Author Archives: asher

Audition Registration Taimz

So I’m filling out an audition registration packet for a local company that I know and respect, the AD of which I know and respect.

This is way more intimidating than filling out a registration for some audition for a company where I don’t know anyone personally; where nobody’s going to call me and go, “Asher, what the heck are you thinking? You are definitely not ready for this.”

Um, not that that’s going to happen here, either.

But that’s where the whole Impostor Syndrome thing takes me, apparently, in this particular circumstance.

Interesting.

On Bipolar, Ever-Evolving

I have, as is my habit, been fighting a depression that wins a little ground each day. My strategy, generally speaking, is to put a brave face on it in hopes that nobody will notice, and then, when I can no longer manage that, to beat a hasty retreat into the nearest isolated cave, emerging only to dance.

I’ve decided to pop the rest of this behind a cut, both because of strong language (“He said a-hole, Mom!*”) and because of subject matter that maybe could be a little on the triggery side for those of us currently wrestling mood disorders.

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Thinking About Teaching, Dancing, and Being Good Enough

Back in January of 2015, I discovered that I love teaching neuroscience-y stuff (which probably shouldn’t have surprised me, since I am both a gigantic know-it-all and the kind of person who delights in watching other people make discoveries).

Unsurprisingly, this year, I’ve discovered that my fondness for teaching transfers really well to teaching dancers.

Full disclosure: where teaching dance is concerned, I literally have the worst case of impostor syndrome I’ve ever had. I’m totally like, “How are they allowing me to do this?! I could completely ruin this whole class with my generalized incompetence AT ANY SECOND!”

It’s significantly worse than the voice in my head that shouted, NO YOU CAN’T, DON’T AGREE, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! every time I was offered some exposed or otherwise significant piece of choreography in rep class in Cinci. (Which, btw: I screwed up some stage business — returned to my starting place at one point when I should’ve gone to a different place — but I reminded myself that the audience has no idea it’s not supposed to look like this and it shook out just fine. So there you go.)

What I’m learning, though, is that I have good ideas, sometimes, and that Aerial A and I teach synergistically. My ideas and hers work really well together.

I’ve also learned that, while it can still be hard for me to articulate things verbally, I’m really solid with the physical corrections — those moments in which you actually grab someone’s leg and sort of show it what to do, or (as Claire once so usefully did to me) tap something and say, “Lift this.”

I will totally feel like I seriously have no business being up here, but I’m also learning that a lot of people feel that way a lot of the time. I’m learning to overcome that feeling: maybe not to make it go away, but to more or less thumb my nose at it. I remind myself that Aerial A is particular about her teaching staff and that our dancers are coming along so unbelievably well.

In short, it looks like I am, in fact, good enough — though maybe not in the way my brain means when it thinks, “But I’m nowhere near good enough!”

I’m not perfect. I’m new. I’m inexperienced. I’m learning.

But I’m serviceable. I get the job done. I’m, you know, good enough. Maybe not The. BEST. Teacher! — but still a teacher with some value.

Nobody ever knows everything (not even insufferable know-it-alls) and everybody has to start somewhere.

I’m trying to keep this thought before me as a dancer, as well: in a field where basically every working second is more or less a potential audition, there’s really nowhere to hide. People judge my ability based on what they see, not based on the things I say about myself or the things I think about myself. When people ask me to dance for them, then, the part of my brain that thinks, “She had no idea how awful I really am at this,” is wrong. People who have seen me dance can probably judge my strengths and weaknesses better than I can.

It’s up to them to decide whether, for their purposes, I’m good enough.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if that means “good enough” as in “This guy is clearly to compete in the highest echelons” (hint: I’m not!) or, “Eh, he’ll do all right.”

Good enough is good enough if it gets you in the door.

Saturday Class: Not Half Bad…

…Just half mediocre?

The were good moments today, but it wasn’t a shining example of my best work.

It was, however, an opportunity for comparison.

A year ago, I think, things that seem mediocre now would’ve seemed pretty excellent. I realized this whilst kvetching about the fact that I kept switching the entrechat trois with the entrechat cinque in a combination; whilst internally taking myself to task about some turns that were decent, but not great*; whilst being irritated about my tour lent being a touch wobbly on the first run through the adage.

