So... I have yet to get back to the social dancing scene. Part of the reason is that once you have broken free from the habit it can be hard to come back. It can be hard just to know when to come back. When you will be able to be in that environment and appreciate it anew, bearing no grudges against what you perceived as the things that made you withdraw in the first place. When you will feel able to embody a positive, contributing presence to the festivities.
***
There has been the mantra going around, apparently paraphrased from zen, about "being the tango you want to see." A fine concept, to be sure, and overall a very noble and idealistic perspective to keep in the face of circumstances beyond one's control. But whether that can be the simple solution to my finding fulfillment in tango--or at least, avoiding dissatisfaction--is something I seriously call to question.
If you are dancing only for yourself (or, by extension, only for you and your partner), then perhaps you could be content by whatever happens within that limited sphere, and only within that sphere. But if you perceive your dance as being one voice in a choir, and that the milonga is a living presence made up from the sum of its parts of which you are but one of many, then it is more of a challenge to detach yourself from the goings on around you.
Outside of the milonga setting when I am practicing with my partner, I find great satisfaction in being the only ones in the studio and being able to move without the encumbrance of others, having the freedom to play and amplify anything to whatever degree, to get sloppy if need be. In a social environment, I am far more restrained. But does this mean I resent not having the absolute freedom that I have in practice? Absolutely not. Because as we all know, the objectives in a milonga are different than in a practice session. This also means that the elements that bring joy come from a different source. The whole point is different.
Think of it like this: you are a part of a group with a perceived objective which can only be reached through a collaborative effort. You try in good faith to do your part, only to look around to see others who aren't pulling their weight. Do you shrug it off, feeling that you did your part and that's enough to keep you happy, even though the objective fails?
Again, I am speaking for myself, partly from a leader's perspective. I imagine it might be different from a follower's perspective since in either a practice or social setting the bulk of her focus is on herself and her partner and so the distinction of dancing in practice vs. milonga isn't as pronounced as it is for leaders. But I am also speaking from an observer's perspective, as someone who sits on the sidelines for much of the night, looking for the beauty of flow in la ronda and finding entitlement and obliviousness instead. Watching a floor like this is like listening to a record that's been scratched and warped to the extent that the music is unrecognizable.
***
Another issue I have with the mantra is that I don't like the idea of being some sort of flag bearer for what I think anybody else should be doing. Indeed, uniformity is, in my opinion, absolutely contradictory to the ideal of tango. But this is part of my lament from the last post. Looking out on the milonga floor, one doesn't see personal expression. Instead, one sees a lot of Lego pieces being put together. You can often look at a dancer and see exactly who they studied with, or where they stole their moves or style from. Usually badly. So you have both unoriginality and poor form. Even in the cases where a good dancer has strong technique and a broad dance vocabulary, it is often still a derivation of a dance already danced, of elements that have already been established, deconstructed and given names. Not to say that I'm not guilty of this myself. Everybody is, to some extent. It is such a pleasure, then, to see someone dance with a true signature that isn't a result of technical limitations but as an honest expression of who they are.
So, to the question at hand--Bayle Nuestro o Bayle Mío? I suppose there is a place for both, where "Bayle Nuestro" can be exemplified by the unity/community of la ronda, whereas "Bayle Mío" is exemplified by the unique expression that each dancer potentially carries.
***
I know I'm coming across as terribly negative lately, which perhaps justifies my willful self-exclusion from tango activities. I also know that ultimately the fault lies in my own perspective. There is beauty out there on the milonga floor--always--and honest expression and joy and community. It's just that my view is obstructed by an idealism which is most likely unrealistic, and I give undue attention to irritants that are relatively minor. Like looking up in the Sistine Chapel and dismissing it because of the smudges on my glasses. Meanwhile, my burnout is to a large extent feeding from the fundamental mistake that I'm bored with what I see, but of course the real joy of tango isn't derived by what is seen. That is, I'm a little sheepish to admit, a beginner's mistake (which many outgrow, but many do not).
And so I remain waiting for this to pass, which it will. It's the uncertainty of not knowing when that is somewhat disquieting.
2009/03/20
2009/03/14
Finding the balance - Tango vs. non-tango.
It's been about a month since I've gone out to dance recreationally. Leading up to the point when I decided to take a break was a steadily increasing unease with the social environment, a sort of restlessness with the expectations of being at a milonga as well as a fatigue from the energy that is generated by crowds. Not to mention a growing kind of boredom and/or outright dismissiveness of the bulk of dancing that I was seeing--much of it rote, of dubious technique, and disconnected in myriad senses of the word. Since that time I've gone back to catch up on some activities that I consider to be important but which had been seriously compromised from what was perhaps an overemphasis on tango during whatever free time I had. I'm finding myself taking to these old activities with relish, and that the call of tango is, for the time being at least, easily put aside. It is an apparent ease of abstinence which would be alien to so many I know in the community, who talk as if missing tango for a day or two completely discombobulates them. To be fair, I haven't completely excised tango from my life. I still dedicate three days a week on dance study and practice. The milonga scene, however, is something that I not only am feeling fine doing without, but to which I am actually feeling a pronounced aversion.
