View this post on Instagram
I am the best dancer I know. ??That’s not fair nor accurate. I am my favorite dancer. ??That’s better. Like this dance for instance. In the video above. You probably won’t watch the whole thing. You don’t watch the whole thing when I share a #DANCEMINUTE. Why would you watch the entirety of a #DANCETHREEMINUTESANDFORTYEIGHTSECONDS ? That’s no matter, because the video isn’t even all that great when ranked among some of my other stuff. It meanders, it loses focus, it struggles to find a theme. What adds up to me being my favorite dancer has little to do with your attention or even my own. It is my pride in my dance that I am so very proud of. I hide nothing. I share the irreverent and the wholly serious in the same moment. Where is the separation? Separation is an expression that denotes an apology. A shame… Why would that be a thing at all? Was it? Sure. There was a time when I was my LEAST favorite dancer. And so nothing happened at all. I hugged walls. I still do, but now that’s my thing. I spent years comparing myself unfavorably to dancers who’s technique was the thing they had in their back pocket and who’s same technique has now become their pedagogical crutch. I cringe at technique now. I see it for all that it hides behind. How do we dispose of all that we learned? How do we not continue to teach it? It’s very easy to fall into that trap. Isn’t it? These states, these provocations, these pointed fingers, the ones which accompany the dancing space, hang on to my gaze, occupying what is a meeting point of broader questions, answers and statements converging. The first, always: “Where will/can this go?” The second, a statement and also a challenge: “This is me.” Perhaps that too isn’t accurate. “this is mine.” Yeah, that’s better. ?