Friday, June 29, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
What is Right?
I'm trying to be a sponge the last couple weeks I'm here. Well, technically I've been working very hard on my sponge action the entire time I've been here, but I just activated my maximum absorption ability. Even though the contemporary teacher we're finishing with kinda sucks. Damn you Teresa, damn you and your spirals!
This is my attempt at an inventory. Those things I've learned that I want to keep with me at all times.
[Feet]
These toed bad boys upon which we tread aren't like other parts of the body. They keep themselves to themselves, do the work they got to but when it comes down to it, there's no hiding the facts of their potential: surprising mobility; critical connections to the rest of the body; the hyper-sensitivity of thousands of bundles of nerves that feel to keep us upright. Feet are the conduits of our weight, our formal gateway into the earth, and specialized routers for all information kinesthetic.
As such, all exercises of standing alignment begin with the feet. Warm-up should invariably involve some massage of the feet, whether manual or against the floor (foot-focused walking). Helpful exercises include breathing through the feet--experiencing the sensation of muscular expansion and growth, then narrowing and lengthening--while walking, thereby opening the spaces between the metatarsals as well as the arch and outside of the foot. Alignment of the hip/knee/ankle joints is achieved primarily through an open foot. Light bouncing through plie can help develop awareness of this connection, after a series of toe moving, supining, and pronating movements have warmed the foot. And finally, the line of the foot as a continuation of the leg is invaluable as extra leverage and extension in balances, while the information from and through the standing foot defines a balance.
Supported correctly, a complete connection from the foot to the tip of the spine can be achieved. This is your individual axis, made vigorous and strong by the energy passed from the ground into the body through the feet by way of reaction to gravity. The shoulder blades and arms fall from this axis when at rest. How much energy (the normal force resulting as a reaction to gravity), and in which manner the energy in relayed to the rest of the body depends entirely on our feet when in a default ambulatory position.
[Thoracic Spine]
A house of tension in my body, which is why it's getting bulleted here. This part of the spine feels to me at times like a no-man's land, the long and barren space between the pelvis and head and their attendant vertebra (lumbar and cervical spine, respectively). But without the cooperation of this connector, you have no spiraling, no back-bend, no deep and open inhales.
And so in warming up, you can activate it by taking spirals on the floor reeeeeeal slow-like. Spread out on your back and take one foot across your body, feel the pelvis start to tip, but don't take the ribcage and head with you until you have to. If you don't release the tension in the thoracic spine you're sunk. Repeat with the arm, which takes the head and ribcage first, but lets you feel the whole region of the thoracic spine opening up before it takes the pelvis with.
For arching, it's all about the sternum. I never could figure how to support my head until a revelation while in bridge a couple of days ago. Feel the sternum, feel the vertebra behind it and let all of them open up to make the chest wide. It's like the collar bones are detaching and shooting out even wider, which helps keeps the back from collapsing in. A bad situation because it brings the shoulder blades in tight and leave the cervical spine tense. You can trust the thoracic spine to carry surprising amounts of weight and energy as long as it is rooted long through the lumbar spine and pelvis. A helpful warm up exercise is that inverted push-up position from yoga. From sitting with legs straight out in front of you, you lean slightly back and place the hands with fingers pointing towards your toes. Push up, see the ceiling, point the toes, and you can feel the whole length of the chest opening up, supported through the thoracic spine.
The thoracic spine functions largely in relation to the shoulder blades and arms. It's space and maneuverability is increased by maintaining distance between the shoulder blades and openness across the chest.
[Opening the Hips]
Flexibility in the legs is largely a project of opening the hips, in all directions. Also, you can't ignore the importance of the lower back and lower abdominals, as they can restrict movement to an equal degree.
The key ingredient in this sort of stretching is breath. The breath has to enter all the way down into the pelvis and lower back in order to active the sensation of length, the meridians traveling from the hip joint all the way down through the feet. Without alignment along these meridians, it's almost impossible for me to feel my knee joint extended. I already spoke about feet, but again, their involvement in extending the line of the leg can completely change the experience of a stretch.
When stretching the adductors and hamstrings, it's really crucial that the superficial hip flexors remain relaxed. You only need to engage the iliapsoas, which goes from the top of the femur all the way back into the lower spine. Because of this it can be really helpful to prepare for stretching with abdominal exercises, slowly lifting and extending the legs from a lying position with careful attention to avoid tension in the superficial hip flexors. I've also found it helpful to do leg lifts while hanging from a pull-up bar to activate the iliapsoas, being very sure to avoid any swinging coming from lack of control in the abdominals.
