What it’s like to be part of a professional dance group
Most people have an upper limit for a reasonable commute time. I like thinking I can get most places in 20 - 30 minutes, which is true for work, and true for hanging out with friends, and for most anything else I do. But every Sunday I make the trek to Brookline, which is a paltry 3.6 miles from my apartment by foot, but an hour or more on public transportation. And I usually both eat dinner and take a restorative nap. So I’m the slightly shabby girl, holding a tupperware full of honeydew, half-asleep with her mouth hanging open and drool spilling from the corner of her mouth.
Pretty attractive.
Point is, my commute to dance every Sunday night is long and tiring. It sucks. And when I get to dance, it can be a drag because I’m hungry and feeling quite the opposite of hyper/sexy/badass/street/whatever else hip hop dance asks of me, emotionally and physically.
But there are times, like today, when we’re watching each other perform the choreography that one of our group has created, and we’re channeling those stories and emotions and looking for them in every movement, hair flick, muscle twitch, twist of the wrist in our fellow dancers; and it’s totally transporting. For me, watching the other dancers of Static Noyze is like watching the raw stuff of something entirely beautiful, captivating in itself because of the emotion and strength of these people. They’re damn talented, and while they’ve performed in front of hundreds of people, they most often perform in front of us, a small group of fellow dancers.
So despite the embarrassment of drooling on the subway, despite being the least experienced dancer in our group, I get to have an experience that goes beyond what classes have to offer. Every week, I become a part of these small, private performances. And sometimes, like tonight, they take me to another world.
