Perceptions
of an artistic, sporty Irish dancer
Elizabeth
Holmes
I
am an Irish dancer. Yes, that’s
right, like Riverdance. I have explained
to countless people the sport of Irish
dance, only to realize after each conversation
how little is known about the Irish dancing
community.
Now, you readers might have already noticed that I consider Irish dance a sport — and
an art form. I maintain that Irish dance is a unique combination of both.
By definition, my claim that Irish dance is both a sport and art form is accurate.
The American Heritage Dictionary defines a sport as any “activity involving
physical exertion and skill...often undertaken competitively.” I doubt
anyone debates that dance is not a physical activity.
For years, Irish dance has been a competition-based institution. After four
competition levels, a dancer may enter championships. Once there, a dancer
may qualify for regional, national and even world competitions.
Irish dance is usually considered art rather than a sport.
It is an artistic hobby, but why should it be so limited? In that case, should
anything be so limited to one of the two categories of sport and art? There
are many sports that are also considered artistic and athletic.
Figure skating, gymnastics and ballroom dancing are three activities that are
judged subjectively, and like Irish dance, are continuously fighting for the
title of sport.
Why, if dance qualifies as both art and sport, do people try to box it into
one? I wish I knew. Another thing I wish I knew was why dance is often looked
upon on being a sissy activity or just a hobby.
Dancers are incredibly physically fit and determined, sometimes past a point
of reason. Irish dance classes and workshops can last hours, and a specific
dance can take months to perfect. Injury is common, especially in the form
of blisters, bruises and cuts.
The physical and mental demands of dancing rival those of any other sport,
adrenaline rush included.
There is a multitude of reasons to dance. I dance for the same reason sports
people have — a sense of achievement. After finally mastering a dance
in practice, or performing in front of a large crowd, I know that all the bloody
feet, aching muscles and hours dedicated have been worth it.
Some dance for exercise and consider it only an art. But for competitive dancers,
the thrill of winning a major competition could be equaled by any other sporting
event in today’s world.
I’m not going to pretend that Irish dance is more popular than other
dance forms in America, because it simply is not. However, it has impacted
our society. Don’t believe me?
Say Riverdance to a group of people, and
count how many start a mock-Irish jig, wildly flailing and hopping and kicking
the air around their feet.
Michael Flatley’s Riverdance has popularized the hardshoe style. Hardshoe
is rhythmic tapping combined with intricate footwork.
Softshoe is a more ballet-like
and focuses on leaps and skips without tapping. Both styles share a well-known
trait of Irish: no upper body movement.
Whether in competition or on the Riverdance stage, Irish dance has grown astronomically
in America. There is an elegant sort of strength to Irish Dance that fulfills
the true meaning of dance.
While the precision and speed may take a spectator’s breath away, the
raw emotion of competition is real. We dancers don’t aimlessly spend
our days stomping at random. We are athletes. We are artists. We are Irish
dancers.
Elizabeth Holmes is a freshman linguistics major. |
