I
love the magical thinking that goes on during dance performances. Recently, we went to see “Two," an
evening of eight dances, each one
beautifully performed by Leah Verier-Dunn and Courtney Smith Inzalaco, the co-founders of the Moving Ethos Dance Company. Their longstanding friendship was
evident in the natural fluidity and ease of their precise partnering as they
carved the air into appealing modern shapes.
As
usually happens, during dance duets in particular, I joined in mentally. In my
mind’s eye and fluttering beneath my ribs, I imagined dancing along with
them. In this dream state, I knew
the music and choreography so well that I seamlessly incorporated my own dance
right into theirs. The fact that I hadn’t seen that performance before and am
not a dancer, musician or choreographer has nothing to do with this mental exercise
- and that’s the power of magical thinking in the face of good dancing. You’d think I was a Julliard
graduate by the expertise of my imagined technique, when in reality I get out of
breath walking my dogs around the block.
I
would have enjoyed "Two" whether I fanta-danced or not, but it got
me wondering about the nature of magical thinking. The way hypochondriacs
are convinced they have any illness that crosses their path, I believe that I
can dance, sing, sculpt, paint, design, write, conduct or play the tuba when in
the presence of those who really can.
I know it’s delusional yet that doesn’t stop me from believing that I just need a few more brush-up classes to be as good as those I admire. This just goes to show how successfully talented artists can translate the essence or energy of their creations to a receptive viewer.
I know it’s delusional yet that doesn’t stop me from believing that I just need a few more brush-up classes to be as good as those I admire. This just goes to show how successfully talented artists can translate the essence or energy of their creations to a receptive viewer.
After
the performance we left the Cook Theatre to head for an after show party for
the dancers. While we were driving
away from the Ringling Museum grounds, we were stopped by the noise and color
of an explosive fireworks display that happened to be going on at Ca d’Zan, the
Ringling’s fabulous former home on the property. We pulled the car over to watch
for a while and like children, our eyes widened in awe at the shooting lights
and sheer useless fun that make fireworks so special.
Eventually
we left to go to the party. When we got to the house I parked in the dark on
the side of the road near a puddle.
Inspired by both the dance and fireworks performances I leaped from my
car, still feeling like a seasoned dancer. But as always happens when the
curtains close, I realized, in fact, that I’m not a seasoned dancer. As such, the jump was not as graceful as
I had hoped and I arrived at the front door in wet pants and an aching
ankle.
No problem, there were plenty of seats inside the house and a stool to elevate my leg. From this perch, I could get a good view
of the elegant performers walking around the party and start to think about which dance
we would all be presenting at our next show.
Please read by other blog: http://whatdogsreallythink.blogspot.com/http://whatdogsreallythink.blogspot.com/
Please read by other blog: http://whatdogsreallythink.blogspot.com/http://whatdogsreallythink.blogspot.com/
