Chloe McWilliams Orientation to Dance Ed Austin April 8, 2014 My Personal Philosophy of Dance Dance has always been something

of a mystery in my life. A mystery laced with magic. The spark dance ignited in me was due to a reason I could not explain. But that spark was undoubtedly there. I could feel its fingers tugging at the strings of my heart. And creativity was stirring. My earliest memories of dance go back to when I was three-years-old. I have faded memories of sitting on my mothers lap in a dark theatre. Lights from a stage illuminated my face, and a deep rhythm rumbled in my soul. We were at the Riverdance concert. I was three and my parents had brought me along. Although I do not remember all of the concert, I do remember being completely entranced by how powerfully the dancers moved to the music. After the performance, my parents bought the Riverdance video. During the entire next year, I must have watched the video hundreds of times, each time becoming more and more fascinated by the music and the movement. I stood in front of the TV, eyes glued to the screen, bobbing up and down as my feet moved frantically, trying to imitate the dancers in the video. After repeated times of watching the movie and listening to the Riverdance soundtrack and a visit to my friends ballet recital, my mom asked if I wanted to start dance. The answer was an obvious yes.

I started in ballet, and that soon came to be my one true love. Although, Riverdance peaked my initial interest in dance, ballet quickly stole my heart. At three or four years old, almost every young girl has put on the pink leotard and tights and tried a ballet class. But how many actually stick with it and do what it takes to become a real ballerina? After my first year of ballet, I was standing in line waiting to take my first end-of-the-year recital picture. I stood, only a few feet tall, reaching up to clutch my mothers hand. My hair was slicked back, fastened with bobby pins and tiny hairnet into a little bun on the top of my head. I lifted my chin tall and high in order to show off my sparkling tiara. Lipstick stuck to my lips. As I took in my surroundings the backdrop, the massive camera, the lights I saw an older dancer posing to get her picture taken. She wore a glittering, pink tutu a real tutu with pointe shoes, and an even bigger sparkling tiara than my own. In a flash, she swept her leg up into a breathtaking back attitude and smiled at the camera. In that moment, I knew. I knew what I had to do, what I had to become. I had to be her. I had to be a star. A ballerina. I was five-years-old, and I knew dance was my passion and I would do whatever it took to reach my dreams and become that image I saw in my little head. This launched me into years of intensive training; lots of sweat, tears, blood, and pain. But I never deviated from that picture I captured forever in my mind when I was a five. As years went on, I persisted in working hard, reaching towards my goal. By eight-years-old, I knew I wanted to be a company level ballet dancer. This was the only way I could become the prima ballerina I so dreamed of. My mother took me in

to see our studio director to discuss the steps I needed to take in order to be ready in a few years. Drop out of every other dance class; take only ballet, was the advice. I stopped the jazz class I was in to focus purely on ballet technique. Eventually, I hit the pre-pointe class, and then beginning pointe the last measure to get me ready for company. The year finally came for my company audition and we again went to my director to ask what more progress I needed to make before the audition. It was at this moment that my director informed me that she was actually unsure if I would make it this year. She said I was not strong enough. This tore me apart. Everything I had worked for, and now I wasnt strong enough? I cried and cried. But after I was done crying, I determined I was not going to let this statement from one person determine what kind of a dancer I was going to be. I started putting in even more. I danced on pointe until my toes bled, I stayed for private lessons with the director to correct my weaknesses. I was sore. I was worn out. I was tired. But at the audition, I made the first level of company. This was only one of many times that I would be told in my lifetime that I was not good or strong enough to continue in achieving my dream. And this launched me on a pathway to always prove wrong those who did not believe. Those who did not believe in what I knew I could do. I am not weak. I will find that strength inside of me. Dance brings me power. Ballet is the juxtaposition of softness, grace, and beauty with strength and power. To me, dance is more than drilling technique in a classroom. Dance is letting your spirit move. Dance is making music visible. Dance is fighting back when everyone around you says you are not good enough. Dance is about combining

beauty with power, softness with strength. Dance is about forcing yourself to become strong when you feel so weak. Dancing is working for your dreams. Dance is doing what you love every day. Dance is instilling that passion in others. Dance is doing something else no one else can do. Dance is realizing that you can do hard things. I do believe that everyone, to a small degree, can share that innate passion to dance. We are born with this desire. To move and to create is a divine component of our human bodies. Everyone can dance. But to truly become a dancer takes much more discipline, skill, and training. It takes a commitment to pushing your body past its natural, physical limits. It takes mental power to tell yourself to keep going when you do not think you have one more ounce of energy in you. It is proving to yourself and to the world that you, in fact, are good enough. Dancers are athletes among artists. In the words of the famous Agnes de Mille, To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power; it is glory on earth, and it is yours for the taking.