My dance training from an early age through the end of high school was in two forms which have very specific arm positions at all times, ballet and Irish step-dancing. Because of this or in spite of this – I’m not entirely sure – one of my favorite things about the Tharp choreography I have learned so far (Torelli and parts of Eight Jelly Rolls) is definitely the use of the arms. There are plenty of sections and phrases in which the arms are choreographed, yes, and these don’t do anything special for me as a dancer, but the phrases in which the arms are left to do whatever is natural/useful? Heavenly. There’s something incredibly invigorating and pleasurable for me about being able to let my arms do whatever it is that they are doing. In general, the arms swing in opposition to the leg movements, as they would naturally if you were running or walking, and it just feels wonderful to let them do that. It’s not that I don’t pay attention to my arms, per se, but rather that being able to use them however is comfortable for me makes a significant difference in how much I enjoy dancing a phrase.

This discussion of the arms ties into a larger theme in my enjoyment of Tharp’s work as a dancer. For me, the most interesting and enjoyable aspects of her work tend to be found in the freedoms she allows dancers, more than the constrictions, or perhaps rather in the balance of freedom and constrictions. I promise to elaborate on this in later posts, so stay tuned.

And now for something totally different:

Let’s not lie about it; I’m a little bit obsessed with Sara Rudner’s solo in Eight Jelly Rolls, Mournful Serenade. Truly, I could watch her perform it a hundred times and not run out of things to capture my attention or get tired of it. It’s hard for me to nail down exactly what it is about the solo, and in particular her interpretation, which is so captivating and wonderful for me. There are a number of factors, but right now at least I think that it is the incredible lack of self-consciousness which really makes it for me. This manifests itself in a number of ways – lack of attention to the “front” or the audience, but without constituting an intentional rejection, it’s really more like a lack of awareness, and most especially an incredible sense of ease and relaxation. It just seems like she’s having a fabulous time. Not the sort of fabulous time that you have at party, but the sort of fabulous time that you have when you are dancing material with which you feel so comfortable it’s like an extension of your being, when you are manipulating it and dancing it just because you can and you want to, when you lose all awareness of observation, or even self-judgment, and just enjoy moving in your body. Huh. Seeing as I’ve just described one of the most wonderful experiences in the world, it doesn’t surprise me that watching someone else experience it is captivating. Also this explains why I always feel at least somewhat jealous when I watch it. I’ve only experienced that feeling with dance, but I imagine musicians and artists can get into a similar state, I’m reasonably sure it’s even defined by some psychologists as “flow.” Well, there you go then.