A Blast From The Past

I will always be eternally grateful to my Ballet training, as well as treasure my fond experiences, and love for classical dance. But sometimes what you believe may be the correct route for your life, might not be exactly what you need after all. This is one of the reasons I created the style, "Ballet Sensual". An almost hypocritical style of dance and movement, combining the most classical and un-classical of arts.
This is a very abridged version of my dance history. It may offer some insight into why I became the dancer I am today.

Do what's right for you.

Enjoy your life.

Be strong in who you are.

All that mattered to me was becoming a ballerina. When I was 8, my Mom and Dad enrolled me into gymnastics classes. I didn’t care that I was a “natural”, “destined to go to the Olympics” (my instructor told my mom often). Every floor routine, flip, sequence on the balance beam or bars, I would add my own flair, a little twist, twirl, anything that felt natural.

“Don’t do that, Lindsey!” “Stick to the routine!”

I didn’t care. Who were they to tell me how to move? Even my mom, one of my greatest supporters would chastise me for being different, unique, free-thinking. When I explained to her that all I was interested in was becoming a dancer, she seemed more understanding. But gymnastics was still on the agenda. You see, being home schooled didn’t exactly always offer a vast array of classes. The home school group my siblings and I were enrolled in, offered courses that were on a group rate, making the price either very cheap, or next to free. Discount aside, tell that to a kid, and they don’t appreciate a good deal. I just wanted to dance. It wasn’t until I was almost 12 that I had the opportunity. So until then, I sat in my room, scouring library books, stretching as best I could (with the little education I had, internet not yet being available to the general public). My folks recognized my passion, and occasionally chatted amongst themselves. Month after month, year after year. Every empty space, grocery aisle, empty field, drive way. . .even in the swimming pool, I practiced what I saw on my video tapes and in my books.

My passion and drive were insatiable. Fast forward a few years, Ballet and Dance classes now weekly taken and thoroughly appreciated, my parents get the news that we will be moving to Japan, working for the Department of Defense. I was irate. How would I dance in Japan? Were there even existing dance classes? (Looking back, it amazes me how the general education of the American population really is completely inadequate). My mom and dad reassured me that there would be, but I had my doubts. I was crushed, this was my dream. And after waiting for so many years? I made myself a promise. I vowed that no matter what happened, or how many years I was made to wait, that when I grew up, I would become a professional dancer. To my surprise, my training was continued overseas, and funding was more prevalent. We were re-stationed, moving from Japan to Germany. And instead of attending a regular academic college, trade college schooling for Dance and Performing Arts was available off post, for young artists with passion and drive. After 3 years, at barely 20 years old, I made the decision to move to Ireland to continue my education in Cork City. Under the direction of Alan Foley, and his incredibly competent board of teachers, after only a few months, I was also given the opportunity to dance in his company, The Cork City Ballet.

But somewhere along the way, something didn’t feel right. I was being made to dance in ballets and numbers that I didn’t really enjoy. My body began wearing down, as my soul slowly suffered. This was forced movement. The conditions for constant weight loss and the need to be technically perfect was excruciating. Was this was what being a Ballet Dancer meant?