You know that the raw material of art is life, right? For this reason, I’ve made sure to get as much diverse life experience as possible. In my circle of nerds, we call it gaining Life Experience Points. So, I enrolled in contortion class. Right, like circus contortion.
The first class was last night. I took the train, even though I could easily have walked, not knowing how much energy I should save for class. When I got there, 10 minutes early as is my habit, there was one other student lounging against the wall in black tights and a sparkly tank top with skulls on it. She looked to be at least half black, with that dark blond hair that is natural, I think, to black/white hybrids. It was done up in pigtails and left naturally curly.
She would have been cute if she weren’t so sullen. It wasn’t just that she was playing on her phone the entire time and didn’t even look up in curiosity to see another person coming in — it was just the way she sat and showed no interest in the world around her. For that reason, I judged her to be more around 20, though she was tall and thin and could have passed for more mature.
I was reminded of Commedia class, or other theater-like activities I partook in during middle school. We’d show up, put our whiteface on, and get to work. But even then, we interacted with each other, and as middle-schoolers attracted to the performing arts, we were naturally socially awkward and didn’t know what to say to each other.
The instructor came, a small, curvy Mongolian woman, Oyuna, whose age it was impossible to place, but my guess is around 50. Apparently, she was a big deal contortionist in Mongolia. “Only two student? Well, come in, maybe more later.” I learned that the other girl’s name was Whitney, and she had taken this class before. After she had us running laps around the springy practice floor, more people did show up. In fact, the class had 6 people when everyone came, all winter-pale, long-limbed, silent, and dreamy.
The class itself was 90 minutes of stretching (what did I expect?) All the other women were quite experienced, at least in dance or gymnastics or something else — in comparison, I was “made of wood,” as my teacher would say. They could all at least come close to doing the splits, but the most stretching I’ve ever done was normal range-of-motion stuff for sports. And, way back when, for dance — but even then, I was never that flexible. At least I knew how to do stretches. Oyuna had to correct Whitney several times for not having her legs and arms straightened, for being lazy and unenergized.
What was really odd, though, was how nobody talked to each other. Everyone was all in their own heads, like bodies happening to occupy the same space. I’m used to marketers and working musicians, both really social bunches. Not only are they naturally collaborative activities, but the fields tend to attract people who are naturally interested in other people… sometimes to the extent of being nosy (I totally own that one.)
But this dreamy non-interest was alien. Was it insecurity? A complete lack of interest in anyone other than themselves? Extreme introversion? No one seemed to know each other, or want to — I doubted that some of these people were strangers, since they all knew the routine. They’d obviously taken the class before.
The class itself took tremendous concentration, so I wouldn’t expect any chatter during the actual instruction, but no one (besides me and the teacher) even looked at anyone else. No one even said hello! No one even smiled, as far as I remember, except one twiggy blond woman who did a back walkover for the first time ever during free practice. I made eye contact with the instructor just to check if I was doing everything right, in the way that anyone who has taken private lessons with an instructor knows how to do. I am capable of focusing my eyes and concentrating on my body at the same time, but maybe that’s just martial arts training.
Come to think of it, that may account for some of my feelings of extreme weirdness. In MA class, we all greeted each other while warming up, unless someone was obviously meditating or sparring. But awareness of other living bodies, of what’s going on, is essential for MA success. Otherwise, you get clocked!
But there is more to it than that. Hopefully, I’ll get some of these dreamy la-la girls to come out of their shells. Enquiring minds wanna know, since I just don’t get it. If nothing else, I will ask the teachers later. They’ll be the most observant about their students and the culture in general.
But it was weird. In the meantime, I have to “all time practice, ten times every day” so that I will be able to get all the way down in a backbend (assisted.)
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