A midweek rendezvous, to consider how we move and how we're moved by what we do.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Leg Crazy

Most showgirls come to work in jeans, but they all change into fishnets and sparkly G-strings. G-strings arch upwards and make for longer legs.

How far up do your legs go?

That question sounds simple enough. But, one day, when we were asked it, in class, everyone else did the same things as I. They ran their fingers up and down their sides, hesitating here and there. They peered down, searching for a place to stop, and smiled, sensing a paradox.

Surely the length of our legs doesn't depend on whether we're sitting or whether we stand. Or, on jeans, Bermuda's or tights. Yet, the way we conceive 'leg' is largely visual. And, those visual references can leave us confused. At least, in terms of the best way to move.

Slide your hands up the side of your thighs, until you find that bumpy spot where the thigh bone stops. It's roughly marks the level of the hip joint. Turn your legs, in and out. Lift your knees and let them down. Feel how the tip of the thigh bone pivots around and how much lower it is than we would expect.

Visually, the leg line might go further up -- to the top of the butt or, even, the ilium crest -- but we have legs and a hip. I had danced professionally for many a year before this distinction was made perfectly clear. Before then, I was trying to involve muscles that weren't implicated -- or, better said, that were implicated, but in much different ways. In a world of relativity, for something to move, something must stay. Things can resist and, still, work together.

The moral to the story: There's the pleasure of looking and the pleasure of doing, and they, both, are valid and real. But, if you want to move more deeply, a body is something you should take time to feel.
(And, please, take that anyway you want.)

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