Hungry

When I first began learning to dance, I would watch with much longing, the advance class that was scheduled on Saturday afternoons at Dance Arts Singapore.  Mentally I would try and memorise what I saw, and then practised in secret.   Another thing I did was read and re-read every book about dance there was on those two shelves at the National Library (Marine Parade), and just mimicked the movement shapes.  It really didn't matter if I was doing it wrongly, or that there was no one to help me.  I was just so happy absorbing.  In my one glorious hour of ballet class with Tony Llacer, I would go again and again and again, when we took turns to do center work in groups across the floor.  He never stopped me.  He understood, hunger.  Later, God brought to my life, my friend Trace, who invited me to her ballet class.  So that finally at 15 years old, I had a teacher, Mrs HY Skipp, who taught me the correct principles of pointe work.

17 years old, photo credit-  Mrs HY Skipp

I have terrible feet for ballet.  They are too flat.  So pointe work was really difficult for me.  Back then, we also didn't use toe pads.  We literally did it the hard way- one pair of cherished pointe shoes that we darned at the tips to make the satin less slippery on the floors, taped our toes up to offer some relief from the bruising and bleeding, and then the ritual of sticking both feet covered with the shoes into the rosin box.  When all that was done, we would waddle towards the barre, sometimes grimacing.

By the time we came to center work, there were times we could no longer feel our feet.  But hey ho, onwards we would go.  Dancers are notorious for doing things that may seem unhealthy and very punishing to the self.

10:30am and Caroline, my favourite, favourite teacher, says-  You alright to come up front and canter Dumpling down this stretch?

Teacher Caroline is the figure up front.

Like, just canter him for the whole stretch? 

Yup.  It's good for him.  It'll limber him up.

Aloud, I said, Sure.

In my heart, I thumped, OF COURSE!

OF COURSE!

10:40am, Caroline says-  Well done.  Lets see how the both of you get on today, without stirrups.

10:50am, she says- Good, add in some lateral work as well, and now that he is warmed up and willing, throw in some canter, especially on his weaker side.  Don't be afraid to use shallow loops, and some leg yields, in canter.

11:00am At any point, please feel free to let me know if you are tired or if it is too much.

Too much?  I love Too Much!

(*Sorry, no photos illustrating the above as I was too busy doing Too Much.)

I know what it is like to stand on my toes with my toe nails missing.  I know what it is like to remove my pointe shoes and see red seeping through my tights.

By 11:15am, there is some blood and bruising.  But I am unfazed.  I do the whole lesson without stirrups, and when it ends, I ask if Dumpling has ever been ridden without a saddle.  All I feel is euphoria and hunger.  It is exactly as it was when I was 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 learning to dance in Singapore.

Euphoria is so light, incandescent almost.  Hunger is forceful like the ocean, propelling, thrusting.  One day, I will reach ashore.