pascal
08-18-2007, 09:06 AM
Watching me in milongas, argentine tango people sometimes try to guess, from my way of dancing, who my teachers were. And there are many of them in Paris.
But only one was really influential and he wasn't a big name, not even an A.T teacher. A mere social ballroom teacher, and it's during my years with him that I built my style. The lead. Not just doing my half of the dance. Always wait to be sure that the woman is on the right track for her next step before stepping myself. "I'll never pretend I can dance", he liked to say, "but I guarantee you that I can lead". He wasn't interested in elegance or having your foot here and not there, unless it was detrimental to the lead/follow process. The long steps I like to make in A.T, it comes from the Viennese Waltz. He liked to caricature the ballroom competitors, he would cruise the room in only three giant steps, making faces. "In competition, this is called a smile!" he said. He taught us versatility. Rumba is sexy, cha-cha is fun, fox-trot is... well we did not like fox-trot too much. He was generous. He gave me a pair of his dance shoes when he saw I had none. Navigation. His classes were packed, leaders had to grow a third eye to avoid collisions. He was very efficient. I still remember my first group class with him, paso-doble and cha-cha. Couldn't get anything, wasn't a born dancer at all. Years later in another studio the pupils would think I was the new teacher, they were astounded, and I was surprised that they were astounded. Hey, we can all do that in my class, invite any lady and lead things unknown to her and having fun.
Having switched to A.T I was still on his e-mail list, and every year in August when receiving his flyers I would consider going back to social ballroom. I guess I won't. Included in the envelope with the flyer was a little piece of paper with just a few words, signed by his assistants.
"Jean-Jacques est parti, très loin et très haut, avec ses chaussures de danse. Il nous a demandé de poursuivre sa tâche ici-bas. Les cours seront donnés par..."
When someone dies he still lives in the memories, when a teacher dies he still lives in the dance of his pupils.
But only one was really influential and he wasn't a big name, not even an A.T teacher. A mere social ballroom teacher, and it's during my years with him that I built my style. The lead. Not just doing my half of the dance. Always wait to be sure that the woman is on the right track for her next step before stepping myself. "I'll never pretend I can dance", he liked to say, "but I guarantee you that I can lead". He wasn't interested in elegance or having your foot here and not there, unless it was detrimental to the lead/follow process. The long steps I like to make in A.T, it comes from the Viennese Waltz. He liked to caricature the ballroom competitors, he would cruise the room in only three giant steps, making faces. "In competition, this is called a smile!" he said. He taught us versatility. Rumba is sexy, cha-cha is fun, fox-trot is... well we did not like fox-trot too much. He was generous. He gave me a pair of his dance shoes when he saw I had none. Navigation. His classes were packed, leaders had to grow a third eye to avoid collisions. He was very efficient. I still remember my first group class with him, paso-doble and cha-cha. Couldn't get anything, wasn't a born dancer at all. Years later in another studio the pupils would think I was the new teacher, they were astounded, and I was surprised that they were astounded. Hey, we can all do that in my class, invite any lady and lead things unknown to her and having fun.
Having switched to A.T I was still on his e-mail list, and every year in August when receiving his flyers I would consider going back to social ballroom. I guess I won't. Included in the envelope with the flyer was a little piece of paper with just a few words, signed by his assistants.
"Jean-Jacques est parti, très loin et très haut, avec ses chaussures de danse. Il nous a demandé de poursuivre sa tâche ici-bas. Les cours seront donnés par..."
When someone dies he still lives in the memories, when a teacher dies he still lives in the dance of his pupils.