DallasLindy part 3: Who walks out?

I attended a total of 9 workshop sessions at DallasLindy, with each session being 1 hour.

Most of them were taught by the heavily inked Todd or Faulty and their respective follows, Casey and Pamela. (realizing this fact, I questioned whether or not getting tattoos would make me a better dancer)

In lieu if boring everyone to death with my exact minute thoughts for each and every workshop, I will limit myself to one sentence to summarize the overall message of each session and one sentence to summarize my impression of the session.

Let’s go!

My 1st session (Day 2) — Faulty & Casey: Building a Dance

What’s it about? A session about listening to music and creating different “characters” to match the energy of that part of music (building up the energy of a dance.)
What did I think? Walking out of this session, I was really only thinking about the fact that Faulty had all the leads lead head nods and bounces for the first 2 phrases of a dance, no rock-steps even. Clever.

My 2nd session — Faulty & Casey: Call & Answer

What’s it about? Faulty taught the dynamics of call and answer lead-following, even teaching us how to lead a call-and-answer session from scratch.
What did I think? I think I had the MOST fun in this session; There is a certain simplistic joy present in imitating your follow’s variation.

My 3rd session — Josh & Shannon: Fun With Lindy

What’s it about? Josh & Shannon taught the group 2 quite performy combinations that I will likely never whip out on the social floor.
What did I think? Honestly, when I walked out of that session, the ONLY thing in my mind was the fact that I can’t walk under my own arm because of how huge my head is…

My 4th session — Todd & Pamela: Fascinating Rhythym (note, it is pam-EL-a, not PAM-el-a)

What’s it about? Todd (with his fabulously tattooed arms) gave us a few of his favorite tap-based variations, and Pamela (who apparently has jelly legs when doing variations) taught the girls some of her favorite variations.
What did I think? I actually quite liked Pamela’s variations, which involve twisting stomps, but Todd’s variations are less my style, since they are based on stationary tap.

My 5th session — Todd & Pamela: St. Louis Shag

What’s it about? The pair taught us the basic of the St. Louis Shag (triple-step, double kick, step- stomp, hangman) along with a few of the simpler combinations.
What did I think? St. Louis Shag is a fun dance, but it is SO TIRING. Done. Next.

My 6th session (Day 3) — Brad & Jessica: Hitting that Note

What’s it about? These local instructors gave us a few of their favorite 32 count combinations to use while not connected with our partners, particularly for use in competition.
What did I think? It was nice to walk out knowing these sequences, but I honestly forgot them immediately after the session ended.

My 7th session — Faulty & Casey: Alternatives to Lindy

What’s it about? Faulty and Casey taught us a few other basic steps, including 2-step, snake, 20’s foxtrot, and others that I forgot the names of.
What did I think? I am so upset with myself for forgetting my favorite basic that they taught (It was a faster, almost West Coasty step… It was even the last one we learned!)

My 8th session — Faulty & Casey: Practicing and Your Own Variations

What’s it about? Faulty and Casey discussed the importance of individual practice and had us create our own variations, then teach someone else that variation.
What did I think? I think this was the most beneficial session as a whole for everyone; having us teach one another our variations was a nice touch.

My 9th session — Todd & Pamela: Momentum and Hadoukens

What’s it about? Todd taught the guys one of his favorite combinations to exit a Hammerlock – a move he calls the “Hadouken” because of the fireball-like nature of the move.
What did I think? It’s always nice to incorporate video games into my dancing. Thanks to Todd for that one.

Thanks for reading my silly summary, Internet. More later.

DallasLindy Part2: I walk in!

So, apparently I am considered advanced.

After dancing a few songs, I was one of 7 leads who was given a pink wristband, forever identifying me to all as an advanced level Lindy Hopper.

I was given the band and sat down, watching the other dancers who didn’t receive a wristband, many of whom were measurably more experienced than I.

I understand that only a limited number of people can take the advanced class, otherwise the intermediate class would be empty. Also, there were like…. Twice as many follows, which is ridiculous.

Anyways, just wanted to update you, readers, because…. It’s kind of cool.

DallasLindy: Who walks in?

Salutations Internet!

This weekend, I will be attending the Dallas Swing Dance Society’s annual Lindy Hop conference, DallasLindy.

I have only been to one other dance conference, Lindyfest, but that experience definitely differs from my expectations for DallasLindy.

At Lindyfest, I participated in the beginner’s track — an all-day workshop designed for complete newbies to Lindy Hop.