It's clear to me that I have yet to find the right balance between tango, which I would still consider my primary pursuit, and the non-tango, which is just as essential. Perhaps complicating the matter for me is the challenge of reconciling the social requirements of tango with the facets of my personality which are decidedly anti-social. As one who for the most part prefers solitude over company, I suppose the pursuit of tango is a strange fit. Or, perhaps it makes perfect sense. I recall a story Negracha told me about a silent milonguero who everyone respected but no one really knew. He would come to the milongas alone and sit alone, and every now and then he would send out a cabeceo and dance a tanda. But if the woman ever spoke or tried to compel him to, he would disengage and go back to his seat. Now, far be it from me to understand his intentions, but he strikes me as a very private man who didn't want to know or be known by anyone. The milonga setting afforded him the ability to make fleeting connections with no strings attached, and that gave him all the human contact he needed to get by. I can relate to that. But I also value the friendships I have in the community and the exchange of ideas which enhance my understanding of tango and my attunement to its ever-changing culture. Not to mention my passion for the art of tango, which--in addition to discipline and hard work--requires collaboration.
As I type this, I am considering heading to a milonga tonight. While the idea strikes me as unappealing and I can think of no one in particular with whom I'd like to dance right now, I'm also aware of how perspectives can change once you are in the environment. Kind of like resisting going to the gym but coming away from it refreshed and with the fulfilling sense of having had a great workout. Hm... I'll hit the shower and see where it leads me.
It's clear to me that I have yet to find the right balance between tango, which I would still consider my primary pursuit, and the non-tango, which is just as essential. Perhaps complicating the matter for me is the challenge of reconciling the social requirements of tango with the facets of my personality which are decidedly anti-social. As one who for the most part prefers solitude over company, I suppose the pursuit of tango is a strange fit. Or, perhaps it makes perfect sense. I recall a story Negracha told me about a silent milonguero who everyone respected but no one really knew. He would come to the milongas alone and sit alone, and every now and then he would send out a cabeceo and dance a tanda. But if the woman ever spoke or tried to compel him to, he would disengage and go back to his seat. Now, far be it from me to understand his intentions, but he strikes me as a very private man who didn't want to know or be known by anyone. The milonga setting afforded him the ability to make fleeting connections with no strings attached, and that gave him all the human contact he needed to get by. I can relate to that. But I also value the friendships I have in the community and the exchange of ideas which enhance my understanding of tango and my attunement to its ever-changing culture. Not to mention my passion for the art of tango, which--in addition to discipline and hard work--requires collaboration.
As I type this, I am considering heading to a milonga tonight. While the idea strikes me as unappealing and I can think of no one in particular with whom I'd like to dance right now, I'm also aware of how perspectives can change once you are in the environment. Kind of like resisting going to the gym but coming away from it refreshed and with the fulfilling sense of having had a great workout. Hm... I'll hit the shower and see where it leads me.
2009/02/16
Romanticization of Tango--A Pragmatic Inquiry
On Sunday I went to see a tango show where much of the focus was on educating the audience on the history and culture of tango. At one point, the narrator spoke of some of the opinions on tango during its formative years, and to paraphrase, he said that no one had a perspective that was blasé or half-hearted. Emotions ran high both for and against it. It seems that it's fairly rare for someone to be objective. But it's precisely a perspective that I've been mulling over lately. Maybe it's because tango has lost some of its magic for me--it's like the stage of a relationship where the giddiness of infatuation has faded and much of the mystery is gone, but there is a comfortable familiarity. Yet, when I speak of tango to my non-tango friends, it's difficult to convey exactly what my investment is. They ask me if I teach--I do not. They ask me if I perform--I don't. Then when they refer to it as a hobby I get a little indignant, because it seems like more than that. But I can't explain why it is more. So it forces me to step back a little and consider that maybe it is just a hobby.
Why is it that we hold tango in such high reverence? The comparisons are familiar refrains; tango is a drug, an obsession, a religion. Tango isn't a dance, it is a feeling (which is to suggest that it taps into some deeper instinctual, biological programming, the essential needs of the reptilian parts of the brain rather than the more whimsical pretenses of the higher cortex). When someone refers to it as "just a dance" or "just music" our blood starts to rise a little. But is it indeed so much more?
Aside from the considerations of the beauty of the dance, music, culture and community, I've broken down the allure of tango into two basic factions. First, for structurally minded, obsessive-compulsive types, it is the elegant logic of tango which fascinates. The way the steps work. The communication of lead and follow. The architecture and geometry of two bodies in motion relative to one another. Examining the possibilities and investigating in depth just how things function provides near limitless opportunities for discovery.
The other faction is emotional, the distinctly affecting quality that tango has. The key to this is the embrace, and it is in this where I believe the old comparisons have a literal, concrete truth to them. To get technical, there have been studies that show that when people embrace one another, it causes the brain to release oxytocin, which is a hormone that, among other things, fosters sexual arousal as well as bonding instincts between people, and heightens tendencies towards generosity and feelings of trust. Some studies suggest that the effects of MDMA (ecstasy) stem from the drug's stimulation of oxytocin activity in the brain. So it can be argued that the embrace, and by extension tango, is a natural substitute for MDMA and therefore truly is a drug, in a manner of speaking.