[Dancing is Fun]
Body knowledge and flexibility and awareness of what is happening when you move are all fantastic things. They inform not only your dance, but all of the movement you undertake through the world. But in the end, dancing is something else. You don't need to know what's happening with your joints and muscles to understand movement dynamics or kinesthetic sensations, and you definitely don't need to have high legs or sweet moves to break it down.
It does take a certain sensitivity, to environment, to your body, to whatever rhythm or music or situation is going on around you. But anybody can get there if they want to. The best dancing I saw all semester was in improv class with a Russian guy in his late thirties, completely untrained from a dance technique perspective, who, failing to relay his concepts in broken english, just started dancing for us. He was in it all the way, like a rock and roller, and that was the important thing to watch--not just the forms or dynamic choices, as instrumental as those may be in creating effect.
Maybe I'll have more notes in the days to come, but in all likelihood I'm occupied by the fact that, in four days time, I'll be on a freakin plane heading into a whirlwind summer followed by a whole lot of what the hell am I going to do. But for sure, more dancing to come.
This is my attempt at an inventory. Those things I've learned that I want to keep with me at all times.
[Feet]
These toed bad boys upon which we tread aren't like other parts of the body. They keep themselves to themselves, do the work they got to but when it comes down to it, there's no hiding the facts of their potential: surprising mobility; critical connections to the rest of the body; the hyper-sensitivity of thousands of bundles of nerves that feel to keep us upright. Feet are the conduits of our weight, our formal gateway into the earth, and specialized routers for all information kinesthetic.
As such, all exercises of standing alignment begin with the feet. Warm-up should invariably involve some massage of the feet, whether manual or against the floor (foot-focused walking). Helpful exercises include breathing through the feet--experiencing the sensation of muscular expansion and growth, then narrowing and lengthening--while walking, thereby opening the spaces between the metatarsals as well as the arch and outside of the foot. Alignment of the hip/knee/ankle joints is achieved primarily through an open foot. Light bouncing through plie can help develop awareness of this connection, after a series of toe moving, supining, and pronating movements have warmed the foot. And finally, the line of the foot as a continuation of the leg is invaluable as extra leverage and extension in balances, while the information from and through the standing foot defines a balance.
Supported correctly, a complete connection from the foot to the tip of the spine can be achieved. This is your individual axis, made vigorous and strong by the energy passed from the ground into the body through the feet by way of reaction to gravity. The shoulder blades and arms fall from this axis when at rest. How much energy (the normal force resulting as a reaction to gravity), and in which manner the energy in relayed to the rest of the body depends entirely on our feet when in a default ambulatory position.
[Thoracic Spine]
A house of tension in my body, which is why it's getting bulleted here. This part of the spine feels to me at times like a no-man's land, the long and barren space between the pelvis and head and their attendant vertebra (lumbar and cervical spine, respectively). But without the cooperation of this connector, you have no spiraling, no back-bend, no deep and open inhales.
And so in warming up, you can activate it by taking spirals on the floor reeeeeeal slow-like. Spread out on your back and take one foot across your body, feel the pelvis start to tip, but don't take the ribcage and head with you until you have to. If you don't release the tension in the thoracic spine you're sunk. Repeat with the arm, which takes the head and ribcage first, but lets you feel the whole region of the thoracic spine opening up before it takes the pelvis with.
For arching, it's all about the sternum. I never could figure how to support my head until a revelation while in bridge a couple of days ago. Feel the sternum, feel the vertebra behind it and let all of them open up to make the chest wide. It's like the collar bones are detaching and shooting out even wider, which helps keeps the back from collapsing in. A bad situation because it brings the shoulder blades in tight and leave the cervical spine tense. You can trust the thoracic spine to carry surprising amounts of weight and energy as long as it is rooted long through the lumbar spine and pelvis. A helpful warm up exercise is that inverted push-up position from yoga. From sitting with legs straight out in front of you, you lean slightly back and place the hands with fingers pointing towards your toes. Push up, see the ceiling, point the toes, and you can feel the whole length of the chest opening up, supported through the thoracic spine.
The thoracic spine functions largely in relation to the shoulder blades and arms. It's space and maneuverability is increased by maintaining distance between the shoulder blades and openness across the chest.
[Opening the Hips]
Flexibility in the legs is largely a project of opening the hips, in all directions. Also, you can't ignore the importance of the lower back and lower abdominals, as they can restrict movement to an equal degree.
