I’ve long felt that the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi applies perfectly to tango: an appreciation of the beauty in things which are imperfect and impermanent.

The impermanent part is obvious. A tanda is something you experience in the moment, and then it’s gone. While I’ve often wished I could bottle that feeling, it would remain impossible even if we could crack the chemistry – because the fleeting nature of dance is part of the very essence of the experience …

The joy of imperfection

The appeal of imperfection in tango may be less obvious. We spend so much of our time chasing that perfect ideal. So many lessons, so many hours of practice against the kitchen worktop, always looking for the key to unlock the next level. But … imperfection has its own joy.

Have you ever watched a tango performance, and found it physically impressive, beautifully choreographed, and technically flawless, but … soulless? That you feel like you’re watching the result of hours and hours of repetition and drills, rather than the connection between two people lost in the music and the moment?

Now think of one of those 1.45am tandas after a night of non-stop dancing. You’re both exhausted, your technique is sloppy, and your core was last in evidence about an hour earlier. But the music makes it impossible to leave, so you keep dancing. And you have a wonderful, wonderful tanda, where you both feel the joy of the music and the feeling of somehow still moving as one. It’s very far from technically perfect, and yet it’s perfect in that moment.

Sign me up for the latter every time.

It’s the same with ‘mistakes.’ We have that moment of laughter, of joy, about something which might have gone ‘crunch’ but didn’t – because we’re really listening to each other. There’s that added element of fun, of satisfaction that we faced an overcame a challenge. In adapting to whatever happens, we provide a practical demonstration that we consider our partner more important than any movement.

Or we’re dancing that unknown song, where you have to play ‘guess the ending.’ Sometimes we’re ready to dance the pom-pom, and there’s only a pom. Or it’s entirely pomless. Or we think it’s ended, but – like a TV informercial – wait, there’s more! It never fails to elicit shared laughter.

Those imperfections actually add to, not subtract from, the joy.

Finding our value as dancers

I recently recommended Yelizaveta’s Tango Banter podcast, and her most recent one was about what dancers look for in a partner, and how we find our own value as dancers.

Tango seems so fancy at first, so many moves to learn, so much technique. But you talk to any seasoned dancer and they will tell you it’s really not about the moves… it’s really something else.

What is it that we are after on the dance floor? And what value do we bring to our dance with another person?

If you’ll forgive the spoiler, her conclusion was that the most valuable thing we can offer a dance partner is: our authentic selves.

Not trying to be anyone else, whether it’s a famous performer, a teacher, or just someone at a local milonga whose dancing we admire. Rather, simply being ourselves.

Being ourselves … that ought to be the easiest thing in the world! But in tango, it can be one of the hardest lessons to learn.

Learning first that we are enough. We don’t need to be anything more. We don’t need to be anything we are not.

But more than this, learning that we offer something no other dance partner can – because no other dance partner is me, and no other dance partner is you.

It’s easy to be tough on ourselves. To see our faults, our flaws, the gap between where we are and where we want to be.

It’s much harder to see our strengths. To appreciate that there’s a very good answer to the question Yelizaveta posed: why would someone want to dance with us?

I can recall three occasions which really answered that question for me.

First, when I was having a tangostential crisis, and feeling like my dance wasn’t enough. One of my teachers said ‘You’re musical, you have a wonderful embrace, and you create space for my dance – that’s everything I want in a partner.’

Second, when I visited BsAs for the first time, as a one-year beginner. Looking back now, just typing that sentence seems insane! Yet it quickly became clear to me that, no matter how much work I still had to do, those three things were enough to carry me through, even in the tango capital of the world.

Third, when I danced a truly wonderful tanda with a South American follower in a UK milonga shortly after listening to Yelizaveta’s podcast. She told me she’d felt like she was back in BsAs for those 12 minutes … for those very same reasons.

The reasons people dance with you may be similar or different; it doesn’t matter. People dance with you because … you are you.