Today’s ballet class was particularly challenging, and at one point during the adagio (the exercises that involve slow movements to improve strength and flexibility) the teacher tried to explain what she wanted to see but wasn’t. This teacher — her name is Roanne — often surprises me with her wording and language — unexpectedly educated and imaginative. Lord, how condescending that sounds, and yet, the teachers at the studio are after all retired dancers, whose career choice meant that their education mostly ended with high school — so that, while they are intelligent and quick, their conversation is not fascinating. Roanne, however, is often entertaining in her speech. Just today, she called her grand allegro "prosaic" and I found myself explaining the word to a young woman in the class, who I had thought questioned the use of the word (the dance was certainly NOT prosaic) — but no, she simply didn’t understand it. A dancer.
Anyway.
There we were in class, only women today, as it happened. To explain how we were to improve our performance of this particular exercise — languorous in pacing but extremely demanding — she bade us imagine a rhapsodic scene: "You are gliding down the Thames, dreamily trailing your hand in the water, sitting in a boat being rowed by your boyfriend or. . .somebody else’s husband" — well, we were transfixed. Even taken aback.
However, I have to say, I did a much better job with the exercise that time.
__,_._,___
Leave a Reply