So, you think you can dance? Well, eat your heart out Tony Wilder and other dance enthusists, because I just had a dance experience that will blow your mind.
Being a writer for my school's monthly newspaper has it's benefits, including a discounted multi-day entrance pass to Danzainfiera, an international trade and show dance exibition, from February 24th to the 27th. Four days packed full of workshops, auditions, and shows from 10 in the morning to 9 at night, located at Fortezza da basso, a fortress the Medici family funded the building of (since they clearly didn't actually build it themselves, they just had the money to sponsor everything) and was used for their protection in case of violent outbreak in the city. Obviously since the Medici empire is disbanded and a fortress is so last century, the space is now used for conventions and other major events.
I was only able to go Saturday and Sunday, and since the program I was given was in Italian and there was twelve buildings to chose from, it took me a little while to get myself situated. I first walked through the main convention center, finding rows of dance companies and dance products being advertised and sold. Dance heels, tap shoes, point shoes, bear claws, tango dresses and tutus. If it has any imaginable connection with the world of dance, it was here.
Then I ventured upstairs. And thus the mind explosion begins. Free lessons. Workshops. Continously being encompassed by music, movement, and little girls with leg warmers and high tight hair knots. Each room is full with these dance workshops or audtions, seeing classical, hip hop, modern jazz, argentine tango, comtemporary and caribean tango. Going from that building to the next I stumble across a dance competition and others simple dance exibitions (where you need to sit down right away or a guy will come and sternly talk to you about sitting down in Italian). It was like RUSH, on crack. Or steroids, minus the negative health effects. And not only were the costumes cooler and the moves , but in one of the competitions they got these huge trophies like glass tornadoes, for each of the different categories of dance.
Occasionally someone would randomly supply a boombox and people would break out in break dancing, speaking a language everyone could speak. One of my favorites was a crew battle event. The house was packed, to such an extent that I had to sit on the ground just outside the ring of dance crews. Though I didn't get a real seat, I considered it the best seat in the house being that close to the action. I decided it is like slamming without words. Exchanging one thing for another, taking the moment and the music you are given and making something of it. Crews of all sizes, gender, and age attended with moves that would put Alex Menning to shame. I witnessed a crew with members of the average age of 27 go against a crew whose members had the average age of ten. Not only was it adorable, but it was awesome.
Though I didn't have the gall nor the qualification to participate, it didn't mean I wasn't a part of it. Not just as an audience member, but it moved me that real dancing still could exist in such a thriving nature and that people would love it. That two women could dance onstage together in a beautiful contemporary dance and people wouldn't see it as a display of lesbianism (if that is a word) but as something beyond who the dancers are. That we are more than the sum of our parts. That the message doesn't have to be explained for it to be understood or beautiful. And that it could connect us together. Like a flamenco dancer I saw, and though it really just seems like controlled stomping, there was something about it that was enthralling. There was this sense of idenity, connection between the crowd who adored this man and his dancing. A common beat between his feet and their hearts.
And I am still trying to catch my breath. From all of it. From the crew battle to the classical ballet. Neither one better or greater than the next.
Until Next Time!
Ciao!
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