Once upon a time, I was a very serious dancer: I studied ballet upward of 25 hours a week in high school, got a BFA in dance from NYU's Tisch School of the Arts and performed on some of New York City's bucket list-worthy stages like Lincoln Center, the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) and Baryshnikov Arts Center. I was living the dream.
However, a handful of years ago, I transitioned into a different life -- one that doesn't require me to be in peak physical condition, or know how to count music or wear a uniform of head-to-toe spandex.
Since ending my dance career, I've rarely taken class. Comparing your once-fit and coordinated self with the less shiny version in the mirror can be a bit rough on the ego. But in the name of espnW, and my newer life as a journalist, I swallowed my pride and threw myself into one of the more difficult modern dance techniques, Horton, at the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater.
However, I quickly realized that this was not your average Horton class. See, it was what would have been the 86th birthday of Alvin Ailey, the company's now departed founder. So the class was being taught by Judith Jamison, who was a star dancer in the company, then directed it for 21 years. Jamison has an Emmy Award, National Medal of Arts and a Kennedy Center Honor. She's made the "Time 100" list and her contributions have been praised by none other than Michelle Obama.
She's kind of a big deal, and it's rare that she teaches an open class. I introduced myself as a reporter from espnW, to which she said, "How are you going to dance, keep up with me and take notes?!"
Spoiler alert: It was basically impossible.
What it is
Horton is a style of modern dance that was developed by Lester Horton, a mentor to Alvin Ailey, who founded the renowned New York City-based Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater in 1958. Much of the company's work is rooted in the technique.
The dancing is very shape-driven, and emphasizes clean lines, similar to ballet. But it is also very much influenced by parts of jazz dance, like body isolations, lunges, lateral stretches and tilts. Classes are usually an hour and a half, with students starting with exercises in the center of the room, then progressing to bigger movements that take you across the floor. Like most modern dance techniques, there aren't shoes involved. It's just your feet and the floor.
Hello, calluses!
Preparation
It took me a while to find my old, favorite red leotard. A leotard, paired with black tights, is the standard Horton uniform -- but, my tights had disappeared a long time ago. Black leggings would have to do. (If you ever wander into an adult Horton class yourself, form-fitting clothing should suffice.) I put my hair up into a slicked back, high bun and went on with the class. I figured if I felt like a dancer, I'd dance like a dancer.
I arrived 15 minutes early to the company's studio in Midtown Manhattan. Stretching before any dance class is crucial, because it's not built into the hour and a half. If you can break a sweat before you start, even better.
Easing in
We started off with some seemingly, non-intimidating stuff, like walking in a circle to the accompaniment of two live drummers. Easy enough, right? Wrong. Right off the bat it was clear that this was not a turn your brain off and move kind of class. Jamison asked us to stop and start, then pause to a tricky combination of counts.
In rows, in the middle of the room, we tried some basic Horton exercises. There were a lot of deep pliés, lunges and laterals, which are torso-bending movements that keep your upper body in a perfect plane, as if you're bending sideways between two parallel, narrow walls.
Letting loose
The foundational Horton exercises, called fortifications, kind of give the feeling of a conditioning class. It's probably part of the draw for non-dancers to take Horton at the Ailey Extension. But remember that jazz influence I mentioned before? Horton blends totally opposite ideas and requires your body to snap into stiff form one moment, then flow freely the next. So we moved onto a series of isolations of the head, ribcage and pelvis. Eventually, my booty was moving in circles. I felt a little silly, and after I got over that, a little sensual. It really helped me let go of worrying about what I looked like.
Moving bigger
It was time to take up some space. Four at a time, we moved across the floor. Small jumps led to bigger jumps, and small lunges and leg swings led to bigger battements. I was actually feeling good and impressed that I remained decently flexible after all these years.
But Jamison quickly informed us that it wasn't all about that. It wasn't about how high your leg went, but what the rest of your body was doing as it got there. She called out to us, urging us to throw our heads back, give more breath to our arms and arch our backs. I was having trouble letting go. "Ailey loved what happened between positions," she said. "That's what makes it special. Otherwise dance is just a competition."
The class finished with us learning a short combination that used many of the elements we had practiced along the way. "How you doing with that dancing and note taking, ESPN?" Jamison yelled.
Not great, my friends. Not great.
Then, sweaty and breathing heavily, we formed a circle to close the class and give Jamison a collective thanks. The two drummers went all out. It was their own form of applause.
The takeaway
Horton is a pretty intense dance technique, and can be seriously intimidating. It is a technical form, but that doesn't mean novices should count themselves out. In the end, a fit body, hyper-flexibility or perfect coordination aren't essential -- unless you plan on auditioning for the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater -- but the style can help you get there.
More important is allowing yourself to move big and boldly to the driving, live music. Because what Jamison told us is really what Horton embodies: "Dance is for everyone."
But heed my advice, take a nice soothing bath after your attempt. It's been a few days, and I may or may not still be hobbling like a penguin out of soreness.
Kristin Schwab writes for Dance Magazine, The Guardian and Thrillist, among other publications. She's currently pursuing an MS at Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism. Follow her on Twitter: @kkschwab.