Every Winter at Santa Clara University, the theatre and dance department has a dance show as part of their season. This showcase, Images, is made up of a number of different dances spanning multiple styles and featuring choreography by students and faculty alike. This year was my second time seeing the show, and I could not have been happier with the result. The previous year, 2022, I had been an assistant stage manager for Images, and it was incredibly rewarding to be part of a project filled with so much heart and joy. This year, I went into the show with fairly high expectations despite having no knowledge of any of the numbers. Safe to say I was not disappointed. The show was a gorgeous collage of emotion, healing, and storytelling. Each piece had a distinct feel and tone that kept you engaged and a narrative line that brought you full circle. Whether it was modern dance or a sassy jazz number, I was enjoying every minute, as were the non-artist friends I had brought. 

While I spent the majority of the show clapping, there was a thought stirring in the back of my mind that I couldn’t quite put my finger on until now. In a book I’ve been reading, The Creative Habit, Twyla Tharpe gives insight into creative processes. And as a dancer, she writes a lot about the importance of movement. But there was one chapter of her’s that stuck out to me the most when thinking about Images. That is, Chapter Four: Harness Your Memory. There are a few types of memory Tharpe describes, but I think there are two that are most relevant to this show. The first, of course, is muscle memory. Tharpe writes, “Muscle memory is one of the more valuable forms of memory, especially to a performer. It’s the notion that after diligent practice and repetition of certain physical movements, your body will remember those moves years, even decades, after you cease doing them” (Tharpe, 2014, 64). It’s no surprise that muscle memory was on my mind while watching a dance show. With each piece in the showcase, it became more clear to me that many of these dancers were relying heavily on their muscle memory to perform. Yes, they were paying attention and counting steps, but there were also moments when it was clear they were getting lost in the memory. They were moving completely on instinct, and it is incredible to watch.  

The second kind of memory, and arguably the more important one, is ancestral. Tharpe explains it as memory that is tied to the past, memory that connects you to those who came before. She says, “It gave me a twinge, if not a shock, of recognition. I felt as though I have that illustrated moment stored in me genetically or else I wouldn’t be a dancer. That’s ancient memory” (Tharpe, 2014, 69). As I was sitting watching these dancers perform, I felt that ancestral pull. I could see in them everyone who came before, could see the deep and rich history that dance and all art have. And even though I wasn’t the one on stage myself, I felt my own ancient memory as an audience member, as someone who wanted to immerse myself in the arts. Not only did I feel tied to the history of dance, but the history of any consumption of live art. It’s a generational pull. Something that I had felt, and that I hope all people can feel, that proves just how much beauty, culture, and history there is in art.