Bluesy Tuesy Review (June 2nd)

Last night I went to Bluesy Tuesy, one of the local blues dances! This was about my third time ever making it to that event, and only the first time I actually made it at the starting time, instead of wandering in half an hour before close to wave at friends and kidnap the DJ.

I was in exactly the right headspace for Blues last night --kinda depressed, kinda broken, and in desperate need of something a little dark and sexy to help prop me up and face the rest of the world. I meant to get there in time for the lesson, but decided that it was more important for me to eat something before going dancing, and so strolled in about ten minutes before the open dancing started.

And it was...really good, actually. Blues can be a bit of a craps shoot, in that any dance form predicated on not leaving-space-for-Jesus can easily turn into a nightmare for my prickly "you do not have the right to my body" brain. Because for all that I am friendly, and cuddly, and even sexual with my friends, it's just that: friends. There's a lot of ways in which I do not like being touched by strangers or people I don't know well, and I am strong and loud and self-assured and will *not* let you touch me in those ways.

But it turned out to be a completely unfounded fear. Every dance I had started out with plenty of space between me and my partner, whether I was leading or following, and in only very few cases did I have to do any subtle pushing away. No one tried to force me closer, and at the break, they actually announced that the dance floor was a safe space and if anyone was feeling uncomfortable, they should _please_ go talk to the hosts, who would speak with the perpetrator and remind them of the social norms.

(This is not to say I did not have any sexy close blues dances. There are definitely people with whom I'm willing to sidle up against and press my crotch to their leg and vice-versa as we dance. But they're usually people I've known a while, who I've observed dancing and learned their foibles, and who I trust implicitly to keep the sexy to the dance floor.)

So I had a wonderful time, and was able to do a lot of really good leading and following without anyone feeling uncomfortable about it. Being as I don't do blues much, nearly everyone I danced with was a stranger (though there were a handful of "oh yeah, I've seen you around the dance scene...", and like I said, at least a few friends.), which made it even more impressive that no one tried to push boundaries in any unpleasant way.

Summation? 10 out of 10, would dance again. Maybe next week after my house meeting, if there's time. One of the nice things about Bluesy is that it's a _long_ night --the dancing officially runs from 8:30 to 11:00, but often goes for a half hour beyond that if the DJ is feeling keen and the floor is still hopping. So there should be plenty of time for me to stop by and dance

A week in the life...

Hi there! My name is Kat, and I really like dancing. It's pretty much my favourite thing in the world, and I do some sort of it four or five times a week, every week. Sometimes I squeeze in the other good things I like --mathematics, teaching, writing, circus arts¹-- but mostly, my main form of social interaction and joy acquisition is to go dancing.

Most of the dance forms I do welcome beginners. If you're interested in trying any of the below, please let me know and I'll help you get set up! My typical week looks something like this

Monday night: Scottish Country Dance in Watertown. SCD is a kind of set dancing, where short lines of couples repeat choreographies to move throughout the room. It differs from most other well known set dances (contra, square dance, English country) by having steps --you aren't walking, you're skipping! It is very energetic, infectiously joyful, and the style I have put the majority of my dancing energy into over the last eight years.

Tuesday night: Modern Western Square Dance at MIT. Tech Squares is exactly the sort of dance club you'd expect at MIT. We're doing square dancing (like you learned in elementary school gym class) only harder, faster, and restructured as a multi-person realtime puzzle. It's the most mentally challenging dance form I do, though not particularly physically intense.

-or-

Blues Dancing in Cambridge. This is a bit of a misnomer really, since I've only been to Bluesy Tuesy about three times in the last two years, but I'm trying to get out there more often (in between and after weeks at Squares). Blues is a very close couples dance, that focuses on slow movements. I like it for the opportunity to do improvised leading, and, let's be honest, because it's kinda sexy and I'm an often-unpartnered² twenty-something.

Wednesday night: Highland Dance in Arlington. Highland is a solo performative style. It's extremely bouncy, extremely precise, and extremely difficult. If you've seen a person in a kilt performing a dance while leaping over a sword, that's part of Highland. I've only been taking lessons since September of 2014, which means I am still extremely rubbish. I may never be what's considered "good" at Highland, but I do hope to be passable someday.

-followed by-

Excess or Allure, in Boston. These are nightclub events, that run from 10pm-2am. They involve a lot of flailing around like a fool, gothy arm-waving, and sometimes a spot of swing or blues. Given how late they run (and that I have a pretty strict midnight curfew) I don't make it out often, but I enjoy it when I get there.

