Dancing in Context, Part I
Like personal engagements with many forms of art, deciding whether to learn about the history of Argentine Tango depends largely on what type of relationship one wants with the dance. One need not be an expert on the difference in time signature or tempo between valses and milongas or on the effects of the anti-Peronist political coup on the popularity and accessibility of tango music and social dancing, for example, to be attracted to and enjoy taking tango classes or dancing socially or to spectating dance or musical performances. And it would be reductive to argue that knowing this information equates to more proficient dancing. This does not mean, however, that there is little value in historical and contextual investigation. In fact, I argue that knowing about the historical and rhetorical context of any part of our lives better equips us to articulate the reasons for our life choices. And this is exactly the point. Having access to knowledge can help us establish, however tentatively, what kind of relationship we want with the dance, what kind of students and teachers and dancers we are and want to be, and what tango adds to our lives. This, of course, can change as our dancing experiences and dancing relationships change, and it is within this adventure that the beauty of the art lies.
Creating a framework for how to think about my involvement with Argentine Tango has become particularly useful to me as I continue to study and dance. For example, thinking about tango as social expression has helped me ground my study as anti-competitive. This may seem a bit counterintuitive. One might think that emphasizing the social interactions--meeting new people, connecting with friends and enemies, developing dancing and community relationships--encourages dancers to compare abilities and styles in a competitive manner. And perhaps, for some, it does. But what is useful for me here is thinking about the way people danced in Argentina during what is referred to as the Golden Age of Tango, roughly mid-1930's to mid-1950's. Although the cultural memory of Argentine Tango is at times uncertain (like many other discussions of "what really happened" in any culture's history), it is generally understood that dancing tango during this time was the most common form of social expression; that is, going out to milongas is just what people did. Various styles of dancing and music developed, accessible and specialized, and they were shared and mystified, but they existed and drew people to dance and socialize nightly. Although we are in a very different cultural moment now in the United States, understanding tango with this frame--as one method to express sociality--takes the pressure off me to compete with other dancers and, most simply and most importantly, makes dancing and learning more fun.
Understanding this social context has also helped me better determine with what type of teacher I want to study. I want to learn with instructors who emphasize physical technique and vocabulary that are useful in a social and improvised environment instead of those who load up students with memorized steps that ignore the pragmatics of dancing with different partners outside of that particular class. Although I may have been able to figure this out on my own, my formal knowledge has certainly complemented the inexpressible feelings I have in my gut about what constitutes a "good" learning experience from a "weird" one, and it gives me a context for decisions based on those experiences.
I first wanted to learn to dance Argentine Tango out of curiosity. I became romantically involved with a dance teacher, and I wanted to know more about what his life was like--as much as I could as a beginning student. This wasn't very long ago, and I continue to study as a beginning learner, having already satiated my inquiry into my steady's line of work. I realize this story isn't very interesting, but what I think is worth discussing are the reasons one continues to study Argentine Tango despite its physical and sociocultural inaccessibility. Understanding a bit about our relationships with tango through learning about its history is perhaps one avenue into feeling encouraged and motivated to continue learning and, eventually, to finding our own voices.
About the Author: Ms. Roach is an avid dancer in the Seattle Tango community. She also teaches tango through the The 8th Style School of Tango. Learn more about tango lessons by visiting www.the8thstyle.com.
Creating a framework for how to think about my involvement with Argentine Tango has become particularly useful to me as I continue to study and dance. For example, thinking about tango as social expression has helped me ground my study as anti-competitive. This may seem a bit counterintuitive. One might think that emphasizing the social interactions--meeting new people, connecting with friends and enemies, developing dancing and community relationships--encourages dancers to compare abilities and styles in a competitive manner. And perhaps, for some, it does. But what is useful for me here is thinking about the way people danced in Argentina during what is referred to as the Golden Age of Tango, roughly mid-1930's to mid-1950's. Although the cultural memory of Argentine Tango is at times uncertain (like many other discussions of "what really happened" in any culture's history), it is generally understood that dancing tango during this time was the most common form of social expression; that is, going out to milongas is just what people did. Various styles of dancing and music developed, accessible and specialized, and they were shared and mystified, but they existed and drew people to dance and socialize nightly. Although we are in a very different cultural moment now in the United States, understanding tango with this frame--as one method to express sociality--takes the pressure off me to compete with other dancers and, most simply and most importantly, makes dancing and learning more fun.
Understanding this social context has also helped me better determine with what type of teacher I want to study. I want to learn with instructors who emphasize physical technique and vocabulary that are useful in a social and improvised environment instead of those who load up students with memorized steps that ignore the pragmatics of dancing with different partners outside of that particular class. Although I may have been able to figure this out on my own, my formal knowledge has certainly complemented the inexpressible feelings I have in my gut about what constitutes a "good" learning experience from a "weird" one, and it gives me a context for decisions based on those experiences.
I first wanted to learn to dance Argentine Tango out of curiosity. I became romantically involved with a dance teacher, and I wanted to know more about what his life was like--as much as I could as a beginning student. This wasn't very long ago, and I continue to study as a beginning learner, having already satiated my inquiry into my steady's line of work. I realize this story isn't very interesting, but what I think is worth discussing are the reasons one continues to study Argentine Tango despite its physical and sociocultural inaccessibility. Understanding a bit about our relationships with tango through learning about its history is perhaps one avenue into feeling encouraged and motivated to continue learning and, eventually, to finding our own voices.
About the Author: Ms. Roach is an avid dancer in the Seattle Tango community. She also teaches tango through the The 8th Style School of Tango. Learn more about tango lessons by visiting www.the8thstyle.com.
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