Almost two full years ago, I walked into Joel Hall dance studio on Clark street slightly off of Ridge and found a new home. The family members are artistic, eccentric, talented and colorful. I've watched people that came in with me become members of the Second Company. I watched people that can't walk without tripping learn to glissade like a champion.
On Monday, I walked in to find the February Joel Hall production in rehearsal. It is amazing how beautiful bodies in motion can be. And while the fishbowl is alive with activity, I watch Lil' Red and Tiny J work their magic. Something in their movements, their expressions, their persona resonates with me.
I head into the studio and find the newbie that likes to be too close already in the room. I try to wait until she settles at the barre so I can pick a location far away but she lingers....looking uncertain as another newbie sets up. I drop my things and chat a little with MDB. The room fills and I take my place and the newbie slides in right behind me.
Side Bar: Effing friendly hormones....every time with the friendly hormones.
Menty: It's a gift.
Side Bar: It's a curse!
Class has 11 people with all varying degrees of experience and expertise. I lose it, I find it, I fix it, I point it, I plie it, I port de bra it, I drop it, I pick it up, and I try again and again.
Thursday night, instead of lining up to the side, I go to the front and stand looking at myself. I don't judge. I don't dissect. I just breathe and listen.
A newbie from the Monday class tells Miss M how neurotic MDB is. She tells Miss M, "It's like being in a room with firecrackers. She walks around fixing, touching, correcting and then we are on to the next thing - with a smile on her face!" And I forget because MDB is 'normal' to me now. She also said she would keep going to Monday class :)
Miss M gives us our combinations and we plie, tendu, degage, rond de jamb, frappe, and battement. I'm almost spot on for every combination. I focus, I remember, I breathe.
When class was over Miss M told me that my lines were looking really clean and I should move on to harder classes. And I thought maybe I should try Joel's Saturday class again....but it is just a thought for now.
Also, Hipnotic will performing at Shake and Skate at a Palatine roller rink at the end of February. LOL!!! www.hipnoticdance.com for more information.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Adventures Continues: Ballet 1 - The Distorted Mirror
For some reason the Joel Hall Studio building doesn't like mirrors. In almost every studio (if not every studio), there is at least one mirror with tape on it.
Now I know what some of you are thinking - Mr. Hall whips us into shape so long and hard the mirrors crack for whiplash. Well, that may very well be true in some cases. I haven't been brave enough to show face, tail or eyelash into one of his classes in a long while, but the original purpose of this building did not call for mirrored walls.
Mr. Hall's studio has taken what most of us would call a 'storefront' location and made it into this lovely dance haven in the middle of what I'd call an urban desert lacking the usual Chicago trees, grass, etc. I think the fake neon palm tree circa 1950's may be the closest tree 'like' structure until you round the corner.
At any rate, I find that no matter which room I find myself in, I am always in the cracked i.e. distorted mirror. My upper half slightly disconnected by the silver metallic duck tape to my belly or hips. Typically, I don't mind the distortion. I'm rarely looking head on and due in part to my inability to be happy with what I see in the mirror, ignorance is bliss.
As class unfolded on Thursday, I decide to make a conscious effort to NOT be in the distorted mirror. I didn't need to be 'happy' about what was in the mirror as opposed to be happy about what my reflection was or wasn't doing. As luck would have it, class was full - 8 women and 1 man. I stayed out of the distorted mirror as much as I could...at times drifting or being herded by someone attempting to invade my dance space, but I refused to be moved.
Last night, in Monday night class, a beginner attempted to move me into the distorted mirror at the barre, but I stepped forward to cut off her bee line. And I watched my full length, stretch, bend, fold, point, push, pull, balance and plie. No silver tape line separating my body into weird little pieces or odd shapes. No arm disappearing to find a hand extended or bent knee with no foot.
We moved from one room to the next for floorwork and the new guy was standing too close. But again, I moved enough to maintain my space, but refused to be moved into the distorted mirror. I watched my body threw third port de bra, pas de basse and jumps.
I purposely moved away from the newbie because I don't like going with her. She will run me right into the furtherest corner of the room, but I can't seem to shake her when it's time to cross the floor. Twice, I let her start without me, but she stopped when I didn't start with her. I just wanted to give her a head start so we both weren't getting there at the same time...so instead I started with her and pulled back so I won't have to whack her a good one for invading my space. (It's that time of month and I'm in need of a little more space.)
The best thing about the distorted mirror is that I could hide behind it. I could look good or bad because of the silver lining cracked patterns. The worse thing about the distorted mirror is I could never tell if I was really getting any better in the most direct way - looking at myself in the mirror.
Let me tell you - I can sissone, glissade and assemblage now :) Take that distorted mirror!
Now I know what some of you are thinking - Mr. Hall whips us into shape so long and hard the mirrors crack for whiplash. Well, that may very well be true in some cases. I haven't been brave enough to show face, tail or eyelash into one of his classes in a long while, but the original purpose of this building did not call for mirrored walls.
Mr. Hall's studio has taken what most of us would call a 'storefront' location and made it into this lovely dance haven in the middle of what I'd call an urban desert lacking the usual Chicago trees, grass, etc. I think the fake neon palm tree circa 1950's may be the closest tree 'like' structure until you round the corner.
At any rate, I find that no matter which room I find myself in, I am always in the cracked i.e. distorted mirror. My upper half slightly disconnected by the silver metallic duck tape to my belly or hips. Typically, I don't mind the distortion. I'm rarely looking head on and due in part to my inability to be happy with what I see in the mirror, ignorance is bliss.
As class unfolded on Thursday, I decide to make a conscious effort to NOT be in the distorted mirror. I didn't need to be 'happy' about what was in the mirror as opposed to be happy about what my reflection was or wasn't doing. As luck would have it, class was full - 8 women and 1 man. I stayed out of the distorted mirror as much as I could...at times drifting or being herded by someone attempting to invade my dance space, but I refused to be moved.
Last night, in Monday night class, a beginner attempted to move me into the distorted mirror at the barre, but I stepped forward to cut off her bee line. And I watched my full length, stretch, bend, fold, point, push, pull, balance and plie. No silver tape line separating my body into weird little pieces or odd shapes. No arm disappearing to find a hand extended or bent knee with no foot.
We moved from one room to the next for floorwork and the new guy was standing too close. But again, I moved enough to maintain my space, but refused to be moved into the distorted mirror. I watched my body threw third port de bra, pas de basse and jumps.
I purposely moved away from the newbie because I don't like going with her. She will run me right into the furtherest corner of the room, but I can't seem to shake her when it's time to cross the floor. Twice, I let her start without me, but she stopped when I didn't start with her. I just wanted to give her a head start so we both weren't getting there at the same time...so instead I started with her and pulled back so I won't have to whack her a good one for invading my space. (It's that time of month and I'm in need of a little more space.)
The best thing about the distorted mirror is that I could hide behind it. I could look good or bad because of the silver lining cracked patterns. The worse thing about the distorted mirror is I could never tell if I was really getting any better in the most direct way - looking at myself in the mirror.
Let me tell you - I can sissone, glissade and assemblage now :) Take that distorted mirror!
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