Volume 2 #1

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Maida Withers: What is Dance?

Perhaps we should ask what is NOT dance? If you think you are dancing, you are! If you think someone else is dance,...

Brian Williams: What is Dance?

Dance is our reminder that the human body is a temple which should be honored, nurtured and protected. Brian is the founding artistic director of...

Lucy Bowen McCauley: What is Dance?

Dance is the kinesthetic expression of the music. Lucy Bowen McCauley is the Artistic Director of Bowen-McCauley Dance.

Helen Rea: What is Dance?

Dance is the movement of life. Helen Rea, a dance teacher and Craniosacral Therapist, has taught dance to adult dance students of all levels (beginner...

Robin Gilmore: What is Dance?

Dance is a lifeline. Dance does not lie (there's nowhere to hide). No matter where I am or what I'm doing, that moment becomes a...

What is Dance? by Christel Stevens

Human beings dance for several reasons. The word "dance" may be defined as any rhythmic, repetitive, or expressive movement performed for its own sake,...

What is Dance? by Marcella Pinilla

Dance is when you move to a song like no one is watching. It's a response to sound that is good for you and you...

What is Dance? by P.J. Acayan

My body's ephemeral interpretation of how I perceive…..a reaction to everything real or imaginary…..that moment before the first domino falls…..the buzz after your...

What is Dance? by Michelle Ava

Dance is a visceral celebration of the mind, body and spirit in motion. Dance is an underlying pulsating breath expressed through flesh. Dance is rhythm, flow,...

Must-read

Two Poems by Faith Cotter

Beat An amniotic lake within meand you, floating then the deafening silence,static nothingness where I expected sound. For a week I am a shipwrecknot split open on rocky...

Two Poems by Ori Soltes

Late in the Game We sleep peacefully,side-by-side,except, by chance,when she or I turn outward, to the edgeof our plush and well-shaped bed. Never inward, it would...

Two Poems by Lisa Couturier

I Cannot Be Your Quiet All my years of blustery men and mewishing they’d stop whistling, cutting me off,tightening the tessitura of my voice.I never...
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