Yet, I suspect, putting science to the equation may be off-putting to some. Like tampering with the spiritual, something that isn't meant to be dissected in that way. Perhaps in considering tango a "feeling" it extends to question the makeup of feelings--love and hate merely the result of chemical processes or as a consequence of sentience and free will. Then to the question of whether we are divine beings composed of extra-physical, mystical qualities, or that all we are is made up merely of complex systems of amino acids and cellular networks.
Okay, backing off. Getting back to the subject, maybe we elevate tango because of what drew many of us to it in the first place--the exoticism. I wonder, if tango wasn't such a relatively obscure culture and community, would we feel the same? If EVERYBODY was into tango, would we still hold it so dear and consider it so special? Certainly, there is an appeal in defining oneself as a "tango dancer." Mention tango to a non-aficionado and it conjures images of passion, sensuality/sexuality, drama and mystery. Then when they they talk about their impressions, it can be so gratifying to tell them how much more there is, and how most people don't know the real tango, how Hollywood always gets it wrong, etc. This is part of the tango snobbery, and I know this must be a factor. For someone to elevate themselves by association, the glory in whose reflection they are basking must be bright, indeed. And it doesn't hurt to be a part of a fairly exclusive group, either. Even within the community there is a tendency to compartmentalize, ie. those who haven't gone to BsAs and those who have, and then by frequency and duration. Or who one has studied with. It seems some of us are always chasing the keys to some ever elevating executive washroom.
I should mention that, in general, I don't have a problem with romanticization. I do it all the time. But I suppose I get wary when people start taking it places where I would be fine if it didn't go. Like when people start getting all new-agey and touchy-feely. Talking about tango in relation to spirituality and the like. To me, that's like trying to raise tango to the heavens. Whereas tango--as we tangueros all know ;-)--is rooted firmly to the earth. Flor de fango.
Why is it that we hold tango in such high reverence? The comparisons are familiar refrains; tango is a drug, an obsession, a religion. Tango isn't a dance, it is a feeling (which is to suggest that it taps into some deeper instinctual, biological programming, the essential needs of the reptilian parts of the brain rather than the more whimsical pretenses of the higher cortex). When someone refers to it as "just a dance" or "just music" our blood starts to rise a little. But is it indeed so much more?
Aside from the considerations of the beauty of the dance, music, culture and community, I've broken down the allure of tango into two basic factions. First, for structurally minded, obsessive-compulsive types, it is the elegant logic of tango which fascinates. The way the steps work. The communication of lead and follow. The architecture and geometry of two bodies in motion relative to one another. Examining the possibilities and investigating in depth just how things function provides near limitless opportunities for discovery.
The other faction is emotional, the distinctly affecting quality that tango has. The key to this is the embrace, and it is in this where I believe the old comparisons have a literal, concrete truth to them. To get technical, there have been studies that show that when people embrace one another, it causes the brain to release oxytocin, which is a hormone that, among other things, fosters sexual arousal as well as bonding instincts between people, and heightens tendencies towards generosity and feelings of trust. Some studies suggest that the effects of MDMA (ecstasy) stem from the drug's stimulation of oxytocin activity in the brain. So it can be argued that the embrace, and by extension tango, is a natural substitute for MDMA and therefore truly is a drug, in a manner of speaking.
Yet, I suspect, putting science to the equation may be off-putting to some. Like tampering with the spiritual, something that isn't meant to be dissected in that way. Perhaps in considering tango a "feeling" it extends to question the makeup of feelings--love and hate merely the result of chemical processes or as a consequence of sentience and free will. Then to the question of whether we are divine beings composed of extra-physical, mystical qualities, or that all we are is made up merely of complex systems of amino acids and cellular networks.
Okay, backing off. Getting back to the subject, maybe we elevate tango because of what drew many of us to it in the first place--the exoticism. I wonder, if tango wasn't such a relatively obscure culture and community, would we feel the same? If EVERYBODY was into tango, would we still hold it so dear and consider it so special? Certainly, there is an appeal in defining oneself as a "tango dancer." Mention tango to a non-aficionado and it conjures images of passion, sensuality/sexuality, drama and mystery. Then when they they talk about their impressions, it can be so gratifying to tell them how much more there is, and how most people don't know the real tango, how Hollywood always gets it wrong, etc. This is part of the tango snobbery, and I know this must be a factor. For someone to elevate themselves by association, the glory in whose reflection they are basking must be bright, indeed. And it doesn't hurt to be a part of a fairly exclusive group, either. Even within the community there is a tendency to compartmentalize, ie. those who haven't gone to BsAs and those who have, and then by frequency and duration. Or who one has studied with. It seems some of us are always chasing the keys to some ever elevating executive washroom.
