after an extended hiatus, i have again begun to move my body on the dance floor. as in years past when i have taken a break from mirrors and raised floors and stages and costumes, i have reflected upon what it means to be a dancer. just as the question often arises in my mind as i walk through my days, 'what does it mean to be an artist?', i find myself thinking of the process rather than the product of my passions.
i have stumbled, quite fortuitously onto bharanathayam, one of the seven forms of classical indian dance, and into a community of dancers of varying backgrounds who approach the dance with the true love of those who feel the rhythm of dance coursing through their veins. as we took the stage last saturday, i gave pause to wonder how i could have stayed away so long... and then i looked at these ladies smiling and embodying this classical southern indian dance form, and the answer became clear: dancing is in the blood (as artistry is), and does not need tangible evidence to be real.
... the first photo is of our entire troupe, with our teacher suba standing in traditional costume in front. the second is a more playful (and maybe more accurate) representation of us posing in our favorite animal poses.
