The Studio

The one place I spend the majority of my time is the dance studio. I go for at least two hours a day, weekends included. On busy days I can spend up to 8 hours in the studio. Each studio is unique and different but my favorite is the oldest, smallest, and dirtiest.

As I look around, the studio is packed with around 60 people taking a hip-hop class. Normally I spend time in here alone, but for today I have come to watch a class. The teacher, who I know, doesn't consider hip-hop her favorite style but you could never tell by watching her. She is a true performer as she stays completely committed and enthralled is her movement. The students are all new-comers to the art form and completely contrast in how they approach the class. There are the people in the front of the room fighting to be the best. The people in the middle, trying to find space to move in the over crowded room. The people in the back seem timid and scared of what may happen next. The class is loud, the room smells like dirty feet and sweaty bodies, and the temperature is boiling. It's as hot as Tempe on a summer day. Some people seem to notice me and are uncertain of what I am doing, some never ever noticed I entered the room. My favorite person to watch is the tiniest little girl dancing front and center. She awkwardly moves in her body like she's never even tried to dance before. To her, she doesn't even seem to notice her awkwardness as she does each movement full out and confident. I am envious of this trait. She doesn't care what people think or what she looks like, she works the movement like her life depended on it. I am so impressed by her confidence as it makes her shine even in her awkward approach.

As the class ends people scramble to check their cell phones immediately. There are so many people in there they have to wait just to get out of the room. Suddenly the studio becomes more familiar to me. The room is silent with just the buzzing of the air conditioning and the cracking of the building. No more blasting music or loud chatter. Just silence. The room is dusty and dirty and still has the musty smell of sweaty bodies. But still it feels like home to me. I spend time just looking at the random clutter, a podium for a professors, some outdated workout equipment , old chairs, and the loud blue curtains that covers the mirrors when wanted. This place is so comfortable for me. A place I can spend hours alone by myself. It is her that I have created entire pieces and spent even more time creating movement I just throw away. I can't imagine the last four years without having discovering this dinky old studio in the basement of a building.