I should mention that, in general, I don't have a problem with romanticization. I do it all the time. But I suppose I get wary when people start taking it places where I would be fine if it didn't go. Like when people start getting all new-agey and touchy-feely. Talking about tango in relation to spirituality and the like. To me, that's like trying to raise tango to the heavens. Whereas tango--as we tangueros all know ;-)--is rooted firmly to the earth. Flor de fango.
2009/02/14
Festival rant on sleep dep.
February 14th weekend, and we all know what that means...
Been thinking lately about why I'm not much for festivals. Everyone else seems to love them, so why not me? Don't I love tango? Hasn't my life come to revolve around it as much as any of these other festival deadheads?
Well, maybe. Maybe not. But I certainly won't be racking up any frequent flyer miles anytime soon.
I suppose I wonder, what exactly is it that these people are chasing? Is it that their hunger for dancing can no longer be sated in their own backyard? That they need to constantly replenish the affirmation of dancing with new partners ("Hey, works with this person, too!")?
I've said it before: I don't dance much socially. That's not something that would be likely to change in a different locale with different or more people to choose from. So why would I go through the trouble and expense just to sit and watch, which is what I mostly do?
Besides, on the occasion that I do dance, it's still my dance. Doesn't matter who I partner with, I'm still calling most of the shots. And to be honest, it doesn't make all that much difference who I dance with, sorry to say. It's all a degree of the partner's ability to follow (and compensate, if need be) and mutual chemistry. A good match is fantastic, but I don't necessarily feel the need to seek it out. I already know dancers with whom I share a good connection. That's good enough for me. In a sense, it almost feels as if looking to dance with new partners cheapens the good dance relationships I already have. Not that I only want to dance with the same people all the time. But there's already so many good dancers locally who I have yet to dance with, and others with whom I enjoy dancing but have not yet explored in depth many dynamic possibilities and developed the chemistry to its potential. It just doesn't seem worth it to go elsewhere to seek something out, especially in the case of a festival where any potential for development with new dancers is limited to time constraints. And as far as dancing with friends, I can do that in my home community. Why go away just to dance with the same people?
Perhaps you could say that I'm depriving the festival circuit of my singular approach to tango, arguing how every dancer is distinct and has something special to offer. But quite frankly, there's not much unique about my dance and I'm not doing anything that no one else is doing at least as well, so I don't feel like I'm neglecting some civic duty to the global community.
Granted, I think it must be a different story for followers, and I can understand the allure for them--every lead really is different. (Not to say all followers are the same, or even that all followers with whom I share good chemistry are similar. But then, neither variety nor consistency are primary considerations for me).
Then I hear the stories about overcrowded floors, the formation of cliques and hierarchies (deliberately or not), the planchadores/as who actually can and want to dance but are being shut out through sheer lack of recognition, and of course the festival mentality which brings out the worst exhibitionistic tendencies in some people. Plus all the schmoozing and networking. Ick. I'm not one who's looking to fill my yearbook with signatures (or boost the quantity of my Facebook friendship queue).
Another thing that bugs me, and this is strictly a personal beef, is how the festival mentality affects the local community. Here in the SF Tango scene there are so many festival freaks that the milongas feel noticeably drained during mass migrations out of town. Perhaps it's partly because of the relative wealth and travel accessibility among the dance population here. I don't know... to me, it feels almost like a dis of the hometown scene. I understand there are some professionals that have to make appearances, whether they are booked as teachers/performers/musicians/djs, or simply to promote themselves abroad as participants. But non-professionals who jet off to every festival they can... I don't know. Sometimes I think, they can go away and stay away. If the home community isn't good enough for them then to hell with them. I don't know why, but there's something about it that strikes me as kind of phony for some reason. It goes along with the tendency of some to trumpet their "obsession" or "addiction" to tango, to go out of their way to show others just how ravenous their appetite for tango is.
(I once had this conversation with a very respected figure in the tango scene, questioning out loud if my interest in the culture is so much less than these others who demonstrate--and talk up--their obsession. She replied, "I think that people just like being obsessed." As a state of being, something that defines them. Or, as I take it, at least they like talking about how obsessed they are. It's like some kind of one-upmanship. "This week I went to eight different milongas, had five privates and two workshops and only got two hours of sleep every night!" Fine--I fold, you win.)
Pah, whatever. As long as people are having fun, I suppose. Meanwhile, I need to get my grumpy ass some sleep.
Been thinking lately about why I'm not much for festivals. Everyone else seems to love them, so why not me? Don't I love tango? Hasn't my life come to revolve around it as much as any of these other festival deadheads?
Well, maybe. Maybe not. But I certainly won't be racking up any frequent flyer miles anytime soon.
I suppose I wonder, what exactly is it that these people are chasing? Is it that their hunger for dancing can no longer be sated in their own backyard? That they need to constantly replenish the affirmation of dancing with new partners ("Hey, works with this person, too!")?
I've said it before: I don't dance much socially. That's not something that would be likely to change in a different locale with different or more people to choose from. So why would I go through the trouble and expense just to sit and watch, which is what I mostly do?
