“How incredibly motivating!” Retirees discover a new world through dance Dance

IAfter retiring, Susan Tarlene heard herself saying, “I need to move.” The former lawyer, who was 71, learned from a friend about ballet and contemporary dance classes at a community center and decided to give it a try. “It was terrifying,” the Londoner recalled 10 years later. “But the teachers who do these things are incredibly patient and have a good sense of humor. People come from all kinds of backgrounds and experience levels. Obviously the classes are important because some people go week after week, sometimes twice a week.”

Tarlene went on to attend contemporary classes for seniors at Rambert, then added classes for the over-60s at the venue, home of the London School of Contemporary Dance, and sessions at the German Tenz Theater at Morley Adult Education College. She also took part in creative workshops and performance groups, and particularly enjoyed intergenerational projects – even performing at a large-scale public event with dancers from Rambert and the National Ballet of Marseille at the Southbank Center (she grabbed an industrial road cleaner in one scene and slid off the roof of a battered limousine in the finale). In the theater, she crawled around the stage in a costume made of cables. Obviously, aging gracefully was not the goal of the dance. “I suppose the scary word is ‘hooping,’” she says. “You know, being a little pretty, walking around waving a scarf or something.”

Through her dancing, she created a new network of people. “I also enjoyed discovering more about the art of dance, and finding out what I liked and didn’t like. I used to go to theater a lot, but now it’s mostly dancing. It’s learning without trying to learn, I guess. Through doing.”

Diego Rubirosa, now 72, started dancing lessons 10 years ago. “It’s been one of the best decades of my life, and a lot of that is down to dance and what it has given me, on all levels,” he told me from his home in Suffolk. A former commercial banker, he loved watching dancing as a young man, and even tried some classes in his twenties, though it was difficult to fit them into his work life; He was also “still facing prejudices about men and dancing.” However, the dreams of dancing persisted to some extent, and long afterwards transformed into a different kind of reality. “When my daughter started her lessons at DanceEast in Ipswich, I noticed they had a course for older people. I wanted to join then, but she was a bit embarrassed about me being there too, so I waited another four years before I started.”

Better late than never: With more time on his hands and his interest in stereotypes of masculinity, he began. “In my 20s, I had kind of a fantasy that I could do something, but here I went without any expectations. I was just exploring. So I was very relaxed, and also very excited and very open.” He’s tried ballet (“I really needed to start early”) and floor work (“He put me through my paces”), but his preference remains contemporary dance, in its various shapes and forms.

He also began attending workshops and performance groups at DanceEast and beyond. Once, he auditioned for the legendary Tanztheater Wuppertal, which was looking for some older men as extras for their production of Pina Bausch’s play Victor – “No Pressure!” He told himself – and he ended up performing with them on stage in London and Antwerp. “crazy!” He says. “But how incredibly motivating it is.”

Like Tarlene, Rubirosa “discovered a new world, not just about physical activity, but also about creativity and exploration. On a human level, this also connected me with new people, and made new friends. It was a very expansive activity.”

This is the experience. What about science? This is exactly the kind of “expanded activism” that Professor Daisy Fancourt investigates in her new book Art Therapy, which views the arts as a vital part of our physical, mental and social health, not only empirically but also scientifically and economically. “When people engage in dance, they experience many of the same beneficial processes that other art forms activate,” Lee says. “For example, activation of neural reward centers in the brain, increased neurotransmitters associated with feelings of happiness and increased ability to regulate emotions, whether by diverting people from their worries or as a way to vent and give form to their emotions. In addition, dancing brings many benefits of exercise.” She told me about controlled trials among middle-aged and older people that reported better cardiovascular health outcomes from dancing compared to other types of non-artistic exercise. “In other words, we know it’s not just about exercise.”

Fancourt wants to raise awareness about the health benefits of dance and the arts among individuals — she helps them prioritize and justify these activities — as well as policy makers. “Investing in arts and dance within communities is an investment that has direct health and economic benefits.” These findings are reflected in studies by the Sports and Entertainment Alliance into the social value of movement and dance in the UK, and support initiatives such as National Let’s Dance Day, chaired by Angela Rippon and taking place this year on 8 March, which aims to get people involved in dance – for their own good, but also for ours.

Such measurable health benefits are results of dancing, not the reason people love doing it. Tarlene says she dances “to get in my body, and to get out of my body,” while this year Rubirosa decided to take a break from performing, to reconnect with what he values ​​most in dance: “the fun, the spontaneity, and the uniqueness that each individual can bring.”

Many people discover their motivations only in retrospect. Take Janet Boundy, a retired local education officer from West Yorkshire, for whom dancing has become an unexpected lifeline. Her career began four years ago when she was 64, after she came across a local event called Dance On, organized by Yorkshire Dance. “Did you feel sick because of the nerves that came in!” She says. “But they were very welcoming.” It was a turning point. Ten years ago, her husband died suddenly of a cerebral hemorrhage. Months later, she suffered a pulmonary embolism. “I think I felt guilty because I survived and he didn’t. If I started singing, I felt guilty. If I laughed, I felt guilty. But I didn’t even know that, until the first dance session. It was amazing. I forgot about the anxiety, immediately.”

That was four years ago. Since then, she continued dancing and gave some performances. She also joined a community choir, and volunteered as a social worker for the NHS, helping others through social connections and activities. “Dancing is the best medicine,” she declares.

I’ve heard a lot of people say that the special ingredient in “dance medicine” is joy, but perhaps a better word is vitality—a kind of awakening to life itself. “Nowadays, if I’m at a family party or out socially — which I’ve started doing now — I’m always the first to dance,” Boundy says. “I don’t know what other people think…but who cares?!”