When dancers ascend the stage, the anticipation of the audience soars, so do their expectations. The music starts. The performance one witnesses is practically poetry in motion. Seemingly flawless, not a movement out of place. The team of dancers works like well-oiled cogs running a machine. Soon, it ends. The dancers bow in appreciation to the applause they receive, and exit the stage. Pretty straightforward, right? Well, maybe not.
Here’s what the stage hides behind its curtains.
What you don’t see are the hours, days, weeks, months that dancers spend perfecting their craft. “Just one more time” only implies “until it’s perfect”. Technique, style and execution are polished until it becomes second nature. That weird twitching you’ve seen them do in the middle of class sometimes? That’s them doing the choreography in their head over and over again. Even when practice stops, it doesn’t really stop.
Also hidden away are the sacrifices these dancers make, and the discipline that dance requires. Between giving up unhealthy diets, losing touch with their social lives and risking their studies or jobs if they absolutely need to, they let go of so much. Dancers constantly learn, improvise and refine, and these aspects demand their time, their undivided attention and utmost concentration. “I’m sorry, I can’t, I have practice,” are phrases they say with a heavy heart because they understand that they are letting go of one thing they love, for another.
With hours and hours of practice also comes pain and chronic exhaustion. Injuries are common, and every day, a new muscle aches. Dancers’ feet are usually found plastered with knots and callouses. Every time a dancer practices, their body continuously stretches, contracts, arches, and jumps, and these movements call for body control and athleticism. As they rest, exhausted after rounds and rounds of practice, they wonder, why isn’t dancing considered a sport yet?
A huge part of a dancer’s practice regime is to spend time in front of a mirror and constantly scrutinise every single movement. There is anguish when they just can’t seem to get that one move right, stress while aiming to correct every flaw however small it might be, and euphoria when everything finally falls into place. Every sort of emotion is felt during practice, and it is extremely hard to conform to the standards to which the visual element of a performance is held.
In the midst of all the chaos, memories are formed. Inside jokes, silly costume pictures, you name it. Tears of both laughter and sadness are a common sight. The memory of when you first danced, made friends with fellow dancers, bonded with your team, won a competition, when you saw yourself grow into a better dancer, when you first choreographed, are all memories that bring a smile to the face of every dancer. More than anything, it’s these memories that fuel their motivation to keep going.
On stage, everything comes to fruition. All the powerful, graceful movements you see on stage are a direct translation of all the blood, sweat and tears shed. The team onstage moves and breathes as one. At the end of the day, all the hard work and sacrifice is always worth it.
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