Besides, on the occasion that I do dance, it's still my dance. Doesn't matter who I partner with, I'm still calling most of the shots. And to be honest, it doesn't make all that much difference who I dance with, sorry to say. It's all a degree of the partner's ability to follow (and compensate, if need be) and mutual chemistry. A good match is fantastic, but I don't necessarily feel the need to seek it out. I already know dancers with whom I share a good connection. That's good enough for me. In a sense, it almost feels as if looking to dance with new partners cheapens the good dance relationships I already have. Not that I only want to dance with the same people all the time. But there's already so many good dancers locally who I have yet to dance with, and others with whom I enjoy dancing but have not yet explored in depth many dynamic possibilities and developed the chemistry to its potential. It just doesn't seem worth it to go elsewhere to seek something out, especially in the case of a festival where any potential for development with new dancers is limited to time constraints. And as far as dancing with friends, I can do that in my home community. Why go away just to dance with the same people?
Perhaps you could say that I'm depriving the festival circuit of my singular approach to tango, arguing how every dancer is distinct and has something special to offer. But quite frankly, there's not much unique about my dance and I'm not doing anything that no one else is doing at least as well, so I don't feel like I'm neglecting some civic duty to the global community.
Granted, I think it must be a different story for followers, and I can understand the allure for them--every lead really is different. (Not to say all followers are the same, or even that all followers with whom I share good chemistry are similar. But then, neither variety nor consistency are primary considerations for me).
Then I hear the stories about overcrowded floors, the formation of cliques and hierarchies (deliberately or not), the planchadores/as who actually can and want to dance but are being shut out through sheer lack of recognition, and of course the festival mentality which brings out the worst exhibitionistic tendencies in some people. Plus all the schmoozing and networking. Ick. I'm not one who's looking to fill my yearbook with signatures (or boost the quantity of my Facebook friendship queue).
Another thing that bugs me, and this is strictly a personal beef, is how the festival mentality affects the local community. Here in the SF Tango scene there are so many festival freaks that the milongas feel noticeably drained during mass migrations out of town. Perhaps it's partly because of the relative wealth and travel accessibility among the dance population here. I don't know... to me, it feels almost like a dis of the hometown scene. I understand there are some professionals that have to make appearances, whether they are booked as teachers/performers/musicians/djs, or simply to promote themselves abroad as participants. But non-professionals who jet off to every festival they can... I don't know. Sometimes I think, they can go away and stay away. If the home community isn't good enough for them then to hell with them. I don't know why, but there's something about it that strikes me as kind of phony for some reason. It goes along with the tendency of some to trumpet their "obsession" or "addiction" to tango, to go out of their way to show others just how ravenous their appetite for tango is.
(I once had this conversation with a very respected figure in the tango scene, questioning out loud if my interest in the culture is so much less than these others who demonstrate--and talk up--their obsession. She replied, "I think that people just like being obsessed." As a state of being, something that defines them. Or, as I take it, at least they like talking about how obsessed they are. It's like some kind of one-upmanship. "This week I went to eight different milongas, had five privates and two workshops and only got two hours of sleep every night!" Fine--I fold, you win.)
Pah, whatever. As long as people are having fun, I suppose. Meanwhile, I need to get my grumpy ass some sleep.
2009/02/05
Cuartito Azul
Hi all. The repeat visitors among you may have noticed something different here. First off, I changed the address for the blog to something I think makes more sense. And since I was changing things around already I figured it might be a good time to shake things up a bit with the layout. I was never completely happy with the color scheme of the last one but for whatever reason the template only allowed limited tinkering along those lines, at least as far as I could figure out. This new template allowed for more flexibility color-wise (I think the template is called "Jellyfish," if anyone is interested).
Initially I went with a theme that was as close to the earlier site as I could get, but I didn't like where the new template placed the old photo (another fyi, that was a pic I took on my first trip to BsAs in 2003--my partner was the lovely Natalia Pastorino, a really beautiful dancer that I don't seem to hear much of nowadays but can be seen in that fantastic National Geographic issue on tango a few years back, dancing with her then partner Alejandro Nievas at El Balcón in San Telmo. Also, pictures from that article were subsequently used for current editions of Lonely Planet's Buenos Aires guides). So I removed the picture field which subsequently removed the picture, and when I set up a new picture field in a new location I decided to go with something different. The current photo should be familiar to the real trasnochandos out there. It was taken sometime in 2005 at roughly around six o'clock on a Saturday morning at La Viruta, as the room dropped into darkness before the solo violin strains of the Forever Tango interpretation of La Cumparsita began its wail over the loudspeakers, the blue lights gradually emerging to reveal the slowly rotating black silhouettes.
Given the color of the photo, I thought more of a blue theme would be more fitting. I tend to like darker colors so I kept it shadowy with the exception of the title, which I wanted to match the color of the Argentine flag.
Finally, there is the inspiration of the song, whose title I hijacked to head this blog post. It was this song which first turned me on to El Pibe de la Paternal, maestro Osvaldo Fresedo, with his distinctive singer Ricardo Ruiz.
Cuartito azul
de mi primera pasión,
vos guardarás
todo mi corazón.
Si alguna vez
volviera la que amé
vos le dirás
que nunca la olvidé.
Cuartito azul,
hoy te canto mi adiós.
