It's 5:45 p.m. on a Thursday evening, and it's cold.
And Michael Eger, dance instructor and member of Repertory Dance Theater, is working.Dressed in a purple dance unitard and Navy sweats, Eger stands in a large, white room at the Rose Wagner Performing Arts center. It is actually a studio, with a wall of mirrors on both ends, two dance bars and a single student, Trish Redding.
The beginning modern dance class is supposed to be bigger than this; there are supposed to be three students. But it's early yet, and sometimes people come late.
The class is one of many offered as part of RDT's community school, the brainchild of artistic director Linda Smith. "She wanted to build understanding of dance at a grassroots level," Eger says. The project began several years ago whenSmith realized the valley did not really have a center for training adults in modern dance. There was no bridge into the professional world for students who were in a University dance program, and who wanted to train and perform with a repertory company.
It was through the University of Utah's continuing education program that Smith first organized a way for dancers to participate in a setting that wasn't exclusively for the pros. Of course, these classes were for dance students, who were looking for a way to merge into the life of professional dance. There still wasn't really a place for adults who just wanted to dance for fun.
Gradually, Smith felt that continuing education was becoming more and more isolated and restrictive.
"We had limited time, a small studio," said Smith, "and there were some classes that we were just not able to offer."
It was when RDT moved into the Rose Wagner Performing Arts Studio -- its permanent home base -- that Smith decided it was time to open its program to anyone who wanted to participate. "I was reminded that there were all kinds of community projects that had no venue," said Smith of how the new building inspired her to serve the community and offer the city this resource.
Smith also saw a need for RDT: The dancers needed teaching experience, and the alumni members wanted to expand their opportunities. "This school helps us grow on both ends," she said. "It keeps the organization alive and lively."
The school draws a large number of participants each session and is open to anyone, but Smith points out that it does service mainly adults, despite a few high school and college age students in attendance.
Eger, who took over Smith's position as head of the community school, places the participants in various categories: Some come simply for the sessions, others for the wealth of experience involved, some are dragged in by their spouses and a few are working to pursue a professional career. RDT will soon offer classes for senior citizens.
RDT's community school is, absolutely, a safe place for everyone. "It's safe for their bodies, for their psyches," said Eger. "The teachers here offer a nurturing environment that is inclusive and not threatening."
Eger has pulled out a Lorena McKennit CD, and has it playing on a stereo that is in the corner, sitting on a large, metal table. Technically, the class has started, so Eger has decided to have Redding do some improvisational dancing. According to him, the idea would be for her to connect with her choices and responsibilities in an improvisational setting.
After a few minutes, another student arrives, Martha Veranth, a medical software writer with 3MHS, who also happens to teach Scottish Country Dancing at Bryant Intermediate School in Salt Lake. Eger turns McKennit off and has the two women begin doing a series of releves.
From a standing position, Veranth and Redding rise until they are balanced on their toes. From there, the women do spine work. They roll down and up, like cats, one vertebrae at a time. Their feet are firmly planted on the black rubber-covered floor, and their torsos are tucked under, ensuring that the women's backs don't arch.
At about 6 p.m., John Veranth, Martha's husband, strides in. He's stout, with a pony tail, and looks like a scientist in tights, which is pretty close to the truth. He's a research professor in chemical engineering at the University of Utah.
All three students have several years of dance experience and take the class for the release, the expression and for the simple reason: They enjoy dancing.
Eger acknowledges that the Thursday night class is small.
Unusually small. The Tuesday night Congolese dance class taught by Kim Strunk, and the Saturday morning West African dance class taught by Jeni Indresano, are the two biggest ones.
The ballroom dance class varies, and the hip-hop class is very popular with the younger crowd.
The 11 a.m. Saturday African Dance class is the size of a small army -- an overwhelming contrast to Eger's Thursday evening group of three.
This is also the class that Smith finds the most enthralling.
"In the African-based classes," she explained, "people are pulled into it."
No one wants to watch it; they want to do it.
She also believes that this particular form of dance is the one that her students at the community school use to connect with life.
Strunk, a former dancer and RDT alum, is responsible for bringing African Dance to the community school; she was introduced to it through drumming.
"I thought I would use the drumming for my modern-dance classes," she said. She visited African drumming and dance workshops in California and found herself returning again and again. "I felt rejuvenated.
"Before, I had been dancing with ten professionals, every day." She relates her first experiences with this new dance form, which included many people who weren't professionals, who were there for the magic. "It was the connection of the drumming and the dance," Strunk added, "and the feeling of community."
Back in Salt Lake City, she realized there was something missing and began teaching Congolese dancing, the kind she had been studying.
Strunk also felt that by teaching the African Dance class, she would be able to keep alive in herself a dance formfor which she had found a burning passion.
In the three years since RDT has added the African Dance classes to it's schedule, Strunk and fellow instructor Indresano have seen their class sizes oscillate from six students to 47 students, averaging about 20.
"It's magical," said Strunk, who believes that the combination of live drumming, community interest and the fact that the dances mean something are all factors in the appeal.
Though both teachers are very knowledgeable about their craft, both Strunk and Indresano admit they are still learning.
"I feel uncomfortable teaching," Strunk said. "I'm not African. But dance is universal, and Jeni and I are very respectful doing it because we love it, we have a passion for it, and we have spent a lot of time studying it."
Twenty or more sarong-wrapped women and a couple of sweats-clad men fill the same studio that, a few nights before, felt huge.
There are three drummers in the corner playing djembes as the dancers move up and down the floor, swinging their arms with hidden control, and following Indresano, they are led through the movements of Soli, a dance from Guinea that she is teaching.
Even though the Soli looks aggressive, pounding and heavy, Indresano demonstrates that it is actually a dance that is quite light, fluid and incredibly graceful.
Although most of Indresano's students are women, the class is quite diverse. Usually there are 8-10 men who come regularly, she says.
Douglas Kihm, an engineering manager and entrepreneur is one of the men.
"A friend introduced me to it a couple of years ago," said Kihm after the class ends, and as the drummers pack away their equipment, and students put on their shoes to go out to lunch at the Oasis Cafe.
"It's emotional and physical rehabilitation, it's manifestating, it's therapy," Kihm added about the positive influence that dancing has had on his life. He said that for those who have turmoil or issues, this Saturday class should be at the top of their list as a place where they can be safe enough and free enough to deal with them.
"It's like doing aerobics without Britney Spears," Kihm concluded with a big, sweaty grin.
"It keeps your body moving," said Jeani Houn, another Saturday student, who says this dancing keeps her feeling and looking younger.
"I didn't start dancing until I was 40 years old," said the petite Houn after her class.
She's perspiring enough that anyone can tell she, along with her classmates, has had an amazing workout.
When she first started taking classes, Houn went up to the University of Utah but found it was geared more to young dancers, and she didn't enjoy it. "Here," Houn says "age is welcome. It is celebrated."
RDT's community school is truly a safe place.