The key ingredient in this sort of stretching is breath. The breath has to enter all the way down into the pelvis and lower back in order to active the sensation of length, the meridians traveling from the hip joint all the way down through the feet. Without alignment along these meridians, it's almost impossible for me to feel my knee joint extended. I already spoke about feet, but again, their involvement in extending the line of the leg can completely change the experience of a stretch.
When stretching the adductors and hamstrings, it's really crucial that the superficial hip flexors remain relaxed. You only need to engage the iliapsoas, which goes from the top of the femur all the way back into the lower spine. Because of this it can be really helpful to prepare for stretching with abdominal exercises, slowly lifting and extending the legs from a lying position with careful attention to avoid tension in the superficial hip flexors. I've also found it helpful to do leg lifts while hanging from a pull-up bar to activate the iliapsoas, being very sure to avoid any swinging coming from lack of control in the abdominals.
[Dancing is Fun]
Body knowledge and flexibility and awareness of what is happening when you move are all fantastic things. They inform not only your dance, but all of the movement you undertake through the world. But in the end, dancing is something else. You don't need to know what's happening with your joints and muscles to understand movement dynamics or kinesthetic sensations, and you definitely don't need to have high legs or sweet moves to break it down.
It does take a certain sensitivity, to environment, to your body, to whatever rhythm or music or situation is going on around you. But anybody can get there if they want to. The best dancing I saw all semester was in improv class with a Russian guy in his late thirties, completely untrained from a dance technique perspective, who, failing to relay his concepts in broken english, just started dancing for us. He was in it all the way, like a rock and roller, and that was the important thing to watch--not just the forms or dynamic choices, as instrumental as those may be in creating effect.
Maybe I'll have more notes in the days to come, but in all likelihood I'm occupied by the fact that, in four days time, I'll be on a freakin plane heading into a whirlwind summer followed by a whole lot of what the hell am I going to do. But for sure, more dancing to come.
Do it Right
Two weeks from now I will no longer be in Dance School, and parting will be such sweet sorrow. Part of the resolution I made with myself as I exit this Eden of kinesthetic and artistic exploration is to remain, at all times, a dance student.
Seven years ago, in the prime of my willfully starry-eyed youth--an embracing illusion shored up by the support of teachers and parents alike--I went with my mother to buy a clarinet. I was talented, I was interested, and maybe this was the undertaking, the crucial mineral additive to the soil of my upbringing that would lead me to flower in glorious form. Committed mother that she was, she sought out trustworthy, quality clarinet information, and received a recommendation from my teacher, a slight man sharpened and pulled taut by an unflagging and self-aware commitment to impossible expectations. For him, of course, the only guy to see about a new instrument was Paul Olivia, the clarinet guru of the Bay Area.
So we drive to some other tree-inhabited town with impossibly long driveways and low stone walls, and walk into this guy's garage. It had been transformed into a labyrinth of shelves, clamps, and workbenches, dimly lit but reflecting a yellow-gold glow from unexpected surfaces. He had on a thick black apron, looking like he'd just walked out of a foundry, and attached to his glasses was a device that could swing over the left lens and that looked like something a jeweler would use to inspect fine stones. Naturally his face was covered with black smudges, smeared by the faint perspiration of intense focus. When he maneuvered his wide shoulders through the rows of shelves he left no question that he knew exactly where each box of imported reeds was, each type and size of impossibly small screw, each plastic bag of oddly shaped metal keys and levers. In no time he had two options for a student of my level--the first, less expensive, which he treated with gentle contempt, and a second model which was already sold by way of his respectful treatment.
I played a bit, so he could figure out which number imported French reed I should buy. In two minutes, after one scale and a chromatic, I had already been thorougly sized up. It wasn't just that the corners of his mouth were pulled down into a near-scowl, or that he stopped my playing, or that he had no time for niceties in his speech, because these were all defaults of the alchemical workshop thing he had going on. More that he recognized serious when he saw it, and it was bugging him that I was sitting there with a smile on my face, buying a nice instrument and possessing the ability to play the clarinet, but lacking the reverence to go deeper, to will the tone richer. I knew sitting on that stool and blowing my lungs out that I'd been seen through, and that to some extent I was an intruder to his shrine of clarinet-ing just riding the swell of good feelings: praise from my clarinet teacher and band director; the love involved in my parent's sacrifice and commitment to see me succeed; the vague promise of future success. Paul Olivia tilted his head forward and looked at me through his glasses, complete with outwardly-hinged eyepiece, and he knew that I knew I'd been seen through, so he threw me the following bone: "You only really need to practice for ten minutes a day. But you have to practice right."
