On Personal Space
By Laureano Ralon Facchina*

My progression from a beginner to an intermediate level of salsa was accompanied by some sort of epiphany: a discovery of what's perhaps the single, most important principle in social dancing; namely, that clean, quick, effortless moves result from dancing close to your partner. For the total beginner, dancing close can be a hard thing to do – especially in North America, where the idea of 'togetherness' goes against the notion of “personal space”. Much like the notion of privacy, the sense of perspective, and the idea of a point of view, personal space is arguably the by-product of the literate, visual biases of Western civilization, whereby the philosophies of Descartes, Hobbes and Locke have created a dualism (the “object-versus-subject” dichotomy summarized in the famous aphorism, “I think, therefore I am”) that fosters detachment, uninvolvement and individualism.

By contrast, in semi-literate, audio-tactile societies, objects and others do not present themselves visually; instead, touch plays the main part in the organization of experience. Scholars and anthropologists have noted that, where the heavy visual emphasis of literacy is lacking in a culture, there occurs another form of sensuous involvement and cultural appreciation. A few days ago, while researching a travel website, I ran into an item from a tourism guide to Greece from which the following passage can prove illuminating in connection to this point. The fragment read as follows:

“...do not be surprised at the frequency with which you are patted, petted, and probed in Greece. You may end up feeling like the family dog...in an affectionate family...it's as though your hosts are trying to find out what you are made of.”

In dance, the notion of personal space gave way to ballroom dancing, some forms of Swing dancing, and L.A. Style salsa – all of which constitute very visual art forms that are consistent with the notion of personal space. Dancing separate or farther apart from each other calls for certain moves/looks but not others. In salsa, those who learn L.A. Style are usually taught to execute long cross body-leads, which definitely look good on stage, but can prove disastrous on a crowded dance floor if executed by an amateur. Indeed, the new L.A. Style dancer is usually hated because of what's often perceived as poor “space management” skills (I personally remember being told by a girl in NYC: “you're throwing me all over the dance floor.”)

Other styles make a different use of the dance floor. Unlike L.A. Style dancers, which travel, Cuban style dancers stay put in one spot on the floor. A sense of ‘togetherness’ arises as a result, which arguably defies the notion of personal space. Contrary to common belief, I've discovered that there's a reason for this togetherness – one which goes beyond flirtation and other sexually-driven motivations: it appears that in Cuba, the dance floors get so crowded, you barely have room to dance, much less to move. Consequently, their Salsa style tends to travel less and be more "space-conscious".

N.Y. Style dancers, in turn, build on this principle of togetherness derived from Cuban Style salsa (and others like moving around the woman), while maintaining the visual sense of the slot. Unlike Casino dancers, however, I believe N.Y. dancers have understood that dancing close does not mean dancing an entire song in close contact, but being parsimonious in the use of any given space. In other words, the closer you are to your partner, the easier, the quicker, the cleaner, the more effortless the execution of advanced, sophisticated moves should become. (Incidentally, I also believe that the fundamental difference between N.Y. Style and dancing L.A. Style rests not so much on dancing to the first or the second beat of the music as to dancing closer to your partner and thus having more control as a leader.)

Finding a unique personal style is only possible through the prism of eclecticism. An eclectic is someone who borrows from different sources until he comes up with a unique blend that he can call his own. Not surprisingly, dancers with unique styles are also advance dancers, and they are so because they adapt. Thus adaptation is consistent with eclecticism since, to borrow from different sources, one must be able to pick and choose, assimilate, and move on. Moving between a visual and into an audio-tactile area of experience can be quite challenging though (and, by implication, I'm guessing this is also one of the reasons L.A. Style is so popular). For some, it might be less threatening: one can dance with strangers and have a reasonable amount of space in between. In a way, the notion of personal space remains intact in L.A. Style. That said, an emphasis on the visual – on looks and appearance – can sometimes go against that natural, audio-tactile experience of salsa (how one feels), as well as the ease, quickness and control in the execution of certain moves. Every style has its pros and cons. As we search for that unique blend, it is up to us to figure out and articulate these and other trade offs in our dancing.