style moves. They may classify things differently, but when the pattern you're teaching includes a few sacadas, a gancho and a high boleo, in open embrace - that falls into nuevo for me.

The Embrace

At first I was a bit excited because our teachers said this class was going to focus on connection. I thought, wow, how did we get so lucky? Then they demonstrated the pattern we were going to learn, and I got confused. The embrace was open, with the woman's left hand on the man's right tricep. We were to keep our arms (on the closed side of the embrace) relaxed but firm, and close to our sides so we could feel the "connection". When I felt awkward trying to maintain the embrace, the leader told me that I should really try to "grip" the man's tricep. The only time I have ever heard the term "grip" in tango, it has been preceded emphatically by the words "DO NOT". So, like open embrace volcadas I learned about last month, this was all totally new territory for me.

I think I would have to spend a lot of time really practicing open embrace for it to feel anything but awkward. Right now, truly open embrace feels a lot like this to me:

I feel like I'm miles away from my partner. It's hard to hear/feel the music in my leader through what little connection we have in our arms and occasionally sides. And while our teachers described the embrace as 'flexible', what I had always thought of as flexible embrace was pretty much close embrace moving to open-on-one side embrace - not completely flung apart, holding on to my leader's arm. That's all new stuff for me as well.

I'm actually starting to get used to the flexible embrace (that moves from close to "v") - it's not quite as good as close all the way through, but I understand that close embrace limits the vocabulary somewhat. Opening the embrace on one side means we get to do some other fun things and I get that, I really do. Plus there are a couple of leaders who are very good at making me feel secure and warmly embraced, even through the opening and closing distance. Maybe not surprisingly, my comfort in the dynamic or flexible embrace has a lot more to do with the leader's connection to the music, then his skill with the moves.

I did try to get the (open) embrace right and get a feel for it during the class - and a bit during the milonga later. But it's a bit like when a leader asked me, after he insisted we dance a milonga tanda in open, "wasn't that much more fun than in close?"

Um.. more fun compared to what? Compared to dancing milonga in close embrace where, by the end of the song, I can feel your breath against my cheek, and our hearts racing against each other's chests? Not so much compared to that. Still okay, mind you, there's still a lot of fun to be had. But it's just not the same feeling.

The Boleos and Ganchos

So here were 6 dancers (3 couples - an even match, hooray!) of primarily close embrace, traditional tango, learning a pattern that we would probably never execute in its complete form on the pista during a milonga. In that 45 minute class of practicing this, and another similar pattern, I'm pretty sure I performed more boleos then I had done in the 20 or so months I've been dancing tango.

Surprisingly, my high boleos don't completely suck from lack of practice.* Since the dance floor was almost empty, we practiced them again, and again, and again, and again. . . And as the milonga that followed had maybe 10 couples (and never dancing all at one time), a couple of my leaders felt inclined to lead them more often. This time, since we had acres of space, I actually followed them as high as they were led.

I still don't get the appeal of them though - at least not socially. On a stage or during a performance you need to perform moves that can be seen - not just felt. To me a smooth arch connecting with the floor feels more sensual, and has more possibilities, than kicking up into the air, but maybe that's just my own limitations. At least I know I *can* follow them high if they're led - assuming I'm ever on a dance floor with that much space again. But rest assured, there's absolutely no risk of me turning into this follower any time soon:

As for the gancho... it's still not my favorite. No matter how many times or how well they're led, they just always feel a bit forced. Like gilding the lily. I keep trying though, and maybe someday I'll feel natural following them, but it may be awhile. (Also, it would be very helpful if teachers would emphasize to leaders that simply opening your legs is not actually leading a gancho. But I digress... )

So that was my excursion into tango nuevo/open embrace dancing. While it was more entertaining than I thought it would be, I still couldn't wait to get back to milonguero. I'll keep giving it a whirl every time they have one of their pre-milonga classes, at least so I can better understand what the leaders taught by those teachers are actually trying to lead when I dance with them.

* That's probably because Silvina Valz, who taught the only boleo class I've ever been to (and that's because I was photographing it), teaches them very, very well. It may have been a year and a half ago but I still remembered the material.