He continued on a little bit about tone and what to aim for, but this was the important part, the bit that's stuck with me these last seven years. Just the words are little more than a revision of the quality over quantity truism, but in context it felt more like: "I have this passion for this instrument and its capabilities, which has built all of this around me. I'm going to tell you where to start, so that if your exploration of this sound in its fullest incarnation is sincere, you could love it like I do." In context, it was a gentle reminder from a severe man that in striving for something pure, you've got to be driven by more than good feeling. That in time the knowledge of the thing, made in your effort and commitment, will change you; that those ten minutes a day of doing it right can nurture a craft, a discipline, a life.
There was the evidence, standing right in front of me, too much a caricature filled out with human dimensions to not make an impression. Thus impressed, and having encountered something personally worthwhile in my daily ten minutes of dance (done right, of course), I'm off to America not only to obtain gainful employment, but also to be a dance student in a new environment. I foresee future posts having to do with the lumbar spine in sitting positions...
Seven years ago, in the prime of my willfully starry-eyed youth--an embracing illusion shored up by the support of teachers and parents alike--I went with my mother to buy a clarinet. I was talented, I was interested, and maybe this was the undertaking, the crucial mineral additive to the soil of my upbringing that would lead me to flower in glorious form. Committed mother that she was, she sought out trustworthy, quality clarinet information, and received a recommendation from my teacher, a slight man sharpened and pulled taut by an unflagging and self-aware commitment to impossible expectations. For him, of course, the only guy to see about a new instrument was Paul Olivia, the clarinet guru of the Bay Area.
So we drive to some other tree-inhabited town with impossibly long driveways and low stone walls, and walk into this guy's garage. It had been transformed into a labyrinth of shelves, clamps, and workbenches, dimly lit but reflecting a yellow-gold glow from unexpected surfaces. He had on a thick black apron, looking like he'd just walked out of a foundry, and attached to his glasses was a device that could swing over the left lens and that looked like something a jeweler would use to inspect fine stones. Naturally his face was covered with black smudges, smeared by the faint perspiration of intense focus. When he maneuvered his wide shoulders through the rows of shelves he left no question that he knew exactly where each box of imported reeds was, each type and size of impossibly small screw, each plastic bag of oddly shaped metal keys and levers. In no time he had two options for a student of my level--the first, less expensive, which he treated with gentle contempt, and a second model which was already sold by way of his respectful treatment.
I played a bit, so he could figure out which number imported French reed I should buy. In two minutes, after one scale and a chromatic, I had already been thorougly sized up. It wasn't just that the corners of his mouth were pulled down into a near-scowl, or that he stopped my playing, or that he had no time for niceties in his speech, because these were all defaults of the alchemical workshop thing he had going on. More that he recognized serious when he saw it, and it was bugging him that I was sitting there with a smile on my face, buying a nice instrument and possessing the ability to play the clarinet, but lacking the reverence to go deeper, to will the tone richer. I knew sitting on that stool and blowing my lungs out that I'd been seen through, and that to some extent I was an intruder to his shrine of clarinet-ing just riding the swell of good feelings: praise from my clarinet teacher and band director; the love involved in my parent's sacrifice and commitment to see me succeed; the vague promise of future success. Paul Olivia tilted his head forward and looked at me through his glasses, complete with outwardly-hinged eyepiece, and he knew that I knew I'd been seen through, so he threw me the following bone: "You only really need to practice for ten minutes a day. But you have to practice right."
He continued on a little bit about tone and what to aim for, but this was the important part, the bit that's stuck with me these last seven years. Just the words are little more than a revision of the quality over quantity truism, but in context it felt more like: "I have this passion for this instrument and its capabilities, which has built all of this around me. I'm going to tell you where to start, so that if your exploration of this sound in its fullest incarnation is sincere, you could love it like I do." In context, it was a gentle reminder from a severe man that in striving for something pure, you've got to be driven by more than good feeling. That in time the knowledge of the thing, made in your effort and commitment, will change you; that those ten minutes a day of doing it right can nurture a craft, a discipline, a life.
There was the evidence, standing right in front of me, too much a caricature filled out with human dimensions to not make an impression. Thus impressed, and having encountered something personally worthwhile in my daily ten minutes of dance (done right, of course), I'm off to America not only to obtain gainful employment, but also to be a dance student in a new environment. I foresee future posts having to do with the lumbar spine in sitting positions...
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