The memories I associate with LindyFest are of grandeur, of naïveté.

This time, after a four hour drive to the Dallas Opera Rehearsal Center, I entered the small lobby that reminded me of my years in high school choir.

Walking past the repurposed music practice rooms — now heavily decorated and labeled with Advanced, Intermediate, or Beginner — I looked at the purple wristband that designated me as an intermediate dancer.

I wrapped the band around my arm (albeit too tight) and affixed the paper strip on my wrist before walking into the “Intermediate” room. The room, filled with dozens of dancers also wearing purple wristbands, was for tryouts to place out of the intermediate classes and into the advanced ones.

Judges walked around the dance floor under the harsh fluorescent lights of the repurposed band practice room as they tightly held the coveted pink wristbands.

They eyed the dancing couples, silently deciding who had enough skill to be considered advanced and handing them the bands.

Watching the wide eyed auditionees dance their hearts our for a pink piece of paper, I was reminded of the purple(violet?) wristband that tightly hugged my right wrist.

For me, being allowed to wear this accessory was simply a matter of checking the box on the registration form that asked “Dance level? Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced (tryouts required)”

Having danced Lindy for only three months, I know that I am far from being considered truly intermediate or even anywhere near advanced, but calling myself just a beginner eats at my overly competitive pride.

On the other hand, calling myself intermediate is definitely a stretch, even a bit pretentious on my part.

Nonetheless, DallasLindy will hold a second round of Advanced class auditions, at which you will find me — wide eyed and dancing my heart out for a simple strip of paper.

Semester finished: Endless lead/following begins

Photo by the lovely Robin Carlson of Dance Force Productions (http://www.danceforceproductions.com/Home.html) — Picture of me(Jay Nguyen) and Clara(not my partner, but an awesome dancer)

I danced again for the first time in a few weeks.

Now that finals are over for the semester, I have much more time to devote to updating this blog!

Amid the confusion and stress of finals week (technically a week and a half) I was forced to miss a practice of Hepcats/Prepcats. Despite the fact that it was just one rehearsal, I found myself lost the next day at the following practice.

We rehearsed the routines that we are performing on Saturday and addressed the difference between tension and counterbalance.

It was also the first day that I danced with my assigned follow in a few weeks.

As I tried to focus on Justin M’s illustration of the paradigm of Lindy known as tension, my mind wandered to the synergy and cohesion that he had with his partner, Alexis.

They seemed to have a balance and energy present in siblings for best friends, but I wondered if Ashley and I would ever develop that.

I sit here in the lobby of Chocolate Bar, next to my partner and watch the dozen-or-so people dance to a swing rendition of “Joshua Fit the Battle,” all the while musing about our future in dance.

Though the experience and maturity of Justin M’s and Alexis’ lead/follow relationship are far from my current reach, my and Ashley’s first few weeks as a Lindy Team have been promising.

Fingers crossed for a good year with Ashley (to whom this post is dedicated.)

For dancers only: Why do I dance?

My major is Music Theory and Composition. Two years into my undergraduate degree, I’ve performed in dozens of concerts and memorized hundreds of songs.

This comes up after watching the SwingNation podcast at Yehoodi.com, where the hosts had a short discussion about why dancers dance (do they choreograph dances for the general public? or do they do it “for dancers only”)

My musings regarding this was exacerbated when I heard a feature on NPR that focused on a potential scam involving a man amassing art in his autistic son’s stead. The man contacted artists and told them that his son connected with the art by the artist; he often would eventually convince the artists to send him pieces of art.

The reporter discovered that many artists still sent art, despite their reserves about the legitimacy of the situation.

The reporter ended the report with a few simple words that rang in my mind for the last minutes before pulling up in front of my house:

If you want to buy my art, great. If you love my art, even better.

I feel like this pretty much summarizes my experience and thoughts behind any kind of performance I do. Sure, it’s awesome if you want to pay to see me sing or act or dance, but if my performance touches you in some way, I know that I have succeeded as an artist.

 

(Apologies for the late post. It’s finals week and I got lost in the mess of essays and tests.)

Who am I?: (I’m not Jean Valjean)

So, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where I fit into Lindy Hop.

Many of my non-dancer friends are really interested in what I do with Lindy (they consider me really good.) They have asked me to teach them some basics, which I do to my best ability since I believe dance should be shared with everyone.

