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!
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