From the Editor

From the EditorAn Introduction to the World of Dance

I grew up in Alexandria, Va., which had a fairly extensive recreation program offering all sorts of enrichment classes after school and in the summer. My mother was happy to send my brothers and me to whatever lessons caught our fancy, because they were cheap and the sessions lasted only eight weeks.

My brother would sign up for math and science, and it was usually art lessons for me. Except for the one time, when I was about 7, when I got to take beginner ballet.

Apparently – and I think it had something to do with being left-handed – I had a big problem with starting off on the wrong foot.

And that was the end of my eight-week career in dance. A wrong-footed washout at age 7.

Over the years, I’ve cultivated a proletarian appreciation of dance that went about as far as being amazed by ballerinas who could walk on their tippy toes and an annual viewing of Baryshnikov in “The Nutcracker” on PBS. (When my daughter was 3, I took her to the Tallahassee Ballet’s long version of the holiday classic at Ruby Diamond Auditorium. Very bad call. There were candies and critters doing dances I never did see on TV, Mary had a meltdown and . . . let’s just say there probably still is a photo of yours truly pinned up on the Ballet’s bulletin board with the message “do NOT sell this woman a ticket” scrawled beneath.)

So when it was time for someone to write a feature story about Florida State University’s department of dance, and that someone was me, I was coming from a place of near-total ignorance. Fortunately, Community Relations Director Joyce Straub took it upon herself to help me negotiate through the beautifully rehabilitated Montgomery Hall and give me an introduction to the dance department. She patiently answered my most basic questions and introduced me to faculty, staff and students who patiently answered even more. I was invited to visit classes, rehearsals, workshops and performances.

It was a revelation to somebody who spends most days sitting at a desk, peering at a computer and who is, at least physically, a little uptight. In action, the student dancers were sublime. I was in awe of their flexibility but perhaps most impressed by their ability to move with such abandon. At times I saw people hop, fling themselves across the floor and get very close to each other. Dance is supposed to be full of symbol and metaphor, conveying a message without words. I was a little intimidated, thinking that I’d be just a little too dense to figure out what it all meant. Let’s just say there were several dances about love . . . and I got the message.

I had another misconception disabused during my research. I had always thought of dance as something for insiders – something high-toned, with meaning obvious only to those with highly refined sensibilities. Now, there is a particular language when dancing sorts are talking to each other, but when it comes to performing, there’s no snobbery.

Truly, everyone I spoke with wanted everybody – anybody – to come and watch the performances. And there’s no quiz afterward to see if you “got” it. Did you like it? Did it make feel something? That’s what my hosts really wanted to know.

I invite you to read my story about FSU’s department of dance and – if the spirit moves you – to take in a performance. And perhaps take a few moments to indulge that spirit and do a little dancing of your own.

I grew up in Alexandria, Va., which had a fairly extensive recreation program offering all sorts of enrichment classes after school and in the summer. My mother was happy to send my brothers and me to whatever lessons caught our fancy, because they were cheap and the sessions lasted only eight weeks.

My brother would sign up for math and science, and it was usually art lessons for me. Except for the one time, when I was about 7, when I got to take beginner ballet. Apparently – and I think it had something to do with being left-handed – I had a big problem with starting off on the wrong foot.

And that was the end of my eight-week career in dance. A wrong-footed washout at age 7.

Over the years, I’ve cultivated a proletarian appreciation of dance that went about as far as being amazed by ballerinas who could walk on their tippy toes and an annual viewing of Baryshnikov in “The Nutcracker” on PBS. (When my daughter was 3, I took her to the Tallahassee Ballet’s long version of the holiday classic at Ruby Diamond Auditorium. Very bad call. There were candies and critters doing dances I never did see on TV, Mary had a meltdown and . . . let’s just say there probably still is a photo of yours truly pinned up on the Ballet’s bulletin board with the message “do NOT sell this woman a ticket” scrawled beneath.)

So when it was time for someone to write a feature story about Florida State University’s department of dance, and that someone was me, I was coming from a place of near-total ignorance. Fortunately, Community Relations Director Joyce Straub took it upon herself to help me negotiate through the beautifully rehabilitated Montgomery Hall and give me an introduction to the dance department. She patiently answered my most basic questions and introduced me to faculty, staff and students who patiently answered even more. I was invited to visit classes, rehearsals, workshops and performances.

It was a revelation to somebody who spends most days sitting at a desk, peering at a computer and who is, at least physically, a little uptight. In action, the student dancers were sublime. I was in awe of their flexibility but perhaps most impressed by their ability to move with such abandon. At times I saw people hop, fling themselves across the floor and get very close to each other. Dance is supposed to be full of symbol and metaphor, conveying a message without words. I was a little intimidated, thinking that I’d be just a little too dense to figure out what it all meant. Let’s just say there were several dances about love . . . and I got the message.

I had another misconception disabused during my research. I had always thought of dance as something for insiders – something high-toned, with meaning obvious only to those with highly refined sensibilities. Now, there is a particular language when dancing sorts are talking to each other, but when it comes to performing, there’s no snobbery.

Truly, everyone I spoke with wanted everybody – anybody – to come and watch the performances. And there’s no quiz afterward to see if you “got” it. Did you like it? Did it make feel something? That’s what my hosts really wanted to know.

I invite you to read my story about FSU’s department of dance and – if the spirit moves you – to take in a performance. And perhaps take a few moments to indulge that spirit and do a little dancing of your own.

Rosanne Dunkelberger, Editor