Anyways, I decided to mix things up a bit from my regular novel posts and write a rhyme (not a poem, just thoughts in rhyme form)

I like to dance and like to sing

and act and write and other things,

but “Who am I?” I like to ask

to know who I am seems a hard task.

I’ve only danced for months on end

but I love the hop and love the friends.

I’ve sang for many, many years,

singing wrong notes — I have no fear.

My life belongs upon the stage,

to stop seems odd, unruly, strange.

My job is writing (writing news)

something I don’t want to lose.

The question, still, is Who I am.

What defines me as a Man?

Though I have no answer now,

I fake an answer with this short vow:

“Who cares about who I am at this point in time?

I’m having fun, hooray, no rhyme.”

#Lindyhop: Considering Lindy at a journalism symposium

Today, I am at the International Symposium on Online Journalism, an event in Austin that concerns journalism in a rapidly online world (surprise surprise).

The majority of the conference centered on social media, along with its evolution and involvement in different events. So, I thought to myself,

How has social media interacted with Lindy?

I searched the hash tag #lindyfest, which revealed surprisingly few tweets. The swing dancing subreddit on reddit has only a few thousand subscribers total.

One if our goals for this year as Prepcats and Hepcats is expanding and spreading the Lindy Hop scene as a whole.

If one of those methods is through social media, then more power to us. I’ll likely bring up how we are using social media at our next meeting. (There were literally two tweets about LindyFest, an event that had easily over a hundred attendees)

While sitting in the crowded auditorium with hundreds of journalists and professionals from around the world, their iPads and laptops illuminating their faces as a panel of five discussed the importance of responsiveness, I thought about how “responsive” we are making Lindy Hop.

Though responsiveness for websites refers to how easily they ‘respond’ to access via different platforms (such as via a phone or tablet instead of a regular computer), I considered this so-called “dance responsiveness” a quality of Lindy that describes how easy it is for others to grasp.

I’m not referring to the effectiveness of teachers or how easy the dance is to learn itself – everyone learns at a different rate. What I’m trying to say is:

How accessible are we, as Lindy Hoppers, making Lindy?

This thought was galvanized by the memory of last Sundy at the regular social dance that I attend each week. By the end of the fifth or six song that night, all the fresh, eager eyes crowding the beginner classes have all but vanished.

When I looked around the curiously barren dance floor at 9:30 p.m., a short hour after the start of social dance, each and every face is one that is characterized by experience and dedication.

All the beginners are gone.

This is echoed in my beginner classes that I took in March, which began with well over 20 each week and dwindled down to a measley 8 couples by the end of the month.

The biggest discussion on my mind for the next meeting with my fellow dancers will be one that parallels a major theme of one of the presentations at the symposium today.

1. How do we engage the participants(readers) and encourage them to continue dancing(return to the site) and
2. Do we measure the success of the dance scene (website) in number of new faces(unique visits) or in number of dedicated dancers(engaged users)?

Lollowing: “I can’t wait to make you good.”

This is a shorter post about nothing too important, since my first three were pretty much novels.

The other day, I was dancing at a local wine bar called Cork Soakers, and we Lindy Hoppers were standing in the dimly lit lobby that was converted into a dance floor.

The five of us stood in a small circle in front of the bar. The ladies sipped on their white wines, and the topic of the conversation somehow landed on fleads and lollows (leading if you are usually a follow and vice versa).

Long story short, one of the more experienced leads in Hepcats, Justin, decided to let me lead him to demonstrate the capabilities of a lollow.

During the song, mid-swingout, he said something that resonated in my mind for the rest of the evening:

“I can’t wait to make you good.”

Of course, he likely didn’t mean much by it (or he could have meant a lot, but that’s not my point).

My point is that I too can’t wait to become good.

It’s an idea that I realized on the first day that I posted something on this blog (which you can read here), but it’s something that has been on my mind for the last few days.

I guess you could say that small words of encouragement are always beneficial. Just stuff that’s on my mind.

The ‘Basics’: A month in the shoes of a new Lindy Hopper

Today marks one month from the end of Lindyfest.

I began dancing Lindy Hop at the beginning of last month and went to the 17th annual Lindyfest/Lonestar Championships. There, I participated in the beginner workshop with Patrick and Natasha.

Then, I got to see experienced dancers compete and dance and do aerials and do blues and charleston and balboa and the big apple and….

I guess you could say I had a good time.