Ya no abriré
tu puerta y tu balcón.
Hopefully, this new look works. I like it, but if anybody finds something they really think could be improved (ie. readability) please let me know. Thanks.
Initially I went with a theme that was as close to the earlier site as I could get, but I didn't like where the new template placed the old photo (another fyi, that was a pic I took on my first trip to BsAs in 2003--my partner was the lovely Natalia Pastorino, a really beautiful dancer that I don't seem to hear much of nowadays but can be seen in that fantastic National Geographic issue on tango a few years back, dancing with her then partner Alejandro Nievas at El Balcón in San Telmo. Also, pictures from that article were subsequently used for current editions of Lonely Planet's Buenos Aires guides). So I removed the picture field which subsequently removed the picture, and when I set up a new picture field in a new location I decided to go with something different. The current photo should be familiar to the real trasnochandos out there. It was taken sometime in 2005 at roughly around six o'clock on a Saturday morning at La Viruta, as the room dropped into darkness before the solo violin strains of the Forever Tango interpretation of La Cumparsita began its wail over the loudspeakers, the blue lights gradually emerging to reveal the slowly rotating black silhouettes.
Given the color of the photo, I thought more of a blue theme would be more fitting. I tend to like darker colors so I kept it shadowy with the exception of the title, which I wanted to match the color of the Argentine flag.
Finally, there is the inspiration of the song, whose title I hijacked to head this blog post. It was this song which first turned me on to El Pibe de la Paternal, maestro Osvaldo Fresedo, with his distinctive singer Ricardo Ruiz.
Cuartito azul
de mi primera pasión,
vos guardarás
todo mi corazón.
Si alguna vez
volviera la que amé
vos le dirás
que nunca la olvidé.
Cuartito azul,
hoy te canto mi adiós.
Ya no abriré
tu puerta y tu balcón.
Hopefully, this new look works. I like it, but if anybody finds something they really think could be improved (ie. readability) please let me know. Thanks.
2009/01/31
Giving vs. Taking (31 ene 2009)
In tango, as in life, these are the impetuses that color actions. Both of them fulfill, but one satisfies from the virtue of sharing while the other sates from sole personal gain. Most people are moved by some combination of the two. While I don't know of any who are only givers, there are definitely some who are strictly takers.
The purest takers are generally very poor dancers since they have no interest in really working on it or learning the culture. They don't seem to care what kind of experience they are giving any of their partners, as long as they can get them out on the floor. Oftentimes, they will be the ones who either nag, guilt, or babysit someone they have their eye on, apparently oblivious to the reticence. When you see them dancing with someone it is patently clear that the partner is going through motions, dutifully yet distractedly stepping and inwardly praying for a short tanda while the taker shuffles away, blissfully unaware and/or uncaring, often engaging in chit-chat throughout. While I try to be diplomatic and open-minded about different perspectives and incentives, I can't summon any kind of sympathy for these types. All I feel is disgust. I suppose I take offense at the gall in which they, lazy and uncaring about the culture, invite (and even demand) dances from those who work hard and take this thing seriously. To me, these people do nothing but exploit the dance and pollute the community and if I had my druthers they'd be exiled somehow.
Sometimes you get a case of a person being a taker but not really being aware that they are a taker. In these cases, it is usually someone whose view of themselves and of their dancing and knowledge of tango are far above what it actually is. They, too, will often bully a desired partner to dance, but their thinking is that once they are actually dancing they will blow the partner away with how great they are. It never occurs to them that the partner has already seen them on the floor and has reasons for their hesitance. These takers may or may not catch on to their partner's disinterest during the dance, but that won't stop them from doing what they generally do, which is to jerk the partner around and force dramatic movements and poses in some cartoonish emulation of something they've seen in a show somewhere, or perhaps even from someone they've seen on the social floor who, unbeknownst to them, is not providing a good example of appropriate behavior. In the end, if they hadn't detected their partner's unhappiness they will beam with pride, thinking they showed their partner how great they were. Or if they had detected their partner's unhappiness, they tend to blame them for being a poor dancer and/or ignorant. I suppose, in their mind, they are actually doing more in the way of giving, magnanimously compelling the unenlightened partner to dance for the partner's own benefit, which the uninitiated partner will realize once they experience firsthand the greatness of the dancing. Poor misguided fools, they. As long as they are blinded by their own ego they will never progress.
On the flip side, I don't know if it's possible for someone to be a pure giver, because that would seem to imply that they don't enjoy the dance at all but know they have an aptitude for it and that others would enjoy their interpretation and sharing of it, so they indulge. However, some people definitely have moments of pure giving. One often sees this in noble teachers who dance with beginners or those new to a community--although it can be argued that they are taking some satisfaction in the act of nurturing someone who may become a great presence in the community. And, of course, finding pleasure in the individual nuances that gives everybody a different flavor.
I think, for myself, I am heavily motivated by the giving aspect--which is not to say that I am a saint or self-sacrificing in any way. Certainly, there are the selfish, "taking" aspects of my dance. It's natural that I desire dancing with accomplished dancers, and it's nice when they are attractive in other ways as well, which they generally are (in fact, I can't presently think of an exception). I will say that it doesn't so much work the other way for me, though. That is, a gorgeous woman with poor dance skills doesn't interest me as a dance partner (if that's all I know about them).
