ABSTRACT
I hardly knew of the existence of dance or ballet at all until I was 26 years old. By then I had a degree in painting and art history, and had read some feminist film theory. A friend persuaded me to go to a festival of experimental dance at Dartington College in the south west of England, and virtually my first dance class was a workshop in contact improvisation with Steve Paxton. In retrospect, the experience brought about a big change in my life. Had I been younger I might have tried to become a professional dancer; I have ended up writing about dance instead. I was born and brought up in a small town in the north of England far from anywhere that ballet was performed, and at a time when modern dance was virtually unknown in England except among a few people in London. As a boy and young man I was taken to art galleries and to concerts of classical music. I don’t recall any of my family’s acquaintances ever going to see a ballet, nor was I aware of the existence of ballet schools. Ballet was not an area of experience considered appropriate for young men like myself, or even one in which I might be interested.