Making the Honeymoon Last, Part 3

2010-11-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

Part 3: Making the Honeymoon Last, for other dancers . . .
The Care and Feeding of New Tangueros/as

NOTE: I am not a teacher and these are only my thoughts on what appears to work in my own community. I hear a lot of the same advice in other communities, so I'm pretty sure this is pretty applicable stuff. Please feel free to shoot down, comment, argue, debate, add, etc.)

1. From the very beginning, let them know the expectations of the community - the etiquette, floor craft, the ways of doing things, resources they can seek out for info on music, on history, on community affairs. Emphasize the community before the steps. The steps aren't going to keep them in tango - the community experience probably will.
2. Dance with them.
3. Spread the word. Talk them up. Introduce them around. For leaders, if appropriate, let them know who might be most likely to accept their cabeceo. (It's really best to check with potential tangueras beforehand.) And make sure they now how to use the cabeceo.
4. Dance with them.
5. Limit criticism to classes and practicas - and try to keep it encouraging. And of course, encourage them to go to practicas as much as possible.
6. Dance with them.
7. Get them involved in events.
8. Dance with them.
9. Share your experiences - good and bad, enlightening and embarrassing. Empathize.
10. Dance with them.

Making the Tango Honeymoon Last, Pt.2

2010-11-10T14:34:00.000-08:00

Part 2: Making the Honeymoon Last
Get Busy

Note: This is about the Austin tango community and I'm told again and again, that Austin is the exception and not the rule. Your community might not be like this. But what if it could be?

After I had been in tango for a short while, maybe 9-12 months of going to milongas/classes/workshops dancing 10-15 hours a week, I noticed a fairly sharp decline in invitations to dance. Some gentlemen who had been inviting me pretty regularly seemed to be moving on to the next round of new tangueras and it stung a little bit. I thought it meant that I wasn't new enough (or young enough) to be novel anymore, and not experienced or skilled enough to attract invitations based on my ability. The newer ladies coming in from the University's tango class were about half my age, and looked far better in their stilettos than I looked in my conservative 2.5 " tango t-straps.

In short, I was bummed.

It took awhile for me to more accurately gauge what was happening, find a new way to approach it, and stop taking it quite so personally. Almost 2 years in, I have a ~slightly~ better understanding of what was happening, then and now.

One of the followers who was in my class and finding herself sitting a lot more right along with me commented, "well, looks like the honeymoon is over." At first I agreed. It felt a bit like that, honestly. I felt like I was at loose ends - not knowing what I needed to do to dance more. And it's hard to keep positive attitude when you're sitting a lot more than you want to.

So, I did what I always do. I asked the more experienced dancers who were dancing a lot what they thought the key was. I watched them, saw how they behaved - and how the gentlemen who asked them to dance behaved.

What follows, I think, is the key to why the Austin tango community is as strong as it is . . .

Several of our most experienced dancers (by most experienced I mean dancing the better part of a decade or more), both leaders and followers, invest a great deal of time, effort and energy welcoming, encouraging and helping newer dancers. I'm not referring to the teachers in town, though they make their own contributions. These non-teaching advanced dancers consistently go to practicas and work with other dancers. They chat with and introduce new people around. They network - and encourage other dancers to do the same. They offer encouraging words, and if asked, some advice on navigating the tango world. Occasionally, they talk up some of the newer dancers and spread the word about good dance experiences with them. Once a dancer's 'training wheels" are off, usually anywhere from a few months to a year or so later, that support can drop a bit as they have to spend time on the newer dancers coming in.

Their advice to me, without exception: "Get busy." Now that I had a little more experience (just enough to be more experienced than the absolutely newest people), it was time to start paying it forward. Of course I wasn't in a position to help leaders with the technical aspects of their dance, since I was still pretty new myself. But I could do a lot of other very important things to help ensure their success (and my own).

The first thing I did, since I had time on my hands during the milongas, and because I couldn't sit still for very long anyway, was to start socializing more with other dancers who were also sitting for one reason or another. Learned names. (OK, I friended them on Facebook, because without Facebook, I can't seem to remember anyone's name. Sad, I know.) Got to know people - and let them get to know me.