While I don't claim to have any kind of widespread reputation, I think that those who know me will agree that I am more reticent to dance than many, if not most. I wonder if some people misconstrue that as a kind of snobbery. I will admit that, to some, it is just that. Generally, when I have that attitude it is toward someone who fits the description of either of the takers. But that attitude is held for very few. More often, my reticence is colored more by the giving aspect in the sense that I hold doubts of what I can offer. This is an insecurity which is the primary reason I refrain from asking for dances with people who I have never danced with but have seen and hold in high regard. Another manifestation of this insecurity is when I have danced with someone but am left uncertain whether it was a good experience for them. While I feel I am at a point where my dance wouldn't be terribly uncomfortable for a partner, I'm aware that everybody has preferences of style and energy and I wouldn't want to trouble someone if my flavor isn't to their taste.
This can also apply to my state of mind, state of body, or perspective to the tanda. I generally want to give everybody I dance with my best dance, so if I'm feeling off in some way I feel they'd be better off with someone who is more in the groove. And there are some orchestras that I just don't feel I dance well to, which isn't to say I don't like them. Pugliese is one example, although I feel like I may finally be starting to make peace with him. I've always loved his music but it's more a feeling that as a dancer I'm not doing him justice and that my natural demeanor doesn't really fit his drama. Other orchestras, like much of De Angelis or Demare, have signatures that I have yet to grasp and I fail to find the dancing impulse in their sound, although I may perfectly enjoy listening to them.
Curiously, I'm having difficulty recalling an instance where a desire to dance with someone was motivated purely, or even primarily, from a "taking" desire. For example, I'm not one to make notches on my belt, tabulating the number of different dance partners to some scoreboard as if that held any significance. Nor do I think that having danced with a reputable partner does anything to elevate my status. I tend to be driven by the consideration that a partner and I will have good chemistry and will provide one another with a fine interpretation of the music and the moment as well as nurture each other physically, emotionally and psychically.
On a tangent, it seems to me that the perspective from a follower may lean more heavily towards a "taking" intention than that from a leader, in that leaders have more sway over dance interpretation, posture, embrace, etc. and as such are technically (and culturally) placed more overtly in the position of "giving." Whereas followers traditionally wait to be asked to dance (although they "give" consent or dissent) and to a greater degree mould themselves to what the leaders provide them. In this sense, the feeling of variety is more pronounced for followers than for leaders since there are more aspects of leading that shape what ultimately comprises the dance experience. This being the case, the motivation of "taking" becomes more of a factor for followers since much of what becomes identified as a pleasure in tango is the feeling of different leads. Whereas for leaders, much of the pleasure is derived in finding someone who is a good receptor to what they have to give. I'm sure I must be missing much in this presumption, though.
Well, this is something that was on my mind for whatever reason but I'm not sure how to close this entry. As always, thoughts, comments, rebuttals or anecdotes are welcome. Thanks.
The purest takers are generally very poor dancers since they have no interest in really working on it or learning the culture. They don't seem to care what kind of experience they are giving any of their partners, as long as they can get them out on the floor. Oftentimes, they will be the ones who either nag, guilt, or babysit someone they have their eye on, apparently oblivious to the reticence. When you see them dancing with someone it is patently clear that the partner is going through motions, dutifully yet distractedly stepping and inwardly praying for a short tanda while the taker shuffles away, blissfully unaware and/or uncaring, often engaging in chit-chat throughout. While I try to be diplomatic and open-minded about different perspectives and incentives, I can't summon any kind of sympathy for these types. All I feel is disgust. I suppose I take offense at the gall in which they, lazy and uncaring about the culture, invite (and even demand) dances from those who work hard and take this thing seriously. To me, these people do nothing but exploit the dance and pollute the community and if I had my druthers they'd be exiled somehow.
Sometimes you get a case of a person being a taker but not really being aware that they are a taker. In these cases, it is usually someone whose view of themselves and of their dancing and knowledge of tango are far above what it actually is. They, too, will often bully a desired partner to dance, but their thinking is that once they are actually dancing they will blow the partner away with how great they are. It never occurs to them that the partner has already seen them on the floor and has reasons for their hesitance. These takers may or may not catch on to their partner's disinterest during the dance, but that won't stop them from doing what they generally do, which is to jerk the partner around and force dramatic movements and poses in some cartoonish emulation of something they've seen in a show somewhere, or perhaps even from someone they've seen on the social floor who, unbeknownst to them, is not providing a good example of appropriate behavior. In the end, if they hadn't detected their partner's unhappiness they will beam with pride, thinking they showed their partner how great they were. Or if they had detected their partner's unhappiness, they tend to blame them for being a poor dancer and/or ignorant. I suppose, in their mind, they are actually doing more in the way of giving, magnanimously compelling the unenlightened partner to dance for the partner's own benefit, which the uninitiated partner will realize once they experience firsthand the greatness of the dancing. Poor misguided fools, they. As long as they are blinded by their own ego they will never progress.