*You guys: all of a sudden, my turns are SO FREAKING SLOW — what happened?! Not that slow turns are always bad; it’s just when you’ve got, like, two beats for a double and two beats later you’re leaving out the next step because your double was like about how you’d imagine a kiddie ride at an amusement park called Grandma’s Nap Land, or a slow-mo clip, or something. It’s like someone turned the friction on my shoes up to 11.

I was a wreck at grand allegro, though. For some reason, my brain didn’t bother to video most of the combination; it recorded the audio instructions instead.

The instructions were:
Préparé
Glissade
Grand jeté
Glissade
Grand jeté
Glissade
Grand jeté
Failli
Piqué arabesque**
Chassé
Tour jeté
Chasse
Tour jeté LAND IN A BALANCE!!!
Tombe
Pas de Bourré
Glissade
Saut de Chat

**This kicked off a change of direction, if it’s not clear.

Buuuuuuut! The initial glissades traveled, erm, kinda diagonally. Otherwise the whole thing turned into a disastrous zig-zag, like a Mini-Demolition Derby Bumper Ballet ride (which they totally DO NOT have at Grandma’s Nap Land; Grandma says that is WAY too dangerous).

Which I somehow failed to grasp.

Fortunately, we are having air traffic control issues (how often does one get to say that’s a good thing?), and I wound up in the second group, so at least I didn’t collide with anyone while angrily yelling at my body about still trying to launch its glissades to the side. I just looked like an idiot, so, you know. Par for the course, eh?

I also kept wanting there to be more tour jetés, but I always want more of those, soooooooo…

We all also got a general correction on our arms with regard to tour jeté: apparently, our legs were all, AGRIPPINA VAGANOVA! while our arms were like OMG WE ARE FIREWORKS!

This correction included the memorable phrase, “You can do fifth opening to second or you can do this: *demonstrates the arms everyone likes to do with grand jeté* but make sure I can tell which one you’re going for.*

So I then proceeded to think about my arms. I’m not entirely sure that helped, but we all know the rule about thinking in ballet, anyway.

image

Except, like, sub in "thinking" and "ballet."

(Okay, so that rule isn’t 100% literally literal, obvs. It’s more like, Think with your body, not with your brain.)

So that was my day. That, a bike ride, and open fly. Which isn’t where you inadvertently expose yourself, but where you get to play around in aerial apparati until your arms won’t go anymore.

Oh, and I was totally that guy today: I demonstrated to Denis how I could do awesome pull-ups on the lyra while complaining that about how I was still convinced that I couldn’t do regular pull-ups.

Then he sent me over to the pull-up bar, where I totally did a freaking pull-up.

So that happened, too, I guess. No humble-bragging intended; I just kind of felt like an idiot (which goes with looking like one in ballet class, so…).

You Might Be A Dancer If… #001

You might be a dancer if you go to look for a picture of yourself in “professional attire,” and realize that essentialy every picture taken of you in the past year is more or less you in elaborate underwear.

Edit: PS – I’m #NotDeadYet but I’m completely swamped right now. Bleh.

So festivities. Much schedule. Wow.

Chiaroscuro

Sometimes There Are No Words

I try not to lend aid to the cause of people who would use fear to control the rest of us, so I’m not going to comment on them. Not directly. Not here.

Nobody — asexual, bisexual, queer, straight, Atheist, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Wiccan, female, intersex, male, transgender, immigrant, native-born, Asian, Black, Latino, White, any race, any faith, any anything, whatever else people can be — should be targeted with violence.

And yet it happens every day.

We notice when it happens to a lot of people at once. We don’t always notice when it happens to one person at a time; not until it reaches a kind of critical mass.

I thought about this when I was in Cinci; when I saw the words WE CAN’T BREATHE stenciled on the same square of pavement every morning; every evening. I thought about it today, when people in Louisville came together to organize a vigil for people in Orlando who they never met.

Regardless, tragedy is tragedy. Human cruelty is human cruelty.

I don’t pretend to make sense of any of this. I don’t pretend to have intelligent things to say about it; I don’t.

Even if I did, maybe it’s too soon to make sense; to say intelligent things. I don’t know.

Grief is a mysterious thing, whether it’s the direct grief of an immediate personal loss or the indirect grief of living in a world where things happen like this.