Thursday Night: This is my night off! I use the time to clean my room, hang out with friends, and sleep. I love dancing, but by the time I hit Thursday, I'm always ready to relax.

Friday-Saturday Nights: Assorted dance styles in assorted places! I don't have anything regular on the weekends, but there's inevitably some sort of event going on --SCD, contra, blues, and more!

Sunday: SCD Demo Team practice, in Arlington. This runs "many" Sundays from September-April(ish), and is where I get my serious SCD technique and footwork practice. We do two major performances a year (the SCD Boston Branch fall concert and NEFFA), and several minor ones.

-or-

Contra dance in Cambridge. The BIDA³ contra is my favourite of the *many* contras set in the greater Boston area. Contra is another kind of set dancing, only with much longer lines of couples --you may well dance with 40 or 50 other people in one dance! It's plenty enthusiastic and very beginner friendly. I go as often as I can, but between demo team and other adventures, that's only about once every 4-5 months.

Whew! And that's not even getting into festivals, or balls, or dance camp, or...

---

1: Which, I mean, many circus arts are extremely close to dancing anyways. They are very physical activities, often set to music, and require a lot of practice and skill. I juggle, hoop, and stilt-walk (poor-to-mediocre) and have done the barest bones of silks and acro-yoga.

2: I mean outside of dancing --usually, it's pretty easy for me to find a partner for any given dance form. I use "unpartnered" rather than "single" very deliberately --I have several partners at any given time, but the majority of them are nowhere near me geographically.

3: BIDA = Boston Intergenerational Dance Advocates = Good People!

Choreography and Communication

Choreography is an important part of most of the types of dancing I do. It matters some in couples dancing (where figures can have a fairly precise path that must be followed if they're going to look and feel good), and it matters significantly in set dancing. In fact, one could easily argue that choreography is the whole POINT of set dancing --while you could just move directly to where the caller next wants you, that strips the entertainment of what makes it great. The point isn't to mill around on a dance floor, the point is to create patterns, follow paths, flow gracefully thoughout your set.

(Some of the prettiest patterns I've seen in set dancing result in very little net movement when all is said and done --Relay the Ducey, for all its winds and turns, is the same net change as "circulate twice".)

That being said, being good at choreography does not necessarily make you good at dancing, and vice versa. I'm living proof of that latter rule --I consider myself to be a fairly competent dancer (and routinely receive outside confirmation of that fact) but if we're being perfectly honest, I'm pretty lousy at a lot of choreography --especially squares. While I've technically learned all of A1 and A2, (and at least a dozen calls from C1!) were I quizzed on the actual definitions, I'd be at a complete loss. Yet I'm able to keep up on an A2 dance floor with relative ease, and have even been known to participate in dances at the C1 level --no gemini, no other square to match, just me dancing, and well enough to keep the square from breaking down.

So where's the trick? It's a lot of little things, I think. Practise, and lots of experience at set dancing is a big one. I can learn new kinds of set dances easier, because I understand the rules and can often recognize the gist of a figure based on similar things I've done. Being flexible is huge, especially about things like what direction you're supposed to be facing (quick spin!) and who's hands you're supposed to be grabbing. There are hints to be picked up from a good or familiar caller, what direction the flow of the dance is moving, whether they have a tendency to re-use certain sequences, that sort of thing. For squares, being aware of your opposite and being able to align yourself with them, quickly and effectively. (unless something interesting happens, you and they should always be symmetric, with respect to a 180degree rotation).

Most importantly, for any dance, the trick is just being able to communicate, and having a set or partner who you trust to lead you true. Be it words, hands, pushes, pulls, points... people will give you signals of where you need to be, and learning how to follow those signals, respond quickly and efficiently, will boost your ability to dance in a noticeable way. There are few things as frustrating to me as a dancer who will not listen when they are told what they need to do, and insist on dithering in the middle of a set, or doing things their own (wrong!) way despite the admonitions of the rest of the group. We all mess up sometimes, but that's why we dance together --so different people can help each other through the calls we find difficult.

Interestingly, the types of communication that help a set guide its individuals to the correct spot are also the types of communication that guide a follow through a convoluted couples dance. Because here's the thing --it's all well and good if the leader knows a complicated bit of choreography, but if they can't communicate what's going on to their follow, then the dance will fall to pieces (just like if a square of seven perfect choreographists have no ability to steer through their new student eighth.) I've had the misfortune to meet leaders who think of themselves as very good (because they know the choreography) but are actually absolutely terrible to dance with. I assure you, I am an excellent follower (and so modest), so it shocked me to find myself unable to keep up with someone who had looked so very good just a few dances before.