On the flip side, I don't know if it's possible for someone to be a pure giver, because that would seem to imply that they don't enjoy the dance at all but know they have an aptitude for it and that others would enjoy their interpretation and sharing of it, so they indulge. However, some people definitely have moments of pure giving. One often sees this in noble teachers who dance with beginners or those new to a community--although it can be argued that they are taking some satisfaction in the act of nurturing someone who may become a great presence in the community. And, of course, finding pleasure in the individual nuances that gives everybody a different flavor.
I think, for myself, I am heavily motivated by the giving aspect--which is not to say that I am a saint or self-sacrificing in any way. Certainly, there are the selfish, "taking" aspects of my dance. It's natural that I desire dancing with accomplished dancers, and it's nice when they are attractive in other ways as well, which they generally are (in fact, I can't presently think of an exception). I will say that it doesn't so much work the other way for me, though. That is, a gorgeous woman with poor dance skills doesn't interest me as a dance partner (if that's all I know about them).
While I don't claim to have any kind of widespread reputation, I think that those who know me will agree that I am more reticent to dance than many, if not most. I wonder if some people misconstrue that as a kind of snobbery. I will admit that, to some, it is just that. Generally, when I have that attitude it is toward someone who fits the description of either of the takers. But that attitude is held for very few. More often, my reticence is colored more by the giving aspect in the sense that I hold doubts of what I can offer. This is an insecurity which is the primary reason I refrain from asking for dances with people who I have never danced with but have seen and hold in high regard. Another manifestation of this insecurity is when I have danced with someone but am left uncertain whether it was a good experience for them. While I feel I am at a point where my dance wouldn't be terribly uncomfortable for a partner, I'm aware that everybody has preferences of style and energy and I wouldn't want to trouble someone if my flavor isn't to their taste.
This can also apply to my state of mind, state of body, or perspective to the tanda. I generally want to give everybody I dance with my best dance, so if I'm feeling off in some way I feel they'd be better off with someone who is more in the groove. And there are some orchestras that I just don't feel I dance well to, which isn't to say I don't like them. Pugliese is one example, although I feel like I may finally be starting to make peace with him. I've always loved his music but it's more a feeling that as a dancer I'm not doing him justice and that my natural demeanor doesn't really fit his drama. Other orchestras, like much of De Angelis or Demare, have signatures that I have yet to grasp and I fail to find the dancing impulse in their sound, although I may perfectly enjoy listening to them.
Curiously, I'm having difficulty recalling an instance where a desire to dance with someone was motivated purely, or even primarily, from a "taking" desire. For example, I'm not one to make notches on my belt, tabulating the number of different dance partners to some scoreboard as if that held any significance. Nor do I think that having danced with a reputable partner does anything to elevate my status. I tend to be driven by the consideration that a partner and I will have good chemistry and will provide one another with a fine interpretation of the music and the moment as well as nurture each other physically, emotionally and psychically.
On a tangent, it seems to me that the perspective from a follower may lean more heavily towards a "taking" intention than that from a leader, in that leaders have more sway over dance interpretation, posture, embrace, etc. and as such are technically (and culturally) placed more overtly in the position of "giving." Whereas followers traditionally wait to be asked to dance (although they "give" consent or dissent) and to a greater degree mould themselves to what the leaders provide them. In this sense, the feeling of variety is more pronounced for followers than for leaders since there are more aspects of leading that shape what ultimately comprises the dance experience. This being the case, the motivation of "taking" becomes more of a factor for followers since much of what becomes identified as a pleasure in tango is the feeling of different leads. Whereas for leaders, much of the pleasure is derived in finding someone who is a good receptor to what they have to give. I'm sure I must be missing much in this presumption, though.
Well, this is something that was on my mind for whatever reason but I'm not sure how to close this entry. As always, thoughts, comments, rebuttals or anecdotes are welcome. Thanks.
2009/01/24
Good advice (23 ene 2009)
Scene: workshop with Cecilia Gonzalez and Donato Juarez. My partner and I working on a movement which is familiar to us but with a novel execution. Cecilia approaches us and nods her head to indicate, "show me."
We do the movement, but given the constraints of space in the crowded workshop and the pressure of performing for Cecilia the execution falls below what I want it to be, and what I know it could be under different circumstances.
"Good," Cecilia says. She scrutinizes my expression for the briefest instant, then turns to my partner. "He doesn't believe me," she says, a teasing grin on her face.
Back to me. Emphatically, "I think you are looking for problems," she says. "Just enjoy it."
Just enjoy it.
Gracias, maestra.
We do the movement, but given the constraints of space in the crowded workshop and the pressure of performing for Cecilia the execution falls below what I want it to be, and what I know it could be under different circumstances.
"Good," Cecilia says. She scrutinizes my expression for the briefest instant, then turns to my partner. "He doesn't believe me," she says, a teasing grin on her face.
Back to me. Emphatically, "I think you are looking for problems," she says. "Just enjoy it."
Just enjoy it.
Gracias, maestra.
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