Time to think: Dance Theatre of Harlem on tour: a dancer's monologue

Dance Magazine, Sept, 2003 by Tai Jimenez

In October 2002, Arthur Mitchell's Dance Theatre of Harlem went on a brief tour of England. Principal dancer Tab Jimenez kept a journal.

October 26, New York City

It has been fourteen years since Dance Theatre of Harlem performed in London. This trip is a first for some dancers, and the atmosphere is one of anticipation and excitement. I am not excited; I cannot see past the hard work that awaits us. The magnificence of royal palaces, no matter how richly appointed, cannot take away the disappointment of a bad performance. After a difficult year financially, we cannot afford to be less than stellar.

October 27, JFK Airport

We are about to take off. I am eating, I realize that I am eating because 1 am nervous. This, in turn, makes me more nervous. I eat a little more. Before I know it, I am in knots about my weight and the possibility of imminent disaster. Somewhere in my head there is a connection between fat and a plane crash. This might be a good time to ask some big fat questions before the little voices take over.

So, can I, will I, make room in myself to love my body, to accept it though it is less than ideal by ballet standards, while leaving room to love the ideal? Often as a dancer, I am unsatisfied with my body. I think this is true of most of us, whether we admit it or not. If I believe that dance is an end in itself, then I have to have an ideal, something to aspire to. But if I consider dance as a process, not an end, then I am free of the ideal.

That evening, London

Fighting jet lag, I attended a performance of The Royal Ballet. Darcey Bussell and Sylvie Guillem, two artists who epitomize the ideal ballet form, danced. I savored the outlines they cut through space. Bussell especially had a dynamic, unmistakable presence. There were many other great dancers, some with less than ideal bodies. I wondered if the chunky girl with the bad feet could have gotten that job if she were black. What are we really watching when we watch dance, anyway?

November 4, London

I have to do the Sanguinic variation in Balanchine's The Four Temperaments tomorrow and am a little afraid. I feel so naked in it and cringe from the technical demands. I can waste time focusing on the fear or I can focus on the dancing. I visualize it for the hundredth time, step by step. Mr. Mitchell calls this a "genius work," and says it shouldn't be danced with reverence. It has to be danced anew, each time.

November 5, London

I'd been having trouble with my knee a few years ago, but wouldn't admit how bad it was getting, which seems absurd now. The ultimate blow came in Spoleto. I did the first rond de jambe in Sanguinic and ended up on the floor screaming. Eddie Shellman [a former DTH principal dancer] scooped me up and carried me offstage.

I've analyzed that scene a thousand times. I didn't think 1 would dance again; I was having a lovely time feeling like a victim. Years passed before I could admit I missed dancing.

November 6, London

Before I went on tonight, I placed a nugget of rosin in the first wing. I am a little obsessed with rosin. Depending on the role, you might find bits of it in various wings, hidden, like miniature Easter eggs. At last Eric Underwood, my partner, and I blew kisses to each other from opposite wings and made our entrance in Sanguinic. His generous presence helped me relax. I was tentative in places, pausing a hair too long before those dreaded pirouettes, not holding my balance long enough for the double fond de jambe en l'air. But overall, it went well. Eric was impeccable, dancing with ease, precision, and that something extra that makes you watch him.

Afterward, Mr. Mitchell encouraged us to be more playful, to egg each other on more daringly. Patricia Neary [a former principal with NYCB], who happened to attend our performance, said we did a good job, and she is not one to mince words.

I guess you really can put the past behind you.

November 11, London

Judging by my reaction to today's review, I am a slave to my image. Was I pricked! However, I am also the creator of that image. So. can I undo it? If I am free of the image, then I can read a review without attaching importance to it. The review is only a description, not the thing itself. I would like to experience some sanity here! Stepping outside myself so that I can see clearly is a Herculean effort. In the mirrors I see distortions.

The overall reviews were positive and the audience seemed to have a great time, especially with Robert Garland's Return. I danced a duet with [DTH principal dancer] Donald Williams, who stole the show. Monica Mason. director of The Royal Ballet, invited Robert to choreograph for her company. And the Sadler's Wells Theatre invited us to return in 2004.

November 13, London

On tour life is simple: I meditate; I dance: I take naps on the dressing-room floor. I eat plain food. Some dancers go to nightclubs. I float. Literally. In London, you can escape the city's hectic pace at Floatworks, where you enter a chamber with highly salinated water that allows your body to float. Inside that artificial womb I find a sensation of weightlessness that I've been looking for my entire life.... I want to be free. I want to touch, move, and inspire all whom I encounter. I want to channel the creative energy of the universe, to exceed my current ideas about myself, and transform my relationship to the world.