As the daughter of a retired Marine Corps Lt. Colonel, I remember my life by the houses I’ve lived in and the dance studios I’ve called home. Moving is a constant theme in my life. I remember my first dance studio, in the basement of Miss Marsha Sue’s home, having a mint green door that I imagined would lead me to the stage. I’m sure it was just a closet, but for me that door led me to a magical place. I was always dancing around the house and dresses were decided not on their look, but rather on their twirl factor. Visiting relatives was an opportunity to perform in front of a captive audience. My grandfather would tell me about my great Uncle Bernie, the circus entertainer, and that I was the next performer of the family.

     The military sent us to North Carolina, and it took one year and two houses before we could move onto the military base. This was the beginning of my choreographic endeavors because empty rooms lent themselves to great inspiration and our garage made a perfect performance space. I created a number of productions for friends and my poor younger sister, whom I forced to participate, but I know she secretly enjoyed it.

    

High school began with another move, and this one was much harder to get settled into. It took me a while to find a studio that met my standards. I had grown to love the formality and challenges of ballet, the same qualities I rejected at age five. Finally, I found a place that set high standards for its students, as well as encouraged student choreography. I was a devoted “bun head” but needed a place to belong to in high school, so I joined the dance team my sophomore year. The team performed at half time during sports events but was frowned upon by my ballet teachers for taking time away from rigorous classical training. According to the ballet school, the team was frivolous entertainment, not a high art form such as ballet, and it would do nothing for my dance career. In some ways I agreed. However, I gained valuable leadership skills as co-captain of the team and found that dance could be fun as well as an artistic undertaking.

     Soon college applications were due and I didn’t know what to do with my life until my mother said, “Do you want to dance?” Deep down, I knew that was what I wanted more than anything, but it was hard for me to say out loud. Could I do it? My first year as a dance major was at a college close to home in the middle of nowhere, and I hated it. Where were the bright lights, the tall buildings, the swarms of people and the excitement? After the first week of classes, I started looking for something more challenging. My parents said no to New York City. Too big, they said, so we settled on Pittsburgh.

     Point Park University had numerous studios full of talented dancers, and I was excited to be one of them. In October that year, the famous Chita Rivera was on tour with Kiss of the Spiderwoman and came to Point Park for a lecture and master class. Star struck, I danced full out in the class and on one jump, I landed in a slightly funny way, and I sank to the ground. The handsome dance captain scooped me up in his arms and carried me out of the class as I gave a Miss America wave. My classmates giggled and applauded at my humor, and maybe their own jealousy. The humor and jealousy were quickly replaced by the other students’ horror, pain, and sadness.

     A few weeks later, I woke from the anesthesia and pulled the blankets back from my left leg to make sure they had operated on the correct knee. This was followed by nine months of physical therapy and another year of me striving to extend my leg fully in technique classes.

      My senior year was highlighted with a solo from Sleeping Beauty, but I didn’t know what to do after graduation. I didn’t feel confident enough to move to NYC to begin a performing career on a knee held together with a screw.  Because of my injury, I spent a lot of time at Point Park observing and developing my own original movement style. I wanted to create ballets that blended my classical training with contemporary movements to make cutting edge work. I remember being surprised when I found that in the early 1900’s the Ballet Ruses, along with George Balanchine and later Twyla Tharp, had already revolutionized the ballet. To my disappointment, I was not as original as I had once thought, but I soon became inspired by these dance legends and would continue to find my own voice through choreography.

     I entered graduate school in an arts administration program at American University in order to have the skills to one day run my own company. The dance department firmly told me I should be dancing and I changed to a dance concentration with a focus on management. This is also where I left the ballet world and dove into modern dance and really came into my own style, as well as finding a great love for teaching.

     Now I find myself at the beginning of yet another move, to being a professor at Salem State College and a student finishing my MFA at Hollins University in partnership with the American Dance Festival. This summer I spent three months of intense study asking, “What is dance?  Who gets to call it ‘art’? How is a professional artist defined? What artists get left out or put into the cultural canon, and why?” These questions continue to sit with me. I define my mission as a dance performer, choreographer, and educator to be the promotion of the importance of dance in our society as a means to express our fears, passions, and beliefs. I believe in preserving the work of the many artists that have come before me and who work beside me by sharing their dance philosophies while encouraging others to develop their own views and to create their own dances. It is difficult for me to put into words my own personal movement language, but as I move through life I continue to strive to be an original artist who creates work based on life experiences.  

Meghan McLyman, Sport, Fitness, and Leisure Studies

Beacon, a regular column of ASpect, features noteworthy items in the School of Arts and Sciences.