Here's the point of this (slightly rambly) entry: Learn the choreography. Learn the calls. Learn the figures. Practise them, and get good at them, and break them down so you can do them cold. But when it comes right down to dancing them, make sure you're doing more for the dance than just following a precise set of movements --because unless you're dancing alone, there's a lot more than choreography to being good at dancing.

Round Peg...

So, a year later, I still find myself largely disinterested in rounds dancing, (As written about here). But here's the thing: I really enjoy couples dancing. I like waltzes, and cha-chas, and one-steps, and polkas, and did I mention waltzing? And I'll admit, I haven't been getting a lot of chances to do couples dancing lately --even the last waltzes from Scottish Country Dance have slipped through my fingers, as all my usual partners move to other parts of the world.

And so a few months ago, I let myself get pulled into a rounds dance, by one of the more proficient leads. He led me through the steps, giving verbal instruction for the things that couldn't be easily steered with hand motion, and well...the inevitable happened. I enjoyed myself. Hey, it's dancing, and in case this (poor, neglected!) blog wasn't a tip-off, I really enjoy dancing.

So that happened, and after it had happened once, well. I let it happen again. Not often, mind, but every few weeks, or months, I'd let myself get partnered with someone who can lead, and have them push me through the moves. And because I'm a good follow, I could do that. Theoretically, I could do that forever, just throw myself in the arms of someone talented when I'm at Tech Squares and want a dose of couples-dancing.

That's not actually how I dance. Ever. I don't think there's a form in the world that I could only do one role of and be totally content. And so I had my first dose of actual rounds instruction on Tuesday¹. I learned a whole single waltz, from the lead position, with all the little components that comprised it. Huzzah!

My first reaction remains one of uncertainty: while strictly-following any couples dance feels about the same, properly leading a rounds dance, and doing all the called moves, is just downright *strange* in comparison to the rest of couples dancing I've done. I think part of the difference is that rounds dancing is a much more performative dance than most other couples dancing I do. There's a lot to it that involves pointing and posing, transforming the dance from just between you and your partner into something involving an audience as well.

Rounds dancing is also a lot more...frantic, for lack of a better word. I am used to, when setting my own pace as leader, being able to take time for myself or my follow to regain our footing and get back into the groove of the dance. Rounds dancing doesn't give you that time to refresh --there is no "basic step" that you return to in between doing flourishes. The whole dance is fancy footwork, and it can easily be overwhelming. (I treat it the same as DDR: when I get lost, stop, pick an upcoming point, and re-start there.)

I think I'm going to keep trying to learn, though. I still don't think of it as couples dancing in the sense I'm used to, and I might never, but I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. There is waltzing, and there is rounds-waltzing, and both are dance-forms I tentatively enjoy.

Plus, and this is important, rounds dancing is teaching me new moves to do as a leader. It might take some effort to translate them from the middle of a sequence to the middle of an unstructured dance, but learning new things to do as a lead is always a valuable experience in my book. I already have an advantage going to rounds dance that I have a lot of practise with keeping my footing steady to the beat. I might as well have an advantage to bring back to more typical couples dancing as well.

1: This is where I admit that my timing was awful --I am not going to be in town for the next two Tech Squares night. No more rounds learning for me, at least not until next month or something.

Square peg, Round hole

During the fall semester this year, I took up Modern Western Square Dancing ("squares"), by taking MIT's Tech Squares class. Unlike most square dancing groups, which can take 40 weeks to a year to cover the mainstream and plus level calls, Tech Squares crams the program into thirteen weeks. It's quick and intense and you find yourself learning eight to twenty new calls each week. It's a rather intense way of doing it, but fun if you can keep up, and their regular caller is extremely good at his job, as well as being creative enough to keep things adventurous even for the more experienced dancers in the room.

Now, square dancing isn't the only thing that Tech Squares teaches, or the only thing danced at their weekly dance nights. They also teach a monthly Modern Western Rounds Dancing ("rounds") course --each month they focus on calls for a different type of dance, like cha-chas, foxtrots, one-steps and two-steps, or waltzes. Paying for squares means you can get into the rounds class too, and several people have asked me if I plan on trying it.

I had never seen called couple dancing before I first witnessed rounds. I have been doing couple dance longer than any other form of dancing¹, and I have watched many extraordinary dancers spin into interesting variations and beautiful figures. Couple dancing is, to me, something to be created anew every time, a dance form filling the grey area between dancing by oneself, which is often completely dictated by your own creativity, and dancing in a set, where you follow the prescribed set of figures, a prescribed number of times.

