Tanguera’s tale


Before being a tanguera, I was an economist. I was interested in community-based economics, crafts and craftspeople. I’ve become one of the people I used to study. I work with my hands, my body, my creativity, my spirit. I integrate mind and body into my craft. It’s a beautiful and meaningful life. I do what I love and hope that eventually this will become a sustaining livelihood.

I have an addiction. I live scrambling from high to high. As an addict I’ve made irrational decisions, devalued myself and everything around me, hurt people who loved me. I threw away a secure and promising career. I abandoned my home, my friends, my work. I slipped into the trade, with no reasonable hope of financial success. I called it “art”. Like any addiction there are highs and lows. I had fantasies, and made some of them real for a minute. Like many addicts, one day I woke up in a grungy apartment feeling like I’d been hit over the head. Fluttery images of the life I left behind taunted me and I couldn’t quite figure out what had happened. The lows are like waves with intense points and deeper ones. Like any addict, I’m searching for a better hit, a purer product. Sometimes I get it, a great dancer passes through town and I ride that wave in bliss. But the deeper story of the wave is that I’ve reached a point where there aren’t many people in the world who I want to dance with.

Which of these stories is true? I don’t know.

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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