ABSTRACT
When I was five, my mother put me into a dance class because she thought I was too quiet. Why was I so quiet? I was watching TV. So dance and media entered my life by opposite paths, but I very much enjoyed both. At my dance class, which had a completely improvisational form, I took pleasure in feeling and expressing, playing with the movement of my body and giving it a personal structure. Whole new worlds opened in each class, thanks to my teacher, the great British-Argentine Patricia Stokoe, and her marvelous pianist (much more than an accompanist), Carlos Gianni.