When I first was introduced to the idea that couple dancing could have all the creativity sucked out of it, and be reduced to just rote repetition of someone else's chosen figures, I found myself utterly repulsed. While my repulsion has softened some, I am still not at all interested in learning how to dance rounds myself, and have had to politely reject several people who asked me to dance.

From the first I have tried to figure out just what it is about called couples dancing that I revile so, especially when squares --called set dancing-- is close to my favourite current type of dance. I think part of it is what I mentioned above, that I have spent so long watching creative and complex figures that the idea of subscribing to another's choice seems bland or cheap somehow. Part might also be the complexity of the figures involved. Often, especially with a clever caller, square dancing feels like a puzzle, where we tie a series of careful knots, and if you don't end up exactly where you belong, the whole thing can fall apart. Eight people (or twelve², if you're dancing in a hex --more on that in another entry) solving a puzzle together is a lot of fun, especially when you're doing so in a rush of movement and grabbing hands. Two people logically have less complex maneuvers, and so the puzzle is less interesting --if it's even a puzzle at all.

Ultimately, I'm not sure I've solved what my beef is with round dancing. I'll keep thinking about it, and let you know if I draw any more useful conclusions. And who knows. Maybe my scientific nature will force me to try it before I decide for good that it's simply not for me.

1: Technically, my couple dancing experience dates back to when I was eight-nine-ten, and friends of the family hosted monthly balls at their place. I learned how to waltz (both the first and second time) by people who have been doing such for my lifetime and longer, and while most of the experience faded amongst the years when I was not dancing so regularly, I stubbornly maintain I have been doing Grand Marches since I was eight.

2: Or, as happens surprisingly frequently due to a friend and I dancing gemini --side by side with one of us being the left hand and one of us the right-- a thirteen person hex.

Keeping it interesting

I'm currently in Maryland, for my winter break, which means I don't have access to quite the same forms of dancing I do back home in Boston. Luckily, I'm friends with a fair number of dancers, one of whom, Larry, hosts a regular dance night at his local community center. It tends to be a mix of couples dances, focusing especially on waltz (vintage and cross-step), swing (east coast), one-step, foxtrot, polka, and blues.

Last night was one of those dance nights, and due to everyone being home from their respective adventures, I managed to bring close to a dozen people, making it one of the biggest nights for that venue in a while. Larry was pleased, and with so many beginner or inexperienced dancers in attendance, the night led off with a couple rounds of teaching.

One of the things I typically do while dancing is to pick whether I dance lead/follow (or in set dancing, gent/lady) by seeing what role is more in demand, and going with that. This is one of the biggest advantages about being ambidancetrous --I can always dance, regardless of the role make-up of the rest of the room. So, when Larry asked people to pick a role for learning swing dance, I paused for a moment, to let everyone else decide, and was quite pleased to find an empty spot on the lead side of the room. For learning one-step, I switched back to follow, and for the open dancing for the rest of the evening, I mostly followed, but made sure to grab some of my stricttly-follow friends to practise leading.

The biggest observation from the night came from analyzing which dances were harder to lead than follow, and why. Certainly, not all couple-dancing is created equal (a one-step has much simpler basic footwork than a waltz) but in my experience, the lead and follow portions of any given couple dance often have very similar basic steps, and role only really starts to matter when it comes to flourishes and step variations. For instance, when it comes to waltz or polka, I feel equally apt at either role, where both one-step and swing I find to be significantly harder to lead than follow.

It took me leading a particularly nice swing with a friend of mine from high school to figure out the difference: Some dances are harder to lead because they are impossibly boring if you just stick to the basic step. See, even the basic step of a good waltz or polka is twirly and fun and involves throwing yourself around the dance floor with your partner in a form of glorious chaos. But the basic step of a one-step? The basic east-coast swing?

Yeah, so not worth spending three minutes doing. And that's where the role disparity occurs, because when it comes to doing things beyond the basic step, the job falls to the lead. Which is largely a good thing, as it keeps the dance floor from turning into a power struggle. But it does mean one needs a few special skills¹ to lead --creativity, improvisation, and, critically, a decent repertoire of flourishes, moves, and steps. So, leading a good swing dance is more than just getting the rhythm and steps right --you really need to throw in some elaboration to make it fun.

So now that I know that, I can concentrate a little more on learning some more interesting things to do while I dance those particular forms. Really though, I mostly just need to be confident in what I'm doing --I can dance swing, and I know at least a half dozen things to do to shake it up, which is enough to keep the follows of my level entertained.

And if all else fails, I can always just ask for the next waltz, instead.

1: This is not to say one doesn't need special skills to follow as well. One needs different skills to be proficient in each.