Anyways, I have developed exponentially as a dancer in ways that I never expected to in only a month. I made Prepcats (a performance group that performs along side the more experienced Hepcats). I learned basic eight count Lindy Hop patterns and some variations. I learned how to mix up six count patterns and how to give a strong rock on the downbeat. I learned some Charleston and fast Lindy patterns. Heck, I learned the Shim-Sham. It’s strange that I’ve only been regularly dancing for one month, which makes me think of how I felt the first week I tried Lindy.

Similarly, last week at our usual Sunday social dance at the Melody Club, dozens of newcomers to Lindy Hop crowded the dark brown dance floor. I watched as the instructors introduced the new students to what Lindy Hop was and the music associated with it. I looked around and saw other young adults my age, a few older individuals, and some working age couples who were clearly together.

After their lesson, all the more seasoned dancers (me included) came into the large, mirrored dance hall and joined the newbies in snowball dancing — random dancing with several different individuals for a single song.

I stood on the outside of the beginner circle for the first time and waited for the DJ to call “SNOWBALL” so I could join one of the new dancers.

Over the sound of gently swaying trumpets and drums, I heard the DJ yell the iconic words that, until last month, I had only associated with flying projectiles of ice.

My first dance partner during that Snowball song was a young blonde girl who looked like she was in high school, though her T-shirt indicated that she was a student of Texas A&M scheduled to graduate in 2015. As we danced, I sensed the hesitation in her step and the uncertain smile on her face every time I tried to lead even the simplest of patterns.

Don’t get me wrong, she was a delightful follow and was smiling and laughing the entire time. In fact, she followed every combination that I led wonderfully, despite the hesitation I felt in her body and the haste with which her eyes fell on her feet to double check her footwork.

Before I knew it, 20 seconds had passed. The DJ yelled “snowball.” I thanked the girl for the dance and let her go to her next partner.

I don’t remember who else I danced with that song, but that night, I thought about how I felt when I started dancing with other people.

The one thing I remember the most when I started dancing socially was how intimidated I felt when I saw follows dancing with experienced leads.

In fact, for the first two weeks of dancing, I didn’t ask a single girl outside of my beginner class to dance. Of course, when the experienced dancers came up to me, I said yes, but the contact  was never initiated by me.

Lately, I’ve been feeling the same thing when it comes to dancing with other members of the Prepcats/Hepcats, but it is something I am looking to overcome.

With this in mind, let’s add two things to my to do list.

1. Ask people to dance, even if they intimidate me.

2. Ask people to dance, even if I think I intimidate them.

The Boston Marathon: Tragedy from a Dancer’s perspective

For the first time in months, I didn’t listen to music on the way to school.

I didn’t blare loud, old jazz and swing music in an attempt to broaden my musical horizons. Instead, I listened to NPR. The international radio station was hastily recapping yesterday’s tragedy in Boston, which involved interviews from runners, family members, doctors, and reporters — all in the area when the explosions went off.

When I heard about the explosions, I didn’t expect to write about it.

I heard about the events at the Boston Marathon as it was happening. It was around 3pm Monday afternoon, and the TV in our office at The Collegian was tuned in to CNN. The report suddenly changed from something boring (I think stocks or politics or something) to breaking news regarding explosions at the marathon.

Watching the shaky handed videos from cell phones and iPads play across the 60 inch flatscreen seemed so surreal compared to hearing about it. I watched the numbers slowly increase from 50 injuries to 100. One person was declared dead, then two.

For some reason, the magnitude of the event didn’t hit until three people were declared dead — hours later.

Still, all day yesterday, I didn’t expect to write about this.

Browsing the internet revealed graphic images that television media (wisely) chose not to show. The news report on the radio this morning eventually fell upon the topic of the survivors of the attack. The report off-handedly mentioned that a few of the survivors had amputations.

This news brought me to think about my deeply innate connection with my body. Each step or triple-step, each twitch of my arm that connects me to my follow, each counter balance with my hip or other arm — the way it always feels so natural.

As a dancer (an identity I struggled to claim, since I’d only danced on and off throughout the years) I find it difficult to grasp the concept of … of not being able to dance.

I have repeatedly invited a good friend of mine to come Lindy Hopping with me on Sundays. She danced a lot in her past, but she is currently in a committed relationshop with a wheelchair-bound gentleman. Lost in my excitement for Lindy Hop, I often forget that there are people who cannot enjoy this activity in the same way that I do.

My final thoughts before leaving my car and turning off the radio dwelled on the topic of both appreciating what I have and being at a loss of how to react to the events that occurred in Boston yesterday.

Stay safe, my friends.