flamenco

I’ll be starting Flamenco lessons this evening, and continuing each Monday – both an introductory and a Sevillanas class; the longer two-hour session also helps me justify the drive time. :-)

Minneapolis has two prominent Flamenco schools. I chose Anda:

http://www.andaflamenco.com/

I’ve been dancing for about 1.5 years, but I want to get even better!

River Dance inspired this flamenco desire because they have that one dance that isn’t step dancing, the one with the music “Firedance”...

also America’s Next Top model when they go to Spain and they learn Flamenco dance.

Flamenco is going well, but I feel a lack of grace! Could use some encouragement. I am learnign alot about how I feel in my own skin and it is awkward at times…
To meet in half hour with class. Maybe this week will go better. :(

I’m so excited about this! The desire to do this started with a flamenco dancer I saw with a friend two weeks ago, being completely drawn in by the dancer’s sensuality, then my (friend/lover) telling me “you need to stop thinking about having sex and start doing things that will make you happy!” Dancing is something that I have always known is missing, especially when I cry every episode of “So you think you can dance?” I’m missing alternative rhythmic expressions of my sensuality outside of the sheets.

Now I just need to pick a day to go! I love the emphatic arms, the twirling skirts, the graceful hands like birds, the rhythm and passion of the music and the stomping. Oh, and did I mention the castanets!

And hey, Ira, I could be your drummer! :)

I love the movement, the music. It is big, dramatic, subtle, articulated, and Andalusian guitar. It is stomping and clapping and swirling skirts, and after class when you have to step out from the safety of the studio to jog down 8th Avenue in a downpour, you realize that Flamenco is a force of nature: all rain and thunder and bursts of wind. The only thing I don’t like about it right now are my shoes. A half-size too large and they’re still pinching the hell out of my toes every time I try to do a planta, so they’re back at the cobbler for the rack, Spanish Inquisition style.