And then it’s over

postitleswirl

Tangotourist in Europe, Summer 2014

An abrupt ending to an endless weekend.

I can’t tell if I liked it or not. But I’m sad it’s over. There were some people I am glad to have met.

We were all languishing in the abundance waiting for it to warm up, tying to get it there, and then it was over.

By today I was leading the rhythmic thing without getting so bored, but also finding its limitations. The marks were good enough to perceive that when they tried to stop or hold me I was already stopped, and they would lighten up their grip. But when they did occasionally mark a voleo or gancho it tended to be stiff and clunky, disrespecting the arc.

The revels were sorta ok in close embrace but the moment I opened they would freak out and start running around me. Could not mark side step with her left foot in any embrace, no possibility of voleo with right leg, and they refused to manage sacada of any kind. Basically just like the average Sydney follower except better connection and embrace, so long as I only mark change of foot and alteracion.

M’s question: would it have been better with more diverse music with same dancers, friendliness, and ratio? I would have been more inspired to mark, but the ratio problem would have been more frustrating… It didn’t bother me much because I was so uninspired.

In conclusion: No one seems to be able to train a revel so let’s just dance in a way that the girls can pick up by dancing in the milonga. Then swagger around like we’re the shit and put down everything else, claiming it’s dangerous or ugly or lacks musicality and connection.

This is a video of the last tanda, in which people were a little happier and dancing with more playfulness…the rest of the weekend much more  sedate.

Silences in history. Silences by code. Silences of fear. You already know that Tango’s silences can be sublime and they can be devastating.

What I do in my blog is use myself as a lens – sometimes a microscope, sometimes a telescope. I try to be as honest with myself and you as words concede. Then I try to find a deeper meaning and imagine a pathway for us.

A blog post can be a fragment, a wisp of inspiration, an outline for thinking. A book must complete and reconcile it all. Now I drag the social scientist to the scene to enumerate the facts of the case, the mystery which brought both stardom and tragedy to my life.

I invite you to join my resolution to take a look at the dark silences of Argentine Tango in our lives. It’s time.

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Power is the courage, confidence, and competence to make things happen. I want to create in a way that’s incomparable and define my own compensation package. You too?

Syntax of Power is a raw, potent, and spare revelation of how I got to where I am and how I take on the struggle every day.

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Dyv stands for Duro y Vio. We were inspired by a 2007 conference at Harvard University about tango as a transnational culture. Also we wanted to create something that would help people to imagine a queerer tango. We forbid ourselves to use the word ‘passion’ and instead tried to articulate the experience more precisely.

Argentine Tango is more than an elaborate and difficult dance, it is an international culture of intimacy, desire, and dignity. No mere romance or memoir, the intricately woven stories evoke tango’s true mysteries … the elation, the frustration, the compulsion…

We published the book in 2009. Dancers asked “how did you know what I was feeling?”

Silences in history. Silences by code. Silences of fear. You already know that Tango’s silences can be sublime and they can be devastating.

What I do in my blog is use myself as a lens – sometimes a microscope, sometimes a telescope. I try to be as honest with myself and you as words concede. Then I try to find a deeper meaning and imagine a pathway for us.

A blog post can be a fragment, a wisp of inspiration, an outline for thinking. A book must complete and reconcile it all. Now I drag the social scientist to the scene to enumerate the facts of the case, the mystery which brought both stardom and tragedy to my life.

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