The Studio

I spent ten years of my life within the walls of Colorado Ballet downtown on Lincoln and 13th. Every day sweat and tears were poured into the grueling classsical russian ballet training known as Vaganova method. To this day I remember specific music and piano pieces that were played by the accompanist for each exercise. I was homeschooled. Homeschooled at the studio even. My life was solely focused upon what I was to become and who I conveyed within each step and lesson at the barre, on the center floor, with each class and rehearsal. My life was being decided by the progress that was to befall with each moment and the hard work with the instructors in the studios there. When I ponder memories of my childhood my thoughts run high with emotion as this place had impacted so many years of my life and the technical and interpersonal growth that took place, or lack there of.
I was a classical dancer. Aiming for the highest quality of artistry and technique. Without these my destiny was doomed to fail. I had to keep up mentally and physically with the challenges that came with shaping and molding myself into what I had come to expect of myself due to the perfectionism that was constantly in display around me. Expectations always high from the teachers striving to produce the highest quality students.
Now as I pass by the building memories flood my mind. Some good. Some bad. I do not relate Colorado Ballet to myself the same way that I used to. Such a big part of my life with such big impact on who I am today. Yet it lingers into a foggier space in my mind as it filters the memories which I would like to hold onto, and the ones I wish to never be reminded of.
When I was a dancer that space, that building and its context was what defined me as a person. Now I approach this place with an attitude of injustness. Almost like that place took over me as if I was trapped for so many years. Blocked from outside influence that could have helped me develop as a person in many different ways so much more quickly. My identity was perhaps stolen in this place and not released to be my own until this time of my life would come to pass. I do not physically revisit this space and don't intend to ever. It was my life for then, but this is now. I do not place myself there to conjure up my past. As much as it was positive and I miss dancing with a passion, the building itself does not bring upon optimism as a whole. So choose not to subject myself to even learning of any changes that have taken place there. I have not seen a performance since I quit dancing. A bittersweet feeling turns inside when I drive or pass by this building. Once symbolizing greatness and future, I do not allow myself to relate this building to anything of representation anymore. It simply is.