So that’s what I’m saying, because I don’t have any other words; because for a long time I haven’t had any other words.

I Survived Mam-Luft & Co’s Summer Intensive…

…And it was basically one of the best weeks of my life, even though I felt all shy and weird and awkward at first.

I even took notes (and occasionally remembered to apply them in class) … though they’re still in the car right now, because yesterday I had an epic (and completely unnecessary) meltdown on the way home from Cinci and then did a cube workshop (pictures to follow). Needless to say, I was kind of tired when I got home.

Some quick highlights:

The masterclass series. I keep finding myself being like, “Jeanne’s masterclass was THE BEST!” or “Demetrius Tabron’s masterclass was THE BEST!” or “Gina Walther’s masterclass was THE BEST!”

In fact they were all THE BEST! for entirely different reasons — and that, my friends, is how a masterclass series should work.

Every master teacher reinforced concepts we worked on with the others, but every one also brought unique insights. In short, Mam-Luft & Co knows how to assemble a masterclass series.

Remembering the choreography (or not). For basically the whole week, I thought I was the only person in the entire class who didn’t have the choreography 100% down in rep. I was wrong. Almost everybody was missing bits here and there, it just took me ’til Friday, right before the final showing, to figure that out because I was too busy being anxious about not having it down (and about that whole eldritch god thing; see below).

Partnering. I freaking love partnering, y’all. I think I already said that, though. Partnering class was the first one in which I felt really confident; that transferred to the parts of rep where we lifted people.

There was one part of the choreography in which we collectively lifted G into a high side-plank lift, and then, as everyone else stepped away, I wrapped my arms around her and lowered her slowly to the floor. The moment when our instructor Susan said, “It’s okay, guys, he’s got this,” was literally one of the best moments of my life.

You guys, there was a time not all that long ago when I figured I would always kind of suck at partnering because, frankly, upper-body strength has never been my strong suit. Turns out that has changed considerably. It is good to feel capable, and it is amazingly good to feel capable of adapting myself to meet a goal.

Wednesday. Basically, all of Wednesday was pretty awesome for me.  That was the day when I started being less terrified that my fellow students were, like, going to sacrifice me to an eldritch god or something. (Seriously, WTF is wrong with me?) Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was also the day that my brain went, “Oh, wait, this is dance, we can do this.”

Ir probably helped that ballet went well (Triple turns on demand! Like it was no big deal! …Which was totally not the case on Friday, btw, but that basically owes to a nasty blister* in a horrible spot which consequently made me super-stiff — I was constantly afraid I’d rip my foot open and render myself unable to dance).

Cheetah eyes.” At lunch on Thursday, one of the other students mentioned that one of her teachers once said something like, “If you were a cheetah, your spine would enter your skull in a different place, and your eyes would be in a different spot in your skull. Imagine you’re a cheetah, and imagine where your eyes would be. Now go back to being a human and use your cheetah eyes (as well as your human eyes, obvs).” No an exact quote, but I hope you get the gist. Holy crap, did this ever fix the frack out of my alignment.

Release technique stuff. We do a lot of this in Modern T’s class, and bits of it had clicked here and there — but I discovered in Cinci that I actually really love it when I get out of my own way. In Leslie Dworkin’s masterclass, especially, I was able to briefly stop being an incredibly shy, uptight ballet nerd and just really use my whole body.

Repertory class. I started out feeling downright timid about this class, and it ended up being a highlight (and a bit of a crucible, I think).

I walked in afraid that I would literally never nail down the choreography; that I’d be so freaking bad at it that they’d ask me not to dance in the showing.

By the end, I felt like I knew enough to try to start making something out of some of it (though I still forgot to add the whole performative element to one of my parts, feh). Not that I didn’t make some mistakes during the showing (the most glaring one being the part where I wound up on the wrong leg in a static pose).

Also, we all kind of bonded over the lift-y parts and turned into a cohesive group. That was just plain cool.

Perhaps the most important thing I learned is that I automatically adjust my game to the level of expectation — when, for example, our ballet instructor called for triple turns in a combination on Wednesday, a small part of me went, “I don’t know if I can do that,” but a bigger part went, “Welp, better crank out some triples.” So I did.