I kept going to the beginner classes (along with the intermediate classes) until I couldn't afford to take classes anymore. This was not only good practice, but I got to work with more and more people, make more friends, and learn more about the tango community I was becoming a part of. That's when I noticed that many other dancers continued to take the beginner and intermediate classes far longer than their skill lever required them to. They did it for the practice, but mostly to help the next group of dancers coming in.

This experience crossed over into the milongas. I noticed the more I danced with less experienced leaders, the more I got asked to dance generally, by all levels of dancers. I got to know more and more people, and got to involved in more events. That's when my learning process really shifted.

I still go to classes and workshops when I can afford to, but it's not very often. I learn the most from social dancing (in practicas and milongas) - from dancing as much as I can, with everyone that I can. I don't go to everyone milonga and practica, because DH would prefer that I have at least some nights at home, but I still dance about 10 hours a week. Sometimes I can't dance with everyone I would like to either because I run out of time, or because I'm in pain - but I try.

If I have enough time at the milongas to feel bad that I'm not dancing enough (and it does happen), I have enough time to get busy helping someone else.

Making the Tango Honeymoon Last, Pt. 1

2010-11-10T14:20:00.000-08:00

Making the Tango Honeymoon Last - for you, and for other dancers too.

Part I: Vignette
"At the Crossroads . . ."

Maestra: Grande! Grande! (exasperated sigh) You dance too small, too quiet. You hold too much back.
Me (looking at my feet and feeling disproportionately defensive by her remark): Well, I get plenty of dances at the milonga. (I admit, not one of my better moments.)
Maestra: (sigh) That is because you are simpatico.

Despite the sound of it, Maestra was not criticizing me, or giving me a backhanded compliment with that description, however nor was she complimenting me. Her appraisal was almost completely neutral. I thought about that remark for weeks.

What did she mean? Was I only getting dances because I was nice? Did she mean my dancing wasn't very good? Was I coasting? Did leaders just feel sort of bad for me and that's why they asked me to dance?

Finally I came to a realization about myself and about what tango means to me. If I get danced as much as I do because I'm comfortable, or because I'm nice, or because I'm easy to please, or because, as my husband suggests, I giggle any time I dance to anything - then I think that is a good thing.

I asked myself the question, if I had to choose between being asked to dance because I was a skilled dancer, or because I was a kind dancer - which would I choose? (Obviously, I would like to be both - but if I had to choose.)

If I could only be one or the other, I would rather be kind.

Sometimes I think that can be the harder path to walk. The rules are fuzzier. The risks and vulnerability feel far greater. But the pay off is out of this world.

Tango: a Dance for a Lifetime

2010-11-10T11:31:00.000-08:00

From Wikipedia Media under Argentine Tango (Photographer: Christian Aastrup, 2004)

Melina Sedo wrote, in the comments on her new blog, "Melina's Two Cents",

" . . . please look at youtube-videos of famous dance couples: you'll find lots of rather homely, round or old famous Maestros, but very few of their partners will weigh more than 55 kilos or be elder than 35."

I wanted to comment about this since it was mostly the dancers I have listed here, and the several outstanding local tangueras (all over the age of 50) that inspired me not only to start my tango journey, but inspired me when I was feeling down about my dancing. Here are a dozen famous milongueras and teachers all over the age of 35, in various shapes and sizes, dancing all over the world. (I decided to stop at 12 since I ran out of time - there are many, many more.)

Maria Nieves

Maria del Carmen
Marcela Duran, still performing and touring with Forvever Tango
Nito y Elba Garcia
Neli, Coca, and Mary Ann Casas here in "Lunch with the Milongueros"
Oscar y Mary Ann Casas:
Pocho y Neli
Osvaldo y Coca
Tete (RIP) y Silvia

Brigitta Winkler
Manolo Salvador y Martha Anton
Facundo Posadas & Christy Cote
Chiche y Marta
and the milongueras making an appearance in El Ultimo Bandeneon.