This didn’t happen every time, but on average, when I got the hell out of my own way, things went better than I expected them to. When I got all tense and weird, things did not go so well.

I need to learn to hang onto my confidence in the things I do well and not freak out about other stuff.

I’ll try to post my more detailed notes later. Suffice it to say that I had a blast, learned a great deal, and will definitely be going back next year.

*nasty blister picture below the cut, because seriously, if you want to know what happens when you start to get a tiny blister right on the ball of your foot and then don’t think to tape it, this is what happens

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Modern (Intensive) Monday

In Brief

Busses Ridden: 1

Classes Attended: 5
Ratio of Girls to Boys: Something like 29/me*
—*Apparently, yes, there is a point at which being Only Guy feels kinda weird

Favorite Class: Partnering & Weight Share
—Girls Dropped: 0 (Yay!)
—Girls Stepped On: 1 (Sorry about that!)

Most Awkward Moment:
That time in Rep when I basically had no freaking idea what the middle of the dance was. Herp de derp.

Second Most Awkward Moment:
That time in ballet when the lining of my left shoe was like, “Screw you, I’m done,” and I finally just peeled it out and chucked it between barre exercises.
—Two unexpectedly-long balances kinda made up for it, though.

Friction Burns Acquired: 2
Muscles Used: So, so many. Basically all of them.
Giant sandwiches consumed: 2
Tireds Acquired: All The Tireds

So far, I’m really enjoying this. Can’t wait to go back and suck less at rep tomorrow.

G’night, errbody.

PS: We did barrel turns. Huzzah!

Early Thoughts on a New Dance Belt

I’ve historically danced in a Capezio … um, I can’t remember the model number at this moment, but it’s on my underpinnings page (I’ll link this later, too …  if I keep this up, I’ll have to change my surname to “Linklater”).

Today I took a page of of the Monty Python Playbook and said, “And now for something completely different” — Body Wrappers’ M006.

I don’t think a single class can provide a really complete sense of how anything functions, but here are my initial thoughts:

1. The Construction Is, Indeed, Quite Different
I’m rather short-coupled. There’s about a half inch difference in the width of the elastic on these two models, with the BW M006 coming in wider.

The functional difference is rather greater: while the upper edge of my Capezio dance belts rests a couple inches below my navel, the BW M006 rests right at the bottom edge of my navel. (Edit: I think this is because of the way the pouch is designed, really; turns out that’s important.)

This will take a little getting used to and makes it clear that there’s still a little insulation going on there — though not enough to cause the top edge of the elastic to roll. In short, evidently I have a spare tire, but it’s a bike tire (appropriately enough).

On the other hand, in all other ways, this thing is really rather superior in the comfort department. Kind of makes me wish I wasn’t so bleeding conservative about these things.

To be fair, an uncomfortable dance belt is a thing of horror and a hell forever, and you generally can’t return them (or even, at our local shop, try them on first — besides which, they don’t carry this model). In short, because Bodies Are Different, choosing a dance belt falls somewhere between Voodoo and the Dark Arts for many of us even with the help of the entire Internet.

In terms of comfort, the major difference been the two models is the construction of the thong bit, which is flat and unobtrusive on the BW M006.  The one on the Capezio is basically a small rope. This makes sitting down for any length of time miserable for me (broke my tailbone when I was 10).

2. Holy Elastic, Batman
I now have two black dance belts and two tan ones. Both of the tan ones are apparently possessed by angry pythons. Is tan elastic inherently stronger than black?

I do suspect that dance belts are manufactured under the assumption that you’ll wear them until they literally fall apart, and that the manufacturers accordingly make the elastics a bit stronger than they need to be, lest we injure ourselves down the road.

3. But Nothing Moves!
If anything, the BW M006 is even more secure than the Capezio whatever (sidebar: why can’t Capezio use less bizarre model numbers?).

4. Sweat
I’m not that certain which of these dries faster. That said, the fact that there’s not a random panel of some different fabric in the middle of the BW M006’s waistband is good by me.

Overall, I’m really quite happy with this thing. I think, given the construction, I will also try the M007, even though (GASP!) the waistband is only 2″. Maybe I’ll be able to convince Denis to try it, too.

Anyway, that’s it for now.

Gotta jeté! (Okay, that was terrible.)